Asimov's Future History Volume 5

by Isaac Asimov

  “What do you want?” Derec demanded, following.

  The robot ignored Derec. “Priority interrupt,” the robot said to the com center. The screen went black and the speakers silent.

  PASSWORD?

  The robot’s fingers flew over the keypad in a blur, but nothing appeared on the screen except the instruction PROCEED.

  Without hesitation, the robot began to hammer at the keys again. Even standing only an arm’s length away, Derec had no clue to what the robot was entering. The steady staccato of keyclicks lasted perhaps twenty seconds — three or four hundred characters. Then the robot raised his hand and stepped back.

  MESSAGE TRANSMITTED, the screen acknowledged.

  “Resume,” the robot said, and turned to go.

  “Cancel,” Derec said, moving quickly to place his body between the robot and the door. “Identify yourself.”

  “I am Analyst 9.”

  “What’s happening? What did you just do?”

  “Please stand aside,” Analyst 9 said. “I have urgent duties elsewhere.”

  “The last time one of you was in here, it was to send a distress message. What’s up now? Is aship here? Is that it? I have a right to know what’s going on —”

  For an answer, Analyst 9 raised his arm and pushed Derec firmly out of the way. He stumbled back toward the conference table and sat down hard in one of the chairs.

  “Do not interfere,” the Supervisor said, and left the room.

  Though his shock at the robot’s physical treatment of him slowed him for an instant, Derec scrambled to his feet and followed.

  Out in the chamber, Derec found frenzied activity bordering on chaos. Dozens of porter and picker robots were streaming off the lifts, as if some massive exodus were underway. Scores more were scurrying through the aisles gathering up components and carrying them toward the west wall and the recycling smelter located there.

  To Derec’s astonishment, instead of depositing what they held and turning back to get more, the pickers and porters queued up at the smelter carried their burdens directly into the heart of the smelter and never appeared again. For some reason, the robots were systematically destroying selected items in their storehouse — and themselves at the same time.

  Distracted by the parade of suicidal robots, Derec had lost track of Analyst 9. Now, as he scanned the chamber to try to find it, he saw something else extraordinary. There were no Supervisors anywhere in the warehouse. The various manufacturing centers were standing silent and abandoned.

  On a hunch, Derec fought his way through to the lift and commandeered a platform to carry him up to Level Zero. There he found a gathering of twenty Supervisors. They were standing motionless in a circle, with hands linked as though in some sort of direct conference.

  They took no notice of his arrival, and so Derec crossed the room to where two other Supervisors sat at the giant command console.

  “Monitor 5?”

  “Yes, Derec,” one of the robots said with a nod of acknowledgment.

  “Can you tell me what’s happening?”

  “Surface sensors have detected a large spacecraft approaching. The trajectory and velocity profile indicate that it will match orbit with this planetoid.”

  “I’m going to get off this rock?” Derec exulted. “Praise the stars!”

  “There is a sixty-eight percent probability that the ship intercepted the distress signal. However, there is only a nine percent probability that the ship is here to rescue you.”

  That news jolted Derec back to earth. “Intercepted? They aren’t the people you were calling?”

  “No, Derec.”

  “Who are they, then? What do they want?”

  “The ship is currently unidentified.”

  “Is that why all the robots downstairs are going crazy?”

  “I cannot answer that question now,” Monitor 5 said. “I may be able to tell you more shortly.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Wait.”

  “Great. How long?”

  “Not long,” Monitor 5 said, standing. “Excuse me. The Analysts are calling for me.”

  Crossing the room, Monitor 5 joined the conference circle. He stood there with them for perhaps two minutes, then the circle broke apart. Most of the Supervisors headed for the lift. Two of them, including Monitor 5, came to where Derec stood.

  “I have been appointed to communicate with you,” Monitor 5 said.

  “Appointed?” The robot’s choice of word confused Derec.

  “By default,” the robot admitted. “None of the Analysts feel comfortable dealing with a human.”

  “Are you telling me that they haven’t been talking to me because they don’t want to? They don’t know how?”

  “With few exceptions, their experience has been exclusively with other robots. I have been chosen because of my previous success in communicating with you,” Monitor 5 said.

  “Is that another exception?” Derec said, indicating the robot standing just behind Monitor 5.

  “I am accompanied by Analyst 17.”

  “Ah — we’ve met — sort of.”

  “Analyst 17 is here to assist me,” Monitor 5 said. “Please, Derec. There are important matters to discuss, and there is very little time.”

  “Then get started.”

  “Thank you. The Analysts are agreed that the approaching ship is a threat to the security of our operation. The possibility of discovery was anticipated by those who placed us here. Our instructions for such a circumstance are to destroy ourselves and this facility. Certain preliminary steps are already underway —”

  “The robots at the smelter.”

  “Yes. All proprietary technology must be destroyed and the excavation rendered unusable. This directive was impressed on us at the highest level of necessity and urgency. We must comply. However, your presence was not anticipated.”

  “What do I have to do with it?”

  “As long as you are present, we are not able to fulfill our directive, since to destroy the complex would kill you. Even to destroy ourselves would leave you unprotected. Therefore, for us to carry out our directive, it is necessary for you to leave.”

  “I’ve been ready to leave since I got here. Just show me the way.”

  Analyst 17 spoke up at that point. “Unfortunately, since leaving the community also represents a significant risk to your life, we are unable to assist you in doing this and are in fact obliged to prevent it.”

  “So you’re not going to put my pod back together? My safesuit?”

  “No.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “On the contrary, it is fundamentally logical,” Analyst 17 said. “If we protect you, you will almost certainly die, which we cannot allow. If we fail to protect you, you may survive, but you will be placed in grave danger, which we cannot allow.”

  Derec looked from Monitor 5 to the Analyst in disbelief, then back again. “So what are you going to do with me?”

  “Nothing,” Monitor 5 said. “No action is possible. If we help you to escape, we will be placing you in danger. But if we prevent your escape, we will also be placing you in danger.”

  Derec was starting to get lost in the convolutions of the conversation. “Is that what you want me to do? Escape?”

  The robot hesitated. “We want you to remain safe and unharmed.”

  It seemed as though the robot were tiptoeing through a logical minefield. “What if I do leave?”

  “When we discover that you are gone, we will have to pursue you.” It hesitated again. “However, until you are returned to our care the remainder of the community will be free to pursue the next highest priority directive.”

  “In other words, if I escape, the First Law is no longer a factor. You can go ahead and destroy yourselves in good conscience.”

  “That is essentially correct,” said Analyst 17, “though I must warn you there is a danger if you continue to discuss it.”

  Derec ignored the warning. “Escape to w
here?”

  “We cannot consider that question,” Monitor 5 said.

  “Well, I can, and I don’t like the answer!” Derec snapped. “I’ll tell you what I intend to do — as soon as that ship is close enough to pick up the signal from a suit transmitter, I’m getting into one of those augments over there and going up to the surface to ask them to save me from you.”

  “We could not allow that.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Go wander around on the surface until my air runs out? This is nuts. How can you even ask me to do such a thing?”

  “Derec, I must repeat, there is a danger —,” Analyst 17 began.

  “We have not asked you to do anything,” Monitor 5 said. “We have simply outlined for you the consequences of actions you may choose to take.”

  “You may not be asking, but you’re dropping some loud hints,” Derec said. “You’re telling me that if I want to go kill myself, you’ll look the other way. I don’t understand how this whole conversation can even be taking place. What’s wrong with all of you?”

  Monitor 5 answered. “I am following a highly conditional logic path proposed by Analyst 17 —”

  “So that’s why he’s really here.”

  “— in which the uncertainty of your fate is modified by your own volitional acts to a positive value weighed against the high probability of harm due to inaction.”

  “In other words, you talked yourself into it,” Derec said. “Well, you haven’t talked me into it. Your prime objective and your security don’t mean a thing to me. Do you think it’s important to me if you can’t destroy yourselves? I don’t care if that ship belongs to your worst enemy.

  “In fact, I’m beginning to think that if they’re your enemy, that makes them my friend. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m sure as hell not going to go kill myself to get you off the hook.”

  The robots were apparently not willing to let it go at that. When Derec left Level Zero, Analyst 17 followed. It took a different lift, and when they reached the warehouse level, it studiously trailed several steps behind him. But there was no question that he was under surveillance.

  It did not make sense that immediately after asking him to escape, the robots would set a bloodhound to dog his heels. But since he had no intention of doing what the robots wanted, it hardly mattered if he understood. He could safely ignore his shadow.

  The warehouse was still a hive of chaotic activity, and Derec retreated from it to the quiet of the E-cell. He thought Analyst 17 might content itself to watch and wait outside, since the cell had only one exit. But the robot came inside as well, and when Derec entered the wardroom, it followed him in and took a seat at the opposite end of the conference table.

  At first, however, Derec barely noticed the robot’s entry. The video from a sky camera somewhere on the surface was being displayed on the com center screen. It showed a small, distant orange sun and a field of dim stars in which Derec saw no immediately recognizable patterns. A dark backlit hulk was moving across the star background, growing perceptibly larger as it closed on the asteroid. It was still too far away to show a distinctive profile, but it was clearly a massive spaceship of some kind.

  “More propaganda?” Derec asked.

  “The Analysts agreed that you have a right to know the source and current status of the threat.”

  “Do you think I’m going to see that thing up there and panic? It won’t work. This isn’t much, but it’s home. I’m not leaving.”

  The robot made no reply, and remained silent while Derec went to the autogalley and assembled a lunch. When he came back with it and sat down, he soon became painfully conscious of the robot patiently watching him.

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?” Derec asked between mouthfuls.

  “Clarify.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought you wanted me to skip out. But I couldn’t make a move without you knowing about it.”

  “Your conversation with Monitor 5 forced him into recognizing a First Law conflict.”

  “You mean his little self-deception fell apart?”

  “Monitor 5 is now deeply concerned that you may attempt to escape and harm yourself in the process or as a consequence. To relieve that potential and allow Monitor 5 to return to his duties, I offered to watch you.”

  “What about you? Did I make your logic bomb blow up, too?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re not here to stop me,” Derec said, pushing his plate away. “You’re here to make sure no one else stops me.”

  “Your observations are irrelevant to the situation. You have stated your intention to remain in our care.”

  “Right.” Derec glanced up at the screen. The ship was still a dark shape without texture, but it now filled fully a third of the frame. “But I still think you expect me to start getting worried and make a move. Well, to show you just how worried I am, I’m going to go in the other room to take a nap,” Derec said, standing. “If you decide to come along, all I ask is that you pick out your own bunk. There isn’t room in mine for two.”

  Chapter 6

  A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

  ANALYST 17 DID not follow, and Derec did not nap. He lay on his bunk and stared at the ceiling, trying to regain perspective.

  The robots’ predicament was real and substantial. It was not only the matter of being frustrated in their attempt to fulfill their Second Law obligations to their master. They were tiptoeing along the edge of a First Law chasm, a paradox capable of paralyzing not only individual robots, but the entire community. He was their first obligation, and yet there was nothing they could do for him but beg him to save himself.

  If it were not so serious, it would be laughable. It was as though a person suffering from hiccups had asked a friend, “Please surprise me.” How could he catch the robots off guard, even with Analyst 17’s collaboration?

  On top of which, the whole idea of escaping was absurd. Without help from the robots, he couldn’t possibly reassemble the pod before the ship arrived. And even if he could, there was no way it could run from the approaching ship.

  If he continued to think of both the robots and the strangers as enemies, there were no solutions to the equation. Only by assuming that the strangers were coming to help him, or would be willing to help him even if they had other purposes there, could he envision a way out. He could wait until the ship was in orbit, then go to the surface in an augment and radio to them for help.

  Just then the bunk shuddered under him, and he sat bolt upright. He thought for a moment that he hadn’t felt it, or experienced the sudden start which sometimes comes just before dozing off. But then another tremor shook the room, and he could no longer think it was an illusion. He jumped to his feet and ran across to the wardroom.

  Analyst 17 was still sitting there as Derec had left him. “What’s happening?” Derec demanded.

  “We are under attack,” the robot said, gesturing toward the com center.

  Derec stared at the screen. The ship had tacked to a position where half of its sunward side was visible, allowing Derec to see details for the first time. What he saw confused him. The ship seemed to have been not designed, but collected. It looked more like a space junkyard than a dangerous raider. But raider it was.

  Just in the part Derec could see clearly, there were eleven distinct hulls, as well as a tangled matrix of connecting structures. There were ships old enough to be in a museum and others new enough to be a shipwright’s showpiece. Sleek transatmospheric profiles nestled against the cylinders and grips of deep-space haulers. All across the mass of the ship, small red and orange lights were blinking on and off.

  “Who are they?” Derec whispered.

  “Unknown.”

  “Well, didn’t they hail us? What do they want?”

  “There was no signal on any frequency commonly used for communication.”

  Derec felt another vibration through the floor. “What kind of weapons are they using?”

  “The ship’s armament a
ppears to consist primarily of phased microwave lasers.”

  “And what do we have to fight back?”

  “The community has no weapons.”

  “What?” Derec demanded.

  The robot’s answer was patient and calm. “It is highly probable that the ship contains humans. We would not be permitted to use weapons against them.”

  Derec stared at the robot, then at the screen. Unlike in careless fictions, there were no stabbing beams of brilliant light to betray the energies pouring down from the radar ship. There were only the winking lights, and the ground moving under Derec’s feet. “Are we in danger?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much?”

  “The ship began its attack in the area of our only permanent surface installation, the antenna farm located 170 degrees east of the primary shaft —”

  “These vibrations we’re feeling are from that far away?”

  “Yes. The primary assault was successful and communications are out. A number of tunnels in the region have apparently collapsed. Firing pattern now appears to be random. The ship is currently in a nearly synchronous orbit with a slippage of two degrees per minute.”

  “So in less than ninety minutes they’ll be overhead.”

  “That is correct.”

  It was obvious to Derec that he could wait no longer to act. If the ship breached the complex’s pressure envelope while he was still in the E-cell, he would never get out. The breathers couldn’t keep him alive in a vacuum.

  And there was another danger, just as acute — that the power would be interrupted or the lifts disabled, and he would be trapped on the warehouse level. Even in low gravity he did not think he could climb up a lift shaft by hand.

  Not that running about on the surface in an augment was as attractive a proposition as it had been a short time ago. The chances were that he would be taken not for a prisoner trying to escape but for an enemy to be destroyed. Even so, dying buried in the icy heart of the asteroid was infinitely less appealing than dying out in the open.

  “This logic path that you devised — am I correct in thinking that you and Monitor 5 are the only Supervisors who were able to follow it without hitting a First Law conflict?”