Raising children should not be such a trial, filled with frustration, lack of cooperation, and ridiculously slow progress. Human offspring should be eager to learn from their superiors, enaing them to reach their potential. If every parent had the sort of trouble Erasmus was having with his young ward from the slave pens, the human race would have gone extinct long before their civilization had advanced sufficiently to invent thinking machines.

But such thoughts inevitably led back to his own actions. Could Erasmus possibly be doing something wrong? He didn’t like to think of it that way. He just had more to learn.

Still, he wished Omnius had chosen any other human as a subject. This learning process was exceedingly difficult.

By contrast with humans, a thinking machine was fully functional from the moment of activation. Robots, being infinitely more useful than humans, did as they were instructed. They followed through on thoughts and completed tasks efficiently, achieving goals in a logical sequence.

This feral human child, though, despite Erasmus’s best efforts as a mentorrobot, was… chaos incarnate. And Erasmus had nowhere to turn for advice. Not for the first time, he wished Serena Butler had remained with him.

Each robot was linked to a larger network under the control of the computer evermind, a labyrinth of circuitry that functioned in unison, building the Synchronized Worlds to a larger, more comprehensive state of order and progress.

Humans, on the other hand, clung to their much vaunted “free will,” which enabled them to make horrendous, bumbling mistakes and mutter inane excuses afterward. Their freedoms, however, gave them the creativity and imagination to complete marvelous works, to succeed in monumental achievements that the vast majority of machine minds could never conceive. There were advantages.

But this… creature was none of those things. He was barely distinguishable from an animal. The young man— singlehandedly— seemed intent on increasing the universe’s entropy by an order of magnitude.

“Stop that, Gilbertus Albans.” The command was the same one Erasmus had uttered many times before, but the boy did not seem to comprehend simple instructions.

Erasmus had chosen the name for the boy after studying classical history, selecting sounds that carried respectable and important tonalities. Thus far, however, the appellation did not at all reflect the child’s behavior, or his complete inability to follow simple instructions.

The feral slave boy heard the same thing over and over and simply did not do as he was told. At times Erasmus wondered if it was stupidity or stubborn refusal.

Gilbertus knocked over one of the robot’s flowerpots, smashing the terra-cotta, spilling dirt on the tile floor, and killing the plant.

“Stop doing that,” Erasmus repeated, more sternly this time. The harshness seemed to have no effect. But what purpose did the child’s defiance serve? Gilbertus gained nothing from all the destruction he wreaked; he just seemed to enjoy his ruinous acts because Erasmus had told him not to commit them.

Gilbertus smashed another flowerpot, then scampered out of the greenhouse alcove and scuttled toward his rooms. The distinguished robot strode after him, his luxuriant robes swishing with the speed of his gait.

No doubt Omnius was enjoying every moment of this, observing vicariously through his ever-present watcheyes.

By the time Erasmus reached the boy’s room, Gilbertus had already torn the sheets and pillows from the bed and tossed them across the room. He yanked down the diaphanous curtains hanging from posts overhead, then proceeded to fling off his clothes, one article at a time.

“Stop that, Gilbertus Albans,” Erasmus demanded, forming his flowmetal face into a stern, paternal visage.

In response, the feral boy tossed soiled underwear onto the robot’s mirrored head.

This called for a change of tactics.

Even as the chaos continued, a squad of household robots entered the room and started picking up the mess. They gathered bedsheets and strewn clothes; in the greenhouse, other crews had already disposed of the smashed pots and swept clean the scattered dirt and terra-cotta fragments. The boy tried to stay one step ahead of them.

Gilbertus Albans stood naked, laughing and making rude noises as he jumped onto the bed and avoided the robots deftly, though they made no overt move to capture him— not yet.

Observing him, Erasmus assessed what to do. The boy had been attired in the finest clothes, but did not seem to value them in the least. Repeatedly and patiently, the robot had tried to tutor him in manners, social responsibilities, and other acceptable behavior patterns. Yet Gilbertus insisted on smashing valuable objects, messing his room, ripping up books, and ignoring his studies.

Although the wild boy did not seem to be listening, the mirror-faced robot said calmly, “It is not efficient for me to continue repairing the damage in your wake. My system of benevolence and rewards has had no discernible effect.” He emitted a silent signal for the household robots. They moved forward with stealthy speed and seized Gilbertus, holding him firmly despite his struggles.

Erasmus said, “Now we shall begin a course of strict supervision and punishment.” He stepped aside so that the captor robots could move through the doorway. “Remove him to my laboratories. We will see if we can make him behave.”

After centuries of dissection and careful observation involving thousands of humans, Erasmus knew exactly how to inflict pain, unpleasantness, and fear upon them. The robot had grown skilled enough in his technique to proceed vigorously without causing any permanent damage. If possible, he wanted to avoid harming or perhaps killing the frustrating boy. Not out of any compassion on his part. The boy was a challenge to him. And besides, he didn’t want to have to admit failure to Omnius.

Drugs and brain surgeries were options, but Erasmus supposed that such methods might stretch the boundaries of his agreement with the evermind who had issued the challenge. For now he would hold that in reserve.

Still struggling and defiant, the boy seemed annoyed but not beaten. Erasmus knew he could keep going longer than his ward. “I alone see your potential, Gilbertus Albans, and I have the incentive not to give up on you.”

They marched down the corridors toward the extensive surgical rooms and laboratories. “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. But always remember: I’m doing it for your own good.”

The comments seemed illogical to Erasmus, but he was practicing a new technique, mimicking the words human parents often spoke to their offspring before administering punishments. As they entered the laboratories and the squirming boy began to show genuine fear, the robot said in a flat voice, “From now on, you must pay closer attention to your lessons.”