The Night of the Storm by Dean Koontz

Author:Dean Koontz
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-07-30T04:40:46+00:00

occasionally the Agency loses bits and pieces, accidentally destroys some of

its memory in the move?" "Impossible," Steffan said. "There are any number of safeguards taken against such an eventuality." Curanov, aware of many of the Central Agency's bungles over the past hundred years, was not so sure. He

was intrigued by Tuttle's theory. Tuttle said, "If the Central Agency

somehow lost most of its early stores of data, its knowledge of human beings

might have vanished along with countless other bits and pieces." Steffan was disgusted. "Earlier, you ranted against the idea of Second Awareness - but now you can believe this. You amuse me, Tuttle. Your data vault must be a

trove of silly information, contradictory beliefs, and useless theorizing. If

you believe in these human beings - then do you also believe in all the

attendant myths? Do you think they can only be killed with an instrument of

wood? Do you think they sleep at night in dark rooms? Sleep like beasts? And

do you think that, though they're made of flesh, they cannot be dispatched but

that they pop up somewhere else in a new body?" Confronted with these

obviously insupportable superstitions, Tuttle backed down from his entire

point. He turned his amber visual receptors on the snow beyond the window. "I was only supposing. I was just spinning a little fantasy to help pass the

time." Triumphant, Steffan said, "However, fantasy doesn't contribute to a maturation of one's data vault." "And I suppose that you're eager to mature enough to gain a promotion from the Agency," Tuttle said. "Of course,"

Steffan said. "We're only allotted two hundred years. And besides, what else is the purpose of life?" Perhaps to have an opportunity to mull over his strange theories, Tuttle soon retired to an inactivation nook in the wall

beneath the metal shelf on which the guns lay. He slid in feet first and

pulled the hatch shut behind his head, leaving the others to their own

devices. Fifteen minutes later, Leeke said, "I believe I'll follow Tuttle's example. I need time to consider my responses to this afternoon's hunt."

Curanov knew that Leeke was only making excuses to be gone. He was not a

particularly gregarious robot and seemed most comfortable when he was ignored

and left to himself. Alone with Steffan in the lodge, Curanov was in an

unpleasantly delicate position. He felt that he, too, needed time to think

inside a deactivation nook. However, he did not want to hurt Steffan's

feelings, did not want to give him the impression that they were all anxious

to be away from him. For the most part, Curanov liked the young robot; Steffan

was fresh, energetic, obviously a first-line mentality. The only thing he

found grating about the youth was his innocence, his undisciplined drive to be

accepted and to achieve. Time, of course, would mellow Steffan and hone his

mind, so he did not deserve to be hurt. How then to excuse oneself without

slighting Steffan in any way? The younger robot solved the problem by

suggesting that he, too, needed time in a nook. When Steffan was safely shut

away, Curanov went to the

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