by Isaac Asimov
“Yes, that is my suggestion.”
“That’s illegal at any time. In the climate of opinion today, it would be fatal.”
“If we are detected, yes. I do not suggest you take me to a city or even to a dwelling place of human beings. I would like to see some open region, without human beings.”
“That, too, is illegal.”
“If we are caught. Need we be?”
Harriman said, “How essential is this, George?”
“I cannot tell, but it seems to me it would be useful.”
“Do you have something in mind?”
George Ten seemed to hesitate. “I cannot tell. It seems to me that I might have something in mind if certain areas of uncertainty were reduced.”
“Well, let me think about it. And meanwhile, I’ll check out George Nine and arrange to have you occupy a single cubicle. That at least can be done without trouble.”
3a
George Ten sat alone.
He accepted statements tentatively, put them together, and drew a conclusion; over and over again; and from conclusions built other statements which he accepted and tested and found a contradiction and rejected; or not, and tentatively accepted further.
At none of the conclusions he reached did he feel wonder, surprise, satisfaction; merely a note of plus or minus.
4
HARRIMAN’S TENSION WAS not noticeably decreased even after they had made a silent downward landing on Robertson’s estate.
Robertson had countersigned the order making the dyna-foil available, and the silent aircraft, moving as easily vertically as horizontally, had been large enough to carry the weight of Harriman, George Ten, and, of course, the pilot.
(The dyna-foil itself was one of the consequences of the Machine-catalyzed invention of the proton micro-pile which supplied pollution-free energy in small doses. Nothing had been done since of equal importance to man’s comfort – Harriman’s lips tightened at the thought – and yet it had not earned gratitude for U. S. Robots.)
The air flight between the grounds of U. S. Robots and the Robertson estate had been the tricky part. Had they been stopped then, the presence of a robot aboard would have meant a great set of complications. It would be the same on the way back. The estate itself, it might be argued – it would be argued – was part of the property of U. S. Robots and on that property, robots, properly supervised, might remain.
The pilot looked back and his eyes rested with gingerly briefness on George Ten. “You want to get out at all, Mr. Harriman?”
“Yes.”
“It, too?”
“Oh, yes.” Then, just a bit sardonically, “I won’t leave you alone with him.”
George Ten descended first and Harriman followed. They had come down on the foil-port and not too far off was the garden. It was quite a showplace and Harriman suspected that Robertson used juvenile hormone to control insect life without regard to environmental formulas.
“Come, George,” said Harriman. “Let me show you.” Together they walked toward the garden.
George said, “It is a little as I have imaged it. My eyes are not properly designed to detect wavelength differences, so I may not recognize different objects by that alone.”
“I trust you are not distressed at being color-blind. We needed too many positronic paths for your sense of judgment and were unable to spare any for sense of color. In the future – if there is a future –”
“I understand, Mr. Harriman. Enough differences remain to show me that there are here many different forms of plant life.”
“Undoubtedly. Dozens.”
“And each coequal with man, biologically.”
“Each is a separate species, yes. There are millions of species of living creatures.”
“Of which the human being forms but one.”
“By far the most important to human beings, however.”
“And to me, Mr. Harriman. But I speak in the biological sense.”
“I understand.”
“Life, then, viewed through all its forms, is incredibly complex.”
“Yes, George, that’s the crux of the problem. What man does for his own desires and comforts affects the complex total-of-life, the ecology, and his short-term gains can bring long-term disadvantages. The Machines taught us to set up a human society which would minimize that, but the near-disaster of the early Twenty-first Century has left mankind suspicious of innovations. That, added to its special fear of robots –”
“I understand, Mr. Harriman.... That is an example of animal life, I feel certain.”
“That is a squirrel; one of many species of squirrels.”
The tail of the squirrel flirted as it passed to the other side of the tree
“And this,” said George, his arm moving with flashing speed, “is a tiny thing indeed.” He held it between his fingers and peered at it.
“It is an insect, some sort of beetle. There are thousands of species of beetles.”
“With each individual beetle as alive as the squirrel and as yourself?”
“As complete and independent an organism as any other, within the total ecology. There are smaller organisms still; many too small to see.”
“And that is a tree, is it not? And it is hard to the touch –”
4a
The pilot sat alone. He would have liked to stretch his own legs but some dim feeling of safety kept him in the dyna-foil. If that robot went out of control, he intended to take off at once. But how could he tell if it went out of control?
He had seen many robots. That was unavoidable considering he was Mr. Robertson’s private pilot. Always, though, they had been in the laboratories and warehouses, where they belonged, with many specialists in the neighborhood.
True, Dr. Harriman was a specialist. None better, they said. But a robot here was where no robot ought to be; on Earth; in the open; free to move – He wouldn’t risk his good job by telling anyone about this – but it wasn’t right.
5
GEORGE TEN SAID, “The films I have viewed are accurate in terms of what I have seen. Have you completed those I selected for you, Nine?”
“Yes,” said George Nine. The two robots sat stiffly, face to face, knee to knee, like an image and its reflection. Dr. Harriman could have told them apart at a glance, for he was acquainted with the minor differences in physical design. If he could not see them, but could talk to them, he could still tell them apart, though with somewhat less certainty, for George Nine’s responses would be subtly different from those produced by the substantially more intricately patterned positronic brain paths of George Ten.
“In that case,” said George Ten, “give me your reactions to what I will say. First, human beings fear and distrust robots because they regard robots as competitors. How may that be prevented?”
“Reduce the feeling of competitiveness,” said George Nine, “by shaping the robot as something other than a human being.”
“Yet the essence of a robot is its positronic replication of life. A replication of life in a shape not associated with life might arouse horror.”
“There are two million species of life forms. Choose one of those as the shape rather than that of a human being.”
“Which of all those species?” George Nine’s thought processes proceeded noiselessly for some three seconds. “One large enough to contain a positronic brain, but one not possessing unpleasant associations for human beings.”
“No form of land life has a braincase large enough for a positronic brain but an elephant, which I have not seen, but which is described as very large, and therefore frightening to man. How would you meet this dilemma?”
“Mimic a life form no larger than a man but enlarge the braincase.”
George Ten said, “A small horse, then, or a large dog, would you say? Both horses and dogs have long histories of association with human beings.”
“Then that is well.”
“But consider – A robot with a positronic brain would mimic human
intelligence. If there were a horse or a dog that could speak and reason like a human being, there would be competitiveness there, too. Human beings might be all the more distrustful and angry at such unexpected competition from what they consider a lower form of life.”
George Nine said, “Make the positronic brain less complex, and the robot less nearly intelligent.”
“The complexity bottleneck of the positronic brain rests in the Three Laws. A less complex brain could not possess the Three Laws in full measure.”
George Nine said at once, “That cannot be done.”
George Ten said, “I have also come to a dead end there. That, then, is not a personal peculiarity in my own line of thought and way of thinking. Let us start again.... Under what conditions might the Third Law not be necessary?”
George Nine stirred as if the question were difficult and dangerous. But he said, “If a robot were never placed in a position of danger to itself; or if a robot were so easily replaceable that it did not matter whether it were destroyed or not.”
“And under what conditions might the Second Law not be necessary?”
George Nine’s voice sounded a bit hoarse. “If a robot were designed to respond automatically to certain stimuli with fixed responses and if nothing else were expected of it, so that no order need ever be given it.”
“And under what conditions” – George Ten paused here – “might the First Law not be necessary?”
George Nine paused longer and his words came in a low whisper, “If the fixed responses were such as never to entail danger to human beings.”
“Imagine, then, a positronic brain that guides only a few responses to certain stimuli and is simply and cheaply made – so that it does not require the Three Laws. How large need it be?”
“Not at all large. Depending on the responses demanded, it might weigh a hundred grams, one gram, one milligram.”
“Your thoughts accord with mine. I shall see Dr. Harriman.”
5a
George Nine sat alone. He went over and over the questions and answers. There was no way in which he could change them. And yet the thought of a robot of any kind, of any size, of any shape, of any purpose, without the Three Laws, left him with an odd, discharged feeling.
He found it difficult to move. Surely George Ten had a similar reaction. Yet he had risen from his seat easily.
6
IT HAD BEEN a year and a half since Robertson had been closeted with Eisenmuth in private conversation. In that interval, the robots had been taken off the Moon and all the far-flung activities of U. S. Robots had withered. What money Robertson had been able to raise had been placed into this one quixotic venture of Harriman’s.
It was the last throw of the dice, here in his own garden. A year ago, Harriman had taken the robot here – George Ten, the last full robot that U. S. Robots had manufactured. Now Harriman was here with something else
Harriman seemed to be radiating confidence. He was talking easily with Eisenmuth, and Robertson wondered if he really felt the confidence he seemed to have. He must. In Robertson’s experience, Harriman was no actor.
Eisenmuth left Harriman, smiling, and came up to Robertson. Eisenmuth’s smile vanished at once. “Good morning, Robertson,” he said. “What is your man up to?”
“This is his show,” said Robertson evenly. “I’ll leave it to him.” Harriman called out, “I am ready, Conserver.”
“With what, Harriman?”
“With my robot, sir.”
“Your robot?” said Eisenmuth. “You have a robot here?” He looked about with a stem disapproval that yet had an admixture of curiosity.
“This is U. S. Robots’ property, Conserver. At least we consider it as such.”
“And where is the robot, Dr. Harriman?”
“In my pocket, Conserver:’ said Harriman cheerfully.
What came out of a capacious jacket pocket was a small glass jar. “That?” said Eisenmuth incredulously.
“No, Conserver,” said Harriman. “This!”
From the other pocket came out an object some five inches long and roughly in the shape of a bird. In place of the beak, there was a narrow tube; the eyes were large; and the tail was an exhaust channel.
Eisenmuth’s thick eyebrows drew together. “Do you intend a serious demonstration of some sort, Dr. Harriman, or are you mad?”
“Be patient for a few minutes, Conserver,” said Harriman. “A robot in the shape of a bird is none the less a robot for that. And the positronic brain it possesses is no less delicate for being tiny. This other object I hold is a jar of fruit flies. There are fifty fruit flies in it which will be released.”
“And –”
“The robo-bird will catch them. Will you do the honors, sir?” Harriman handed the jar to Eisenmuth, who stared at it, then at
those around him, some officials from U. S. Robots, others his own aides. Harriman waited patiently.
Eisenmuth opened the jar, then shook it.
Harriman said softly to the robo-bird resting on the palm of his right hand, “Go!”
The robo-bird was gone. It was a whizz through the air, with no blur of wings, only the tiny workings of an unusually small proton micro-pile.
It could be seen now and then in a small momentary hover and then it whirred on again. All over the garden, in an intricate pattern it flew, and then was back in Harriman’s palm, faintly warm. A small pellet appeared in the palm, too, like a bird dropping.
Harriman said, “You are welcome to study the robo-bird, Conserver, and to arrange demonstrations on your own terms. The fact is that this bird will pick up fruit flies unerringly, only those, only the one species Drosophila melanogaster; pick them up, kill them, and compress them for disposition.”
Eisenmuth reached out his hand and touched the robo-bird gingerly, “And therefore, Mr. Harriman? Do go on.”
Harriman said, “We cannot control insects effectively without risking damage to the ecology. Chemical insecticides are too broad; juvenile hormones too limited. The robo-bird, however, can preserve large areas without being consumed. They can be as specific as we care to make them – a different robo-bird for each species. They judge by size, shape, color, sound, behavior pattern. They might even conceivably use molecular detection – smell, in other words.”
Eisenmuth said, “You would still be interfering with the ecology. The fruit flies have a natural life cycle that would be disrupted.”
“Minimally. We are adding a natural enemy to the fruit-fly life cycle, one which cannot go wrong. If the fruit-fly supply runs short, the robo-bird simply does nothing. It does not multiply, it does not turn to other foods; it does not develop undesirable habits of its own. It does nothing.”
“Can it be called back?”
“Of course. We can build robo-animals to dispose of any pest. For that matter, we can build robo-animals to accomplish constructive purposes within the pattern of the ecology. Although we do not anticipate the need, there is nothing inconceivable in the possibility of robo-bees designed to fertilize specific plants, or robo-earthworms designed to mix the soil. Whatever you wish –”
“But why?”
“To do what we have never done before. To adjust the ecology to our needs by strengthening its parts rather than disrupting it.... Don’t you see? Ever since the Machines put an end to the ecology crisis, mankind has lived in an uneasy truce with nature, afraid to move in any direction. This has been stultifying us, making a kind of intellectual coward of humanity so that he begins to mistrust all scientific advance, all change.”
Eisenmuth said, with an edge of hostility, “You offer us this, do you, in exchange for permission to continue with your program of robots – I mean ordinary, man-shaped ones?”
“No!” Harriman gestured violently. “That is over. It has served its purpose. It has taught us enough about positronic brains to make it possible for us to cram enough pathways into a tiny brain to make a robo-bird. We can turn to such things now and be prosperous enough
. U. S. Robots will supply the necessary knowledge and skill and we will work in complete cooperation with the Department of Global Conservation. We will prosper. You will prosper. Mankind will prosper.”
Eisenmuth was silent, thinking. When it was all over
6a
Eisenmuth sat alone. He found himself believing. He found excitement welling up within him. Though U. S. Robots might be the hands, the government would be the directing mind. He himself would be the directing mind.
If he remained in office five more years, as he well might, that would be time enough to see the robotic support of the ecology become accepted; ten more years, and his own name would be linked with it indissolubly.
Was it a disgrace to want to be remembered for a great and worthy revolution in the condition of man and the globe?
7
ROBERTSON HAD NOT been on the grounds of U. S. Robots proper since the day of the demonstration. Part of the reason had been his more or less constant conferences at the Global Executive Mansion. Fortunately, Harriman had been with him, for most of the time he would, if left to himself, not have known what to say.
The rest of the reason for not having been at U. S. Robots was that he didn’t want to be. He was in his own house now, with Harriman.
He felt an unreasoning awe of Harriman. Harriman’s expertise in robotics had never been in question, but the man had, at a stroke, saved U. S. Robots from certain extinction, and somehow – Robertson felt – the man hadn’t had it in him. And yet –
He said, “You’re not superstitious, are you, Harriman?”
“In what way, Mr. Robertson?”
“You don’t think that some aura is left behind by someone who is dead?”
Harriman licked his lips. Somehow he didn’t have to ask. “You mean Susan Calvin, sir?”
“Yes, of course,” said Robertson hesitantly. “We’re in the business of making worms and birds and bugs now. What would she say? I feel disgraced.”
