by Isaac Asimov
“Nor that. They will not submit to interrogation by an Earthman.”
“Then what do they want of me? Could I speak to the robots?”
“They would not allow the robots to come here, either.”
“Jehoshaphat, Daneel. You’ve come.”
“That was my own decision. I have permission, while on board ship, to make decisions of that sort without veto by any human being but the captain himself–and he was eager to establish the contact. I, having known you, decided that television contact was insufficient. I wished to shake your hand.”
Lije Baley softened. “I appreciate that, Daneel, but I still honestly wish you could have refrained from thinking of me at all in this case. Can I talk to the robots by television at least?”
“That. I think, can be arranged.”
“Something, at least. That means I would be doing the work of a robopsychologist–in a crude sort of way.”
“But you are a detective, friend Elijah, not a robopsychologist.”
“Well, let it pass. Now before I see them, let’s think a bit. Tell me: is it possible that both robots are telling the truth? Perhaps the conversation between the two mathematicians was equivocal. Perhaps it was of such a nature that each robot could honestly believe its own master was proprietor of the idea. Or perhaps one robot heard only one portion of the discussion and the other another portion, so that each could suppose its own master was proprietor of the idea.”
“That is quite impossible, friend Elijah. Both robots repeat the conversation in identical fashion. And the two repetitions are fundamentally inconsistent.”
“Then it is absolutely certain that one of the robots is lying?”
“Yes.”
“Will I be able to see the transcript of all evidence given so far in the presence of the captain, if I should want to?”
“I thought you would ask that and I have copies with me.”
“Another blessing. Have the robots been cross-examined at all, and is that cross-examination included in the transcript?”
“The robots have merely repeated their tales. Cross-examination would be conducted only by robopsychologists.”
“Or by myself?”
“You are a detective, friend Elijah, not a–”
“All right, R. Daneel. I’ll try to get the Spacer psychology straight. A detective can do it because he isn’t a robopsychologist. Let’s think further. Ordinarily a robot will not lie, but he will do so if necessary to maintain the Three Laws. He might lie to protect, in legitimate fashion, his own existence in accordance with the Third Law. He is more apt to lie if that is necessary to follow a legitimate order given him by a human being in accordance with the Second Law. He is most apt to lie if that is necessary to save a human life, or to prevent harm from coming to a human in accordance with the First Law.”
“Yes.”
“And in this case, each robot would be defending the professional reputation of his master, and would lie if it were necessary to do so. Under the circumstances, the professional reputation would be nearly equivalent to life and there might be a near-First-Law urgency to the lie.”
“Yet by the lie, each servant would be harming the professional reputation of the other’s master, friend Elijah.”
“So it would, but each robot might have a clearer conception of the value of its own master’s reputation and honestly judge it to be greater than that of the other’s. The lesser harm would be done by his lie, he would suppose, than by the truth.”
Having said that, Lije Baley remained quiet for a moment. Then he said, “A1l right, then, can you arrange to have me talk to one of the robots–to R. Idda first, I think?”
“Dr. Sabbat’s robot?”
“Yes,” said Baley, dryly, “the young fellow’s robot.”
“It will take me but a few minutes,” said R. Daneel. “I have a micro-receiver outfitted with a projector. I will need merely a blank wall and I think this one will do if you will allow me to move some of these film cabinets.”
“Go ahead. Will I have to talk into a microphone of some sort?”
“No, you will be able to talk in an ordinary manner. Please pardon me, friend Elijah, for a moment of further delay. I will have to contact the ship and arrange for R. Idda to be interviewed.”
“If that will take some time, Daneel, how about giving me the transcripted material of the evidence so far.”
Lije Baley lit his pipe while R. Daneel set up the equipment, and leafed through the flimsy sheets he had been handed.
The minutes passed and R. Daneel said, “If you are ready, friend Elijah, R. Idda is. Or would you prefer a few more minutes with the transcript?”
“No,” sighed Baley, “I’m not learning anything new. Put him on and arrange to have the interview recorded and transcribed.”
R. Idda, unreal in two-dimensional projection against the wall, was basically metallic in structure–not at all the humanoid creature that R. Daneel was. His body was tall but blocky, and there was very little to distinguish him from the many robots Baley had seen, except for minor structural details.
Baley said, “Greetings, R. Idda.”
“Greetings, sir,” said R. Idda, in a muted voice that sounded surprisingly humanoid.
“You are the personal servant of Gennao Sabbat, are you not?”
“I am sir.”
“For how long, boy?”
“For twenty-two years, sir.”
“And your master’s reputation is valuable to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you consider it of importance to protect that reputation?”
“Yes, sir.”
“As important to protect his reputation as his physical life?”
“No, sir.”
“As important to protect his reputation as the reputation of another.”
R. Idda hesitated. He said, “Such cases must be decided on their individual merit, sir. There is no way of establishing a general rule.”
Baley hesitated. These Spacer robots spoke more smoothly and intellectually than Earth-models did. He was not at all sure he could outthink one.
He said, “If you decided that the reputation of your master were more important than that of another, say, that of Alfred Barr Humboldt, would you lie to protect your master’s reputation?”
“I would, sir.”
“Did you lie in your testimony concerning your master in his controversy with Dr. Humboldt?”
“No, sir.”
“But if you were lying, you would deny you were lying in order to protect that lie, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, then,” said Baley, “let’s consider this. Your master, Gennao Sabbat, is a young man of great reputation in mathematics, but he is a young man. If, in this controversy with Dr. Humboldt, he had succumbed to temptation and had acted unethically, he would suffer a certain eclipse of reputation, but he is young and would have ample time to recover. He would have many intellectual triumphs ahead of him and men would eventually look upon this plagiaristic attempt as the mistake of a hot-blooded youth, deficient in judgment. It would be something that would be made up for in the future.
“If, on the other hand, it were Dr. Humboldt who succumbed to temptation, the matter would be much more serious. He is an old man whose great deeds have spread over centuries. His reputation has been unblemished hitherto. All of that, however, would be forgotten in the light of this one crime of his later years, and he would have no opportunity to make up for it in the comparatively short time remaining to him. There would be little more that he could accomplish. There would be so many more years of work ruined in Humboldt’s case than in that of your master and so much less opportunity to win back his position. You see, don’t you, that Humboldt faces the worse situation and deserves the greater consideration?”
There was a long pause. Then R. Idda said, with unmoved voice, “My evidence was a lie. It was Dr. Humboldt whose work it was, and my master has attempted, wrongfully, to appropriate t
he credit.”
Baley said, “Very well, boy. You are instructed to say nothing to anyone about this until given permission by the captain of the ship. You are excused.”
The screen blanked out and Baley puffed at his pipe. “Do you suppose the captain heard that, Daneel?”
“I am sure of it. He is the only witness, except for us.”
“Good. Now for the other.”
“But is there any point to that, friend Elijah, in view of what R. Idda has confessed?”
“Of course there is. R. Idda’s confession means nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing at all. I pointed out that Dr. Humboldt’s position was the worse. Naturally, if he were lying to protect Sabbat, he would switch to the truth as, in fact, he claimed to have done. On the other hand, if he were telling the truth, he would switch to a lie to protect Humboldt. It’s still mirror-image and we haven’t gained anything.”
“But then what will we gain by questioning R. Preston?”
“Nothing, if the minor-image were perfect–but it is not. After all, one of the robots is telling the truth to begin with, and one is lying to begin with, and that is a point of asymmetry. Let me see R. Preston. And if the transcription of R. Idda’s examination is done, let me have it.”
The projector came into use again. R. Preston stared out of it; identical with R. Idda in every respect, except for some trivial chest design.
Baley said, “Greetings, R. Preston.” He kept the record of R. Idda’s examination before him as he spoke.
“Greetings, sir,” said R. Preston. His voice was identical with that of R. Idda.
“You are the personal servant of Alfred Ban Humboldt are you not?”
“I am, sir.”
“For how long, boy?”
“For twenty-two years, sir.”
“And your master’s reputation is valuable to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you consider it of importance to protect that reputation?”
“Yes, sir.”
“As important to protect his reputation as his physical life?”
“No, sir.”
“As important to protect his reputation as the reputation of another?”
R. Preston hesitated. He said, “Such cases must be decided on their individual merit, sir. There is no way of establishing a general rule.”
Baley said, “If you decided that the reputation of your master were more important than that of another, say, that of Gennao Sabbat, would you lie to protect your master’s reputation?”
“I would, sir.”
“Did you lie in your testimony concerning your master in his controversy with Dr. Sabbat?”
“No, sir.”
“But if you were lying, you would deny you were lying, in order to protect that lie, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, then,” said Baley, “let’s consider this. Your master, Alfred Barr Humboldt, is an old man of great reputation in mathematics, but he is an old man. If, in this controversy with Dr. Sabbat, he had succumbed to temptation and had acted unethically, he would suffer a certain eclipse of reputation, but his great age and his centuries of accomplishments would stand against that and would win out. Men would look upon this plagiaristic attempt as the mistake of a perhaps-sick old man, no longer certain in judgment.
“If, on the other hand, it were Dr. Sabbat who had succumbed to temptation, the matter would be much more serious. He is a young man, with a far less secure reputation. He would ordinarily have centuries ahead of him in which he might accumulate knowledge and achieve great things. This will be closed to him, now, obscured by one mistake of his youth. He has a much longer future to lose than your master has. You see, don’t you, that Sabbat faces the worse situation and deserves the greater consideration?”
There was a long pause. Then R. Preston said, with unmoved voice, “My evidence was as I–”
At that point, he broke off and said nothing more. Baley said, “Please continue, R. Preston.”
There was no response.
R. Daneel said, “I am afraid, friend Elijah, that R. Preston is in stasis. He is out of commission.”
“Well, then,” said Baley, “we have finally produced an asymmetry. From this, we can see who the guilty person is.”
“In what way, friend Elijah?”
“Think it out. Suppose you were a person who had committed no crime and that your personal robot were a witness to that. There would be nothing you need do. Your robot would tell the truth and bear you out. If, however, you were a person who had committed the crime, you would have to depend on your robot to lie. That would be a somewhat riskier position, for although the robot would lie, if necessary, the greater inclination would be to tell the truth, so that the lie would be less firm than the truth would be. To prevent that, the crime-committing person would very likely have to order the robot to lie. In this way, First Law would be strengthened by Second Law; perhaps very substantially strengthened.”
“That would seem reasonable,” said R. Daneel.
“Suppose we have one robot of each type. One robot would switch from truth, unreinforced, to the lie, and could do so after some hesitation, without serious trouble. The other robot would switch from the lie, strongly reinforced, to the truth, but could do so only at the risk of burning out various positronic-track-ways in his brain and falling into stasis.”
“And since R. Preston went into stasis–”
“R. Preston’s master, Dr. Humboldt, is the man guilty of plagiarism. If you transmit this to the captain and urge him to face Dr. Humboldt with the matter at once, he may force a confession. If so, I hope you will tell me immediately.”
“I will certainly do so. You will excuse me, friend Elijah? I must talk to the captain privately.”
“Certainly. Use the conference room. It is shielded.”
Baley could do no work of any kind in R. Daneel’s absence. He sat in uneasy silence. A great deal would depend on the value of his analysis, and he was acutely aware of his lack of expertise in robotics.
R. Daneel was back in half an hour–very nearly the longest half hour of Baley’s life.
There was no use, of course, in trying to determine what had happened from the expression of the humanoid’s impassive face. Baley tried to keep his face impassive.
“Yes, R. Daneel?” he asked.
“Precisely as you said, friend Elijah. Dr. Humboldt has confessed. He was counting, he said, on Dr. Sabbat giving way and allowing Dr. Humboldt to have this one last triumph. The crisis is over and you will find the captain grateful. He has given me permission to tell you that he admires your subtlety greatly and I believe that I, myself, will achieve favor for having suggested you.”
“Good,” said Baley, his knees weak and his forehead moist now that his decision had proven correct, “but Jehoshaphat, R. Daneel, don’t put me on the spot like that again, will you?”
“I will try not to, friend Elijah. All will depend, of course, on the importance of a crisis, on your nearness, and on certain other factors. Meanwhile, I have a question–”
“Yes?”
“Was it not possible to suppose that passage from a lie to the truth was easy, while passage from the truth to a lie was difficult? And in that case, would not the robot in stasis have been going from a truth to a lie, and since R. Preston was in stasis, might one not have drawn the conclusion that it was Dr. Humboldt who was innocent and Dr. Sabbat who was guilty?”
“Yes, R. Daneel. It was possible to argue that way, but it was the other argument that proved right. Humboldt did confess, didn’t he?”
“He did. But with arguments possible in both directions, how could you, friend Elijah, so quickly pick the correct one?”
For a moment, Baley’s lips twitched. Then he relaxed and they curved into a smile. “Because, R. Daneel, I took into account human reactions, not robotic ones. I know more about human beings than about robots. In other words, I had an idea as to w
hich mathematician was guilty before I ever interviewed the robots. Once I provoked an asymmetric response in them, I simply interpreted it in such a way as to place the guilt on the one I already believed to be guilty. The robotic response was dramatic enough to break down the guilty man; my own analysis of human behavior might not have been sufficient to do so.”
“I am curious to know what your analysis of human behavior was?”
“Jehoshaphat, R. Daneel; think, and you won’t have to ask. There is another point of asymmetry in this tale of mirror-image besides the matter of true-and-false. There is the matter of the age of the two mathematicians; one is quite old and one is quite young.”
“Yes, of course, but what then?”
“Why, this. I can see a young man, flushed with a sudden, startling and revolutionary idea, consulting in the matter an old man whom he has, from his early student days, thought of as a demigod in the field. I can not see an old man, rich in honors and used to triumphs, coming up with a sudden, startling and revolutionary idea, consulting a man centuries his junior whom he is bound to think of as a young whippersnapper–or whatever term a Spacer would use. Then, too, if a young man had the chance, would he try to steal the idea of a revered demigod? It would be unthinkable. On the other hand, an old man, conscious of declining powers, might well snatch at one last chance of fame and consider a baby in the field to have no rights he was bound to observe. In short, it was not conceivable that Sabbat steal Humboldt’s idea; and from both angles, Dr. Humboldt was guilty.”
R. Daneel considered that for a long time. Then he held out his hand. “I must leave now, friend Elijah. It was good to see you. May we meet again soon.”
Baley gripped the robot’s hand, warmly, “If you don’t mind, R. Daneel,” he said, “not too soon.”
Strip-Runner
3424 A.D.
THE THREE BOYS caught up with Amy just as she reached the strips. “Barone-Stein,” one boy shouted to her. She did not recognize any of them, but they obviously knew who she was.
“We want a run,” the smallest boy said, speaking softly so that the people passing them could not hear the challenge. “You can lead and pick the point.”