by Isaac Asimov
“You’ve inherited my bad temper, son. Isn’t that proof enough for you? And why won’t you address me directly?”
Derec refused to reply. He sat silently, staring at the computer screen’s last message, a bit of gobbledygook about invalid parameters.
Avery, smoothing down his white wavy hair, then pressing down his mustache, walked forward. Ariel noticed that his eyes glowed. He had always seemed crackbrained in his words and deeds; now she saw it in his eyes. Derec whirled around in his chair and faced the scientist. A strange smile came slowly over Avery’s face.
“We have a problem,” he said.
“We have many problems,” Derec said. “Which one are you referring to?”
Avery waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not the ones between you and me, son. They are trivial. I will win you over in time. No, I mean the city. My city. Your city, too. Almost all normal functioning has stopped, as you’ve seen.”
“And you have nothing to do with it?”
Avery shook his head no. “I understand why you suspect me. I might suspect myself. But I was away on a different project, conducting a different set of experiments at another robot city. I used a Key to Perihelion to return here yesterday, and my arrival has so far been undetected. That’s no surprise, considering the way things have fallen apart here.”
“What’s the cause of it?” Derec asked.
“I can’t find out. The changes didn’t occur by themselves, I’m sure of that. Someone is behind them. But I haven’t a clue whom. For a while I thought it might be you, fooling around with your domain here, trying out your wings. But I realize now it wasn’t.”
“Why do you think it’s someone?” Ariel asked. “Couldn’t it be a flaw in the works, something you overlooked that’s making the city decay?”
A flash of furious anger came briefly into the doctor’s eyes then receded as he stared at his questioner.
“No, the city cannot decay,” he said. “It could choke itself to death with overproduction, as it was doing the very first time you two arrived here. It could come close to social ruin, as it nearly did when the artist Lucius created his “Circuit Breaker” sculpture. But the mechanisms themselves cannot fail, and neither can the robots. However, essentially I agree with your insight. There is decadence here. Not originating in the system but from an outside source. We must find the source.”
“Stop saying we,” Derec said angrily. “You do what you want to, but I won’t work with you. Until I find out otherwise, you are my chief suspect for the state of the city.”
Again the doctor smiled, and again it was a strange smile, corning over his face as if it were released by a spring mechanism. “We must work on your logic circuits, son. Why would I try to ruin Robot City, the city I created myself, then peopled with my own robots? Destroying this city would be, for me, like destroying myself.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Ariel said, “but your previous behavior doesn’t entirely eliminate the chance you might, in a fit or tantrum, decide to get rid of your own creation. I’m sorry, but I have to agree with Derec on this.”
She moved to Derec, placed her hand casually on his shoulder.
“Well, don’t the two of you make a pretty pair?” Avery said. “Like dull-eyed pioneers in a tintype. All the imperfections of humanity stiffly posed on a chemically treated plate. I suppose I’d hoped for more from you two, but one thing I’ve learned: Humans may fail you but robots are forever.”
Ariel laughed. “That’s diamonds are forever, I believe.”
“My robots will endure beyond the cheap glitter of geological accidents.”
Derec started to stand up, but Ariel’s gentle pressure on his shoulder kept him seated. “Doctor,” she said, “I admire florid language as much as the next gal, but what in Frost’s name do you mean?”
Avery’s eyes squinted and his head tilted slightly, as if he could not comprehend how he could be misunderstood. “My dear, a robot is, although manmade, the finest stage of humanity, the ideal toward which you puny, disease-prone, uncertain beings should aspire. Instead, you don’t even respect them. You order them about, treat them as servants.”
“Not true,” Ariel said. “We do respect them. Most of us.”
“But not all,” Avery said smugly.
“At any rate, they were created as servants,” Derec said, “adjuncts to human laborers in industry, maids in private homes.”
“Yes, they were enslaved at first. But I have liberated them. I have created communities for them where they can exist without the continual interference of the human race, cities more magnificent than the overcrowded hovels of Earth and the brutally isolated homes of Aurora. I’ve —”
.” Wait, wait,” Ariel said. “With due respect, sir, these robot cities are designed as relatively perfect environments for humans-to-come. Yet, you say they’re really for the robots?”
“Very good, Ariel. You catch on quickly. I’ve had to tell my robots that they were building for humans. The Laws of Robotics demand that. They must at least think they are here to protect humans, to follow orders from humans. Rarely, however, do they ever encounter humans. That doesn’t seem to make any difference to them, so long as they think there will be humans eventually.”
“But you’ve never intended to, say, import colonies to live here?”
“Originally I did. But I’ve changed my mind. I say, Robot City for robots. Why contaminate them with hordes of humans spreading their weak-minded mores and indifferent customs? Don’t you see, Ariel, it would be wrong for the superior beings to continue to serve the lesser? That’s why I am a liberator. The robot is the next level of existence. Humans can die out, while robots will endure.”
Ariel realized that she had been holding her breath as she listened to the doctor’s shouted diatribe. She turned to Derec and whispered, “He is mad.”
“I heard that, young lady. And of course you’d perceive me that way, with your limited perception. I’d expect no more. But your antagonism only stimulates my positronic pathways.”
“Your what?”
“Positronic pathways. You see, I have not only created the Avery robots in my own image, but I have recreated myself, casting away my humanity and transforming myself into a robot also.”
“Ba-nanas,” Ariel muttered.
Avery merely smiled. Now she could see it as a definitely robotic smile, even though she believed none of his story.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe,” Avery said.
“Are you trying to say, oh, that you’ve implanted a robot brain into your head? Is that what the positronic pathways guff is all about?”
“I see that you’re patronizing me, so I think we can terminate this discussion.”
For a moment Ariel wondered if this figure, identical to the Dr. Avery she had met before, might indeed be a robotic recreation. Then he swept by her, and his easily detectable body odor told her that he was still at least partly human.
After Avery slammed the door behind him, Ariel commented, “The man needs help.”
“So do we,” Derec said. His fingers flew across the keyboard again. Some data came up on the terminal’s screen. “Look at this, Ariel.”
All she saw was a bunch of figures. “What does it mean?”
“This is a report of construction activity in Robot City. The earlier figures represent the city’s normal rate of new building. But lately the figures have gradually fallen off, with fewer and fewer buildings being created. Since before we arrived, there have, in fact, been no new buildings created. All construction in Robot City has stopped.”
“Funny,” Ariel commented.
“What’s funny about it?”
“This tends to support your father’s story.”
“How does it do that?”
“Well, remember what he said about robots being the supreme whatever and all that, plus the city being the safest haven for them? So why would he stop that? Why would he allow the robots themselves to become, as he said, decadent?
This man isn’t going to be happy with listless Supervisors and robots who are tap dancers or movie buffs. After Lucius, he programmed creativity right out of his robots. No, for once Dr. Avery isn’t the chief troublemaker. It’s somebody else, it’s got to be.”
“Okay, granted. But what do we do now? I can’t get anything out of the computer, the robots are uncooperative, and the city’s becoming a play-village for someone whose identity we don’t know. What next, my pretty?”
“Well, I’ve got a swell idea if you don’t mind a little break in the action.”
“You’ve got —”
“This room comes furnished with a couch-bed, and there’s even a blanket on the end table there if you want privacy.”
“You flip off the lights, I’ll switch off the computer.”
“Why the computer?”
“I don’t know. I’ve a feeling it could spy on us.”
As they embraced in darkness, the real spy outside the door, still indoctrinated with the Laws of Robotics, knew they applied in some way to this situation, and so he discreetly retreated. After all, he thought, in the best movies he had seen, the camera always discreetly retreated from this sort of scene. As he rejoined Timestep outside the Compass Tower, Bogie decided that the shadowing assignment was a fortunate one. Keeping watch on the two young humans was a bit like watching a movie — in a way, better, since it took place in three dimensions.
Chapter 8
CREATURE DISCOMFORTS
EACH TIME WOLRUF stumbled or bumped into something, she cursed in her own language. Eve asked her what words she was speaking, but she replied that it was merely her own private nonsense.
The Silversides and Mandelbrot had no difficulty with the darkness of the streets. Equipped with precise sensory circuitry, they could proceed easily through such darkness. Wolruf, even with the keen senses she had developed in the wilds of her homeland, couldn’t detect every obstacle in her way.
“Is the lack of proper lighting bothersome to you?” Mandelbrot asked her.
“So true. I rememberr lightss coming on when walking these strreetss.”
“They do not seem to be functioning now.”
“Like so many other thingss here. What iss wrrong, Mandelbrrot?”
“I do not know.”
“What we have seen,” Eve asked, “is not necessarily like this place as you know it?”
“Verry different,” Wolruf answered. “Strreetlampss alwayss lit one’ss way.”
They walked a few more steps, turned a corner (with Wolruf’s shoulder painfully bumping into the side of a building), and saw flickering light up ahead.
“What is that?” Eve asked.
“Not sure,” Wolruf said, “but my nose tellss me apprroach cautiously.”
“Your nose speaks to you?”
“No, that iss rrendening of saying from my worrld into ‘uman wordss. We sense dangerr, we say we sniff it out with our nosess, even when there iss no actual scent there.”
Eve did not quite understand, but she chose to keep quiet, especially since Wolruf, assuming the role of scout, now sprinted ahead of the group.
“Adam?” Eve said.
“Yes?”
“Is this a strange place, this Robot City?”
“In my limited experience, where every place I have seen is strange to me, this one is, too.”
The glimmering light shone from an open area in between two tall buildings. Gesturing the three robots to stay put, Wolruf edged along the front of the building until she came to its comer. Looking around it, she saw that the light came from a bonfire in the middle of a vacant lot. Gathered around the flames doing an odd, jerky dance was a crowd of small creatures. Because the fire cast distorting shadows, she could not easily focus on the figures. Yet she was sure they were shaped like humans, but much more diminutive.
At first she thought they might be a group of children. Then a few danced into a clear patch of light. Wolruf saw that not only were they even smaller than she had thought, they were also not children. One male had a beard, a female had quite fully developed (in miniature) breasts, another had an aged, deeply lined face. Definitely not children. They were adults. Tiny, tiny adults.
The Watchful Eye no longer knew what to think about the new arrivals. Such contradictory behavior, it thought. The one called Ariel seemed all right, except when she decided to be affectionate with Derec. Derec cried and nearly murdered the new individual, Avery. Avery stomped around like a caged animal. Who were these creatures?
It knew from its earlier research that Avery might be the creator of Robot City, but the doctor’s behavior was so erratic that the Watchful Eye did not want to make contact with him. If Avery discovered it here in its safe haven, there was no telling what he might do.
Now, to further complicate matters, the second group had come upon one of the Watchful Eye’s Master Experiments. Series C, Batch 4, one of its better efforts. A failure like the rest, yes, but an interesting failure at least. Like some of the other humanic substitutes, they had developed a rudimentary society. Although none of these batches had contributed the insights about the Laws of Humanics that the Watchful Eye sought, they had, by banding together and rapidly evolving a few customs, provided an abundance of useful data about cultural tendencies.
Because there was so much for it to consider, the Watchful Eye now chose to retreat into its stasis state. In stasis, it shut off its senses so that it could concentrate exclusively on problems, this time the new and altered situations brought into its hermetic world by the intruders. It wanted to analyze how they would affect its overall existence and whether it would have to take any action against them. Before settling itself back into its safe haven, it sent out messages to its spies, Bogie and Timestep, instructing them to signal it if a new crisis developed. When that was done, it snuggled down into the haven, curled up into an embryonic state, and disconnected all sensory networks. Immediately it was welcomed into the calm comfort of nothingness, a place where it sometimes yearned to be forever.
“Well, we’re on our own for a while, kid,” Bogie commented after acknowledging the Watchful Eye’s message. “The Big Muddy’s spoke.”
“Big Muddy?” Timestep said. “Is that a proper name for —”
“Let me put it this way, pal. I wouldn’t speak it if the Big Muddy was looking over my shoulder.”
Timestep did a little clog routine from one of the dance tapes he’d studied.
“Nice moves, Tip-tap!”
“It’s Timestep.”
“You say so, Tip-tap.”
“What are we supposed to do now?”
“Keep tabs on Dick and Jane up there, send the Big Muddy signals if they get up to somethin’ it should know about.”
“What are they doing now?”
“Friend Tip-tap, we’ll just draw the curtain across that little scene.”
“All right. Then we should just stand here and wait for something to happen?”
“‘bout the size of it, big boy.”
They stood silently for a long while, a pair of silvery statues streaked with blue in the dim, reflected light at the foot of the Compass Tower.
“Bogie?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Who is the Big Muddy?”
“Don’t know. Just the boss, far’s I know.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Nope. Nobody has, far’s I know.”
“Why has it taken over Robot City?”
“Beats me. Place has certainly changed since it breezed in, though.”
“I don’t feel comfortable about that. A while ago I had a safe, normal routine. Every day I did my job. I never questioned whether or not to do it. Then the Big Muddy came, and before I knew it, I had walked off the job. That’s when I found out I was a dancer. The Big Muddy told me.”
“Yep. Same for me. I had a compulsion to examine old movies, came from Big Muddy. I don’t mind it, though. There’s a lot of truth in flickerdom, kid. I’ve copped much more about hu
man life now. You don’t trust society broads and you don’t rat on a partner, stuff like that. The flicks’ve helped me to see the vast potential of the humans we serve. I’ll be a better robot because of them.”
“You confuse me, Bogie. I am not certain all this is right. Once we were building and maintaining Robot City; now almost everything about the city has stopped. We are the servants of the Big Muddy now.”
“Maybe this burg needed a rest, kiddo. You worry too much. Dump it in a grocery cart and carry it out to the parking lot. We’ve got a job to do right now. Let’s do it.”
“Do you think the city looks the way it used to?”
“No, it don’t. But, like they say, that’s Chinatown, Jake.”
Timestep couldn’t understand half of what Bogie said, but he chose now to keep still until something happened.
A long time passed and nothing happened.
Finally he said, “I cannot stand still this way. I’ve got to dance.”
In the few pools of light, Timestep’s dance became a silhouette of a slow tap. He moved from one lighted area to another. Bogie, who’d seen some dancing in movies, judged that a human would have probably found the robot’s little routine bizarre, since it was tap dancing without music. The clunking noises as his feet made contact with the pavement echoed through the long street. They were grating sounds. Timestep should hire himself a band, Bogie thought.
Now that night had fallen, the darkness inside the Compass Tower office seemed total to Ariel. She stuck her head out from beneath the blanket and could not discern anything. After blinking her eyes a few times, however, details of the room appeared to emerge from the blackness.
“It’s eerie,” she whispered.
Derec, who had nearly fallen asleep, was startled awake and asked, “What did you say?”
“Eerie, the darkness in here. I mean, the room. Usually all those view-screens are on, transmitting scenes from the outside world.”
“They are on. There’s just so little light out there, you can hardly tell.” He sat up. “But it is awfully dark. Let’s take a better look.”