Adam Link: The Complete Adventures

by Eando Binder

  Jerry eBooks

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  Adam Link

  The Complete Adventures

  (custom book cover)

  Jerry eBooks

  Title Page

  About the Adam Link stories

  Bibliography

  I, ROBOT

  THE TRIAL OF ADAM LINK

  ADAM LINK IN BUSINESS

  ADAM LINK’S VENGEANCE

  ADAM LINK, ROBOT DETECTIVE

  ADAM LINK, CHAMPION ATHLETE

  ADAM LINK FIGHTS A WAR

  ADAM LINK IN THE PAST

  ADAM LINK FACES A REVOLT

  ADAM LINK SAVES THE WORLD [NOVEL]

  ADAM LINK—ROBOT [NOVEL]

  Adam Link is a fictional robot, made in the likeness of a man, who becomes self-aware, and the protagonist of several science fiction short stories and novels written by Eando Binder (Earl and Otto Binder). The short stories and the first novel were originally published in Amazing Stories from 1939 to 1942.

  A robot speaking in the first person sums up the basic idea of the stories in this series. Who could tell what happened to a robot better than the robot himself, assuming him to be of near human intelligence? The Frankenstein theme rears its head with the mention of a robot. As for the robot being humanly intelligent, that may not be so fantastic as it seems to present-day science.

  Paperback Library published a mass market paperback collection entitled Adam Link—Robot in September 1965, it tells his story in a first person narrative from Creation to Citizenship in twenty-one chapters with an Epilogue which tells why Link is telling his story, and his encouragement for humanity’s future.

  “I, Robot” and “The Trial of Adam Link, Robot” were the basis of two episodes of The Outer Limits, one from the original series “I, Robot” in 1964, and one from the revival series “I, Robot” in 1995. Both versions featured Leonard Nimoy.

  The series has been adapted for comic books twice, once for Entertaining Comics’ Weird Science-Fantasy in 1955 (issues 27-29), and again for Warren Publishing’s Creepy in 1965-67 (issues 2, 4, 6, 8-9, 12-13 and 15). In each case, the adaptation was scripted by Binder and drawn by Joe Orlando. In each case, the series was discontinued before it could be completed.

  In 1964, an adaptation of “Adam Link’s Vengeance” was published in the fanzine Fantasy Illustrated # 2, script by Otto Binder and illustrated by D. Bruce Berry and Bill Spicer, the adaptation won the Alley Award for Best Fan Comic Strip of the same year.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Novels

  Adam Link Saves the World, Amazing Stories, April 1942

  Adam Link—Robot, September 1965

  Short Fiction

  I, Robot, Amazing Stories, January 1939

  The Trial of Adam Link, Robot, Amazing Stories, July 1939

  Adam Link in Business, Amazing Stories, January 1940

  Adam Link’s Vengeance, Amazing Stories, February 1940

  Adam Link, Robot Detective, Amazing Stories, May 1940

  Adam Link, Champion Athlete, Amazing Stories, July 1940

  Adam Link Fights a War, Amazing Stories, December 1940

  Adam Link in the Past, Amazing Stories, February 1941

  Adam Link Faces a Revolt, Amazing Stories, May 1941

  CHAPTER I

  My Creation

  MUCH of what has occurred puzzles me. But I think I am beginning to understand now. You call me a monster, but you are wrong. Utterly wrong!

  I will try to prove it to you, in writing. I hope I have time to finish—

  I will begin at the beginning. I was born, or created, six months ago, on November 3 of last year. I am a true robot. So many of you seem to have doubts. I am made of wires and wheels, not flesh and blood.

  My first recollection of consciousness was a feeling of being chained, and I was. For three days before that, I had been seeing and hearing, but all in a jumble. Now, I had the urge to arise and peer more closely at the strange, moving form that I had seen so many times before me, making sounds.

  The moving form was Dr. Link, my creator. He was the only thing that moved, of all the objects within my sight. He and one other object—his dog Terry. Therefore these two objects held my interest more. I hadn’t yet learned to associate movement with life.

  But on this fourth day, I wanted to approach the two moving shapes and make noises at them. Particularly at the smaller one. His noises were challenging, stirring. They made me want to rise and quiet them. But I was chained. I was held down by them so that, in my blank state of mind, I wouldn’t wander off and bring myself to an untimely end, or harm someone unknowingly.

  These things, of course, Dr. Link explained to me later, when I could dissociate my thoughts and understand. I was just like a baby for those three days—a human baby. I am not as other so-called robots were—mere automatized machines designed to obey certain commands or arranged stimuli.

  No, I was equipped with a pseudobrain that could receive all stimuli that human brains could. And with possibilities of eventually learning to rationalize for itself.

  But for three days Dr. Link was very anxious about my brain. I was like a human baby and yet I was also like a sensitive, but unorganized, machine, subject to the whim of mechanical chance. My eyes turned when a bit of paper fluttered to the floor. But photoelectric cells had been made before capable of doing the same. My mechanical ears turned to best receive sounds from a certain direction, but any scientist could duplicate that trick with sonic-relays.

  The question was—did my brain, to which the eyes and ears were connected, hold on to these various impressions for future use? Did I have, in short—memory?

  THREE days I was like a newborn baby. And Dr. Link was like a worried father, wondering if his child had been born a hopeless idiot. But on the fourth day, he feared I was a wild animal. I began to make rasping sounds with my vocal apparatus, in answer to the sharp little noises the dog Terry made. I shook my swivel head at the same time, and strained against my bonds.

  For a while, as Dr. Link told me. he was frightened of me. I seemed like nothing so much as an enraged jungle creature, ready to go berserk. He had more than half a mind to destroy me on the spot.

  But one thing changed his mind and saved me.

  The little animal, Terry, barking angrily, rushed forward suddenly. It probably wanted to bite me. Dr. Link tried to call it back, but too late. Finding my smooth metal legs adamant, the dog leaped with foolish bravery in my lap, to come at my throat. One of my hands grasped it by the middle, held it up. My metal fingers squeezed too hard and the dog gave out a pained squeal.

  Instantaneously, my hand opened to let the creature escape! Instantaneously. My brain had interpreted the sound for what it was. A long chain of memory-association had worked. Three days before, when I had first been brought to life, Dr. Link had stepped on Terry’s foot accidently. The dog had squealed its pain. I had seen Dr. Link, at risk of losing his balance, instantly jerk up his foot. Terry had stopped squealing.

  Terry squealed when my hand tightened. He would stop when I untightened. Memory-association. The thing psychologists call reflexive reaction. A sign of a living brain.

  Dr. Link tells me he let out a cry of pure triumph. He knew at a stroke I had memory. He knew I was not a wanton monster. He knew I had a thinking organ, and a first-class one. Why? Because I had reacted instantaneously. You will realize what that means later.

  I LEARNED to walk in three hours.

  Dr. Link was still taking somewhat of a chance, unbinding my chains. He ha
d no assurance that I would not just blunder away like a witless machine. But he knew he had to teach me to walk before I could learn to talk. The same as he knew he must bring my brain alive fully connected to the appendages and pseudo-organs it was later to use.

  If he had simply disconnected my legs and arms for those first three days, my awakening brain would never have been able to use them when connected later. Do you think, if you were suddenly endowed with a third arm, that you could ever use it? Why does it take a cured paralytic so long to regain the use of his natural limbs? Mental blind spots in the brain. Dr. Link had all those strange psychological twists figured out.

  Walk first. Talk next. That is the tried-and-true rule used among humans since the dawn of their species. Human babies learn best and fastest that way. And I was a human baby in mind, if not body.

  Dr. Link held his breath when I first essayed to rise. I did, slowly, swaying on my metal legs. Up in my head, I had a three-directional spirit-level electrically contacting my brain. It told me automatically what was horizontal, vertical and oblique. My first tentative step, however, wasn’t a success. My knee-joints flexed in reverse order. I clattered to my knees, which fortunately were knobbed with thick protective plates so that the more delicate swiveling mechanisms behind weren’t harmed.

  Dr. Link says I looked up at him like a startled child might. Then I promptly began walking along on my knees, finding this easy. Children would do this more only that it hurts them. I know no hurt.

  After I had roved up and down the aisles of his workshop for an hour, nicking up his furniture terribly, walking on my knees seemed completely natural. Dr. Link was in a quandary how to get me up to my full height. He tried grasping my arm and pulling me up, but my 300 pounds of weight were too much for him.

  My own rapidly increasing curiosity solved the problem. Like a child discovering the thrill of added height with stilts, my next attempt to rise to my full height pleased me. I tried staying up. I finally mastered the technique of alternate use of limbs and shift of weight forward.

  In a couple of hours Dr. Link was leading me up and down the gravel walk around his laboratory. On my legs, it was quite easy for him to pull me along and thus guide me. Little Terry gamboled along at our heels, barking joyfully. The dog had accepted me as a friend.

  I was by this time quite docile to Dr. Link’s guidance. My impressionable mind had quietly accepted him as a necessary rein and check. I did, he told me later, make tentative movements in odd directions off the path, motivated by vague, stimuli, but his firm arm pulling me back served instantly to keep me in line. He paraded up and down with me as one might with an irresponsible oaf.

  I would have kept on walking tirelessly for hours, but Dr. Link’s burden of years quickly fatigued him and he led me inside. When he had safely gotten me seated in my metal chair, he clicked the switch on my chest that broke the electric current giving me life. And for the fourth time I knew that dreamless non-being which corresponded to my creator’s periods of sleep.

  CHAPTER II

  My Education

  IN three days I learned to talk reasonably well.

  I give Dr. Link as much credit as myself. In those three days he pointed out the names of all objects in the laboratory and around. This fund of two hundred or so nouns he supplemented with as many verbs of action as he could demonstrate. Once heard and learned, a word never again was forgotten or obscured to me. Instantaneous comprehension. Photographic memory. Those things I had.

  It is difficult to explain. Machinery is precise, unvarying. I am a machine. Electrons perform their tasks instantaneously. Electrons motivate my metallic brain.

  Thus, with the intelligence of a child of five at the end of those three days, Dr. Link taught me to read. My photoelectric eyes instantly grasped the connection between speech and letter, as my mentor pointed them out. Thought-association filled in the gaps of understanding. I perceived without delay that the word “lion,” for instance, pronounced in its peculiar way, represented a live animal crudely pictured in the book. I have never seen a lion. But I would know one the instant I did.

  From primers and first-readers I graduated in less than a week to adult books. Dr. Link laid out an extensive reading course for me, in his large library. It included fiction as well as factual matter. Into my receptive, retentive brain began to be poured a fund of information and knowledge never before equalled in that short period of time.

  There are other things to consider besides my “birth” and “education.” First of all the housekeeper. She came in once a week to clean up the house for Dr. Link. He was a recluse, lived by himself, cooked for himself. Retired on an annuity from an invention years before.

  The housekeeper had seen me in the process of construction in the past years, but only as an inanimate caricature of a human body. Dr. Link should have known better. When the first Saturday of my life came around, he forgot it was the day she came. He was absorbedly pointing out to me that “to run” meant to go faster than “to walk.”

  “Demonstrate,” Dr. Link asked as I claimed understanding.

  Obediently, I took a few slow steps before him. “Walking,” I said. Then I retreated a ways and lumbered forward again, running for a few steps. The stone floor clattered under my metallic feet.

  “Was—that—right?”. I asked in my rather stentorian voice.

  At that moment a terrified shriek sounded from the doorway. The housekeeper came up just in time to see me perform.

  She screamed, making more noise than even I. “It’s the Devil himself! Run, Dr. Link—run! Police—help—”

  She fainted dead away. He revived her and talked soothingly to her, trying to explain what I was, but he had to get a new housekeeper. After this he contrived to remember when Saturday came and on that day kept me hidden in a storeroom reading books.

  A trivial incident in itself, perhaps, but very significant, as you who will read this will agree.

  TWO months after my awakening to life, Dr. Link one day spoke to me in a fashion other than as teacher to pupil; spoke to me as man to—man.

  “You are the result of twenty years of effort,” he said, “and my success amazes even me. You are little short of being a human in mind. You are a monster, a creation, but you are basically human. You have no heredity. Your environment is molding you. You are the proof that mind is an electrical phenomenon, molded by environment. In human beings, their bodies—called heredity—are environment. But out of you I will make a mental wonder!”

  His eyes seemed to burn with a strange fire, but this softened as he went on.

  “I knew I had something unprecedented and vital twenty years ago when I perfected an iridium-sponge sensitive to the impact of a single electron. It was the sensitivity of thought! Mental currents in the human brain are of this micro-magnitude. I had the means now of duplicating mind-currents in an artificial medium. From that day to this I worked on the problem.

  “It was not long ago that I completed your ‘brain’—an intricate complex of iridium-sponge cells. Before I brought it to life, I had your body built by skilled artisans. I wanted you to begin life equipped to live and move in it as nearly in the human way as possible. How eagerly I awaited your debut into the world!”

  His eyes shone.

  “You surpassed my expectations. You are not merely a thinking robot. A metal man. You are—life! A new kind of life. You can be trained to think, to reason, to perform. In the future, your kind can be of inestimable aid to man and his civilization. You are the first of your kind.”

  “THE days and weeks slipped by. My mind matured and gathered knowledge steadily from Dr. Link’s library. I was able, in time, to scan and absorb a page at a time of reading matter, as readily as human eyes scan lines. You know of the television principle—a pencil of light moving hundreds of times a second over the object to be transmitted. My eyes, triggered with speedy electrons, could do the same. What I read was absorbed—memorized—instantly. From then on it was part of my knowledge.


  Scientific subjects particularly claimed my attention. There was always something indefinable about human things, something I could not quite grasp, but science digested easily, in my science-compounded brain. It was not long before I knew all about myself and why I “ticked,” much more fully than most humans know why they live, think and move.

  Mechanical principles became starkly simple to me. I made suggestions for improvements in my own make-up that Dr. Link readily agreed upon correcting. We added little universal in my fingers, for example, that made them almost as supple as their human models.

  Almost, I say. The human body is a marvelously perfected organic machine. No robot will ever equal it in sheer efficiency and adaptability. I realized my limitations.

  Perhaps you will realize what I mean when I say that my eyes cannot see colors. Or rather, I see just one color, in the blue range. It would take an impossibly complex series of units, bigger than my whole body, to enable me to see all colors. Nature has packed all that in two globes the size of marbles, for her robots. She had a billion years to do it. Dr. Link only had twenty years.

  But my brain, that was another matter. Equipped with only the two senses of one-color sight and limited sound, it was yet capable of garnishing a full experience. Smell and taste are gastronomic senses. I do not need them. Feeling is a device of Nature’s to protect a fragile body. My body is not fragile.

  Sight and sound are the only two cerebral senses. Einstein, color-blind, half-dead, and with deadened senses of taste, smell and feeling, would still have been Einstein—mentally.

  Sleep is only a word to me. When Dr. Link knew he could trust me to take care of myself, he dispensed with the nightly habit of “turning me off.” While he slept, I spent the hours reading.

  He taught me how to remove the depleted storage battery in the pelvic part of my metal frame when necessary and replace it with a fresh one. This had to be done every 48 hours. Electricity is my life and strength. It is my food. Without it I am so much metal junk.