by Isaac Asimov
“Not much, except that they can’t do it. The first time a human told them they were hurting its normal development, they’d either have to back off or go into freeze-up with the conflict.”
“That’s the theory, anyway,” said Derec.
“Gloom an’ doom!” Wolruf said with a rumbling laugh. “‘U think ‘u ‘ave trouble; what about me? I don’ even have that defense.”
“You don’t sound very worried about it.”
“‘U live where I come from, ‘u’dknow why. Robots — even alien ones — would make better rulers than what we’ve got.”
She had a point, Derec thought. When he had first encountered Wolruf, she had been a slave on an alien ship, using her servitude to payoff a familial debt. He doubted that a robot government would allow that kind of arrangement to continue.
But would they allow creativity? Adventure? Growth? Or would there be only stagnation under the robots’ protective rule? Derec spent the rest of the day wondering. They were all just abstract questions at this point, but if his parents, reckless experiments got any farther out of hand, the entire galaxy might have the chance to find out the answers.
Chapter 2
THE ROBOTICS LABORATORY
DEREC AWOKE TO find himself in a splash of sunlight coming in through the window. So east is that way today, he thought automatically. In a city whose buildings moved about and flowed from shape to shape, orienting himself in the morning was a habit he had quickly gotten into. Directions — and landmarks — were too temporary to rely on from day to day.
He became aware that he was alone in the bed. Ariel’s absence from his side wasn’t surprising, since she tended to be more of a morning person than he was, but the sounds coming from the Personal were. Someone — presumably her, since Avery and Wolruf had their own Personals — was being quite sick.
He got out of bed and padded to the closed door. “Ariel?” he called out hesitantly.
“Don’t come in here!” she shouted. There came a sound of rushing water, not quite loud enough to drown completely the sound of her being sick once again.
Derec stood by the door, feeling helpless and, now that he was uncovered, cold. He took his robe from its hook by the door, put it on, saw hers still there, and took it down as well.
The Personal was silent now. “Are you okay?” he called.
“I am now. Give me a minute.”
Still worried, but unwilling to risk Ariel’s wrath by opening the door, Derec crossed to the window to look out at the spires and rooftops of Robot City. It looked completely healed now from Lucius’s destruction, healed and full of robots going about their normal duties. Derec could see hundreds of them in the streets, on elevated walkways, in transport booths, in maglev trucks, all moving purposefully once again. From this height — twenty-five stories today, Derec guessed — it was hard to tell that all the activity wasn’t the ebb and flow of humanity in a fully populated human city.
Behind him he heard more water running, some soft bumping around, the cabinet opening and closing: all normal Personal noises. Then the door opened and Ariel stepped into the bedroom.
She was unselfconsciously nude. Derec turned away from the window, smiled as he always did to see how beautiful she was by light of day, and held out her robe. She let him help her into it.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Fine, now,” she said. “I just woke up feeling sick. Must have been something I ate.”
“Maybe.” Derec knew she was probably right, but a remnant of the old worry had crept back to haunt him. She had been sick once, deathly sick, and before she had found treatment for it on Earth, Derec had learned what it was to worry about someone’s health. That was before they had become lovers; now his concern for her was even more intense.
There might have been another possibility, now that they were sharing a bed again, but her disease had ruled that out.
“I feel fine,” she said with exasperation. “Really. And I don’t want you telling the robots about this, or they won’t rest until they’ve had me in for a full-blown exam and proven to themselves that I’m healthy.”
She had never liked the attention her illness had forced upon her before, either. Derec nodded. “Okay,” he said, giving her a strong hug before going over to the closet and picking out a fresh pair of pants and a simple pullover shirt to wear. He wouldn’t tell the robots, but he would keep a close watch on her himself today just to make sure she really was okay.
That intention died within minutes of stepping out from the bedroom into the rest of the apartment.
Avery was waiting for him in the kitchen. “What did you do to them?” he asked in his usual belligerent tone.
“Do to whom?” Derec replied calmly, going to the automat and dialing for breakfast.
“The robots,” Avery replied.
“The — oh, those robots. Ariel sent them off to their room last night to talk business out of earshot. Theirs is the new door at the end of the hallway. Can’t miss it.”
“I’m aware of that,” Avery snarled. “What I’m talking about is that the robots are locked up. Inert. Dead.”
“What?” Derec turned from the automat with his breakfast still only half ordered.
“Is your hearing going along with your intelligence? The robots are —”
“Locked up. Inert. Dead. I got that. My statement —” here Derec mimicked the tone of a robot so clearly that Avery rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “— was merely a conversational device intended to indicate extreme surprise. And,” he added in his own voice again, “to indicate that I had nothing to do with it. Which I didn’t.”
“So you say. You must have said something to make them lock up. Some contradictory order.”
“If I did, I don’t know what it was.” Derec looked back to the automat, shrugged, and pressed the cancel button. “Come on, let’s go see.”
He padded down the hallway, still in bare feet, to the robot’s new room. They hadn’t been interested in creature comforts; it was just big enough for the three robots to stand in without bumping into one another or the walls. It held no windows, no chairs — nothing but the robots.
When Derec and Ariel first arrived in Robot City, the robots gave them a small, one-bedroom apartment to live in. It had seemed miserly in a city built on such a grand scale, but the robots had truly thought they were fulfilling the humans’ every need. Similarly, the food had been nutritious but bland until they experimented with the automats to get them to produce flavor. Robots simply had no concept of the difference between sufficiency and satisfaction, and now, as Derec looked into the tiny, windowless closet these particular robots had made for themselves, he realized they were still a long way from making that distinction. Either that or their concept of satisfaction was simply so different from the human norm that Derec didn’t recognize it when he saw it.
Avery had certainly been accurate enough in his description of them. All three of them were frozen in place, standing up straight, arms at their sides. None of them betrayed the slightest hint of motion.
Derec tried the obvious. “Adam. Eve. Lucius. Respond.”
Nothing happened.
Avery smiled his “I told you so” smile.
Derec tried the less obvious. Adam, Eve, Lucius, he sent.
At once his mental interface filled with a hiss of static like that from a poorly tuned hyperwave radio. Behind it Derec heard a faint whine that might have been a signal, but it might have been just noise. On the off chance that they were still receiving, he sent, J order you to respond.
Nothing happened.
He cancelled the link and said aloud, “They do seem to be locked up. I got nothing on the comlink, either. I wonder what happened to them.”
“We’ll find out.” Avery — lacking an internal comlink of his own — stalked out of the robots’ cubbyhole, went to the corn console in its niche in the library, and keyed it on. Into the receiver he said, “I want a cargo team, big enough to
carry three robots, up here immediately.” He switched it off before the computer could respond.
Derec had followed him into the library. “What are you going to do with them?” he asked.
“Take them to the lab. I’ll find out what happened to them, and what makes them tick as well.”
Something about Avery, s manner made Derec suspect that he wouldn’t be restricting himself to non-invasive examination. “You’re going to take them apart?”
“Why not?” Avery asked. “It’s the perfect opportunity.”
Derec didn’t know why he felt so disturbed by that thought; he had taken robots apart before himself. But then, when he had done so he had known how to put them back together again, too. With these, Avery had no assurance he could rebuild them when he was done. That was the difference: Avery was considering permanent deactivation, not just investigation.
“Is that reason enough to do it?” Derec asked. “Just because you have the opportunity? They’re thinking beings. You should be trying to fix whatever’s wrong with them, not cut them open to satisfy your curiosity.”
Avery rolled his eyes. “Spare me the sentiment, would you? They’re robots. Human creations. Built to serve. If it amuses me to take one apart — 0r to order one to take itself apart — then I have every right, legal or moral, to do so. These robots are a puzzle, and I want to know more about them. Besides that, they’ve interfered with my own project. I want to make sure they don’t do that again.”
“You don’t need to destroy them to do that.”
“Maybe I won’t. We’ll see.”
Derec was of a mind to argue further, but the arrival of the cargo robots interrupted him. There were six of them in the team, and under Avery’s direction they moved silently through the apartment, picked up the inert robots unceremoniously by arms and legs, and carried them out to a waiting truck. Avery followed after them, and Derec, struggling into his shoes, came along behind.
“Do you wish the malfunctioning robots taken to the repair facility?” the truck’s robot driver asked as Derec and Avery climbed into the cab with it.
“No,” Avery said. “To my laboratory.”
“To your laboratory,” the driver replied, and with a soft whine of maglev motors, the truck lifted and began to slide down the street.
The truck used the same magnetic levitation principle that the transport booths used, holding itself up off the street and providing thrust with magnetic fields rather than with wheels. It was an old design, but not that common on most worlds even so because of the need for a special track for the magnetic fields to work against. Trains and busses were all maglev, but trucks, which needed the ability to travel anywhere, were usually not.
Here in Robot City, however, all the streets would support maglev vehicles. Everything was made of the same material. There was no place in the city where a maglev truck couldn’t go, and thus no reason for them to have wheels. Derec wondered briefly if there were wheels on anything here, but couldn’t think of a single instance where one was necessary.
Humanity had finally outgrown them, he realized. Or would, when this and the other robot cities on other worlds were opened up for human occupation.
They had hardly gone a block before Derec noticed a flicker of movement in the recessed doorway of one of the buildings lining the street. He looked more closely and saw that it was one of Lucius’s rodent-like creations. He looked for more and wasn’t disappointed; they were out in force, scavenging the nearly sterile city for food and no doubt starving in the process. They would be able to glean a little nourishment from the occasional strips of grass and ornamental shrubs between buildings, but given as many creatures as Derec saw in just one block, that food supply wouldn’t last out the week. Lucius had evidently bred more of them than that one warehouse-full he had shown them yesterday.
Some of the rodents eyed the truck as it glided past, and Derec felt a momentary chill. When they got hungry enough, would they attack?
“We’ve got to do something about those,” he said to Avery, pointing out the window.
Avery nodded his head in agreement. “The robots can round them up. Make fertilizer out of them for the farm.”
If they hadn’t already found the farm, Derec thought, but he supposed that was unlikely. The farm was a long way away, partway around the planet.
He thought about Avery’s suggestion for a moment, wondering if killing them all was the right solution. He knew they were the result of an experiment that should never have taken place, that they were neither useful nor natural nor even pleasing in appearance, but he still felt uneasy about such a — final solution.
“Maybe we should take the opportunity to start a balanced ecosystem here,” he said.
“Whatever for?” Avery asked, obviously shocked by the very idea.
“Well, Lucius was on the right track, in a way. Eventually there will be people living here, but a planet covered with nothing but people and robots and buildings and a few plants is going to be a pretty dull place. They’ll want birds and squirrels and deer and butterflies and —”
“What makes you think there are going to be people living here?”
It was Derec’s turn to be surprised. “Well, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? You didn’t design these robots to build city after city just for the heck of it. I know you said you did, but that was back when you — well, you know.”
“That was when I was crazy, you mean to say.” Derec blushed. “I forget; you don’t mince words. Okay, that was back when you were crazy. But now that you’re not any more, you can see that the robots eventually have to stop and serve, don’t you?”
“Why?”
“Why? You’re kidding. If you didn’t build all this for people to live in, then what do you intend to do with it?”
The truck slowed coming into an intersection, and another truck flashed by in front of them. Derec flinched, even though he knew the robot driver was aware of the other traffic in the area via comlink. Avery gave no indication that he had even seen the other truck. “I built it as an experiment,” he said. “I wanted to see what sort of society robots would come up with on their own. I also wanted to see if you were strong enough to take over the cities with the chemfets I implanted in your system.” When Derec began to speak, he raised his hand to cut him off and said, “I’ve already apologized for that, and I’ll do it again. That idea was the product of an insane mind. I had no right to do it, no matter how interesting the result. But the original idea was valid when I had it, and it’s still valid now. The cities exist for the robots. I want them to come up with their own society. I think there are basic rules for behavior among intelligent beings — rules that hold true no matter what their physical type — and I think robots can be used to discover those rules.”
For Avery to reveal anything of his plans to someone else, even to his own son, was a rare occurrence. Especially to his son. Avery had never confided any of his plans to Derec, had in fact used Derec at every turn as if he were just another robot. He had tried to make him a robot by injecting him with “chemfets,” modified copies of the cells that made up the Robot City robots. Derec had survived the infestation, had even arrived at a truce with the miniature robot city in his own body — that was how he had acquired his comlink — but he had not forgotten what his father had done to him. Forgiven, yes, but not forgotten.
Now suddenly Avery was confiding in him. Derec pondered this new development and its significance for the space of a couple of blocks before he said, “Well, they do seem to be working on it, but I’m not sure I see how anything you come up with from studying robots in a mutable city like this could apply to anything but more robots in an identical city.”
Avery nodded his head vigorously. “Oh, but it could. In fact, the city’s mutability forces the robots’ society to be independent of their environment. That’s the beauty of it. Any rules of behavior they come up with have to be absolute, because there’s no steady frame of reference for them to build up
on.”
Derec wasn’t convinced, but he said, “So what are you going to do with these rules once you discover them?”
Avery smiled, another rare occurrence, and said, “That would have to depend on the rules, now wouldn’t it?”
Derec felt a chill run up his spine at those words. Ariel and the robots — and Avery himself — had sworn he was cured, but who could be sure? The human mind was still a poorly understood mechanism at best.
Derec had been to Dr. Avery’s laboratory once before, as a prisoner. Now, under better circumstances, he had the opportunity to gaze around him in wonder. Every instrument he could imagine — and some he couldn’t — for working on robots was there. Positronic circuit analyzers, logic probes, physical function testers, body fabrication machinery — the equipment went on and on. The laboratory would have been positively cluttered with it if it hadn’t been so large, but as it was it was simply well equipped. Derec would have bet it was the most advanced such lab anywhere, save that he and Avery were using it to explore the product of a still more advanced one somewhere else.
The three locked-up robots rested atop examining tables that, at first inspection, would have looked at home in a human hospital. A closer look, however, revealed that the pillows under the robots’ heads were not simple pillows but were instead inductive sensor arrays for reading the state of a positronic brain. Arm, leg, and body sheaths served a dual purpose: to restrain the patient if necessary and also to trace command impulses and sensory signals flowing to and from the extremities. Overhead stood scanning equipment that would allow the user to see inside a metal body.
There had been a moment of confusion when the cargo robots unloaded the three inert robots from the truck; without conscious control over their mutable shapes, they had all begun to drift back toward their primordial blank state. They had never been easy to identify, but now what few distinguishing features they had were smoothed out, melted. Even so, when viewed from a distance, one of them still seemed faintly wolflike in shape, and that had to be Adam. The “Kin,” the dominant life form on the world where he had first come to awareness, was a wolflike animal, and Adam’s first imprinting there had evidently become a permanent part of his cellular memory, however faint.
