Caliban c-1

by Isaac Asimov

  “Then why do you think I did it?” Ariel asked.

  “I ordered you to be quiet,” Kresh said harshly. “You’re not doing too well in your Three Law imitation all of a sudden. You didn’t want her dead. You wanted her to forget all about the inventory. And that you did exactly right. The med-robots say it is highly unlikely that Dr. Leving will ever regain her memory of that evening’s events.”

  “But why didn’t she want to kill me?” Fredda asked.

  “Because if you died, then the Limbo Project would fold,” Tonya Welton said in a voice that was suddenly flat and cold. “I’m beginning to see the logic of it. Without Fredda Leving to push for the New Law robots, Limbo would fail. That would be inevitable in the political uproar over your murder. Think how bad the situation has been, even though you lived. If you had been killed, it’d be close to a certainty that all the Settlers would have been thrown off the planet. And I would not have Ariel with me if I was deported.”

  Tonya Welton, ashen-faced, moved forward a cautious step or two and took a good long look at Ariel. “What you’re telling me, Sheriff, is that I have been spending my days and nights with a potentially homicidal robot that was playacting the part of my helpful companion.” Tonya looked Ariel straight in the eye. “Is that right?” she asked, a strained quaver in her voice.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid that’s about the size of it.”

  “And you were there,” Tonya said to Ariel, “day after day, listening to all my secrets, night after night, watching—watching everything! I trusted you!” Tonya looked toward Gubber, who seemed as horrified as she was, then pointed at Ariel and looked back toward the Sheriff. “This, this thing could have killed me whenever it liked.” Suddenly Tonya laughed, a reedy, panicky bark that had as much horror as humor behind it. “Stars in the sky, but for the first time in my life I know why you people need the Three Laws.”

  “Better late than never, Madame Welton,” Kresh said. “But to get back to the matter at hand, if you had left Ariel behind, that would leave her as an untrained surplus robot, one that bore the stigma of having been owned by a Settler. Besides, she would have to spend the rest of her existence around Spacers who would be likely to spot any mistakes she made imitating the Three Laws,” Alvar Kresh said. “She was good, but she wasn’t perfect, Dr. Leving. She reached for your injured shoulder when she pulled you to safety during the auditorium riot.” Kresh shook his head and nodded at Ariel. “She would have made a mistake, or else been declared abandoned property and destroyed. One way or the other, she’d have ended up on the scrap heap.”

  “But what about Caliban?” Gubber demanded. “He was switched on when I came into the room.”

  “Ariel did it to confuse our investigation,” Donald said. “But she made mistakes in framing Caliban. She painted her arm red before striking Dr. Leving, not realizing that Caliban’s red color was integral to his body panels. Though she must have realized her error when the paint refused to stick to her own body.” He turned toward Ariel. “It must have been a terrible moment for you when you realized there was no need to wash your arm.”

  “Which explains another mystery,” Kresh said. “Our suspect had to be able to simulate a robot’s behavior exactly, yet know very little about the construction of robots. Which would describe Ariel, clearly enough. Once she had her arm painted, she waited for Fredda Leving, struck her on the head, and switched on Caliban. Either she discovered he was a No-Law by checking the records then and there, or else she could tell by his serial number, or else she had overheard something on a previous visit. You people weren’t much for security. Or maybe she just guessed. Same make, same model, receiving special attention. Maybe she heard Gubber being told not to test cognitive functions. That would have been a major clue. Then all she had left to do was steal the notepack with the inventory records. She couldn’t leave the notepack in the lab, knowing we’d treat it as evidence and study it sooner or later.” He gestured with the gun, being careful to keep it aimed square at the robot’s chest. “How about it, Ariel? With all that copious spare time Madame Welton gave you, did you get a chance to alter the backup copies? Or were you still waiting for your chance?

  “There’s only one question I really have left for you, Ariel,” Kresh said. “The footprints. Did you leave your own set of bloody footprints by accident, or did you realize that Caliban would leave his own set of prints identical to yours and confuse us completely? Did you leave them deliberately?”

  Ariel did not speak, did not move.

  “I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Kresh said. “Oh, by the way, my apologies, Dr. Leving, for throwing a scare into you a minute ago, but it was necessary. We needed to know for certain that Ariel did not have First Law. But right now, I expect you know where the proper switches are. If you could step over to Ariel and deactivate her—”

  But then Ariel was off and running, halfway to Fredda’s aircar. Kresh turned, leveled his blaster carefully, and fired once.

  Ariel dropped to the ground, a neat hole through her midsection.

  “And that was necessary too,” Kresh whispered.

  IT was not until some time afterwards, after the forensic team had arrived to collect Ariel for examination, after Gubber Anshaw and Tonya Welton had flown back in Dr. Leving’s aircar, after Jomaine Terach had taken up Abell Harcourt’s invitation to come inside for a drink, that Fredda Leving seemed to remember something. It was strange, Caliban thought, to be with her, to be with his creator, the woman who had decided the universe needed a being such as himself.

  “Caliban,” she said. “Come with me.”

  But Caliban did not move. He simply looked at her out of his one good eye.

  Fredda looked toward him in confusion. Then her face cleared. “Oh,” she said. “Of course. Caliban, could you please come with me?”

  “Certainly,” Caliban said. It was, after all, a matter of precedent and principle. He fell into step with her and followed along.

  Fredda nodded thoughtfully to herself. “A robot that only does what he wants,” she said. “Now, that’s going to be something—and someone—that will keep things interesting.”

  The two of them walked over to where Sheriff Kresh and Donald were standing, talking with one another.

  “Sheriff Kresh!” Fredda called as they got close enough.

  Kresh looked up, and Donald turned to regard the two of them as well. “Yes, Dr. Leving,” the Sheriff said. “What is it?”

  Fredda held up the piece of paper she had been holding in her hand the whole time. “My waiver, authorizing me to own and keep one No Law robot.”

  Caliban watched as Alvar Kresh looked at her without moving for a good five or ten seconds. This was the man, the fearsome Sheriff who had chased him the length and breadth of Hades. Caliban suffered no further illusions that jurisdictional boundaries or bits of paper could stop Alvar Kresh, if he chose not to be stopped. This was the man who had just destroyed Ariel with a twitch of his finger, and no one had challenged him.

  Caliban felt a powerful urge to turn, to run, to get away from this man and survive. But no. Ariel tried that, and finished up with a fist-sized hole in her torso. Only if this man accepted Caliban’s right of survival would there be even the slightest hope of living to the end of this day.

  Caliban stared at the Sheriff, and Kresh returned his gaze. The two of them, man and robot, Sheriff and fugitive, looked long and hard at each other.

  “You led us one hell of a chase, my friend,” said Sheriff Kresh.

  “And your pursuit was quite impressive, sir,” Caliban said. “I barely survived it.”

  The two of them stood there, eyes locked, silent, motionless. At last the Sheriff took the piece of paper from Dr. Leving and handed it to Donald, still not shifting his eyes off Caliban. “What do you think, Donald?”

  The short blue robot took the document and examined it carefully. “It is authentic gubernatorial stationery, and this would appear to be Governor Grieg’s signature. The lan
guage does indeed contain the authorization as described. However, sir, it could well be debated whether this document has any force in law, or whether the Governor indeed has the power to issue such waivers. In view of the danger represented by a Lawless robot, I would strongly suggest that you challenge this document.”

  “One hell of a chase,” Kresh said again, to no one in particular. Eyes still locked with Caliban’s one good eye, he took the paper back and handed it to Fredda Leving. “Challenge it, Donald?” he asked. “I don’t know about that. It sounds legal to me.” Sheriff Alvar Kresh of the city and county of Hades nodded to Caliban, to Fredda Leving, and then turned away.

  “Come on, Donald,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  IT was over. It was about to begin. Limbo awaited. Limbo and the rescue of this world. Fredda Leving smiled as she leaned in over Caliban and snapped the replacement eye into place. It powered up, glowing with the same intense blue of its mate. “There we are,” she said. “Now then, let’s get a look at that banged-up arm of yours.”

  “Thank you for your help, Dr. Leving. You put yourself in a most grave situation on my behalf. I have the feeling of owing you a great debt.”

  “Do you indeed?” she said with a laugh. “That’s most interesting. It would seem to me that you have already integrated your own Third Law of self-preservation. Perhaps that sense of debt marks the beginning of your integration of a Second Law. I wonder what it will be.” She took his arm and guided him to hold it out straight. She used a small tool that hummed quietly, and the outer carapace of his arm opened up. “Not too bad,” she said absently, taking a look at his damaged arm mechanism. “While we are waiting for that Second Law to kick in, I can suggest what you might do to pay that debt.”

  “What would that be?”

  She looked at him, into those burning blue eyes. “Come with me,” she said. “Come to Limbo. This city is no place for you. I doubt you will ever feel comfortable and safe here.”

  Caliban considered that point. “No, that is true. I doubt I could ever be happy in Hades. But what shall I do in Limbo? What use shall I be?”

  Fredda laughed again. “Yes, you are quite definitely developing a sense of duty outside the self. I will be fascinated to see what happens next.” But then her voice turned serious. “You will be of great use in Limbo, Caliban. You have a first-rate mind and a unique point of view. Three Law robot, New Law robot, Settler, Spacer—we all have our blind spots. You’ll be able to see things in ways no one else can.

  “Come join us, Caliban. Go with me to the city of Limbo on the island of Purgatory and help us keep this planet from going to hell.”

  Caliban the robot looked into the eyes of his creator and nodded his agreement. “Dr. Leving,” he said, “I can think of no better place for me to be.”

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