Asimov’s Future History Volume 8

by Isaac Asimov

  “Frost,” Janet whispered, “communist robots.” She blinked and shook herself out of her shock. “Are you trying to tell me that the future of humanity is at stake here?”

  “The future of the particular species of humanity native to this planet,” Gamma agreed.

  “Native...? The kin! But that’s what I wanted to talk about: your plans to adapt the city for the kin!”

  “Dr. Anastasi, you have repeatedly voiced your objections to our plans. Therefore, the City Supervisors have concluded with 97-percent confidence that you called this meeting for the sole purpose of ordering us to abandon our efforts to serve the kin.”

  “Frosted right!” Janet snatched the sheaf of fax sheets out of Basalom’s hand and waved it in Gamma’s face. “This plan of yours; it’s degrading! You’re going to exploit my mistake and delude those poor primitives into thinking that SilverSides really was a god! You’re going to lure them into the city and then strip them of everything that makes them noble and admirable!”

  “We will protect and serve them,” Gamma said calmly. “We will not lie to them, but neither will we correct their mistaken assumptions. We will give them the leisure time necessary to develop a civilization.”

  Janet threw the plan in Gamma’s face. “It’s immoral!” The plan burst its binding and white pages swirled around Gamma like giant snowflakes.

  The robot remained imperturbable. “It is the most efficient way to serve them. And we have already put it into operation.”

  “What?” Basalom didn’t need thermographic vision to see that Dr. Anastasi’s blood pressure had reached record heights. “I order you to abandon this plan immediately! This is an emergency, ultimate-priority Second Law command!”

  “Abandoning the plan at this point would cause hardships for the kin,” Gamma said calmly. “It would result in starvation, social disruption, and possibly religious war. Under the Zeroth Law we are therefore obliged to ignore your command.”

  Janet’s jaw dropped. She started to raise a hand to slap Gamma, then thought better of it and spun to face Central’s I/0 console. “Central! I order you to halt this plan!” Central’s one big eye flashed, and then the massive brain spoke.

  “Illogical. The order cannot be carried out, as it violates the Zeroth Law.”

  “Augh!” Dr. Anastasi raised her fists and took a step toward the I/O console.

  “Madam,” Basalom whispered urgently, “the security robots are approaching!”

  Janet froze. Slowly, carefully, mindful of the massive black shapes that lurked on the edges of her peripheral vision, she lowered her fists and took a step back. For the better part of a minute, she concentrated on controlling her breathing and relaxing her furiously quivering muscles.

  At last, she managed to unclench her fists. Turning to Basalom, she said, “Contact the ship. We’re getting out of here.” Then, with hair flying and heels clacking on the cold terrazzo floor, she strode out of Central Hal.

  Later, in Personal Vehicle One on the way out to the spaceport, Basalom finally managed to bump his courage register high enough to permit an invasion of Dr. Anastasi’s stony silence. “Madam? Where are we going?”

  “Back to where it all started,” she said without taking her eyes off the side window. “Back to the original Robot City. I have a score to settle with Wendell Avery.”

  Chapter 18

  WILD GOOSE CON TUTTI

  ARIEL AND MANDELBROT stood on the bridge of the Wild Goose Chase, studying the small blue-white planet that hung like a jewel in the sparkling black velvet of the main viewscreen. “Tau Puppis IV,” Ariel said wistfully. “What a beautiful little world.”

  “Mistress Wolruf is a better navigator than she will admit,” Mandelbrot said. “Despite all the uncontrolled variables, we came out of the jump less than six light-hours from our planned position.”

  “It was worth the extra four days of flying time.” Ariel touched a control and increased the magnification. “Look at those rivers. It reminds me of home.”

  A new voice spoke. “To me, it is home.”

  Ariel turned at the sound of the voice. “Adam! I didn’t know you were here.”

  The robot bowed slightly. “I am sorry if I alarmed you, Friend Ariel. I came on the bridge a few minutes ago, but I have been so enjoying the view that it did not occur to me to speak.” He walked over and joined Ariel and Mandelbrot before the viewscreen.

  “I am coming to understand more of the subtlety of emotion,” Adam said. “In my mind, I know that I am a robot. I am a thing that was manufactured in deep space; pieced together from Auroran robotics, rare earths, and dianite.

  “But there is a part of me that was born in the cool green forests of that planet; a part of me that came to life among its peoples and still knows the pleasure of bare paws on soft grass. In my-heart-I feel that I am coming home.” Adam reached out, tentatively, as if he could touch the image on the viewscreen.

  He turned away. “I apologize. This must seem quite incoherent to you.”

  Ariel offered him a smile. “Emotion usually is, Adam.”

  “Not as incoherent as you might think, Friend Ariel. In our search for the Laws of Humanics, we have devoted considerable study lately to the structure of the human brain. It is our hypothesis that humans have not one mind but four, located in the midbrain, cerebellum, and left and right cerebra respectively, and that it is the conflict between these four minds that gives rise to emotion. Further, we suspect that it is the ability to overrule logic with emotion that has enabled your species to evolve as far as it has.”

  Ariel wrinkled her nose. “That’s a pretty strange theory, Adam.”

  “Our experience seems to support it. The Ceremyons are brilliant, yet they are also capable of a vast range of subtle emotions. In comparison, Dr. Avery is quite intelligent for a human, but his inability to admit to emotion eventually drove him insane. Only by forcing him to integrate his logical functions with his more primitive drives were you able to cure him and turn him into a somewhat more complete human being.” Adam looked at the viewscreen again.

  “I have concluded that having a split mind is a tremendous evolutionary advantage. I look forward to returning home and fully exploring my primitive side.” Abruptly, he pivoted and began walking toward the lift.

  The doors opened as he approached, but Mandelbrot called out, “Wait,” and he stopped.

  “Yes, Friend Mandelbrot?”

  “I have a dilemma which is causing me discordant potentials. I now believe that you can help me resolve it.”

  “I will try.” Adam stepped away from the lift and let the doors close.

  “I have had a long association with Wolruf,” Mandelbrot began. “But since my memories of my existence as Capek. were partially restored, she appears to make excuses to avoid associating with me.

  “For example, now we are about to enter orbit, and she should be here on the bridge. But she claims to have no interest in the orbit and reentry procedure.”

  Ariel joined the discussion. “That’s easy, Mandelbrot. Whenever you invoke a Capek memory, you slip into your Capek personality, and Capek identifies Wolruf as a member of Aranimas’s crew. You’ve started to restrain her four times, trying to defend me. Wolruf is afraid of you.”

  “I understand that part, Mistress Ariel, and I am making a serious effort to integrate those memories into my current personality. Perhaps you have noticed that I no longer call you Mistress Kathryn?

  “But that’s not my dilemma. My real question is, what is this confused and conflicting stream of potentials that I experience whenever I think about Wolruf?”

  “It’s called heartache,” Adam said. “Wolruf was your friend, and now you fear that you have lost her. The same condition prompts feelings of guilt, anger, grief, and remorse — sometimes simultaneously.

  “Use these emotions,’ Mandelbrot. Integrating your two minds will make you stronger.”

  Mandelbrot’s voice synthesizer took on a hopeful note. “Are you confi
dent that it is heartache?”

  Adam turned away and looked at Tau Puppis IV, glowing like a blue-white jewel in a field of velvet and diamonds. “I am certain of it. I left many friends behind on that world; some were depending on me to protect and lead them. I am very familiar with that feeling.” Abruptly, Adam walked to the lift and stepped inside. The doors hissed closed.

  Ariel was still trying to understand why she felt so disturbed by the exchange between Adam and Mandelbrot when the lift doors reopened. Avery and Derec spilled onto the bridge, arguing heatedly.

  “You’re being paranoid, Dad!”

  “No, I’m not. He found us twice; we have to assume that he’ll find us again.”

  “And spend the rest of our lives playing dead every time some crummy little freighter passes by?”

  Avery threw up his hands. “Look, I said I was wrong four days ago. It was probably just some Settler ship making a course correction between jumps. But if that had been Aranimas —”

  “But it wasn’t!”

  Smiling sweetly, Ariel stepped in between Derec and Avery. “Having fun, boys?”

  Avery’s white moustache was bristling with anger. “Ariel, maybe you can talk some sense into my son. The question is not whether, but when Aranimas will find us again —” He bobbed left and fired a glare at Derec over Ariel’s shoulder. “— and we frosted well better have some kind of defense ready this time!”

  Derec popped up and poked an accusing finger at Avery over Ariel’s head. “You’re nuts, old man! Finding us the second time was an accident. Pure dumb luck! We toasted his boarding crew and we gave him the slip. He’s given up, I tell you!”

  “And I say he can track your commlink!”

  “You’re paranoid!”

  “You’re insolent!”

  “Toad!”

  “Nit!”

  “Boys, boys.” Ariel was shorter than either Derec or Avery, but she pushed the two of them apart with an authority born from centuries of selective breeding by short, motherly women. “Now Derec, listen to your father; he’s only being sensible.” Avery’s face lit up in an I gotcha smile, but it collapsed the instant that Ariel turned on him. “And Dr. Avery, you listen to me.

  “This ship is a robot, fully subject to the Laws of Robotics. Even if we could come up with a weapon, the ship wouldn’t let us use it unless we could prove that there were no humans on board Aranimas’s ship.

  “So what we have to do —” Derec and Avery were glaring at each other again, so she grabbed them both by the ears and steered them around until they were looking at the viewscreen. “— What we have to do is go down to the planet and develop our defense there. With all the resources of a Robot City at our disposal, I’m sure that we can find a way to protect ourselves from Aranimas.”

  Smiling sweetly, she looked first to Derec and then to Avery. “Agreed?” They were a little slow on the uptake, so she dug her long red fingernails into their earlobes.

  “Ow! Yes! We agree!”

  “Good, I’m glad you decided to be reasonable about this.” She released her grip. “Mandelbrot? Begin preparations to deorbit and land in Robot City.”

  “There will be a time delay of approximately six hours,” Mandelbrot answered. “Reconfiguring the ship for atmospheric entry will take two hours, and then-owing to the damage we suffered in the fight — I must insist on full visual inspection and structural testing before we attempt reentry.”

  “Okay. Get on with it. Is there anything that we can do to help you?”

  “Yes.” Mandelbrot turned to face Ariel, and his eyes dimmed momentarily as he worked his way through some kind of Robotic Law dilemma. “Mistress Ariel? I would appreciate it if you could locate Mistress Wolruf and … reason with her.” His gaze dropped to focus on her fingernails.

  “Don’t worry, Mandelbrot, Wolruf’s a smart girl. I’ll get her back on the bridge before reentry, and I won’t use anything sharper than words.”

  Chapter 19

  MAVERICK

  IT WAS A good stretch; the kind that starts in the hips, snakes forward along the spine through the shoulders, and ends in an enormous yawn and fully spread toes on the forepaws. Maverick recovered from the yawn, shifted forward to stretch his back legs, and then indulged in a little shake.

  WhiteTail just looked at him and growled softly.

  “Oh, c’rnon, girl, let your ears down once in a while.” With a little spring, he jumped up to stand with his hind feet on the pavement and his front feet up on the low, square railing that bordered the scenic overlook. Behind him, a quartet of younglings dashed by on the slidewalk, yipping happily.

  “Y’know, WhiteTail, you could learn something from them.” He looked over his shoulder and pointed his nose at the younglings as they leapt off the slidewalk and disappeared into a pocket park. “They don’t try to figure things out. They don’t question the wisdom of SilverSides. They simply trust and enjoy.”

  WhiteTail’s voice was low, barely above a growl. “I prefer to trust my own nose. And it tells me that there’s something really wrong here.”

  “Here?” Maverick laughed. “Face it, girl, you’ve been seeing sharpfangs in the shadows ever since we arrived.”

  She trotted over and jumped up to stand next to Maverick. “Mavvy, doesn’t it bother you that we’re the only living things in this city?” She pointed to the enormous silver-blue den across the way. “A cliff face like that should be home to a whole flock of cragnesters. But look at it: there’s not one white splat to be seen.”

  Maverick laughed again. “And you’re complaining?”

  WhiteTail shot him a distempered look and then turned to look at the pocket park. “Have you taken a close look at those trees? No, of course not, you’re a male; the only time you notice trees is when you want to mark one.

  “Yesterday I chewed some bark off a tree, and you know what I found? Blue grit, just the same as we found inside that WalkingStone’s chest.”

  “You’re kidding.” Maverick squinted at the park just in time to see a youngling scare up a nuteater and chase it halfway up a tree. The other three younglings dashed over to join in, and the four of them danced around the tree, barking like happy fools and trying to get running starts at climbing the trunk. “Stone trees? Don’t be ridiculous; what do the nuteaters eat?”

  “Funny you should mention that. Have you tried to catch a nuteater yet?”

  Maverick sputtered. “What a silly — I mean, do I look like someone who plays youngling games?” WhiteTail glared sharply at him; he coughed a bit and then swallowed his pride. “Okay, I have. But only once or twice. Just for fun.”

  “I saw a youngling catch a nuteater this morning,” WhiteTail announced. Maverick’s ears went straight up and his eyes widened. “Don’t worry, dear, he wasn’t faster than you. What happened was he’d been chasing the same nuteater for a while, and he was getting tired. Somehow, no matter how patient he was, no matter how far down the tree he let it get, the nuteater always managed to get back up the tree just an instant before the youngling bit it.

  “So you know what the youngling finally did? He got so fed up that he yelled, ‘Stop, nuteater!’ And just like that, the nuteater stopped. Froze in place, halfway up the tree. Stiff as if it’d been dead for a moondance.

  “Well, the youngling was pretty pleased with himself. He jumped up, grabbed the nuteater, and started throwing it to the ground and pouncing on it. Took him no time at all to get bored with the game, and after he threw the dead nuteater aside, I decided to pick it up and skin it. Know what I found?”

  “Let me guess. Blue grit.”

  “Yep.”

  Maverick turned away from her and looked out over the edge of the balcony, nodding profoundly. “Yes, that makes perfect sense. Stone nuteaters in stone trees, and all obedient to the will of the kin. Even the smallest WalkingStones serve SilverSides’s purpose.”

  “What?” WhiteTail’s ears sprang erect, and she pushed herself right in Maverick’s smugly smiling face. �
��Look here, Mister First Believer, I have to listen to this kind of spoor when it comes from my father, but I don’t have to put up with it from you.”

  “Oh, hard is the heart of the unbeliever,” Maverick said with a sigh.

  “And don’t think for a minute that you’re fooling me with your pious lines.”

  “So young, so pretty, and yet so cynical,” Maverick lamented. “Is it really impossible for you to believe that it’s true?” He made a sweeping gesture with his head to take in the cityscape below them. “Even with SilverSides’s wondrous works all around you?”

  WhiteTail’s ears flattened against the sides of her head, and her lips curled into the barest hint of a snarl. “Funny, isn’t it? We’ve been here for the better part of a ten-day now, and your precious SilverSides has yet to show herself.”

  “One need not see the sharpfang to recognize the signs of its passing.”

  WhiteTail let out a little sneeze of disgust. “Mavvy, you used to be a kin with some sense. What happened to you? Don’t answer, I know: You met the scouts from the GodBeings, pack and saw the lightning of their anger. But what really happened in that box canyon?”

  Maverick shrugged. “That is what happened. I’m sorry if my poor tongue cannot describe it better.”

  “Did they actually say that they came from SilverSides? How can you be so sure that this is really the blessing of the OldMother and not a trick of the FirstBeast?”

  He blinked at her as if the question were almost beyond comprehension. “WhiteTail, all you have to do is look. Clean, warm dens for everyone. Moving paths to carry you wherever you want to go. Unlimited food. How could life be better?”

  WhiteTail sneezed again and then leaned out over the edge of the balcony and pointed her muzzle at a group of converts in the street below. The six of them lay in a semicircle, prostrate before an automat, barking in rhythm. The automat responded with a flash of light, a clap of thunder, and an enormous mound of cooked meat.