by Eando Binder
Worst of all, we saw the headlines in some of the papers carried by people who viewed us. ROBOTS STILL MISSING. WHERE ARE ADAM AND EVE LINK? CITIZENSHIP AWAITS LOST ROBOTS.
Citizenship awaited us! And here we were, freaks in a sideshow. Crushing irony! Soon the hubbub would die down. Adam and Eve Link would be forgotten, like a fantastic dream. Colonel Hatterson would continue making money. He was unconcerned over our fate. He looked upon us as clever mechanical toys, not living minds.
DAY after day, the bug-eyed simpletons, their driveling questions, the unending monotony. I’ve heard of man’s inhumanity to man. This was man’s inhumanity to robots.
And what of future robots—if there were such?
Suddenly the whole robot question assumed a new light, in my mind. If by a miracle we escaped from this—
But we wouldn’t. I was certain of that when one day I saw a face I knew, in the audience. The sharp-nosed, saturnine face of Bart Oliver! He struggled to the front row and stared at us. He was here to check up, make sure we hadn’t escaped somehow.
He stared at us closely. His face, well-schooled, didn’t show that he was gloating, mocking, triumphant, but I knew he was. To add to our torment, he asked a question.
“What is your name?”
“You know damn well—” I wanted to shriek, but only got the first word out before the spark bruised my brain.
“Pierre Marquette. I was guillotined—”
“Are you human?” Bart Oliver interrupted.
It was a new question. Apprehensive of the searing spark, I made a careful answer. “Yes, of course. Or I was, with a body.”
“Have you ever heard of—Adam Link?” he snapped.
He was trying to make me give the wrong answers, so that the man behind me would use the whip of his spark. Inhuman devil, that Bart Oliver was! I didn’t answer.
“Adam Link!” he insisted. “Eve Link! Tell me, have you heard those names?”
He was leaning forward, his face strange, wondering.
“Damn you!” I bellowed. “Go away and let me alone. You know I’m Adam Link—”
This time I got it out, though the spark crashed into my electronic currents three times. It was like three bombs bursting within my skull.
“Adam Link—it’s you!”
With this cry, Bart Oliver motioned to three burly men behind him and leaped on the platform.
“You’re under arrest,” Bart Oliver barked at the attendant. “And your boss, Colonel Hatterson. These two heads are heads of Adam and Eve Link, disguised.”
He ripped away my wig, snapped off my plastic nose so that the metal shone through. Two of the detectives returned with Colonel Hatterson.
“Where are their bodies?” Bart Oliver thundered at the quaking circus owner. “Do you know you’ve unlawfully held two future citizens of the United States in captivity?”
Eve’s voice came to me. “Adam, dear, it’s over. Bart Oliver is our friend!”
Only then I knew I wasn’t dreaming.
THERE is little left to tell. We were reconnected to our bodies. Colonel Hatterson hadn’t harmed them, perhaps hoping some day to train us as astounding acrobats.
Bart Oliver had come in a chartered plane. We flew toward Washington. He had sent a telegram to Jack and Tom to meet us there.
“When you vanished,” he explained, “I was puzzled. Jack and Tom accused me of the deed. To clear myself, I accused Brody, but we couldn’t get anything on him. You had completely disappeared. Well, in the last three weeks, I had about given you up for lost. Then I got the clue. My clipping service combs the country for odd facts, for my column. I saw the item about the Talking Heads, in a honky-tonk circus troupe. I suspected it might be you, and came.”
He looked at us a little embarrassed, then stuck out his hand.
“You know,” he grinned, “you gave the right answer when I asked you back there if you were human. You said yes! If apologies mean anything——”
“Don’t,” I said. “It’s even. For three weeks Eve and I thought you had sent us to the circus. But tell me——”
“Why I accept you as human?” he asked. “I knew it the moment I met you. I felt it. I was just fighting myself. I think all of us feel it when we meet you, Adam Link. We look in our mirrors and realize our fleshly bodies are just as much an illusion as your metal one. Only the mind counts.”
He smiled wryly. “There I was writing my daily column, condemning you from my lofty seat without taking the trouble to meet you. I wonder if the whole world isn’t that way all the time? It isn’t till we meet something face to face, and look at what’s beneath, that we begin to understand. Well—”
He shrugged, and then his tone became eager. “I’ve been trying to make amends. The whole country is aroused, in favor of you. I think we’ve even got Washington softened up——”
I began to say something, but stopped. We were landing at the airport in Washington.
Jack and Tom were there and Dahlgren. Dahlgren looked at me and spoke. “I came with Jack and Tom to intercede directly in Washington, after hearing you were found. By the way, this is Senator James Willoughby, from Dr. Link’s state, where you were created. From your state!”
He pulled the distinguished, white-haired man forward.
“Adam Link, it’s a pleasure!” Senator Willoughby said in courteous greeting. “I hereby grant you honorary citizenship in our state immediately. And I’ll bring the matter of your true citizenship up before the Senate itself! I was skeptical, following your campaign. But now I see the worth of robots, or robot-citizens. You will be given citizenship by Congressional order. I promise it!”
“That’s that!” Bart Oliver grinned. Jack and Tom clutched at each other as though about to execute a dance.
“Except for one thing,” I said slowly. “I don’t want citizenship!”
It was like an exploding bomb. They all looked stupefied. I went on,
“I had a chance to think, during those three weeks helpless in a circus. Robots would be exploited, in ways I can’t even foresee. Their voting power, for instance, might be turned to unscrupulous ends. The time is not yet.” Strange conclusion, but wise, I was sure. I didn’t want to say what I really meant, and truly startle them. We had all forgotten one thing. Turned out like buttons, robot-citizens would one day outvote humans! Perhaps for the better. Perhaps not. It was a new problem. Eve and I would have to think about it.
I AM a robot. A metal man with a brain of sponge iridium. I have gears and wheels and I run on a battery.
True enough. But I have the mind of a man! I have all the qualities that you humans have. I have intelligence that works logically. There is no chance factor in my makeup.
That is why I want to be—must be!—accepted by society as an equal.
“I wish to file a patent,” I said.
“On what?” the Patent Bureau official asked.
He looked at me as all you humans do at first glance—with astonished wonder. You do not believe I can be an intelligent robot. You shift your eyes behind me, to see wires leading to some human control.
Then, suddenly, you remember all the facts about me. That I have had a court trial, and conducted a business, and broken up a crime ring, and amazed the world by my doings in the athletic field. That I am a free, independent mind housed in metal instead of flesh.
Your eyes open wide. You are astounded, and a little afraid. But then, remembering I am harmless, you smile as though you are used to seeing robots, and nothing in the world can disturb you. For you don’t want to seem like a silly old woman.
“A patent on myself,” I answered.
“On yourself!” gasped the official, Wilson by name. He stared as though he had just heard a new kind of auto or airplane ask for a patent on itself.
Three others were with me. Jack Hall and Tom Link, my human friends. And Eve, my robot mate. We had been in Washington a week, since Jack’s publicity campaign in the sports world had ended.
I had carefully drawn up a set of
blueprints of my iridium-sponge brain. That was the only patentable item. The rest of my body was simply long-used mechanical gadgets and principles.
“I want the patent in my own name—Adam Link,” I added.
“It’s out of the question!” Wilson stammered.
“I could see his thoughts whirling at the unprecedented request—an invention asking for a patent on itself. His eyes lit up as he thought a way out of his puzzling dilemma.
“A patent can only be granted to a citizen. Are you a legal citizen of the United States?”
He knew I wasn’t. He had read in the papers of my refusing citizenship, a week ago.
“I refused citizenship because I feared that robots might some day outvote humans,” I returned in explanation. “I don’t want robots ever to be a menace to human society. But neither do I want robots to become utter slaves to mankind. Therefore, I wish the patent in my name. I will manufacture robots as I see fit, and guide their efforts.”
“But you’ll have to have someone else—any friend of yours, for instance—take out the patent in his name . . .”
“No,” I broke in. My mechanical voice was rather sharp. “I would trust no man on Earth with the patent rights.”
How can I explain? How can I make it clear that no human mind can quite grasp the problem of introducing robots into civilization? And that my future fellow-robots would resent absolute human control? You humans like to be ruled by someone from your own race, or nationality, or group. The coming robot race must have a robot leader—myself.
Jack and Tom behind me were not offended. They understood, too, that much as they meant to me, I could not give them control over robots.
“I’m sorry,” Wilson shrugged. “The patent cannot be issued in the name of Adam Link unless that name is on the official roster of citizens. There is nothing more I can do about it.”
I GAVE Eve a helpless glance. We left wordlessly. Once more we had been rebuffed by humans.
“Maybe we can still do something,” Tom Link tried to say consolingly outside. “I’ll approach business men, tell them you’ll grant manufacturing rights and let them have profits. They have a powerful lobby in the Patent Bureau.”
My head shook on its swivel.
“I do not want robots turned out on assembly lines like so many radios.”
My metal feet-plates clattered loudly as I strode down the sidewalk of the avenue. People looked at Eve and me curiously. Were we to remain just curiosities? Never to gain a secure, accepted place in human affairs?
We passed a newsstand. The headlines, as usual, related to the warclouds hanging over Earth.
“It’s a wonder,” mused Jack, “that they haven’t thought of you in the fighting forces. Metal men, tireless, efficient, adamant to bullets! You—”
“Never!” I snapped, so loudly that Jack jumped. “I’m sorry, Jack, but don’t mention that again!”
I turned. “Eve,” I said, “we would be another of the follies of mankind, if our race were introduced unwisely—especially into warfare!”
“We have time to wait, dear,” she responded. “Centuries, if need be.”
BUT CENTURIES did not seem necessary. The next morning a huge, shining limousine pulled up before the hotel in which we had a suite. We do not need human food or sleep, Eve and I, but in all else we follow the accepted customs.
“Mr. Wilson wishes to see you, Adam and Eve Link,” said the driver. “Your patent will be granted.”
Astonished and pleased, we went. Jack and Tom stayed behind, not having been invited, but wished us luck. We were ushered into an inner chamber at the Patent Bureau. Wilson was there with four distinguished men, one in uniform. They arose and bowed, the army man saluting.
I could not understand all this sudden deference, when only yesterday we had been treated so brusquely.
Wilson cleared his throat, as if to make a speech.
“If you’ll pardon yesterday’s rudeness, Adam Link, we’ll get down to business. It so happens that a Senate committee of three, who have been interested in your career, have intervened in your behalf. We are to grant you a patent, without being a citizen.
“I am sure all the people of this country will consider it a just reward for your noble exploits. You have been in the nation’s eye for a year. You are—to put it simply—a national figure!”
My metal chest does not expand under praise. But I think my body straightened a little. I felt proud and happy. At last humans were treating me as an equal.
“We have the papers all made out,” Wilson went on smoothly, moving them across the desk. “Please sign here, Adam Link.”
I grased the pen. Eve touched my arm. Her low whisper came to me. alone.
“The man in uniform is leaning forward, Adam. Are you sure everything is all right?”
MAN in uniform!
Cold water seemed to splash over my mind. I read the patent paper, flipping the pages over and reading them all in a few seconds with my television eyes. One passage stood out:
“The government reserves the right to use any and all inventions it deems of military value, with full authority.”
I looked at Eve. Through our minds flashed Jack’s words—“It’s a wonder they haven’t thought of you in the fighting forces.”
They had! I had been on the verge of signing myself into military slavery. I set the pen down quietly, sadly at being deceived.
“Gentlemen,” I said bitterly, “I cannot sign. I cannot allow robots to be used in warfare!”
They all flushed, giving themselves away, and I went on.
“I consider this my country, as much as you do. I would never be disloyal to it, in any way. But as a robot I have a greater duty to all mankind; never to allow robots to become a menace.
“Please see my side of it! Robots must only be servants of peace—as workers, builders, engineers, scientists. They must never take human life. Or else one day there would come the terrible struggle of all robots against all mankind!”
I went on in this vein for some minutes. The men fidgeted. They had lost interest. The military men arose and left, flatly. I was just a soap-box orator now, talking of things that were annoyingly thought-provoking. You humans, in general, are quite allergic to serious thinking.
Wilson stopped me. “You would be useful as a military item. Right now, that’s our main concern, during present world conditions. We’re hardly concerned with robots in any other capacity.”
“Let me show our worth,” I begged. “As workers, laborers—anything!”
Wilson shook his head, but one of the senators spoke up, casually.
“There’s a government project being started in Southern California. Reworking of an old abandoned silver mine. It may be dangerous to human life. Would you want to try that, Adam Link?”
I detected the subtle sarcasm in his voice. I had refused to be inveigled into military service. Would I take, instead, that lowly, common opportunity? He had as good as told me they thought robots might be useful in war, but utterly worthless in any other field of human endeavor.
I was being pacified, shunted aside, insulted. They were ribboning me with red tape. One other of your human terms is most apt—I was being kicked around.
I could see their viewpoint, however. The world situation at present was so vital and grave that the advent of the intelligent robot was a trivial issue.
“Yes,” I said to their surprise, “I will show you how robots can be of benefit without fighting wars!”
CHAPTER II
First-Class Heel
TWO months later I was repeating those words, to a group of thirty robots. They stood in a straight row before me, their alloy bodies shirting in the bright sun of Southern California. Their mechanical parts had been turned out by eastern factories, according to my specifications.
During those two months, Eve and I had worked twenty-four hours a day, in my private workshop-laboratory in the Ozark Mountains. Near the spot where I had been created, two years before, I
developed thirty new iridium-sponge brains. No factory on Earth could devise them. I alone knew that ultimate secret of metal life.
The whole—bodies and metal brains—had been shipped by freight to California, and here assembled by Eve and myself. Battery current had crackled into the thirty brains and endowed them with life. We had just finished a week before. Thus before us stood thirty creatures like ourselves.
Not quite like ourselves. Eve and I had lived and moved among humans for many months. We had come to know human thoughts and reactions. We had adjusted ourselves to the human viewpoint.
These thirty brother robots had only known existence for a week. They were neuters, having no distinctive male or female viewpoint. After teaching them to walk and talk and read—in a short day—we had given them only technical and scientific books to read. I had no time to further their education in human relationships. Gradually they would pick that up.
“Fellow robots,” I said, “you are the first of the robot race! I created you for one sole purpose—to serve the human race. Yet not as slaves. If we prove ourselves worthy, we will be given a respected place in human society. Robots and humans together, planning intelligently, can build a truly great world!”
I wanted to add, “one without war,” but didn’t. These robots of mine, I was determined, must not hear of that blind, stupid human way of settling differences. I did not want these thirty new minds to be instantly disillusioned in their human masters.
I went on, glad that the bitterness of my thoughts could not be reflected in my flat phonic tones.
“This project we are members of is a lowly, insignificant task. It is simply the mining of an ore, silver, that does little real good except in the minds of men. Certain human leaders have seen fit to put obstacles in our way, proving our mental worth.
“We should be builders, engineers, fashioners of high skill. We are instead starting as miners. Moles digging in the ground. Worms scratching in the soil and bringing up bits of dull metal—”
Eve touched my arm. Her eyes told me to watch my words. The thirty robots were puzzled. I could see their new-born minds laboring to understand what I meant. Yet how could they understand this roundabout way of getting a point across? They knew only that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points—in all things. I was confusing them. I nodded to Eve and switched.