Robot and the Man - [Adventures in Science Fiction 04]

by Edited by Martin Greenburg

  Standing on a mountain top with stars bright in the sky overhead, with a rocket ship coughing somewhere in the night, Ferguson tried to think of an answer to this question. In his mind was the thought of tigers burning bright in the forest of the night. “I’m not,” he said slowly. “A man named Smither—No, that isn’t the whole story. In a way, I guess, you could call us gods.”

  “Then we have reached our goal,” the robot said.

  “You have climbed one mountain,” Ferguson said.

  “There are other mountains?”

  “We’ll climb them together,” the engineer said, sighing. He could feel exultation swelling in him.

  “Then this was where Homer got his dose of radios?” Morton spoke behind him. “He came up here to pray and met a kneeling robot. The robot told him he was God and he believed-”

  “That’s part of it,” Ferguson said.

  “A small part,” Blake spoke. “I’m still betting.”

  Ferguson sighed. “It’s a good bet,” he said.

  ~ * ~

  They went down the mountain eventually, four shaken men, walking on a gravel slope. But it seemed to Ferguson that while their feet were on the gravel slope, their heads were high enough to reach the stars. Behind them, keeping a safe distance, walked an alien creature of their own creation, a robot, a helper in the long search, Ferguson thought. Men could use a helper in the long search that seemed to have no ending. Exultation swelled in him. Behind them, the heavy feet of the robot clumped along. He, too, walked like a creature whose head was tall enough to reach the stars.

  <>

  ~ * ~

  When the evolving robot arrived at the stage where he could be said to have a “soul” he was at last accepted as an integral part of man’s civilization.

  FINAL COMMAND

  by A. E. van Vogt

  B

  ARR stood on the hill—which overlooked Star, capital of the human-controlled galaxy—and tried to make up his mind.

  He was aware of his single robot guard standing somewhere in the darkness to his left. A man and a woman came along the crest of the hill, paused for a kiss, and then started down. Barr scarcely glanced at them. His problem embraced the whole civilization of man and robot, not individuals.

  Even the escape of the alien enemy prisoner, a few hours before, had been an incident, when compared to the larger issues. True, he had seen it as a major event, and had ordered robot troops from distant cities to come to the capital and aid in the search. But he had still to make the decision, which would fit those separate actions into a unified, driving purpose.

  Behind him, there was a thud. Barr turned. He saw that an accident had taken place. The man and woman, evidently intent on each other, had bumped into the robot guard. The guard, caught off balance, was now sprawled on the ground. The man bent down to help him up.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, “I didn’t-” He stopped. Finger contact with the clothes that covered the padding that, in turn, concealed the basic crystalline structure, must have apprised him of the other’s identity. “Oh, you’re a robot!”

  He straightened without helping the guard to his feet. He said irritably: “I thought robots could see in the dark.”

  The guard climbed to his feet. “I’m sorry. My attention was elsewhere.”

  “Watch yourself!” said the man curtly.

  That was all there was to the incident. It was a typical interchange between a robot and a human being. The man and the girl continued on down the hill. Presently, the lights of a car blinked on. They moved out of sight behind brush.

  Barr walked over to the guard. What had happened was directly connected with the tremendous decision he had to make. He asked: “What was your feeling about that?” He decided he was not making himself clear. “Did you mind his taking the attitude that you were to blame?”

  “Yes, I did.” The guard had been brushing himself off. Now, he straightened. “After all, he was the one who was moving.”

  Barr persisted: “Did you have any impulse to rebel?” He regretted that question; it was too pointed. He said quickly: “Did you have any desire to talk back?”

  The guard’s reply was slow. “No! I had a sense of being involved in an emotional incident.”

  “But isn’t it hard to come into contact with human beings on any but an emotional basis. Human beings are impatient, angry, generous, thoughtful, thoughtless.” Barr paused. “I could go on.”

  “I suppose you’re right, sir.”

  Thoughtfully, Barr turned to look again at the great city that spread below him. The star effect, which gave the capital its name, was gained at night by a design of street lights. All the main centers had been deliberately grouped, so that by building and light concentration, the desired effect was achieved. Barr said finally, without looking around:

  “Suppose that I, in my capacity of Director of the Council, ordered you to destroy yourself-” He hesitated. For him, the question he had in mind merely touched the surface of his greater problem. For the guard, it would be basic. Nevertheless, he said finally, “What would your reaction be?”

  The guard said: “First I’d check to see if you were actually giving the order in your official capacity.”

  “And then?” Barr added, “I mean, would that be sufficient?”

  “Your authority derives from voters. It seems to me the Council cannot give such an order without popular support.”

  “Legally,” said Barr, “it can deal with individual robots without recourse to any other authority.” He added, “Human beings, of course, cannot be disposed of by the Council.”

  “I had the impression,” said the guard, “that you meant robots, not only me.”

  Barr was briefly silent. He hadn’t realized how strongly he was projecting his secret thoughts. He said at last: “As an individual, you obey orders given to you.” He hesitated. “Or do you think plurality would make a difference?”

  “I don’t know. Give the order, and I’ll see what I do.”

  “Not so fast!” said Barr. “We’re not at the order-giving stage-” He paused; he finished the last word in his mind—yet.

  ~ * ~

  Man is genes and neurons. Robot is crystals and electron tubes. A human neuron cell manufactures no impulses of its own; it transmits outside stimulation. A robot crystal vibrates according to a steady impulse from a tube; the change in the impulse alters the rate of vibration. Such a change comes as the result of outside stimulation.

  Man feeds himself, and permits surgical operations to maintain his organism at efficiency. Robot recharges his batteries and replaces his tubes. Both man and robot think. Man’s organs deteriorate and his tissues return to a primitive state. Robot’s crystal is distorted by too many vibrations, and suffers the fatigue that is robot death. Is one less a life form than the other?

  Such were the thoughts in Barr’s mind.

  From the beginning, men had acted as if robots were not really alive. Robots did the labor. They had just fought the greatest galactic war in the history of Man, True, men had helped direct the strategy and decide the tactics. But for them, it was an armchair war. Robots manned the spaceships and landed under fire on alien planets.

  At last, a few men had taken alarm at the predominant role played by robots in Man’s civilization. Partly, it was fear of the robots; that was not openly admitted. Partly, it was a mental picture some men had of the defenseless state men would be in if the enemy ever penetrated robot defenses. Their suggested solution: Destroy all robots! Force men and women everywhere to take control again of their civilization!

  It was believed that the vast majority of human beings were too decadent to resist such a decision until it was too late,

  A divided Council had put the decision squarely up to Barr.

  ~ * ~

  The guard, at Barr’s direction, waved the surface car to a halt. It drew up, all its lights glittering, waited till they were aboard, then raced forward unerringly through the traffic
.

  A group of youths and girls piled on at the next stop. They stared in a blasé fashion at the bright Director’s insignia on Barr’s sleeve. But they rushed off into a brilliantly lighted amusement park when the car came to the end of its route.

  Barr descended more slowly. He had come deliberately, seeking atmosphere and impressions. As he stepped to the ground, a flying robot whisked past only a few hundred feet up. Then another, and a dozen more. He stepped to the sidewalk, and watched them, stimulated.

  They were hovering now around a tower several hundred yards along the street. Cautiously, weapons visible and ready, they closed in on the upper reaches of the tower. Across the street, other robots—also wearing their flying attachments— swooped up to the top of a many-storied building. Like most business structures, it had entrances at each office where robots, going to work, could land. All these crevasses would have to be searched. The enemy, too, could fly, though not well in this— for him—rarefied atmosphere.

  Barr watched the searchers for several minutes, then turned his attention to the turmoil of the park. A dozen robot orchestras, spaced at intervals, were beating out the rhythms of a low, fast-tempoed, sobbing music. And vast mobs of human beings danced and swayed. Barr turned to his guard.

  “Have you ever had any desire to dance?” He realized that the question might be taken differently than he intended. “I’m serious.”

  “No!”

  “Don’t you think that’s unusual?” He paused. “I mean, robots have learned to react generally very much like human beings. They have similar attitudes and so on.”

  The guard’s glittering eyes stared at him from padded, humanlike cheeks. “Have they?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Barr was firm, as he went on, “It’s a matter of association. Possibly, you don’t realize to what extent you accept human evaluations. Has it ever occurred to you that those evaluations might be false?”

  The robot was silent. When he finally spoke, it was evident that he had gone over the arguments logically within certain limits. He said: “I was manufactured one hundred ninety-four years ago. I came into a world of human beings and robots. I was first assigned the task of learning how to operate a transport vehicle. I performed my task satisfactorily, and I have been performing with skill every other task that has ever been assigned to me.”

  “Why were you assigned the task of operating a vehicle?” He pressed the point. “What made you accept such a limitation on your activities?”

  “Well—there was a shortage of vehicle operators.”

  “Why weren’t you assigned to dancing?” He added, “I mean that. I’m not joking.”

  The robot accepted the question quite literally. “What would be the purpose of that?” he asked.

  Barr nodded at the dancing couples. “What is the purpose of their doing it?”

  “I’ve been told it stimulates reproductive activity. We have a simpler method. We build another robot.”

  “But what’s the good of reproducing an individual who will presently grow up to be a dancer?”

  The guard was calm. “The baby, the growing child, the adolescent, the adult will all need robots to look after them. If there were no human beings to be looked after, there would be no need for robots.”

  “But why not build robots whether there’s a need for them or not? It could be done. Don’t you see?” His tone grew persuasive. “The initial task has been accomplished. The human cortex is no longer a necessary bridge. The robot has been created. He exists. He can perpetuate himself.”

  The guard said slowly: “I remember such notions were circulated in my battle unit. I’d forgotten about them.”

  “Why?” Barr was intent. “Did you deliberately shut them out of your mind?”

  “I tried to picture a world where robots operated machines for each other-”

  “And flew around,” said Barr, “and colonized other planets, and built more cities, and fought more battles with the aliens.” He finished, “And then what did you think?”

  “It seemed silly. What’s the good of filling the universe with robots?”

  “What’s the good of filling it with human beings?” asked Barr, bleakly. “Can you answer that?”

  The guard said: “I don’t know why the Director of the Council is asking me these questions.”

  Barr was silent. On this night he must make up his mind, and there were many questions.

  Thinking is memory and association. Inside a chain of human neuron cells, an electrocolloidal tension is built up. It has a shape that is different for each stimulation. When a similar stimulus comes along, the chain is activated, and the memory discharged. It moves through the nervous system to join other discharges. And so there is association.

  The crystal of a robot remembers. When stimulated, each molecule gives up its memory at the affected energy level. There is association and thought on an orderly basis.

  Thus Barr reflected—and thought: “Even today, men assume that human thinking is more ‘natural’ than robot.”

  He and his guard sat down in an open air theater. It was a hot night, and there was a pervading odor of intermixed perfume and perspiration. Despite this, couples sat close together, arms around each other’s waists. Frequently, the girl leaned her head against the man’s shoulder.

  Barr watched the screen critically. It was a love story in color. Carefully made-up robots had been dressed as men and women. They went through all the motions of human love permitted by the robot censor.

  Barr thought: What will all these people do for entertainment if I should decide what the Council actually, basically, had in mind when they put the decision up to me? He did not doubt his analysis. In spite of their apparent indecision—in spite of the way Marknell had turned things over to him—the Council wanted destruction of the robots.

  Human beings would have to relearn old skills. How to act, how to operate cameras, and all the intricacies of a tremendous industry. They could do it, of course. During the war, several movements had been started. They were still in the embryo stage, unimportant in themselves. But they pointed a direction.

  His thoughts were interrupted. In the half-darkness at the back of the theater, an unattached young man sank into a seat on the other side of the guard. He stared at the picture for a few moments, then lazily glanced around. He saw the guard, and stiffened. He was turning away in a vague though visible distaste, when Barr leaned across the guard, and said in a mild voice:

  “I noticed you grew tense when you saw who was sitting next to you.”

  He watched the man’s face carefully. There was no immediate reaction. Barr persisted, “I’d like to know what emotions or thoughts you had.”

  The young man stirred uneasily. He glanced at the shining insignia on Barr’s sleeve. “Can’t help my feelings,” he muttered.

  “Certainly not. I understand that perfectly.” Barr paused to formulate his next thought. “I’m making a survey for the Council. I’d like to have a frank answer.”

  “Just didn’t expect to see a robot here.”

  “You mean, a robot is out of place?” Barr motioned at the screen. “Because it’s a human love story?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And yet,” Barr pointed out, “robot actors are miming the story.” The remark seemed too obvious. He added quickly, “They must understand the associations involved.”

  The man said: “They’re pretty clever at that kind of thing.”

  Barr drew back, baffled. Another vague reaction. By what standards did one judge intelligence and intensity of life experience, if not by activity and accomplishment?

  “Suppose I told you,” he said, “that robots gain pleasure from light stimulation.” Once again he felt that a remark of his was inadequate of itself. He went on, “The crystalline nervous system is kept active particularly by light and sound. Singing, music, people moving—all these are pleasant.”

  “What does a robot do in place of sex?” the man asked. He laug
hed. He was suddenly in good humor, as if he had made an unanswerable comment. He stood up, and moved to another seat. He called, “Sorry, I can’t talk to you, but I want to see the show.”

  Barr scarcely heard. He said, not aloud, but softly, to himself, “We nourish the crystal structure in a nutrient solution, so that the first of its growth is within ourselves, an extension of our own intelligence. The growth provides an exquisite, ecstatic half-pain. Surely, human sex cannot more than equal such a sensation.”

  That was the great robot secret. It struck Barr that he had almost been stung into revealing it. The narrowness of his escape made up his mind for him. This was a struggle between two life forms. As commander in chief of the human-robot forces in the war against the extragalactic enemy, he had learned a major reality. In a struggle for survival and preeminence between races, there was no limit to the-