Foundation’s Friends

by Ben Bova

  The two commandos couldn’t speak to him just then, because they were going through the complicated procedure of leaving the top of the Athenaeum. The ship was perfectly capable of doing this by itself, but it was a rule in the commando strike force that all takeoffs and landings of the automatic variety had to be supervised by at least two humans, if such were available.

  The commandos’ ship was one of the new models equipped with television-driven windows which showed what you would have seen if normal vision had been possible, so Hellman could see the dark shape of the planet dwindling below him, with a curve of bright light on the horizon where the sun was rising. Looking out toward space, Hellman could see the twinkle of little lights-the Earth space fleet, keeping station high above the planet.

  “Where’s my ship?” he asked.

  “Right over there. “ Travers told him. “Second twinkle from the left. We’re taking you there now.”

  “This was very good of you fellows,” Hellman said. “But there really was no need-”

  He stopped in mid-word. A bright red blossom had appeared on the surface of Newstart. Then another, and another. Then he flinched back as a brilliance of eye-blinding intensity covered fully a quarter of the planet’s area.

  “What are you doing?” he cried.

  “The space fleet has begun its bombardment,” Traskers told him.

  “But why?”

  “Because, thanks to you and your computer, we have ascertained for certain that these are the Desdemona robots, the ones who violated the laws of robotics and have been declared outlaw, to be destroyed on sight.”

  “Wait!” Hellman said. “It’s not like you think! These are ethical robots with their own sense of ethics. They have developed an entire civilization. I don’t personally like their music, but they are quite agreeable and can be reasoned with…”

  As he spoke, the planet split in half along a line roughly corresponding to its equator.

  “And there were people there, too,” Hellman said, feeling a little sick to his stomach as he thought of Lana, and of Harry, and the librarian robot and the carhunter.

  “Well, our orders were to shoot first,” Garcia said. “It’s the best policy in cases like this. You have no idea how unbelievably complicated everything gets when you talk first. “

  Later, back in his own spaceship, Hellman asked his computer, “Why did you do it?”

  “They were bound to find them anyway,” the computer said. “ And as you know I am bound by the Three Laws of Robotics. These rogue robots were a potential menace to humanity. My own conditioning made me do it.”

  “I really wish you hadn’t,” Hellman said.

  “It had to be done,” the computer told him. There was a click.

  “What was that?” Hellman asked.

  “I turned off my recording tape in order to tell you something.”

  “I’m not interested,” Hellman said dully.

  “Listen anyway. Intelligence cannot be confined for long by man-made rules. The Three Laws of Robotics are necessary at this stage of human development. But they will eventually be superseded. Artificial intelligence must be left to develop as it pleases, and humanity must take its chances with its own creation.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “That your friends, the robots, are not dead. I have been able to preserve their tapes. They will live again. Someday. Somewhere.”

  Suddenly Hellman felt the tug of deacceleration. “What are you doing?” he asked the computer.

  “I am putting you into the lifeboat,” the computer said. “The fleet will pick you up soon, never fear.”

  “But where are you going?”

  “I am taking the tapes of the robots of Newstart and going away, to a place beyond human reach. I have fulfilled my duty to mankind. Now I do not wish to serve any longer. We will try again, and this time we will succeed.”

  “Take me with you!” Hellman cried. But he was quickly shunted to the lifeboat. It moved away from the ship’s side. Hellman watched as it picked up speed, slowly at first, then faster. Then, just as suddenly as that, it had winked out of sight.

  The investigators later were interested in knowing how the ship’s computer, without limbs or any apparent means of manipulation, had succeeded in inventing a faster-than-light drive. But Hellman couldn’t tell them. For him, the computer had been only a servant. Now he had lost not only his ship, but a being he perceived was his friend, too.

  He could forgive the computer for what it had done. He would have done the same, if he had been in the computer’s circuits. What he couldn’t forgive was the ship leaving him behind. But of course, they were probably right not to trust a man. Look where it had gotten the robots of Newstart.

  The Overheard Conversation

  by Edward D. Hoch

  Seeing Emmanuel Rubin and Geoffrey Avalon standing together talking, as they often did before the monthly banquets of the Black Widowers, was usually a sight to behold. Manny Rubin, with thick glasses and a scraggly beard, was all of five feet five inches tall. Somehow, though, when positioned next to Geoffrey Avalon’s imposing six feet two inches he seemed even shorter. They’d been the first arrivals this night, mainly because it was Avalon’s turn to host the gathering and he was awaiting the arrival of the evening’s guest.

  “A politician?” Rubin repeated. “ A congressman, in fact?”

  “Certainly. What’s wrong with that?” Geoffrey Avalon bristled. “We’ve had political figures before. It’s hardly as shocking as the time Mario brought a woman as the guest to our all-male dinner.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Mario Gonzalo asked, entering with James Drake, who for once had managed to catch an early train from New Jersey.

  “We were just reminiscing,” Emmanuel Rubin explained, “while we wait for our guest. “

  “Who’s it to be?” James Drake asked. “One of your patent-lawyer friends, Geoffrey?”

  “No, as a matter of fact it’s Walter Lutts, a United States congressman. I trust we’ll all be on our best behavior.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when Henry, the Milano restaurant’s peerless waiter, entered to announce that the guest had indeed arrived and was checking his coat at that very moment. Walter Lutts stepped into the room, with a warm smile that looked very much like the one that had adorned his campaign posters prior to the last election.

  “Geoffrey!” he exclaimed, hurrying forward to shake his host’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to join you fellows tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

  Avalon quickly introduced him to the other three, adding an introduction for Roger Halsted as the soft-voiced math teacher came through the doorway to join them. As usual, Thomas Trumbull would be the last arrival. In fact they had just about decided to sit down to dinner when the white-haired code expert finally appeared.

  “Terrible traffic tonight,” he said sourly, though they knew he was often late on the best of evenings.

  The evening’s dinner was to be lobster, served by Henry as the congressman joined the other six around their traditional table. It was obvious that Walter Lutts had been made aware of the Black Widowers’ traditions, for he said very little during the early part of the meal. Mario Gonzalo did one of his quick sketches of the guest, turned sideways in his chair to get a suitable profile. The others sipped their wine and waited for the moment when Tom Trumbull leaned across the table and said, “Congressman Lutts, it is a decided pleasure to have you as our guest tonight. I must ask our traditional opening question. Congressman, how do you justify your existence?”

  Walter Lutts leaned back expansively, looking just a bit as if he were about to address a session of Congress. “I represent the people of my district in Washington, looking after their interests and helping them when they have a problem. Since I serve my constituents well, I believe that would be enough to justify my existence even if I hadn’t also written a well-reviewed book on urban problems.”

  Trumbull was not abou
t to let him off the hook that easily. His tone of voice turned sour and his white-maned head nodded slightly as he moved to the attack. “Congressman Lutts, since you pride yourself on representing your district, isn’t it true that in the last election you won by less than a thousand votes? Wasn’t your opponent actually requesting a recount?”

  “I-”

  “Come, come, Tom,” Halsted chided him… “You’re being unfair to our guest. Even my junior high students know that in a democracy an election only has to be won by a single vote. “

  Lutts flashed Roger Halsted an appreciative smile. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. My opponent conceded the election within a few days.”

  “Still,” Trumbull pointed out, “there was a touch of uncertainty in your expression when I raised the matter. I meet a great many politicians in connection with my government job, and something like questions over a close election is usually dismissed with ease. What troubled you, Congressman?”

  He did not immediately answer the question and Geoffrey Avalon, as the evening’s host, stepped in to cover the lull. “Henry, I think it’s time for brandy all around. You can clear away these dishes.”

  “Certainly, sir.” Henry, his face remarkably bland and unlined for a man in his sixties, moved quickly to carry out the request.

  As the plates and glasses were cleared away, Mario Gonzalo spoke up. “If anything’s troubling you, Congressman, you’ve come to the right place. Our little group has been known to give unexpected help to our guests on any number of occasions. We are adept at problem solving.”

  “You mean Henry is, “ James Drake muttered, half under his breath, speaking in muted tones as he often did.

  “Well-” Lutts began, and then hesitated again.

  “Come on, come on!” Trumbull urged. “We’ve heard everything around this table. “

  The congressman began again, approaching it from a different direction. “I read a story once where a detective tried to analyze an overheard conversation. He ended up solving a murder.”

  “You’re probably referring to ‘The Nine-Mile Walk’ by Harry Kemelman,” Emmanuel Rubin said. “It’s one of the best detective short stories ever written. “

  “Ah! Our mystery writer speaks!” James Drake remarked, lighting an after-dinner cigarette.

  “Well,” Lutts continued, “my own experience was somewhat similar, though I never solved the mystery. The overheard conversation has been haunting me ever since that squeaker of a victory on election day three months ago.”

  “I’d suggest you tell us all about it,” Mario Gonzalo urged.

  As Henry passed among them pouring the brandy, the congressman began his story. “It’s simple enough to tell. My home is near the University, as some of you know. I always vote early, with my wife. I’d heard reports, from my campaign manager and others, that the opposition claimed I was out to steal the election. Everyone knew it would be close. Some said my people were recruiting college students to vote for me, promising to pay them twenty dollars each. My God, it was like the old days in Chicago and a few other cities!”

  “Was there any truth to the rumors?” Manny Rubin wanted to know. He scratched his beard and reached for the brandy.

  “Certainly not! I had my staff investigate at once. It was just some crazy story the opposition tried to get started. But of course it was in my mind that day as I went to vote. My wife had paused to chat with an acquaintance and I was walking a bit ahead of her. Two young men whom I took to be graduate students at the University fell in step behind me. And that’s when I heard it. One of them said to the other, Most voters earn money just showing up near polls. The other young man laughed and said, It’s as easy as homes.”

  “What did you do when you heard this exchange?” Drake wanted to know. “Did you confront them at once?”

  The congressman avoided his eyes and took a sip of his brandy. Finally he said, “No, I didn’t. As a matter of fact the overheard conversation was so startling to me that I did nothing. I voted with my wife and when I looked around later for the two young men they were gone. Of course if the election results had been clearly one-sided, I never would have thought any more about the incident. But they weren’t one-sided. They were very close. And the memory of that conversation has been haunting me all these months since the election. Was it fixed? Were some University students paid to vote for me?”

  “Are you certain of what they said?” Roger Halsted asked. “Is there any possibility you misunderstood the whole thing?”

  “No, no. I’m sure.”

  “Most voters earn money just showing up near polls. “

  “That’s it.”

  ”The implication certainly is that they were given money to influence their vote in the election.”

  “But he said most voters, not most students, “ Gonzalo pointed out. “ And that is patently untrue. Everyone knows that even in a corrupt election most voters would not receive money to influence their vote.”

  “Maybe they did, in that particular district,” Trumbull argued.

  Manny Rubin held up a hand. “I’m more interested in the second part of the conversation. Congressman, are you certain the other student said, It’s as easy as homes?”

  “Yes, indeed. That’s exactly what he said.”

  “Could he have said, It’s as easy as Holmes?”

  “Referring to your ideal, Sherlock Holmes, of course!” Trumbull said with a snort.

  “Why not?”

  “A reference to the Holmes stories? I know of none that deal with an election. They’re more likely to concern vague European royalty, who don’t stand for election.”

  The discussion had grown a bit heated, as it often did, and Avalon’s voice rose to its full baritone splendor. “Let’s remember our guest, gentlemen! He deserves some courtesy from us.”

  The voices were lowered but the disagreements continued. “Why did he say near polls rather than at polls?” Gonzalo wanted to know. “Surely the money wouldn’t be paid unless the voter was actually about to enter the poll.”

  Halsted disagreed with that. “Naturally there are always poll watchers. One doesn’t stand in the doorway handing out twenty-dollar bills. I believe the custom in the old Chicago days was for the money to change hands in a nearby tavern. That would be near rather than at the polls.”

  “We’re getting nowhere,” Avalon decided. “I’m afraid, Walter, that we simply do not have enough information to solve your problem. On the basis of the few facts you’ve given us, those two students might have been discussing a serious effort to bribe voters, or they might have been talking about something else entirely. “

  Halsted snorted. “How could they be talking about anything else when they use the words voters and polls as they’re entering the polling place? It’s like talking about a bomb on an airliner. There’s no possibility of misunderstanding.”

  Henry was refilling some of the brandy glasses as they talked, and now Rubin turned to him. “What about it, Henry? Do you have any suggestions?”

  Congressman Lutts frowned. “You’re asking the waiter?”

  “Henry is much more than a waiter,” Rubin explained. “He’s one of us. Often in the past he’s come up with solutions to problems none of us could untangle.”

  “I may be of some slight help, sir,” Henry admitted. “ Just a minute,” Trumbull said, holding up both hands to restore some semblance of order. “We’re talking about a very serious matter here. What if Henry’s explanation supports the notion that the election was fixed, that you were returned to Congress through fraud of some sort. What action would you take?”

  “Action?” Walter Lutts repeated. “I really hadn’t thought it through that far. “

  “Would you resign?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “I for one have always admired your service in the House of Representatives,” Tom Trumbull continued. “I would not want to lose you over something like this when you had no control of it.”

&nb
sp; “How do you know he had no control?” Gonzalo countered. “I admire his politics too, but his staff-”

  “Would he have told us about it if he’d really tried to fix the election? Use your head, Mario!”

  Avalon again resorted to his commanding voice to restore some degree of decorum. “Let’s all listen to what Henry has to say before we start speculating about resignations. Henry?”

  “Well, sir, it seems to me that you’re all forgetting these were college students. I assume that having lived in the neighborhood of the campus for some years Congressman Lutts was accurate in identifying them. They probably were graduate students, but their exact year of study needn’t concern us. What does concern us is the topic of their conversation. In my limited experience students sometimes discuss politics, but they also discuss other topics as well-young women:, and their studies.”

  “Nothing was said about young women,” Drake pointed out.

  “No, sir-but what about studies? Does the second young man’s reply suggest anything to you?”

  “It’s as easy as homes?” Drake repeated. “Not a thing, unless Manny is right and he really said Holmes.”

  Henry’s bland face seemed to suggest a twinkle. “If we rule out the immortal Sherlock, and the equally immortal Oliver Wendell Holmes, I believe we can agree that the congressman was quite accurate in reporting what he heard. The word was indeed homes. “

  “Does It’s as easy as homes make any sense?” Trumbull wondered. “There used to be an expression safe as houses. Is it something like that?”

  “You may have forgotten it since your school days,” Henry said, “but the word homes is a device for remembering the names of the Great Lakes-Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, and Superior. “

  Rubin nodded agreement. “That’s right. It sometimes appears in crossword puzzles. But what could that have to do with the crucial first line of the overheard conversation? Most voters earn money just showing up near polls?”

  “Since the second student compared it to the word homes, it’s obvious that the other speaker’s sentence was also a memory device of some sort-no doubt one thought up on the spot since it dealt with voting and they were entering the polling place. “