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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
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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 wave lengths 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!
---
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-"
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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. Brokenl 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 betterpaid 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 theory 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?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]