by Isaac Asimov
There was a silence. The secretary clicked his teeth with a thoughtful fingernail. “I don’t know…I don’t know. But I’ve got to find out. And I can’t wait years.”
He left, and the Board Master turned seethingly to Brand, “ And how are we going to stop him from going to the robot world if he wants to?”
“I don’t see how he can go if we don’t let him. He doesn’t head the expedition.”
“Oh, doesn’t he? That’s what I was about to tell you just before he came in. Ten ships of the fleet have landed on Dorlis since we arrived.”
“What!”
“Just that.”
“But what for?”
“That, my boy, is what I don’t understand, either…
“Mind if I drop in?” said Wynne Murry, pleasantly, and Theor Realo looked up in sudden anxiety from the papers that lay in hopeless disarray on the desk before him.
“Come in. I’ll clear off a seat for you.” The albino hustled the mess off one of the two chairs in a state of twittering nerves.
Murry sat down and swung one long leg over the other. “Are you assigned a job here, too?” He nodded at the desk.
Theor shook his head and smiled feebly. Almost automatically, he brushed the papers together in a heap and turned them face down.
In the months since he had returned to Dorlis with a hundred psychologists of various degrees of renown, he had felt himself pushed farther and farther from the center of things. There was room for him no longer. Except to answer questions on the actual state of things upon the robot world, which he alone had visited, he played no part And even there he detected, or seemed to detect, anger that he should have gone, and not a competent scientist
It was a thing to be resented. Yet, somehow, it had always been like that
“Pardon me?” He had let Murry’s next remark slip.
The secretary repeated, “I say it’s surprising you’re not put to work, then. You made the original discovery, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” the albino brightened. “But it went out of my hands. It got beyond me.”
“You were on the robot world, though.”
“That was a mistake, they tell me. I might have ruined everything.”
Murry grimaced. “What really gets them, I guess, is that you’ve got a lot of first-hand dope that they didn’t Don’t let their fancy titles fool you into thinking you’re a nobody. A layman with common sense is better than a blind specialist You and I-I’m a layman, too, you know-have to stand up for our rights. Here, have a cigarette.”
“I don’t sm-I’ll take one, thank you.” The albino felt himself warming to the long-bodied man opposite. He turned the papers face upward again, and lit up, bravely but uncertainly.
“Twenty-five years.” Theor spoke carefully, skirting around urgent coughs.
“Would you answer a few questions about the world?”
“I suppose so. That’s all they ever ask me about But hadn’t you better ask them? They’ve probably got it all worked out now.” He blew the smoke as far from himself as possible.
Murry said, “Frankly, they haven’t even begun, and I want the information without benefit of confusing psychological translation. First of all, what kind of people-or things-are these robots? You haven’t a photocast of one of them, have you?”
“Well, no. I didn’t like to take ‘casts of them. But they’re not things. They’re people!”
“No? Do they look like-people?”
“Yes-mostly. Outside, anyway. I brought some microscopic studies of the cellular structure that I got hold of. The Board Master has them. They’re different inside, you know, greatly simplified. But you’d never know that. They’re interesting-and nice.”
“Are they simpler than the other life of the planet?”
“Oh, no. It’s a very primitive planet. And…and,” he was interrupted by a spasm of coughing and crushed the cigarette to death as unobtrusively as possible. “They’ve got a protoplasmic base, you know. I don’t think they have the slightest idea they’re robots.”
“No. I don’t suppose they would have. What about their science?”
“I don’t know. I never got a chance to see. And everything was so different. I guess it would take an expert to understand.”
“Did they have machines?”
The albino looked surprised. ‘Well, of course. A good many, of all sorts.”
“Large cities?”
“Yes!”
The secretary’s eyes grew thoughtful. “ And you like them. Why?”
Theor Realo was brought up sharply. “I don’t know. They were just likable. We got along. They didn’t bother me so. It’s nothing I can put my finger on. Maybe it’s because I have it so hard getting along back home, and they weren’t as difficult as real people.”
“They were more friendly?”
“N-no. Can’t say so. They never quite accepted me. I was a stranger, didn’t know their language at first-all that. But”-he looked up with sudden brightness-”I understood them better. I could tell what they were thinking better. I-But I don’t know why.”
“Hm-m-m. Well-another cigarette? No? I’ve got to be walloping the pillow now. It’s getting late. How about a twosome at golf tomorrow? I’ve worked up a little course. It’ll do. Come on out. The exercise will put hair on your chest.”
He grinned and left.
He mumbled one sentence to himself: “It looks like a death sentence”-and whistled thoughtfully as he passed along to his own quarters.
He repeated the phrase to himself when he faced the Board Master the next day, with the sash of office about his waist. He did not sit down.
“Again?” said the Board Master, wearily.
“Again!” assented the secretary. “But real business this time. I may have to take over direction of your expedition.”
“What! Impossible, sir! I will listen to no such proposition.”
“I have my authority.” Wynne Murry presented the metalloid cylinder that snapped open at a flick of the thumb. “I have full powers and full discretion as to their use. It is signed, as you will observe, by the chairman of the Congress of the Federation.”
“So-But why?” The Board Master, by an effort, breathed normally. “Short of arbitrary tyranny, is there a reason?”
“A very good one, sir. All along, we have viewed this expedition from different angles. The Department of Science and Technology views the robot world not from the point of view of a scientific curiosity, but from the standpoint of its interference with the peace of the Federation. I don’t think you’ve ever stopped to consider the danger inherent in this robot world.”
“None that I can see. It is thoroughly isolated and thoroughly harmless.”
“How can you know?”
“From the very nature of the experiment,” shouted the Board Master angrily. “The original planners wanted as nearly a completely closed system as possible. Here they are, just as far off the trade routes as possible, in a thinly populated region of space. The whole idea was to have the robots develop free of interference.”
Murry smiled. “I disagree with you there. Look, the whole trouble with you is that you’re a theoretical man. You look at things the way they ought to be and I, a practical man, look at things as they are. No experiment can be set up and allowed to run indefinitely under its own power. It is taken for granted that somewhere there is at least an observer who watches and modifies as circumstances warrant.”
“Well?” said the Board Master stolidly.
“Well, the observers in this experiment, the original psychologists of Dorlis, passed away with the First Confederation, and for fifteen thousand years the experiment has proceeded by itself. Little errors have added up and become big ones and introduced alien factors which induced still other errors. It’s a geometric progression. And there’s been no one to halt it.”
“Pure hypothesis.”
“Maybe. But you’re interested only in the robot world, and I’ve got to think of the e
ntire Federation.”
“And just what possible danger call the robot world be to the Federation? I don’t know what in Arcturus you’re driving at, man.”
Murry sighed. “I’ll be simple, but don’t blame me if I sound melodramatic. The Federation hasn’t had any internal warfare for centuries. What will happen if we come into contact with these robots?”
“Are you afraid of one world?”
“Could be. What about their science? Robots can do funny things sometimes.”
“What science call they have? They’re not metal-electricity supermen. They’re weak protoplasmic creatures, a poor imitation of actual humanity, built around a positronic brain adjusted to a set of simplified human psychological laws. If the word ‘robot’ is scaring you-”
“No, it isn’t, but I’ve talked to Theor Realo. He’s the only one who’s seen them, you know.”
The Board Master cursed silently and fluently. It came of letting a weak-minded freak of a layman get underfoot where he could babble and do harm.
He said, “We’ve got Realo’s full story, and we’ve evaluated it fully and capably. I assure you, no harm exists in them. The experiment is so thoroughly academic, I wouldn’t spend two days on it if it weren’t for the broad scope of the thing. From what we see, the whole idea was to build up a positronic brain containing modifications of one or two of the fundamental axioms. We haven’t worked out the details, but they must be minor, as it was the first experiment of this nature ever tried, and even the great mythical psychologists of that day had to progress stepwise. Those robots, I tell you, are neither supermen nor beasts. I assure you-as a psychologist.”
“Sorry! I’m a psychologist, too. A little more rule-of-thumb, I’m afraid. That’s all. But even little modifications! Take the general spirit of combativeness. That isn’t the scientific term, but I’ve no patience for that. You know what I mean. We humans used to be combative. But it’s being bred out of us. A stable political and economic system doesn’t encourage the waste energy of combat. It’s not a survival factor. But suppose the robots are combative. Suppose as the result of a wrong turn during the millennia they’ve been unwatched, they’ve become far more combative than ever their first makers intended. They’d be uncomfortable things to be with.”
“And suppose all the stars in the Galaxy became novae at the same time. Let’s really start worrying.”
“And there’s another point.” Murry ignored the other’s heavy sarcasm. “Theor Realo liked those robots. He liked robots better than he likes real people. He felt that he fitted there, and we all know he’s been a bad misfit in his own world.”
“And what,” asked the Board Master, “is the significance of that?”
“You don’t see it?” Wynne Murry lifted his eyebrows. “Theor Realo likes those robots because he is like them, obviously. I’ll guarantee right now that a complete psychic analysis of Theor Realo will show a modification of several fundamental axioms, and the same ones as in the robots.
“And,” the secretary drove on without a pause, “Theor Realo worked for a quarter of a century to prove a point, when all science would have laughed him to death if they had known about it. There’s fanaticism there; good, honest, inhuman perseverance. Those robots are probably like that!”
“You’re advancing no logic. You’re arguing like a maniac, like a moon-struck idiot.”
“I don’t need strict mathematical proof. Reasonable doubt is sufficient. I’ve got to protect the Federation. Look, it is reasonable, you know. The psychologists of Dorlis weren’t as super as all that. They had to advance stepwise, as you yourself pointed out. Their humanoids-let’s not call them robots-were only imitations of human beings and they couldn’t be good ones. Humans possess certain very, very complicated reaction systems-things like social consciousness, and a tendency toward the establishment of ethical systems; and more ordinary things like chivalry, generosity, fair play and so on, that simply can’t possibly be duplicated. I don’t think those humanoids can have them. But they must have perseverance, which practically implies stubbornness and combativeness, if my notion on Theor Realo holds good. Well, if their science is anywhere at all, then I don’t want to have them running loose in the Galaxy, if our numbers are a thousand or million times theirs. And I don’t intend to permit them to do so!”
The Board Master’s face was rigid. “What are your immediate intentions?”
“As yet undecided. But I think I am going to organize a small-scale landing on the planet.”
“Now, wait.” The old psychologist was up and around the desk. He seized the secretary’s elbow. “Are you quite certain you know what you’re doing? The potentialities in this massive experiment are beyond any possible precalculation by you or me. You can’t know what you’re destroying.”
“I know. Do you think I enjoy what I’m doing? This isn’t a hero’s job. I’m enough of a psychologist to want to know what’s going on, but I’ve been sent here to protect the Federation, and to the best of my ability I intend doing it-and a dirty job it is. But I can’t help.
“You can’t have thought it out. What can you know of the insight it will give us into the basic ideas of psychology? This will amount to a fusion of two Galactic systems, that will send us to heights that will make up in knowledge and power a million times the amount of harm the robots could ever do, if they were metal-electricity supermen.”
The secretary shrugged. “Now you’re the one that is playing with faint possibilities.”
“Listen, I’ll make a deal. Blockade them. Isolate them with your ships. Mount guards. But don’t touch them. Give us more time. Give us a chance. You must!”
“I’ve thought of that. But I would have to get Congress to agree to that. It would be expensive, you know.”
The Board Master flung himself into his chair in wild impatience. “What kind of expense are you talking about? Do you realize the nature of the repayment if we succeed?”
Murry considered; then, with a half smile, “What if they develop interstellar travel?”
The Board Master said quickly, “Then I’ll withdraw my objections.”
The secretary rose, “I’ll have it out with Congress.”
Brand Gorla’s face was carefully emotionless as he watched the Board Master’s stooped back. The cheerful pep talks to the available members of the expedition lacked meat, and he listened to them impatiently.
He said, “What are we going to do now?”
The Board Master’s shoulders twitched and he didn’t turn. “I’ve sent for Theor Realo. That little fool left for the Eastern Continent last week~
“Why?”
The older man blazed at the interruption. “How can I understand anything that freak does! Don’t you see that Murry’s right? He’s a psychic abnormality. We had no business leaving him unwatched. If I had ever thought of looking at him twice, I wouldn’t have. He’s coming back now, though, and he’s going to stay back.” His voice fell to a mumble. “Should have been back two hours ago.”
“It’s an impossible position, sir,” said Brand, flatly.
“Think so?”
“Well-Do you think Congress will stand for an indefinite patrol off the robot world? It runs into money, and average Galactic citizens aren’t going to see it as worth the taxes. The psychological equations degenerate into the axioms of common sense. In fact, I don’t see why Murry agreed to consult Congress.”
“Don’t your The Board Master finally faced his junior. “Well, the fool considers himself a psychologist, Galaxy help us, and that’s his weak point. He flatters himself that he doesn’t want to destroy the robot world in his heart, but that it’s the good of the Federation that requires it. And he’ll jump at any reasonable compromise. Congress won’t agree to it indefinitely, you don’t have to point that out to me.” He was talking quietly, patiently. “But I will ask for ten years, two years, six months-as much as I can get. I’ll get something. In that time, we’ll learn new facts about the world. Somehow we’ll
strengthen our case and renew the agreement when it expires. We’ll save the project yet.”
There was a short silence and the Board Master added slowly and bitterly, “And that’s where Theor Realo plays a vital part:’
Brand Gorla watched silently, and waited. The Board Master said, “On that one point, Murry saw what we didn’t. Realo is a psychological cripple, and is our real clue to the whole affair. If we study him, we’ll have a rough picture of what the robot is like, distorted of course, since his environment has been a hostile, unfriendly one. But we can make allowance for that, estimate his nature in a-Ahh, I’m tired of the whole subject “
The signal box flashed, and the Board Master sighed. “Well, he’s here. All right, Gorla, sit down, you make me nervous. Let’s take a look at him.”
Theor Realo came through the door like a comet and brought himself to a panting halt in the middle of the floor. He looked from one to the other with weak, peering eyes.
“How did all this happen?”
“All what?” said the Board Master coldly. “Sit down. I want to ask you some questions.”
“No. You first answer me.”
“Sit down!”
Realo sat His eyes were brimming. “They’re going to destroy the robot world.”
“Don’t worry about that”
“But you said they could if the robots discovered interstellar travel. You said so. You fool. Don’t you see-” He was choking.
The Board Master frowned uneasily. ‘Will you calm down and talk sense?”
The albino gritted his teeth and forced the words out. “But they’ll have interstellar travel before long.”
And the two psychologists shot toward the little man.
“What!!”
“Well…well, what do you think?” Realo sprang upward with all the fury of desperation. “Did you think I landed in a desert or in the middle of an ocean and explored a world all by myself? Do you think life is a storybook? I was captured as soon as I landed and taken to a big city. At least, I think it was a big city. It was different from our kind. It had-But I won’t tell you.”
“Never mind the city,” shrieked the Board Master. “You were captured. Go ahead.”
