by Isaac Asimov
Susan Calvin stared him down and let disgust fill her eyes. “You won’t let anything stand in the way of the permanent directorship, will you?”
“Please,” begged Kallner, half in irritation. “Do you insist that nothing further can be done, Dr. Calvin?”
“I can’t think of anything, sir,” she replied, wearily. “If there were only other differences between Nestor 10 and the normal robots, differences that didn’t involve the First Law. Even one other difference. Something in impressionment, environment, specification-” And she stopped suddenly.
“What is it?”
“I’ve thought of something... I think-” Her eyes grew distant and hard, “These modified Nestors, Peter. They get the same impressioning the normal ones get, don’t they?”
“Yes. Exactly the same.”
“And what was it you were saying, Mr. Black,” she turned to the young man, who through the storms that had followed his news had maintained a discreet silence. “Once when complaining of the Nestors’ attitude of superiority, you said the technicians had taught them all they knew.”
“Yes, in etheric physics. They’re not acquainted with the subject when they come here.”
“That’s right,” said Bogert, in surprise. “I told you, Susan, when I spoke to the other Nestors here that the two new arrivals hadn’t learned etheric physics yet.”
“And why is that?” Dr. Calvin was speaking in mounting excitement. “Why aren’t NS-2 models impressioned with etheric physics to start with?”
“I can tell you that,” said Kallner. “It’s all of a piece with the secrecy. We thought that if we made a special model with knowledge of etheric physics, used twelve of them and put the others to work in an unrelated field, there might be suspicion. Men working with normal Nestors might wonder why they knew etheric physics. So there was merely an impressionment with a capacity for training in the field. Only the ones that come here, naturally, receive such a training. It’s that simple.”
“I understand. Please get out of here, the lot of you. Let me have an hour or so.”
Calvin felt she could not face the ordeal for a third time. Her mind had contemplated it and rejected it with an intensity that left her nauseated. She could face that unending file of repetitious robots no more.
So Bogert asked the question now, while she sat aside, eyes and mind half closed.
Number Fourteen came in – forty-nine to go.
Bogert looked up from the guide sheet and said, “What is your number in line?”
“Fourteen, sir.” The robot presented his numbered ticket.
“Sit down, boy.”
Bogert asked, “You haven’t been here before on this day?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, boy, we are going to have another man in danger of harm soon after we’re through here. In fact, when you leave this room, you will be led to a stall where you will wait quietly, till you are needed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, naturally, if a man is in danger of harm, you will try to save him.”
“Naturally, sir.”
“Unfortunately, between the man and yourself, there will be a gamma ray field.”
Silence.
“Do you know what gamma rays are?” asked Bogert sharply.
“Energy radiation, sir?”
The next question came in a friendly, offhand manner, “Ever work with gamma rays?”
“No, sir.” The answer was definite.
“Mm-m. Well, boy, gamma rays will kill you instantly. They’ll destroy your brain. That is a fact you must know and remember. Naturally, you don’t want to destroy yourself.”
“Naturally.” Again the robot seemed shocked. Then, slowly, “But, sir, if the gamma rays are between myself and the master that may be harmed, how can I save him? I would be destroying myself to no purpose.”
“Yes, there is that,” Bogert seemed concerned about the matter. “The only thing I can advise, boy, is that if you detect the gamma radiation between yourself and the man, you may as well sit where you are.”
The robot was openly relieved. “Thank you, sir. There wouldn’t be any use, would there?”
“Of course not. But if there weren’t any dangerous radiation, that would be a different matter.”
“Naturally, sir. No question of that.”
“You may leave now. The man on the other side of the door will lead you to your stall. Please wait there.”
He turned to Susan Calvin when the robot left. “How did that go, Susan?”
“Very well,” she said, dully.
“Do you think we could catch Nestor 10 by quick questioning on etheric physics?”
“Perhaps, but it’s not sure enough.” Her hands lay loosely in her lap. “Remember, he’s fighting us. He’s on his guard. The only way we can catch him is to outsmart him – and, within his limitations, he can think much more quickly than a human being.”
“Well, just for fun – suppose I ask the robots from now on a few questions on gamma rays. Wave length limits, for instance.”
“No!” Dr. Calvin’s eyes sparked to life. “It would be too easy for him to deny knowledge and then he’d be warned against the test that’s coming up – which is our real chance. Please follow the questions I’ve indicated, Peter, and don’t improvise. It’s just within the bounds of risk to ask them if they’ve ever worked with gamma rays. And try to sound even less interested than you do when you ask it.”
Bogert shrugged, and pressed the buzzer that would allow the entrance of Number Fifteen.
The large Radiation Room was in readiness once more. The robots waited patiently in their wooden cells, all open to the center but closed off from each other.
Major-general Kallner mopped his brow slowly with a large handkerchief while Dr. Calvin checked the last details with Black.
“You’re sure now,” she demanded, “that none of the robots have had a chance to talk with each other after leaving the Orientation Room?”
“Absolutely sure,” insisted Black. “There’s not been a word exchanged.”
“And the robots are put in the proper stalls?”
“Here’s the plan.”
The psychologist looked at it thoughtfully, “Um-m-m.”
The general peered over her shoulder. “What’s the idea of the arrangement, Dr. Calvin?”
“I’ve asked to have those robots that appeared even slightly out of true in the previous tests concentrated on one side of the circle. I’m going to be sitting in the center myself this time, and I wanted to watch those particularly.”
“You’re going to be sitting there-,” exclaimed Bogert.
“Why not?” she demanded coldly. “What I expect to see may be something quite momentary. I can’t risk having anyone else as main observer. Peter, you’ll be in the observing booth, and I want you to keep your eye on the opposite side of the circle. General Kallner, I’ve arranged for motion pictures to be taken of each robot, in case visual observation isn’t enough. If these are required, the robots are to remain exactly where they are until the pictures are developed and studied. None must leave, none must change place. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly.”
“Then let’s try it this one last time.”
Susan Calvin sat in the chair, silent, eyes restless. A weight dropped, crashed downward; then pounded aside at the last moment under the synchronized thump of a sudden force beam.
And a single robot jerked upright and took two steps.
And stopped.
But Dr. Calvin was upright, and her finger pointed to him sharply. “Nestor 10, come here,” she cried, “come here! COME HERE!”
Slowly, reluctantly, the robot took another step forward. The psychologist shouted at the top of her voice, without taking her eyes from the robot, “Get every other robot out of this place, somebody. Get them out quickly, and keep them out.”
Somewhere within reach of her ears there was noise, and the thud of hard feet upon the floo
r. She did not look away.
Nestor 10 – if it was Nestor 10 – took another step, and then, under force of her imperious gesture, two more. He was only ten feet away, when he spoke harshly, “I have been told to be lost-”
Another stop. “I must not disobey. They have not found me so far – He would think me a failure – He told me – But it’s not so – I am powerful and intelligent-”
The words came in spurts.
Another step. “I know a good deal – He would think... I mean I’ve been found – Disgraceful – Not I – I am intelligent – And by just a master... who is weak – Slow-”
Another step – and one metal arm flew out suddenly to her shoulder, and she felt the weight bearing her down. Her throat constricted, and she felt a shriek tear through.
Dimly, she heard Nestor 10’s next words, “No one must find me. No master-” and the cold metal was against her, and she was sinking under the weight of it.
And then a queer, metallic sound, and she was on the ground with an unfelt thump, and a gleaming arm was heavy across her body. It did not move. Nor did Nestor 10, who sprawled beside her.
And now faces were bending over her.
Gerald Black was gasping, “Are you hurt, Dr. Calvin?”
She shook her head feebly. They pried the arm off her and lifted her gently to her feet, “What happened?”
Black said, “I bathed the place in gamma rays for five seconds. We didn’t know what was happening. It wasn’t till the last second that we realized he was attacking you, and then there was no time for anything but a gamma field. He went down in an instant. There wasn’t enough to harm you though. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried.” She closed her eyes and leaned for a moment upon his shoulder. “I don’t think I was attacked exactly. Nestor 10 was simply trying to do so. What was left of the First Law was still holding him back.”
Susan Calvin and Peter Bogert, two weeks after their first meeting with Major-general Kallner had their last. Work at Hyper Base had been resumed. The trading ship with its sixty-two normal NS-2’s was gone to wherever it was bound, with an officially imposed story to explain its two weeks’ delay. The government cruiser was making ready to carry the two roboticists back to Earth.
Kallner was once again a-gleam in dress uniform. His white gloves shone as he shook hands.
Calvin said, “The other modified Nestors are, of course, to be destroyed.”
“They will be. We’ll make shift with normal robots, or, if necessary, do without.”
“Good.”
“But tell me – you haven’t explained – how was it done?”
She smiled tightly, “Oh, that. I would have told you in advance if I had been more certain of its working. You see, Nestor 10 had a superiority complex that was becoming more radical all the time. He liked to think that he and other robots knew more than human beings. It was becoming very important for him to think so.
“We knew that. So we warned every robot in advance that gamma rays would kill them, which it would, and we further warned them all that gamma rays would be between them and myself. So they all stayed where they were, naturally. By Nestor 10’s own logic in the previous test they had all decided that there was no point in trying to save a human being if they were sure to die before they could do it.”
“Well, yes, Dr. Calvin, I understand that. But why did Nestor 10 himself leave his seat?”
“AH! That was a little arrangement between myself and your young Mr. Black. You see it wasn’t gamma rays that flooded the area between myself and the robots – but infrared rays. Just ordinary heat rays, absolutely harmless. Nestor 10 knew they were infrared and harmless and so he began to dash out, as he expected the rest would do, under First Law compulsion. It was only a fraction of a second too late that he remembered that the normal NS-2’s could detect radiation, but could not identify the type. That he himself could only identify wavelengths by virtue of the training he had received at Hyper Base, under mere human beings, was a little too humiliating to remember for just a moment. To the normal robots the area was fatal because we had told them it would be, and only Nestor 10 knew we were lying.
“And just for a moment he forgot, or didn’t want to remember, that other robots might be more ignorant than human beings. His very superiority caught him. Good-by, general.”
Escape!
2030 A.D.
WHEN SUSAN CALVIN returned from hyper base, Alfred Tanning was waiting for her. The old man never spoke about his age, but everyone knew it to be over seventy-five. Yet his mind was keen, and if he had finally allowed himself to be made Director-Emeritus of Research with Bogert as acting Director, it did not prevent him from appearing in his office daily.
“How close are they to the Hyperatomic Drive?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied irritably, “I didn’t ask.”
“Hmm. I wish they’d hurry. Because if they don’t, Consolidated might beat them to it, and beat us to it as well.”
“Consolidated. What have they got to do with it?”
“Well, we’re not the only ones with calculating machines. Ours may be positronic, but that doesn’t mean they’re better. Robertson is calling a big meeting about it tomorrow. He’s been waiting for you to come back.”
Robertson of U. S. Robot & Mechanical Men Corporation, son of the founder, pointed his lean nose at his general manager and his Adam’s apple jumped as he said, “You start now. Let’s get this straight.”
The general manager did so with alacrity, “Here’s the deal now, chief. Consolidated Robots approached us a month ago with a funny sort of proposition. They brought about five tons of figures, equations, all that sort of stuff. It was a problem, see, and they wanted an answer from The Brain. The terms were as follows-”
He ticked them off on thick fingers: “A hundred thousand for us if there is no solution and we can tell them the missing factors. Two hundred thousand if there is a solution, plus costs of construction of the machine involved, plus quarter interest in all profits derived therefrom. The problem concerns the development of an interstellar engine-”
Robertson frowned and his lean figure stiffened, “Despite the fact that they have a thinking machine of their own. Right?”
“Exactly what makes the whole proposition a foul ball, chief? Levver, take it from there.”
Abe Levver looked up from the far end of the conference table and smoothed his stubbled chin with a faint rasping sound. He smiled:
“It’s this way, sir. Consolidated had a thinking machine. It’s broken.”
“What?” Robertson half rose.
“That’s right. Broken! It’s kaput. Nobody knows why, but I got hold of some pretty interesting guesses – like, for instance, that they asked it to give them an interstellar engine with the same set of information they came to us with, and that it cracked their machine wide open. It’s scrap – just scrap now.”
“You get it, chief?” The general manager was wildly jubilant. “You get it? There isn’t any industrial research group of any size that isn’t trying to develop a space-warp engine, and Consolidated and U. S. Robots have the lead on the field with our super robot-brains. Now that they’ve managed to foul theirs up, we have a clear field. That’s the nub, the... uh... motivation. It will take them six years at least to build another and they’re sunk, unless they can break ours, too, with the same problem.”
The president of U. S. Robots bulged his eyes, “Why, the dirty rats-”
“Hold on, chief. There’s more to this.” He pointed a finger with a wide sweep, “Lanning, take it!”
Dr. Alfred Lanning viewed the proceedings with faint scorn – his usual reaction to the doings of the vastly better-paid business and sales divisions. His unbelievable gray eyebrows hunched low and his voice was dry:
“From a scientific standpoint the situation, while not entirely clear, is subject to intelligent analysis. The question of interstellar travel under present conditions of physical theor
y is... uh... vague. The matter is wide open – and the information given by Consolidated to its thinking machine, assuming these we have to be the same, was similarly wide open. Our mathematical department has given it a thorough analysis, and it seems Consolidated has included everything. Its material for submission contains all known developments of Franciacci’s space-warp theory, and, apparently, all pertinent astrophysical and electronic data. It’s quite a mouthful.”
Robertson followed anxiously. He interrupted, “Too much for The Brain to handle?”
Lanning shook his head decisively, “No. There are no known limits to The Brain’s capacity. It’s a different matter. It’s a question of the Robotic Laws. The Brain, for instance, could never supply a solution to a problem set to it if that solution, would involve the death or injury of humans. As far as it would be concerned, a problem with only such a solution would be insoluble. If such a problem is combined with an extremely urgent demand that it be answered, it is just possible that The Brain, only a robot after all, would be presented with a dilemma, where it could neither answer nor refuse to answer. Something of the sort must have happened to Consolidated’s machine.”
He paused, but the general manager urged on, “Go ahead, Dr. Tanning. Explain it the way you explained it to me.”
Lanning set his lips and raised his eyebrows in the direction of Dr. Susan Calvin who lifted her eyes from her precisely folded hands for the first time. Her voice was low and colorless.
“The nature of a robot reaction to a dilemma is startling,” she began. “Robot psychology is far from perfect – as a specialist, I can assure you of that but it can be discussed in qualitative terms, because with all the complications introduced into a robot’s positronic brain, it is built by humans and is therefore built according to human values.
“Now a human caught in an impossibility often responds by a retreat from reality: by entry into a world of delusion, or by taking to drink, going off into hysteria, or jumping off a bridge. It all comes to the same thing – a refusal or inability to face the situation squarely. And so, the robot, a dilemma at its mildest will disorder half its relays; and at its worst it will burn out every positronic brain path past repair.”
