Hofstadter, Dennett - The Mind's I

Software 257your contact up there. He'll meet you at the Anderson room in the museum •'Cobb's heart leapt at the thought of seeing Ralph Numbers again. Ralph, his firstand finest model, the one who had set all the others free. But " . ."I can't get a visa," Cobb said. "You know that. I'm not allowed to leave theGimmie territory.""Let us worry about that," the robot said urgently. "There'll be someone to helpyou through the formalities. We're working on it right now. And I'll stand in for youwhile you're gone. No one'll be the wiser."The intensity of his double's tone made Cobb suspicious. He took a drink ofsherry and tried to look shrewd. "What's the point of all this? Why should I want to go tothe Moon in the first place? And why do the boppers want me there?"Anderson2 glanced around the empty beach and leaned close. "We want to makeyou immortal, Dr. Anderson. After all you did for us, it's the least we can do."Immortal! The word was like a window flung open. With death so close nothinghad mattered. But if there was a way out ..."How?" Cobb demanded. In his excitement he rose to his feet. "How will you doit? Will you make me young again too?""Take it easy," the robot said, also rising. "Don't get overexcited. Just trust us.With our supplies of tank-grown organs we can rebuild you from the ground up. Andyou'll get as much interferon as you need."The machine stared into Cobb's eyes, looking honest. Staring back, Cobb noticedthat they hadn't gotten the irises quite right. The little ring of blue was too flat and even.The eyes were, after all, just glass, unreadable glass.The double pressed the money into Cobb's hand. "Take the money and get theshuttle tomorrow. We'll arrange for a young man called Sta-Hi to help you at thespaceport."Music was playing, wheedling closer. A Mr. Frostee truck, the same one Cobbhad seen before. It was white, with a big freezer box in back. There was a smiling giantplastic ice-cream cone mounted on top of the cab. Cobb's double gave him a pat on theshoulder and trotted up the beach.When he reached the truck, the robot looked back and flashed a smile. Yellowteeth in the white beard. For the first time in years, Cobb loved himself, the erect strut,the frightened eyes. "Good-bye," he shouted, waving the money. "And thanks!"Cobb Anderson2 jumped into the soft-ice-cream truck next to the driver, a fatshort-haired man with no shirt. And then the Mr. Frostee