by Isaac Asimov
“Yes, Master Derec.”
“Then there’s a possibility that something has happened to Bogie?”
“Yes, that seems possible.”
“Is he malfunctioning?”
“I do not know, sir.”
“Right. I have to phrase the question differently. Is there a possibility that a robot such as Bogie could malfunction?”
“It is possible, but there would have to be a reason. He would have to be forced to resolve a dilemma involving the Laws of Robotics, or he would have to be given an order he could not carry out.”
“Are they the only possible reasons for him to act uncharacteristically?”
“No.”
“What’s another?”
“He is no longer Bogie as we knew him. He has been reprogrammed or has reprogrammed himself.”
“Mandelbrot? Do you agree with Timestep?”
“Yes. But there is another possibility. I tried to speak with him through comlink and he did not respond to his name. Also, there was a series of nicks along his right side before. They are no longer there.”
“What do you think about him?”
“I think it is not Bogie. I think it is someone else.”
“Our mysterious controller?”
“I cannot know that. But it is a possibility.”
“Timestep, what about this? Could it not be Bogie?”
“That is possible, sir.”
“Go after him, the both of you. Corner him. Bring him back to me.”
The two robots left the room, and Derec began to pace. He sensed that he was going to regain his control of the city. Even the chemfets inside him seemed to be reviving.
The rest of the dancers did not survive for long. Eve disposed of the next three, then returned for a somber death watch over the last, the formerly sturdy woman who had been the leader of the dancers. She was lying in the center of the desk, looking pale and weak, with no one to hold on to anymore. Ariel had leaned down close, watching the slight breathing movements of her tiny chest.
“I wonder what she thinks,” Ariel said to Wolruf
“Iss odd to me to wonderr what such a ssmall being thinkss.”
“Oh? We humans wonder about such things all the time. Part of our charm: our limitless curiosity about the universe.”
“I have at timess noticed ssuch.”
Avery, weary of the session with Adam, came to the desk. He stared down at the remaining dancer, whose arms rose upward for a moment in a characteristically graceful way.
“Let me have this one,” he said softly, sounding quite sane about it. “She is our last chance to find out something about them.”
“No,” Eve said. “I must take care of her.”
“Your care of them has been admirable, Eve,” Avery said, “but we shouldn’t waste this one on mere ritual, especially on ritual misunderstood by a robot. Ariel? It’s your decision really.”
“And you’ll abide by it?”
He sighed theatrically, as if assuming any judgment would be against him. “I will.”
Ariel looked from Eve to Avery, not certain how to say what she had been planning to say for some time.
“Eve, Dr. Avery is right. We must know about them, we —”
“But I must bury her.”
In a quick move, she picked up the last dancer from the desktop and held it close to her chest.
“Eve, put her back. You can’t bury her right now. She is still alive.”
“Alive is not the correct word,” Avery said.
“Shut up with your logic for once,” Ariel said. “Eve, I order you to return the dancer to the desk. You must obey my order. That is the Second Law, and the Laws are part of you, isn’t that true? You sense them inside you, don’t you?”
“No. Yes. I cannot be sure. Something seems to tell me to obey you, but I am not sure that I can.”
“You must. It is Second Law.”
“It is not just Second Law,” Adam said. He was standing behind Avery. “It is what we must do. We cannot continue if we do not discover what is wrong with the city, and the dancers are part of the mystery. Return the dancer, Eve.”
Eve gently settled the dancer back onto the desktop, then resumed her customary vigil.
“Eve,” Ariel said gently, “it is important to me to know whether or not these tiny creatures are living beings or merely some kind of experimental robots or even, as Dr. Avery has suggested, toys.”
“They are robots,” Eve said. “I have sensed no life in them, the kind of life I have felt coming from you, Derec, Wolruf. What I detect in them is the same as what comes to me from Mandelbrot and the other robots.” She pointed to the last dancer. “This, I believe, is a robot.”
Ariel was shocked. “You mean, you’ve known this all the time and not said anything about it?”
“You did not request it from me. And no, I did not know it all the time. Or even most of the time. When I first encountered these creatures in the vacant lot, I received my first glimmerings. As Adam did at the time, I felt little life in them. But I had not experienced much of this world, or any other world, and I was not sure at the time what constituted a living being and what constituted a robot. As I watched the dancers, I understood more and more what they were. My certainty has only come recently.”
“Eve, I —”
“Eve,” Avery interrupted, “what do you feel coming from Adam, coming from inside yourself? Do you feel, as you say, a living being or robot?”
“I cannot say. It is different. We are different.”
“That is so,” Adam said. “Since I came to awareness on the kin’s planet, I have not been certain what I am. I accept that we are robots, but actually, inside myself, I feel neither living being nor robot.”
“Fair enough,” Avery said.
“Eve,” Ariel said, “If you knew the dancers were not human, why did you treat them as humans?”
“I was not aware I was.”
“You cared for them, awarded them human death rituals, buried them as if they’d died. If they’re robots, then they didn’t really die and didn’t need to be treated as such.”
“They ceased to exist,” Eve said. “Isn’t a robot’s death as significant as a human’s?”
“Mistress Ariel,” Adam said, “you buried the robot Jacob Winterson on the blackbodies’ planet, did you not?”
“But that’s — I was about to say it was different, but you’re right, Adam, it’s not. I cared about Jacob the way Eve apparently cared for the dancers. You did care for them, didn’t you, Eve?”
“I am not sure what you mean. I performed rituals that I believed were appropriate.”
“Don’t go robotic on me now, Eve. You did feel compassion for them, sadness when they died.”
“There was an awareness of loss. Is that sadness, Ariel?”
“I don’t know, Eve. I’m not even sure I can get a sense of it.”
They watched each other silently for a time, then both looked down at the last dancer. She was still breathing.
“I must still order you, Eve,” Ariel said, “to allow Dr. Avery to perform his examination without interference. We need to know the facts that his work will show us.”
“Yes. That now seems logical.”
“Logical. Why logical now?”
“Enough information has been presented to me, and I understand the need. So I conclude agreement.”
“No wonder you are not sure what you are. I’m not sure what you are, both of you.”
When the last dancer had died, hours later, Avery gently picked it up from the desktop and went to a far comer of the room. A few minutes later he came back with a number of slides. Placing them under a microscopic scanner and transmitting images of his findings onto its large screen, he showed Ariel the infinitesimal microchips and circuit boards, miniature servo motors, linkages, wires.
“As I suspected,” Avery said, but without his usual smugness, “they are cleverly designed albeit ineffective robots capable of l
imited humanlike behavior. The use of genetic materials was skillful, but the maker could not compensate for their rapid aging process. If he had, these might have been quite successful little humaniform robots.”
Ariel stared at the screen without visible emotion. She didn’t know what to feel. Relief that they were not tiny humans or sadness that, whatever they were, they had existed and only for a very short time.
Finally, she took a cloth and wiped off the desktop. “Well,” she said, “that’s it then. Let’s go see if we can help Derec.”
Before they left, Avery handed Eve a small box. When Eve asked what it was, he said it was the remains of the last dancer. He was turning it over to her for whatever disposal she chose. She carried it away.
Chapter 16
FLIGHT
THE WATCHFUL EYE realized as it left Derec that its disguise had not fooled him. It had come to that conclusion by analyzing the purposes of his probing questions, reading his facial expressions, and interpreting his body language. (In its studies of humans, it had called up from the computer a file on metalinguistics and paralanguage.)
As it fled, the Watchful Eye wondered just where it had gone wrong in its Bogie portrayal. Perhaps the mistake had been to try to imitate a robot in the first place. After all, it was too complicated a being, too powerful an intellectual force, to get away with posing as a mere robot. On the other hand, the flaw in its behavior may have been an error of pride. It may have felt too easily superior to Bogie, and robots in general, to pretend to be one effectively. Somewhere in the research, it had read that actors often succeeded because they immersed themselves in their roles, losing their real identity in them. It should have studied Bogie more. Oddly enough, it thought, its failure in the robot guise reinforced its belief that it was definitely not a robot itself.
Perhaps its real error had been in leaving the safety of its haven in the computer chamber. The haven was where it belonged. Perhaps it was never meant to leave it, or at least not to stray too far from it. Perhaps its existence was that of an armchair observer, participating at a distance, pulling strings like a puppetmaster.
What should it do now? it wondered. Derec had ordered it to find Wolruf, but Wolruf was too much of a threat, and the caninoid alien might be with the other humans, all of whom might be able to detect that it wasn’t what it seemed to be. For a moment, as it had left the room, it had felt a compulsion to do what Derec said, treating it as a Second Law command. But if it wasn’t a robot, why should it obey Derec? It couldn’t even be sure Derec was a proper human, or a human at all.
At any rate, the order had been given to Bogie, and the Watchful Eye was not Bogie. If it were human, it had the power of choice; if it were robot, it did not have to follow orders given to another robot; if it were animal or alien, it could follow animal or alien instincts.
Since Derec might spread the word that it was not Bogie, there was no reason to stay out here in the streets, where the others could track it down and trap it.
As it headed toward the tunnel that led directly down to the central computer, it wondered if it could even continue its activities in Robot City. With Derec and Ariel there, it had enemies, and it could not abide enemies. Nevertheless, it didn’t want to eliminate them, as sensible a solution as that might be. Something inside it prevented it from killing.
Suddenly it realized how it could give the intruders a setback, assert its power, allow itself to maintain control of the city, mold an environment that would be suitable for it instead of humans, and make it the powerful entity it had decided to be.
It would just accelerate the program it had planned all along by skipping a few steps and going directly to the main goal.
It would destroy, then rebuild, Robot City.
Wolruf had left Ariel and the others for her nocturnal roaming of the city. She had come from a place whose inhabitants traveled through the night compulsively, searching for answers to questions they had not always known they had. While she subdued the urge at most times, tonight, after watching the end of the dancers, she had known she must be alone. She climbed over the smaller buildings, raced down dark streets in long loping strides, crouched at the edges of roofs.
Rounding a corner, she collided with a robot she recognized as Bogie.
“Bogie! What arre ‘u doing here?”
But the robot did not answer. It merely leaped over Wolruf and raced on, around the corner from which Wolruf had come.
“Stop!” said a voice. It was Mandelbrot, coming toward Wolruf so fast he would have run her down if she had not jumped adeptly out of the way. The robot Timestep tapped along behind Mandelbrot.
“There iss something wrrong, Mandelbrot, I can ssee,” Wolruf said. “’0 only crush when ssomething iss wrrong.”
“Excuse me, Wolruf,” Mandelbrot said. “We are on urgent business. I cannot stop to explain.”
He sped past her. Her curiosity aroused, she raced after him on all fours. Timestep danced his way after them.
“I can help ‘u. Arre ‘u following Bogie?”
“No.”
They rounded the corner. Wolruf saw Bogie, still moving rapidly, up ahead.
“‘U sseem to be following Bogie.”
“No.”
“What arre ‘u doing?”
“Trying to overtake the Bogie that is not Bogie.”
“The Bogie not Bogie? Explain, pleasse.”
As they rushed along, Mandelbrot told the alien what had happened.
“Then ‘u arre to brring that rrobot back to Derec?”
“Yes.”
“Let me catch him forr ‘u.”
With a strong, leaping thrust, Wolruf surged ahead of Mandelbrot and Timestep. Her body low to the ground, she closed the gap between herself and the Watchful Eye in a matter of seconds. Her prey was not even aware of her pursuit.
With her last few powerful steps, Wolruf propelled herself into the air. Her leap was magnificent, a smooth arc that reached such an impressive height she was able to dive down upon the fleeing robot. Her forelegs hit its shoulders with a mighty impact, knocking it forward onto its face. Wolruf landed on top of it. She was able to hold it down long enough for the others to arrive.
Rolling off the Watchful Eye, she looked up to see Mandelbrot standing over them.
“Whoever you are,” Mandelbrot said, “Derec orders you to return to him with us.”
“Whoever?” the Watchful Eye said. “I am Bogie.”
“No, you are not. I can see that now.”
“What makes you think so?”
“You have not copied Bogie’s voice accurately, although the ability is programmed into you. There was a rough sound in Bogie’s voice that yours lacks.”
Another mistake, then. The Watchful Eye should have adapted its voice to the robot’s. For a moment, it wondered if it should have bothered with Bogie at all. For a botched piece of strategy, that robot was now parts on the Repair Facility floor. The Watchful Eye could not feel regret, but it was conscious of the waste caused by ineffective action.
“If you know I am not Bogie,” it said, “then you may guess that I don’t have to do what you say.”
Without waiting for Mandelbrot to continue the discussion, the Watchful Eye kicked out at Mandelbrot’s leg, The surprise move made Mandelbrot topple over, landing with an impressive clanking sound upon the pavement.
The Watchful Eye stood up quickly, feeling more in control of its unaccustomed robot body than before. It turned to find Wolruf leaping toward it. With a vicious backhand blow, it struck Wolruf in the neck. Choking, falling backward, Wolruf collapsed. She landed awkwardly on her back legs. causing them both to throb with intense pain.
The Watchful Eye jumped over the fallen alien and tried to continue its run, but Timestep, with a dancing twirl, tripped it up. It stumbled, but this time did not fall. When it regained its balance, it ran at Timestep so quickly that the robot did not have time even to consider his Third Law responsibility.
It wrestled Timeste
p to the pavement but then, in an abrupt move, broke its hold and raced away. It had progressed half a block before Mandelbrot stood up. However, since he regarded Wolruf the same way he did humans, First Law compelled him to kneel down beside the fallen alien to see if she was in need of help.
“I am fine,” Wolruf said in a faint voice. She could barely talk. “‘U go on. Continue purrsuit. I will go to Derec.”
Wolruf watched Mandelbrot and Timestep chase after the strange robot. When they were out of sight, she struggled to her feet. The pain from her legs seemed to be traveling through her whole body.
Her run to Derec was done at a much slower pace then usual.
The Watchful Eye wished it had been able to imitate a robot’s speed, but its mimicry did not automatically give it full physical control. Unlike a normal Avery robot, it skidded around corners and bumped into obstacles. Each little delay was allowing its pursuers to get closer.
It had one advantage over Mandelbrot and Timestep. It knew where it was going.
The tunnel was not too far away now. After looking back at its pursuers, it quickly calculated the time it would take them to close the gap between them and it. It was likely they would overtake it a few meters from the tunnel entrance.
It needed a diversion.
It flashed into its mind a map of the area and discovered that there was a building coming up on its right that stored several of the results of its genetic experiments. This had been one of its latest experiments, and many from this batch of creatures were still functioning.
If it went through this building, which had a rear exit, and could slow down its pursuers by doing so, it could reach the tunnel entrance easily.
As Mandelbrot’s footsteps became louder, sounding as if he were ready to climb onto its back, the Watchful Eye took an abrupt right turn toward the building. It ran at such velocity that it hit the entrance with an impact that sent the thick door flying open.
Inside, bright light illuminated an enormous room. Spread across its floor, on shelves, sprawled over furniture, was a large group of rejects from the Watchful Eye’s experiments.
The beings of this particular group, the one it had created just before the arrival of the intruders, were somewhat larger than the dancers and built with less delicacy. They were thick-muscled, with bulges all over their bodies, bulges that did not actually correspond accurately with the protuberances of the human body.
