Authors: Evan Filipek
Dr. Calvin raised her arms helplessly. “I can do nothing then. Nestor 10 will either imitate what the other robots would do, or else argue them plausibly into not doing what he himself cannot do. And in any case, this is bad business. We're in actual combat with this little lost robot of ours and he's winning out. Every victory of his aggravates his abnormality.”
She rose to her feet in determination. “General Kallner, if you do not separate the robots as I ask, then I can only demand that all sixty-three be destroyed immediately.”
“You demand it, do you?” Bogert looked up suddenly, and with real anger. “What gives you the right to demand any such thing? Those robots remain as they are.
I'm
responsible to the management, not you.”
“And I,” added Major-general Kallner, “am responsible to the World Co-ordinator—and I must have this settled.”
“In that case,” flashed back Calvin, “there is nothing for me to do but resign. If necessary to force you to the necessary destruction, I'll make this whole matter public. It was not I that approved the manufacture of modified robots.”
“One word from you, Dr. Calvin,” said the general, deliberately, “in violation of security measures, and you would be certainly imprisoned instantly.”
Bogert felt the matter to be getting out of hand. His voice grew syrupy, “Well, now, we're beginning to act like children, all of us. We need only a little more time. Surely we can outwit a robot without resigning, or imprisoning people, or destroying two millions.”
The psychologist turned on him with quiet fury. “I don't want any unbalanced robots in existence. We have one Nestor that's definitely unbalanced, eleven more that are potentially so, and sixty-two normal robots that are being subjected to an unbalanced environment. The only absolute safe method is complete destruction.”
The signal-burr brought all three to a halt, and the angry tumult of growingly unrestrained emotion froze.
“Come in,” growled Kallner.
It was Gerald Black, looking perturbed. He had heard angry voices. He said, “I thought I'd come myself . . . didn't like to ask anyone else—”
“What is it? Don't orate—”
“The locks of Compartment C in the trading ship have been played with. There are fresh scratches on them.”
“Compartment C?” exclaimed Calvin quickly. “That's the one that holds the robots, isn't it? Who did it?”
“From the inside,” said Black, laconically.
“The lock isn't out of order, is it?”
“No. It's all right. I've been staying on the ship now for four days and none of them have tried to get out. But I thought you ought to know, and I didn't like to spread the news. I noticed the matter myself.”
“Is anyone there now?” demanded the general.
“I left Robbins and McAdams there.”
There was a thoughtful silence, and then Dr. Calvin said, ironically, “Well?”
Kallner rubbed his nose uncertainly. “What's it all about?”
“Isn't it obvious? Nester 10 is planning to leave. That order to lose himself is dominating his abnormality past anything we can do. I wouldn't be surprised if what's left of his First Law would scarcely be powerful enough to override it. He is perfectly capable of seizing the ship and leaving with it. Then we'd have a mad robot on a spaceship. What would he do next? Any idea? Do you still want to leave them all together, general?”
“Nonsense,” interrupted Bogert. He had regained his smoothness. “All
that from a few scratch marks on a lock.”
“Have you, Dr. Bogert, completed the analysis I've required, since you volunteer opinions?”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
“No.”
“Why not? Or mayn't I ask that, either?”
“Because there's no point in it, Susan. I told you in advance that these modified robots are less stable than the normal variety, and my analysis shows it. There's a certain very small chance of breakdown under extreme circumstances that are not likely to occur. Let it go at that. I won't give you ammunition for your absurd claim that sixty-two perfectly good robots be destroyed just because so far you lack the ability to detect Nestor 10 among them.”
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 floor. 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 agleam in dress uniform. His white gloves shone as he shook hands.