Download "The Bicentennial Man" and more Exercises History in PDF only on Docsity!
“The Bicentennial Man” -ISAAC ASIMOV The Three Laws of Robotics
- Arobot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
- Arobot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
- Arobot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. ! Andrew Martin said, "Thank you," and took the seat offered him. He didn't look driven to the last resort, but he had been. He didn't, actually, look anything, for there was a smooth blankness, to his face, except for the sadness one imagined one saw in his eyes. His hair was smooth, light brown, rather fine; and he had no facial hair. He looked freshly and cleanly shaved. His clothes were distinctly old-fashioned, but neat, and predominantly a velvety red-purple in color. Facing him from behind the desk was the surgeon. The nameplate on the desk included a fully identifying series of letters and numbers which Andrew didn't bother with. To call him Doctor would be quite enough "When can the operation be carried through, Doctor?" he asked. Softly, with that certain inalienable note of respect that a robot always used to a human being, the surgeon said, "I am not certain, sir, that I understand how or upon whom such an operation could be performed." ! There might have been a look of respectful intransigence on the surgeon's face, if a robot of his sort, in lightly bronzed stainless steel, could have such an expression-or any expression. ! Andrew Martin studied the robot's right hand, his cutting hand, as it lay motionless on the desk. The fingers were long and were shaped into artistically metallic, looping curves so -graceful and appropriate that one could imagine a scalpel fitting them and becoming, temporarily,one piece with them. There would be no hesitation in his work, no stumbling, no quivering,no mistakes. That confidence came with specialization, of course, a specialization so fiercely desired by humanity that few robots were, any longer, independently brained. A surgeon, of course, would have to be. But this one, though brained, was so limited in his capacity that he did not recognize Andrew, had probably never heard ofhim. "Have you ever thought you would like to be a man?" Andrew asked. The surgeon hesitated a moment, as though the question fitted nowhere in his allottedpositronic pathways. "But I am a robot, sir." "Would it be better to be a man?" "If would be better, sir, to be a better surgeon. I could not be so if I were a man, but only if I were a more advanced robot. I would be pleased to be a more advanced robot." "It does not offend you that I can order you about? That I can make you stand up, sit down, move right or left, by merely telling you to do so?"
"It is my pleasure to please you, sir. If your orders were to interfere with my functioning with respect to you or to any other human being, I would not obey you. The First Law, concerning my duty to human safety, would take precedence over the Second Law relating to obedience. Otherwise, obedience is my pleasure. Now, upon whom am I to perform this operation?" "Upon me," Andrew said. "But that is impossible. It is patently a damaging operation." "That does not matter," said Andrew, calmly. "I must not inflict damage," said the surgeon. "On a human being, you must not," said Andrew, "but I, too, am a robot." Andrew had appeared much more a robot when he had first been manufactured. He had then been as much a robot in appearance as any that had ever existed smoothly designed and functional. He had done well in the home to which he had been factors brought in those days when robots in households, or on the planet altogether, had been a rarity. There had been four in the home: Sir and Ma'am and Miss and, Little Miss. He knew their names, of -course, but he ", never used them. Sir was Gerald Martin. His own serial number was NDR-... He eventually forgot the numbers. It had been a long time, of course; j but if he had wanted to remember, he could not have forgotten? He had not wanted to remember. Little Miss had been the first to call him Andrew, because she could not use the letters, and all the rest. followed her in doing so. Little Miss... She had lived for ninety years and, was long since dead. He bad tried to call her Ma'am once, but she would not allow it. Little Miss she had been to her last day.s Andrew had been intended to perform the duties of a valet, a butler, even a lady's maid. Those were the experimental days for him and, indeed, for all robots anywhere save in the industrial and exploratory; factories and stations off Earth. The Martins enjoyed him, and half the time he was prevented from doing his work because Miss and Little Miss wanted to play with him. It was Miss who first understood how this might be arranged. "We order you to play with us and you must follow orders." "I amsorry, Miss, but a prior order from Sir must surely take precedence." But she said, "Daddy just said he hoped you would take care of the cleaning. That's not much of an order. I order you." Sir did not mind. Sir was fond of Miss and of Little Miss, even more than Ma'am was; and Andrew was fond of them, too. At least, the effect they had upon his actionswere those which in a human being would have been called the result of fondness. Andrew thought of it as fondness for he did not know any other word for it. It was for Little Miss that Andrew had carved a pendant out of wood. She had ordered him to. Miss, it seemed, had received anivorite pendant with scrollwork for her birthday and Little Miss was unhappy over it. She had only a piece of wood, which she gave Andrew together with a small kitchen knife. He had done it quickly and Little Miss had said, "That's nice, Andrew. I'll show it to Daddy."
"Can you do it again?" "Probably not.Nothing like this has ever been reported." "Good! I don't in the least mind Andrew's being the only one." "I suspect that the company would like to have your robot back for study,"Mansky said. "Not a chance!" Sir said with sudden grimness. "Forget it." He turned to Andrew, "Let's go home, now." Miss was dating boys and wasn't about the house much. It was Little Miss, not as little as she once was, who filled Andrew's horizon now. She never forgot that the very first piece of wood carving he had done had been for her. She kept it on a silver chain about her neck. It was she who first objected to Sir's habit of giving away Andrew's work. "Come on, Dad, if anyone wants one of them, let him pay for it. It's worth it." "It isn't like you to be greedy, Mandy." "Not for us, Dad.For the artist." Andrew had never heard the word before, and when he had a moment to himself he looked it up in the dictionary. Then there was another trip, this time to Sir's lawyer. "What do you think of this, John?" Sir asked. The lawyer was JohnFinegold. He had white hair and a pudgy belly, and the rims of his contact lenses were tinted a bright green. He looked at the small plaque Sir had given him. "This is beautiful. But I've already heard the news. Isn't thus a carving made by your robot? The one you've brought with you." "Yes, Andrew does them. Don't you, Andrew?" "Yes, Sir," said Andrew. "How much would you pay for that, John?" Sir asked. "I can't say. I'm not a collector of such things" "Would you believe I have been offered two hundred and fifty dollars for that smallthing. Andrew has made chairs that have sold for five hundred dollars. There's two hundred thousand dollars in the bank from Andrew's products." "Good heavens, he's making you rich, Gerald." "Half rich," said Sir. "Half of it is in an account in the name of Andrew Martin." a "The robot?" "That's right, and I want to know if it's legal" "Legal... ?" Feingold's chair creaked as he leaned back in it. "There are no precedents, Gerald. How did your robot sign the necessary papers?" "He can sign his name. Now, is there anything further that ought to be done?" "Um."Feingold's eyes seemed to turn inward for a moment. Then he said, "Well, we can set up a trust to handle all finances in his name and that will place a layer of insulation between him and the hostile world beyond that, my advice is you do nothing. No one has e stopped you so far. If anyone objects, let him bring suit" "And will you take the case if the suit is brought?" p "For a retainer, certainly." "How much?" "Somethinglike that," Feingold said, and pointed to the wooden plaque. "Fair enough," said Sir.
Feingold chuckled as he turned to the robot. "Andrew, are you pleased that you have money?" "Yes, sir." "What do you plan to do with it?" "Pay for things, sir, which otherwise Sir would have to pay for. It would save him expense, sir." Such occasions' arose. Repairs were expensive, and revisions were even more so. With the years, new models of robots were produced and Sir saw to it that Andrew had the advantage of every new device, until he was a model of metallic excellence. It was all done at Andrew's expense. Andrew insisted on that. Only hispositronic pathways were untouched. Sir insisted on that. "The new models aren't as good as you are, Andrew," he said. "The new robots are worthless. The company has learned to make the pathways more precise, more closely on the nose, more deeply on the track. The new robots don't shift. They do what they're designed for and never stray. I like you better." "Thank you, Sir." "And it's your doing, Andrew, don't you forget that. I am certainMansky put an end to generalized pathways as soon as he had a good look at you. He didn't like the unpredictability. Do you know how many times he asked for you back so he could place you under study? Nine times! I never let him have you, though; and now that he's retired, we may have some peace." So Sir's hair thinned and grayed and his face grewpouchy , while Andrew looked even better than he had when he first joined the family. Ma'am had joined an art colony somewhere in Europe, and Miss was a poet inNew York. They wrote sometimes, but not often. Little Miss was married and lived not far away. She said she did not want to leave Andrew. When her child, Little Sir, was born, she let Andrew hold the bottle and feed him. With the birth of a grandson, Andrew felt that Sir finally had someone to replace those who had gone. Therefore, it would not be so unfair now to come to him with the request. "Sir, it is kind of you to have allowed me to spend my money as I wished" ' "It was your money, Andrew.""Only by your voluntary act, Sir. I do not believe the law would have stopped you from keeping it all." "The law won't persuade me to do wrong, Andrew." "Despite all expenses, and despite taxes, too, Sir, I have nearly six hundred thousand dollars:" "I know that, Andrew." "I want to give it to you, Sir." "I won't take it, Andrew" - "In exchange for something you can give me, Sir" "Oh? What is that, Andrew?" "My freedom, Sir." "Your-" "I wish to buy my freedom, Sir." It wasn't that easy. Sir had flushed, had said, "For God's sake!" Then he had turned on his heel and stalked away. It was Little Miss who finally brought him round, defiantly and harshly-and in front of Andrew. For thirty years no one had ever hesitated to talk in front of Andrew, whether or not the matter involved Andrew. He was only a robot.
Andrew!" "Yes,Your Honor." It was the first time Andrew bad spoken in court, and the judge seemed astonished for a moment at the human timbre of his voice. "Why do you want to be free, Andrew?In what way will this matter to you?" "Would you wish to be a slave, Your Honor," Andrew asked. "But you are not a slave. You are a perfectly good robot-a genius of a robot, I am given.to understand, capable of an artistic expression that can be matched nowhere. What more could you do if you were free?" "Perhaps no more than I do now, Your Honor, but with greater joy. It has been said in this courtroom that only a human being can be free. It seems to me that only someone who wishes for freedom can be free. I wish for freedom." And it was that statement that cued the judge. The crucial sentence in his decision was "There is no right to deny freedom to any object with a mind advanced enough to grasp the concept and desire the state." It was eventually upheld by theWorld Court : Sir remained displeased, and his harsh voice made Andrew feel as if he were being short-circuited. "I don't want your damned money, Andrew. I'll take it only because you won't feel free otherwise. From now on, you can select your own jobs and do them as you please. I will give you no orders, except this one: Do as you please. But I am still responsible for you. That's part of the court order. I hope you understand that." Little Miss interrupted. "Don't be irascible, Dad. The responsibility is no great chore. You know you won't have to do a thing. The Three Laws still hold." "Then how is he free?" "Are not human beings bound by their laws, Sir?" Andrew replied. "I'm not going to argue." Sir left the room, and Andrew saw him only infrequently after that. Little Miss came to see him frequently in the small house that had been built and made over for him. It had no kitchen, of course, nor bathroom facilities. It had just two rooms; one was a library and one was a combination storeroom and workroom. Andrew accepted many commissions and worked harder as a free robot than he ever had before, till the cost of the house was paid for and the structure was signed over to him. One day Little Sir-no, "George!"-came. Little Sir had insisted on that after' the court decision. "A free robot doesn't call anyone Little Sir," George had said. "I call you Andrew. You must call me George." His preference was phrased as an order, so Andrew called him George-but Little Miss remained Little Miss. One day when George came alone, it was to say that Sir was dying. Little Miss was at the bedside, but Sir wanted Andrew as well. Sir's, voice was still quite strong, though he seemed unable to move much. He struggled to raise his hand. "Andrew," he said, "Andrew-Don't help me, George. I'm only dying; I'm not crippled. Andrew, I'm glad you're free. I just wanted to tell you that." Andrew did not know what to say. He had never been at the side of someone dying before, but he knew it was the human way of ceasing to function. It was an involuntary and irreversible dismantling, and Andrew did not know what to say that might be appropriate. He could only remain standing, absolutely silent, absolutely motionless.
When it was over, Little Miss said to him, "He may not have seemed friendly to you toward the end, Andrew, but he was old, you know; and it hurt him that you should want to be free." Then Andrew found the words. "I would never have been free without him, Little Miss." Only after Sir's death did Andrew begin to wear clothes. He began with an old pair of trousers at first, a pair that George had given him. George was married now, and a lawyer. He had joined Feingold's firm. Old Feingold was long since dead, but his daughter had carried on. Eventually the firm's name became Feingold and Martin. It remained so even when the daughter retired and no Feingold took her place. At the time Andrew first put on clothes, the Martin name had just been added to the firm: George had tried not to smile the first time he saw Andrew attempting to put on trousers, but to Andrew's eyes the smile was clearly there. George showed Andrew how to manipulate the static charge to allow the trousers to open, wrap about his lower body, and move shut. George demonstrated on his own trousers, but Andrew was quite aware it would take him a while to duplicate that one flowing motion. "But why do you want trousers, Andrew? Your body is so beautifully functional it's a shame to cover it especially when you needn't worry about either temperature control or modesty. And the material: doesn't cling properly-not on metal." Andrew held his ground. "Are not human bodies beautifully functional, George? Yet you cover yourselves." "For warmth, for cleanliness, for protection, for decorativeness.None of that applies to you." "I feel bare without clothes. I feel different, George," Andrew responded. "Different! Andrew, there are millions of robots on Earth now. In this region, according to the last census, there are almost as many robots as there are men." "I know, George. There are robots doing every conceivable type of work." "And none of them wear clothes." "But none of them are free, George." Little by little, Andrew added to his wardrobe. He was inhibited by George's smile and by the stares of the people who commissioned work. He might be free, but there was built into Andrew a carefully detailed program concerning his behavior to people, and it was only by the tiniest steps that he dared advance; open disapproval would set him back months. Not everyone accepted Andrew as free. He was incapable of resenting that, and yet there was a difficulty about his thinking process when he thought of it. Most of all, he tended to avoid putting on clothes -or too many of them-when he thought Little Miss might come to visit him. She was older now and was often away in some warmer climate, but when she returned the first thing she did was visit him. On one of her visits, George said, ruefully, "She's got me, Andrew. I'll be running for the legislature next year. Like grandfather,' she says,like grandson."' "Like grandfather.. ." Andrew stopped, uncertain. "I mean that I, George, the grandson, will be like Sir, the grandfather, who was in the legislature once."
Andrew hesitated. He hadn't heard an order in that tone of voice in so long that his Second Law circuits had momentarily jammed. The tall one repeated, "Take off- your clothes. I order you." Slowly, Andrew began to remove them. "Just drop them," said the tall one. The nose said, "If it doesn't belong to anyone, it could be ours as much as someone else's." "Anyway," said the tall one, "who's to object to anything we do. We're not damaging property." tie turned to Andrew. "Stand on your head." "The head is not meant-" Andrew began. "That's an order. If you don't know how, try anyway..," Andrew hesitated again,then bent to put his head on the ground. He tried to lift his legs but fell, heavily. The tall one said, "Just lie there." He said to the other, "We can take him apart. Ever take a robot apart?" "Will he let us?" "How can he stop us?" There was no way Andrew could stop them, if they ordered him in a forceful enough manner not to resist The Second Law of obedience took precedence over the Third Law of self-preservation. In any case, he could not defend himself without possibly hurting them, and that would mean breaking the First Law. At that thought, he felt every motile unit contract slightly and he quivered as he lay there. The tall one walked over and pushed - at him with his foot. "He's heavy. I think we'll need tools to do the job." The nose said, "We could order him to take himself, apart. It would be fun to watch him try." "Yes," said the tall one, thoughtfully, "but let's get him off the road. If someone comes along-" It was too late. Someone had, indeed, come along and it was George. From where he lay, Andrew had seen him topping a small rise in the middle distance He would have liked to signal him in. some way, but the last order had been "Just lie there!" George was running now, and he arrived on the scene somewhat winded. The two young men stepped back a little and then waited thoughtfully. "Andrew, has something gone wrong?" George asked, anxiously. Andrew replied, "I am well, George." "Then stand up. What happened to your clothes?" "That your robot, Mac?" the tall young man asked. George turned sharply. "He's no one's robot. What's been going on here?" "We politely asked him to take his clothes off. What's that to you, if you don't own him?" George turned to Andrew. "What were they doing, Andrew?" "It was their intention in some way to dismember me. They were about to move me to a quiet spot and order me to dismember myself." George looked at the two young men, and his chin trembled. The young men retreated no farther. They were smiling. The tall one said, lightly, "What are you going to do, pudgy? Attack us?" George said, "No. I don't have to. This robot has been with my family for over seventy- five years. He knows us and he values us more than he values anyone else. I am going to tell him that you two are threatening my life and that you plan to kill me. I will ask him
to defend me. In choosing between me and you two, he will choose me. Do you know what will happen to you when he attacks you?" The two were backing away slightly, looking uneasy. George said, sharply, "Andrew, I am in danger and about to come to harm from these young men. Move toward them!" Andrew did so, and the young men did not wait. They ran. "All right, Andrew, relax," George said. He looked unstrung. He was far past the age where he could face the possibility of a dustup with one young man, let alone two. "I couldn't have hurt them, George: I could see they were not attacking you." "I didn't order you to attack them. I only told you to move toward them. Their own fears did the rest." "How can they fear robots?" "It's a disease of mankind, one which has not yet been cured. But never mind that. What the devil are you doing here, Andrew? Good thing I found your note. I was just on the point of turning back and hiring a helicopter when I found you. How did you get it into your head to go to the library? I would have brought you any books you needed" "I am a-" Andrew began. "Free robot. Yes, yes. All right, what did you want in the library?" "I want to know more about human beings, about the world, about everything.And about robots, George. I want to write a history about robots." George put his arm on the other's shoulder. "Well, let's walk home. But pick up your clothes first. Andrew, there are a million books on robotics and all of them include histories of the science. The world is growing saturated not only with robots but with information about robots." Andrew shook his head, a human gesture he had lately begun to adopt. "Not a history of robotics, George.A history of robots, by a robot. I want to explain how robots feel about what has happened since the first ones were allowed to work and live on Earth." George's eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing in direct response. Little Miss was just past her eighty-third birthday, but there was nothing about her that was lacking in either energy or determination. She gestured with her cane oftener than she propped herself up with it. She listened to the story in a fury of indignation. "George, that's horrible. Who were those young ruffians?" "I don't know. What difference does it make? In the end they did not do any damage." "They might have. You're a lawyer, George; and if you're well off, it's entirely due to the talents of Andrew. It was the money he earned that is the foundation of everything we have. He provides the continuity for this family, and I will not have him treated as a wind-up toy." "What would you have me do, Mother?" George asked. "I said you're a lawyer. Don't you listen? You set up a test case somehow, and you force the regional courts to declare for robot rights and get the legislature to pass the necessary bills. Carry the whole thing to the World Court, if you have to. I'll be watching, George, and I'll tolerate no shirking." She was serious, so what began as a way of soothing the fearsome old lady became an involved matter with enough legal entanglement to make it interesting. As senior partner
Andrew passed the time revolving the matter-4h his mind: Could "unroboted" be used as an analog of "unmanned," or had unmanned become a metaphoric term sufficiently divorced from its original literal meaning to be applied to robots-or to women for that matter? Such problems frequently arose as he worked on his book on robots. The trick of thinking out sentences to express all complexities had undoubtedly increased his vocabulary. Occasionally, someone came into the room to stare at him and he did not try to avoid the glance. He looked at each calmly, and each in turn looked away. Paul Martin finally emerged. He looked surprised, or he would have if Andrew could have made out his expression with certainty. Paul had taken to wearing the heavy makeup that fashion was dictating for bath sexes. Though it made sharper and firmer the somewhat bland lines of Paul's face, Andrew disapproved. He found that disapproving of human beings, as long, as he did not express it verbally, did not make him very uneasy. He could even write the disapproval. He was sure it had not always been so. "Come in, Andrew. I'm sorry I made you wait, but there was something I had to finish. Come in, you had said you wanted to talk to me, but I didn't know you meant here in town." "If you are busy, Paul, I am prepared to continue to wait." Paul glanced at the interplay of shifting shadows on the dial on the wall that served as timepieces and said, "I can make some time. Did you come alone?" "I hired anautomatobile ." "Any trouble?"Paul asked, with more than a trace of anxiety. "I wasn't expecting any. My rights are protected." Paul looked all the more anxious for that. "Andrew, I've explained that the law is unenforceable, at least under most conditions. And if you insist on wearing clothe, you'll run into trouble eventually; just like that first time." "And only tine, Paul.I'm sorry you are displeased" "Well, look at it this way: you are virtually a living legend, Andrew, and you are too valuable in many different ways for you to have any right to take chances with yourself. By the way, how's the book coming?" "I am approaching the end, Paul. The publisher is quite pleased." "Good!" "I don't know that he's necessarily pleased with the book as a book. I think he expects to sell many copies because it's written by a robot and that's what pleases him. "Only human, I'm afraid." "I am not displeased. Let it sell for whatever reason, since it will mean money and I can use some." "Grandmother left you-" "Little Miss was generous, and I'm sure I can count on the family to help me out further. But it is the royalties from the book on which I am counting to help me through the next step." "What next step is that?" ` "I wish to see the head of U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men Corporation. I have tried to make an appointment; but so far I have not been able to reach him.
The Corporation did not cooperate with me in the writing of the book, so I am not surprised, you understand." Paul was clearly amused. "Cooperation is the last thing you can expect. They didn't cooperate with us --`, in our great fight for robot rights. Quite the reverse, .; and you can see why. Give a robot rights and people may not want to buy them." "Nevertheless," said Andrew, "if you call them, you may be able to obtain an interview for me." "I'm no more popular with them than you are, Andrew." "But perhaps you can hint that by seeing me they may head off a campaign by Feingold and Martin to strengthen the rights of robots further." "Wouldn't that be a lie, Andrew?" "Yes, Paul, and I can't tell one. That is why you must call." "Ah, you can't lie, but you can urge me to tell a lie, is that it? You're getting more human all the time, Andrew." The meeting was not easy to arrange, even with Paul's supposedly weighted name. But it finally came about. When it did, HarleySmythe -Robertson, who, on his mother's side, was descended from the original founder of the corporation and who had adopted the hyphenation to indicate it, looked remarkably unhappy. He was approaching retirement age and his entire tenure as president had been devoted to the matter of robot rights. His gray hair was plastered thinly over the top of his scalp; his face was not made up, and he eyed Andrew with brief hostility from time to time. Andrew began the conversation. "Sir, nearly a century ago, I was told by a MertonManskyk of this corporation that the mathematics governing the plotting of thepositronic pathways was far too complicated to permit of any but approximate solutions and that, therefore, my own capacities were not fully predictable." "That was a century ago."Smythe -Robertson hesitated,then said icily, "Sir. It is true no longer. Our robots are made with precision now and are trained precisely to their jobs." "Yes," said Paul, who had come along, as he said, to make sure that the corporation played fair, "with the result that my receptionist must be guided at every point once events depart from the conventional, however slightly." "You would be much more displeased if it were to improvise,"Smythe -Robertson said. "Then you no longer manufacture robots likemyself which are flexible and adaptable." "No longer." "The research I have done in connection with my book," said Andrew, "indicates that I am the oldest robot presently in active operation." "The oldest presently," saidSmythe -Robertson, "and the oldest ever.The oldest that will ever be. No robot is useful after the twenty-fifth year. They are called in and replaced with newer models." "No robot as presently manufactured is useful after the twentieth year," said Paul, with a note of sarcasm creeping into his voice."Andrew is quite exceptional in this respect." Andrew, adhering to the path he had marked out for himself, continued, "As the oldest robot in the world and the most flexible, am I not unusual enough to merit special treatment from the company?"
"Only too well." "This robot, as a free robot, chooses to wear clothesThis results in his being frequently humiliated by thoughtless human beings despite the law against the humiliation of robots. It is difficult to prosecute vague offenses that don't meet with the general disapproval of those who must decide on guilt and innocence." "U.S. Robots understood that from the start. Your father's firm unfortunately did not." "My father is dead now, but what I see is that we have here a clear offense with a clear target." "What are you talking about?" saidSmythe -Robertson. "My client, Andrew Martin he has just become my client is a free robot who is entitled to askU.S. Robots and Mechanical Men Corporation for the rights of replacement, which the corporation supplies to anyone who owns a robot for more than twenty-five years.In fact, the corporation insists on such replacement." Paul was smiling and thoroughly at ease. "Thepositronic brain of my client," he went on, "is the owner of the body of my client which is certainly more than twenty-five years old. Thepositronic brain demands the replacement of the body and offers to pay any reason able fee for an android body as that replacement. If yourefuse the request, my client undergoes humiliation and we will sue. "While public opinion would not ordinarily support the claim of a robot in such a case, may I remind you that U.S. Robots is not popular with the publicgenerally.Even those who most use and profit from robots are suspicious of the corporation. This may be a hangover from the days when robots were widely feared. It may be resentment against the power and wealth of U.S. Robots, which has a worldwide monopoly. Whatever the cause may be, the resentment eats. I think you will find that you would prefer not to be faced with a lawsuit, particularly since my client is wealthy and will live for many more centuries and will have noreason to refrain from fighting the battle forever." Smythe-Robertson had slowly reddened. "You are trying to force-" "I force you to do nothing," said Paul. "If you wish to refuse to accede to my client's reasonable request, you may by all means do so and we will leave without another word. But we will sue, as is certainly our right, and you will find that you will eventually lose." "Well." "I see that you are going to accede," said Paul. "You may hesitate but you will come to it in the end. Let me assure you, then, of one further point: If, in the process of transferring my client'spositronic brain from his present body to an organic one, there is any damage, however slight, then I will never rest until I've nailed the corporation to the ground. I will, if necessary, take every possible step to mobilize public opinion against the corporation if one brain path of my client's platinum- iridium essence is scrambled." He turned to Andrew and asked, "Do you agree to all this, Andrew?" Andrew hesitated a full minute. It amounted to the approval of lying, of blackmail, of the badgering and humiliation of a human being. But not physical harm, he told himself, not physical harm. He managed at last to come out with a rather faint "Yes."
He felt as though he were being constructed again. For days, then for weeks, finally for months, Andrew found himself not himself somehow, and the simplest actions kept giving rise to hesitation. Paul was frantic. "They've damaged you, Andrew. We'll have to institute suit!" Andrew spoke very slowly. “You... mustn't. You’ll never be able to prove something... like m-m-m-m-“ “Malice?” "Malice.Besides, I grow... stronger, better. It's thetr-tr-tr -" "Tremble?" "Trauma.After all, there's never been such anopop -op-... before." Andrew could feel his brain from the inside. No one else could. He knew he was well, and during the months that it took him to learn full coordination and fullpositronic interplay he spent hours before the mirror. Not quite human! The face was stiff-too stiff and the motions were too deliberate. They lacked the careless, free flow of the human being, but perhaps that might come with time. At least now he could wear clothes without the ridiculous anomaly of a metal face going along with it. Eventually, he said, "I will be going back to work." Paul laughed. "That means you are well. What will yoube doing?Another book?" "No," said Andrew, seriously. "I live too long for any one.career to seize me by the throat and never let me go. There was a time when I was primarily an artist, and I can still turn to that. And there was a time when I was a historian, and I can still turn to that. But now I wish to be arobobiologist" "Arobopsycholagist , you mean." "No. That would imply the study ofpositronic brains, and at the moment I lack the desire to do that. A robobiologist , it seems to me, would be concerned with the working of the body attached to that brain." "Wouldn't that be aroboticist ?" "Aroboticist works with a metal body. I would be studying an organic humanoid body, of which I have the only one, as far as I know." "You narrow your field," said Paul, thoughtfully. "As an artist, all conception is yours; as a historian you deal chiefly with robots; as arobobiologist , you will deal with yourself." Andrew nodded. "It would seem so:" Andrew had to start from the very beginning, for he knew nothing of ordinary biology and almost nothing of science. He became a familiar sight in the libraries, where he sat at the electronic indices for hours at a time, looking perfectly normal in clothes. Those few who knew he was a robot in no way interfered with him. He built a laboratory in a room which he added to his house; and his library grew, too. Years passed, and Paul came to him one day and said, "It's a pity you're no longer working on the history of robots. I understand U.S. Robots is adopting a radically new policy." Paul had aged, and his deteriorating eyes had been replaced withphotoptic cells. In that respect, he had drawn closer to Andrew. "What have they done?" Andrew asked. "They are manufacturing central computers, giganticpositronic brains, really, which communicate with anywhere from a dozen to a thousand robots by microwave.
Mechanical Men Corporation, he did it alone. Once he had gone with Sir and once with Paul. This time, the third time, he was alone and manlike. U.S. Robots had changed. The actual production plant had been shifted to a large space station, as had grown to be the case with more and more industries. With them had gone many robots. The Earth itself was becoming park like, with its one-billion- person population stabilized and perhaps not more than thirty percent of its at-least- equally-large robot population independently brained. The Director of Research was AlvinMagdescu , dark of complexion and hair, with a little pointed beard and wearing nothing above the waist but the breast band that fashion dictated. Andrew himself was well covered in the older fashion of several decades back. Magdescuoffered his hand to his visitor. "I know you, of course, and I'm rather pleased to see you. You're our most notorious product and it's a pity old Smyth Robertson was so set against you. We could have done a great deal with you." "You still can," said Andrew. "No, I don't think so. We're past the time. We've had robots on Earth for over a century, but that's changing. It will be back to space with them, and those that stay here won't be brained." "But there remains myself, and I stay on Earth." "True, but there doesn't seem to be much of the robot about you. What newrequest have you?" “To be still less a robot.Since I am so far organic, I wish an organic source of energy. I have here the plans” Magdescudid not hasten through them. He might have intended to at first, but he stiffened and grew intent. At one point, he said, "This is remarkably ingenious.Who thought of all this?" "I did," Andrew replied. Magdesculooked up at him sharply,then said, "It would amount to a major overhaul of your body, and an experimental one, since such a thing has never been attempted before. I advise against it. Remain as you are." Andrew's face had limited means of expression, but impatience showed plainly in his voice. "Dr. Magdescu , you miss the entire point: You have no choice but to accede to my request. If such devices can be built into my body, they can be built into human bodies as well. The tendency to lengthen human life by prosthetic devices has already been remarked on. There are no devices better than the ones I have designed or is designing.t happens, I control the patents by way of the firm of Feingold and Martin. We are quite capable of going into business for ourselves and of developing the kind of prosthetic devices that may end by producing human beings with many of the properties of robots. Your own business will then suffer. "If, however, you operate on me now and agree to do so under similar circumstances in the future, you will receive permission to make use of the patents and control the technology of both robots and of the prosthetization of human beings. The initial leasing will not be granted, of course, until after the first operation is completed successfully and after enough time has passed to demonstrate that it is indeed successful."
Andrew felt scarcely any First Law inhibition to the stern conditions he was setting a human being. He was learning to reason that what seemed like cruelty might, in the long run, be kindness. Magdescuwas stunned. "I'm not the one to decide something like this. That's a corporate decision that would take time." "I can wait a reasonable time," said Andrew, "but only a reasonable time." And he thought with satisfaction that Paul himself could not have done it better. It took only a reasonable time, and the operation was a success. "I was very much against the operation, Andrew,"Magdescu said, "but not for the reasons you might think. I was not in the least against the experiment, if it had been on someone else. I hated risking your positronic brain. Now that you have thepositronic pathways interacting with simulated nerve pathways, it might have been difficult to rescue the brain intact if the body had gone bad" "I had every faith in the skill of the staff at U.S. Robots," said Andrew. "And I can eat now." "Well, you can sip olive oil. It will mean occasional cleanings of the combustion chamber, as we have explained to you. Rather an uncomfortable touch, I should think." "Perhaps, if I did not expect to go further.Self cleaning is not impossible. In fact, I am working on a device that will deal with solid food that may be expected to contain incombustible fractions-indigestible matter, so to speak, that will have to be discarded." "You would then have to develop an anus." "Or the equivalent." "What else,Andrew... ?" "Everything else." "Genitalia, too?" "Insofar as they will fit my plans.My body is a canvas on which I intend to draw.. ." Magdescuwaited for the sentence to he completed, and when it seemed that itwould not be, he completed it himself."A man?" "We shall see," Andrew said. "That's a puny ambition, Andrew. You're better than a man. You've gone downhill from the moment, you opted to become organic." "My brain has not suffered." "No, it hasn't. I'll grant you that. But, Andrew, the whole new breakthrough in prosthetic devices made possible by your patents is being marketed under your name. You're recognized as the inventor and you're being honored for it-as you should be. Why play further games with your body?" Andrew did not answer. The honors came. He accepted membership in several learned societies, including one that was devoted to the new science he had established-the one he had calledrobobiology but which had come to be termedprosthetology. On the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of his construction, a testimonial dinner was given in his honor at U.S. Robots. If Andrew saw an irony in this, he kept it to himself. AlvinMagdescu came out of retirement to chair the dinner. He was himself ninety-four years old and was alive because he, too, hadprosthetized devices that, among other things, fulfilled the function of liver and, kidneys. The dinner reached its climax
