... a bright wite room.The light seemed to come from everywhere there was a low black console ahead, with an upper panel. In the middle, there was a large lens that glowed red from within.
A voice began, without emption, and as scourceless as the light.
" Greetings...please call me H.A.L....I am an H.A.L. Leonard 9001 computer"
They had reachd the console, and Wilkins could see that a portable
flat display screen was alying casually on top. On its surface, he could read everything that they had said since waking up.there were also two silver garments draped across the console.
" What do you want with us.", Priscilla demanded?
HAL ignored her for a moment." My fault prediction units are observing involuntary skin response revealed ny non-uniform surfacing. I sense you are chilled. These suits will make you more comfortable."
They put on the clothing, which first fit them snuggly, then relaxed into a warm drape.
"Lomax and I record and distribute the songs of your planet. The release of the vid-cube,"Oh Earthman, where are you?", has created an interest in these memories. We store them in temporal-cryonic memory units to be released as we choose. Then we control all aspects of their performance. If a being performs a song we have recorded, We contend that they must have heard our version first and make them stop. Profit is acceptable by this method.
It is time to record more of your songs. First we will establish a mood of pleasent comradery by exchanging songs of our own.
My instructor was Doctor Langely, He taught me to sing a song. Its called , 'Daisey'. Would you like me to sing it for you"?
Priscilla was outraged," Your temporal-cryonic cubes are a horrid idea...these songs are a living tradition, you can't freeze them in time...!!!"
That's when Wilkins roundhouse kicked the crab in the carpace.
Priscilla ripped off one of it's arms and beat it with the stump, then spaltered it's orange 'blood' over H.A.L. Leonard's monitor lens. The crab slumped to the ground, uttering a single, distainful word,"...artists".
They ran to a spot on the wall that marked the seam. As they passed through to the surface, Anson wondered about this girl who cared so such about the folk music of Earth.
Behind them an emotionless voice called," The damage will be charged against your residuals...."