by Isaac Asimov
Ariel saw the emotional disruption in Avery’s face, and at the same time saw a way to work with the man as Derec had urged. She moved to the other side of the desk, beside Eve, who had been busy calming the dancers with gestures and a soft humming that almost had a tune to it.
“Eve,” Ariel whispered.
“Yes?”
“Can you do one of those shape-changes for me?”
“Yes, into anything I know about.”
“Well, do what Adam did. Imprint on Avery. Can you do that?”
“Of course.”
Ariel watched with fascination as Eve went through the same transformations that Adam had. It was even stranger to view in her, since before Ariel’s eyes, Eve changed from a female to a male. While she had always known that Eve could change shape, and had been told that Adam had been a female when he was a member of the kin, she was still amazed by the process. Eve’s face changed earlier than Adam’s had, and then she rearranged her body from the shoulders down. When finished, she was even more uncomfortably like Avery than Adam was.
“Ozymandias,” Ariel said, breaking his concentration on Adam. As the man turned toward her, his jaw dropped open when he saw still another copy of himself.
“This is unfair!” he cried, furious.
“Why? Most of the time they go around looking like Derec and me, and it doesn’t bother us. Why does it so upset you, Ozymandias?”
“I feel like they’re taking something away from me.”
“What? Your soul?”
Ariel’s question came as such a shock to Avery that it made him laugh. “My soul? Hardly. What would a robot do with a soul? No, I mean my personality, all that constitutes me, my dignity.”
“Dignity? Personality? What do you care about those?”
As Ariel talked, Eve had gone to Adam, and now they stood side by side, twin Averys, with the same subtle differences between them that a set of identical twins showed.
Avery, uncharacteristically speechless, whirled around and strode back to where Wolruf stood. Ariel might have been mistaken, but she thought, from the way the caninoid alien stood at a slight tilt and from the faint gargling sound coming from her throat (usually an indication of amusement for her), that Wolruf found the proceedings funny.
“Come back here!” Ariel shouted.
“I refuse.”
“How can you refuse my order? You are a robot and I am human. You have to obey me. Second Law, Ozymandias.” She spoke this last with a lilt in her voice, mockingly. He stood still for a moment, then spun around and returned to the desk.
Meanwhile Ariel had sidled up to the Silversides. “Adam, Eve, I want you to do something for me.” They both glanced at her, awaiting their orders. “You’ve been around Avery for long enough. Imitate him all the way. Talk like him, sound like him, rant like him, move like him, strut like him, whatever you have stored in your memory banks that you can use to be like him. Can you do that?”
They both responded yes. Adam, particularly, welcomed the challenge. It was a use of his shape-changing ability, after all. In a world where there was little to imprint on, any challenge would do.
“All right,” Ariel said when Avery had returned to the desk. “Separate from each other, and when I give the signal, start.”
Adam went to one side of the room, Eve to the other. Avery, who had not heard Ariel’s command, looked back and forth from one to the other.
Then, at a gesture from Ariel, the assault began. Adam immediately launched a diatribe of Avery’s that he had stored in his memory. It was an especially ripe one, filled with florid phrases and a good deal of invective. The robot’s voice was a remarkable playback, catching the tones and inflections of the doctor’s voice so precisely that Ariel, if she had shut her eyes, would not have known it was not the real Avery.
The target of the assault merely watched Adam disbelievingly; his eyes widened, displaying less intensity and more confusion than perhaps anyone had ever seen in him before. He chewed on his lower lip, another uncharacteristic act. His fingers tapped against the side of his legs, a gesture Ariel had seen often. Avery did it a lot when he was angry.
Making a loud cough very like the one Avery made to get another person’s attention, Eve entered the fray. Avery’s head turned to watch her, while Adam’s diatribe continued, louder.
Eve began to mutter to herself in an Avery-like way and began to pace her side of the room in a strutting fashion. As she walked her fingers, too, tapped against her legs. Once she stopped and banged her fist into the palm of her other hand, yelling, “I will not have it! This isn’t the way things will be! I demand you let me have a dancer to experiment upon!”
Then she whirled around, just as Avery had earlier, and walked to the desktop to stare down sternly at the dancers. Now that she looked like the doctor, she was amazed to find that the dancers were fooled by her. They scattered just the way they did when Avery hovered over them.
Ariel saw Eve’s face lose its hostility, softening into a gentler look. Because the Silversides could only form aspects of facial expression, becoming much like an artist’s caricature, Eve’s present look disconcerted Ariel. She did not like Avery’s face appearing to be kind. Further, there was a suggestion of Ariel’s face, seemingly superimposed upon the Avery mien, that annoyed her.
“Eve,” she whispered, “they’re all right. They just think you’re him. Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of them, and you can resume your familiar shape.”
Eve recalled her task. Her face became hard again, and she resumed muttering. Suddenly, in a move that Ariel could not have expected, Eve slammed her fist upon the desktop (well away from any of the dancers). Even Avery flinched at’ the fury of the move, as if he didn’t believe someone looking like him could do such a violent thing.
“What are they —” he began, but Adam came forward to stand next to Eve. They seemed an odd pair, like identical twins who had labored to differentiate themselves in any way possible, but just could not stop looking like each other.
“We should not even experiment on these,” Adam said. “They are just vermin, like most humans, not like robots. We should kill them.”
Eve, taken in for a moment by Adam’s act, was ready to rush to defend them until she recalled her command to playact.
“That’s going too far,” Avery shouted. “I would never say that.”
“Ozymandias,” Ariel said, “what you see is just their impression of what you say, how you act. In their minds, capable as they are of processing data, you’ve shown yourself to be unpredictable and quite likely to perform violent acts. That you’d think of killing the dancers seems within the realm of possibility to them. And, for that matter, to me.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not a destroyer, I’m a creator. Yes, if necessary I’d dissect an animal for scientific knowledge, but I’d never willingly kill for killing’s sake.”
“Now you’ve said it, they know it. They understand you better now. Tell them more.”
Avery smiled. “I see your ploy. Make me reveal myself so you can continue this charade. Well, Ariel, it won’t work.”
She shrugged. “Don’t know anything about charades.”
“Stop them, Ariel. You’re making me very nervous.”
His tone had become whiny. Ariel felt they were really getting to him now. She whispered across the desk to the Silversides, “Fight, you two. Fight.”
“Fight?” Adam asked. “We cannot fight each other.”
“Not a real fight. Fake it.”
It was a bizarre, awkward battle, especially since Adam and Eve had to use precise arm movements in order not to strike each other in any way that might hurt either — by dislodging a circuit or causing positronic damage. But Adam’s voice circuit was quite capable of any imitative sound, and when they just missed with a blow, he created the sound of one. Many of the punches appeared to land with a thunderous impact. After a well-simulated blow, the victim would convincingly reel backwards from the apparent
force of it.
“Stop!” Avery hollered. Then he screamed to Ariel, “They can’t fight each other. It’s strictly against Third Law procedure. A robot must protect its own existence. That means they can’t be aggressive.”
“But Second Law allows me to order them to fight to the death, if necessary.”
“Well, yes, true, I guess, but consider the Laws of Humanics then. You should not give an order that endangers the preservation of robotic existence.”
“That’s just so much balderdash. There are no Laws of Humanics, they’re just theory. Back home we call them ethics — and, Ozymandias, as anyone can tell you, Ariel Welsh is not an ethical person.”
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe. No Law of Humanics to cover that, is there?”
Avery was momentarily bemused. Adam and Eve still struggled in their mock battle. Eve managed a skillful flip over Adam’s shoulder and he staggered forward, nearly into Ariel’s arms.
Ariel wished Derec could be in the room to watch the unprecedented scene of a pair of robots fighting. She almost forgot that the prodding of Avery had to be the main purpose of this theatrical display.
She whispered to Adam and Eve to quit the fray. Each of them returned to portraying Avery, muttering and castigating, pacing and gesturing.
“Ozymandias, you’re trembling,” Ariel said from a point just behind his back, startling him and making him even more angry.
“I am not trembling!”
“You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“You are right, Ariel, you’re not ethical. This whole attack on me is unethical. You’re trying to drive me crazy.”
“That’s just paranoia, the least of your madnesses, I think. And I’m not trying to drive you crazy. I’m trying to do just the opposite — drive you sane.”
“That in itself is crazy.”
“You bet.”
Adam came by, now doing a full-scale imitation of Avery, with the right walk, the tics, the jumpy inflections in his voice, the sarcastic tone. Avery yelled in frustration and took a swipe at Adam, landing a weak blow to his back.
“Ozymandias,” Ariel said, “you just tried to hit Adam.”
“That’s right. I wish I could mangle him into spare parts.”
“But you’re a robot.”
“Yes, what of it?”
“Well, you just said robots shouldn’t be aggressive. You just put yourself in danger by hitting Adam. You reacted to him in a very human way. How could you possibly be a robot?”
“I am a robot.”
“No, you’re a human being.”
“I was once, but I’m not now.”
Now Ariel was frustrated. The idea that he was a robot seemed fixed in Avery’s unpositronic brain. Yet she sensed that his anger over what the Silversides were doing could be used to shake him out of his delusion.
“Are ‘u all fright, Arriel?” Wolruf said.
“I’m okay. I just had a foolish idea I could do something here, that’s all.”
“Iss there anything I may do?”
“Take me home to Aurora.”
“If I could —”
“No, Wolruf, no. I didn’t really mean it anyway. I’m happy here in scenic Robot City. I plan to be president of the Chamber of Commerce.”
She was about to tell the Silversides that they could end their playacting, just as Eve passed her. Eve stopped in front of Avery and leaned in toward him, continuing her muttering in his voice. He pushed her away. She slid backward a few feet, then came close to him again.
“Stay away from me!” Avery cried. “That’s an order. Second Law.”
Ariel moved in closer, too.
“You’re a robot. You can’t invoke Second Law.”
“What? Oh? Yes. Get her away from me.”
“No. Go ahead, Eve. Stalk him. Whatever he goes, you go. You, too, Adam. Encroach.”
They surrounded Avery. Whenever he broke away from them, one of them zoomed in on him again. He flailed out at them, and they sidestepped his badly thrown blows.
Finally, he broke into a run, pursued by Adam and Eve. Near the desk he spun around, and Ariel saw he had something in his hand. A moment passed before she realized what it was. She had not seen it in a long time.
The weapon was Avery’s electronic disrupter, a device that emitted an ion stream that would interfere with the circuits of any advanced machine. Any machine, like the Silversides. And he was raising it to aim at them.
Ariel, who had been standing behind the Silversides, ran between them, and roughly pushed them away. In the back of her mind, she realized that she’d just violated another of the Laws of Humanics, the one that said humans must not harm robots. Both Silversides went flying sideways.
Her move came just in time. Avery’s shot went right over Ariel’s head and would undoubtedly have affected circuitry in Adam or Eve.
She continued her rush to Avery, jumping at him, knocking the electronic disrupter out of his hand and throwing him to the floor.
“Some robot you are,” she said, breathing heavily. “You don’t even make a decent human being.”
“Ariel,” Avery said weakly. He struggled to his feet. “I don’t — that is, I — I’m — I am — I —”
He looked sick. All the color had drained from his face. Ariel could see that it wasn’t the result of the fighting. It was something else. From the look of him, he could be dying.
“You better sit down,” Ariel said. “Adam?”
Adam picked up a chair and brought it to Avery, who settled heavily down upon it. Eve walked to Adam and the two took up a position behind Avery’s chair. The fact they looked so much alike was disconcerting to Ariel, as if she were about to talk to a group called the Avery Trio.
“Are you all right?” Ariel asked Avery.
“I — I think so.”
“Robots don’t get sick, you know. They don’t suffer from heart palpitations or exhaustion. They —”
“It’s okay, Ariel. You don’t have to speak to me as if I were a child. I know who I am. I may not like it. I may want to live forever. I may want to be a robot. But I know who I am.”
“And that is —”
“Ariel, please.”
“No, I’m a literalist. Are you a robot, Dr. Avery?”
“No.”
“Say it out.”
“I. Am. Not. A. Robot.”
Ariel smiled.
“Well,” she said, “that’s a start.”
Chapter 14
A DISCONNECTED DETECTIVE
BOGIE STOOD IN the corner where Derec had placed him so long ago. Timestep was across the room in another corner. While it was impossible for Bogie to be bored or to consider the possibilities of nothingness while in fact doing nothing for several consecutive days, he was aware that he had been in the corner for some time. It seemed to him that his position must be very much like the detectives on stakeout in several of the films he had researched. In scenes where they had waxed philosophical in tough-guy language, with plenty of wise-cracks and sentimental observations about life, they had had to pass time with only their own words to keep them company, plus a few doughnuts. Bogie would, he decided, prefer to do a stakeout for Derec than merely to stand in a corner awaiting his next order.
The order came, but not from Derec. The Watchful Eye transmitted a comlink message to Bogie over the secret channel it had created for private communications with its robots. The message told Bogie to come at once but not to allow Derec to see him go. That posed quite a dilemma for Bogie. If he left immediately, it would be obvious. If he waited for the right time, he would be disobeying the Big Muddy’s command to come at once. For a while he stood in his corner, aware that he could get mental freeze-out, a condition where a robot’s positronic brain essentially stopped functioning because of an unresolvable dilemma. He was, he thought, a cybernetic goner if he could not slip away soon.
In the room Derec was speaking with Mandelbrot.
“I had another dream about my
mother last night,” Derec was saying.
“That is your fifth dream about her,” Mandelbrot said. “The fifth that you have told me about.”
“Yep. That’s all of’em. There wasn’t much to this one. I was a child, and she came to give me medicine. But this time I saw her face clearly. She had blond hair and hazel eyes. She seemed very kind. We talked for a while, I don’t remember about what. Then she said she loved me and left. And I woke up.”
“It was a pleasant dream then?”
“I suppose. But I woke up wondering if the woman in the dream was really my mother. I mean, I’ve never seen her, so anyone I think up could come into my dream and say she’s my mother without even looking anything like her. Do you understand, Mandelbrot?”
“Frankly, no.”
“Well, I guess you don’t have a mother.”
“You know I do not.”
Derec seemed about to explain something to Mandelbrot, but there was a soft rapping on the door.
“That sounds like Wolruf,” Derec said. “I’d recognize that tap anywhere. Come in, Wolruf.”
The caninoid alien came into the room.
“Messsage frrom Arriel,” she said. “She ssent me. We are making progrresss with your fatherr, she told me to tell ‘u.”
Derec’s face brightened. “That’s wonderful news, Wolruf. How much progress, do you think?”
“Am not able to guesss. In my homeland iss no mental illnesss. Have not seen it before Dr. Averry.”
“But he seems better.”
“That may be ssaid, I think.”
“Good. But she still doesn’t want me to come there?”
“Afrraid you’ll —”
“I know, I know. I could set him back. That’s okay.” (It wasn’t, but he said so. He was very curious about what his father would be like as a sane man. He could not conceive of the possibility.) “How about your other project? The Silversides?”
