Asimov's Future History Volume 5

by Isaac Asimov

  “Not necessarily,” he said, standing. “This should make you happy.” He walked back to the patio door and idly watched the downpour, feeling now that it could, eventually, be beaten. He turned back to her. “I believe that David and the city alert and replication are inexorably linked.”

  She jumped up, excited, and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. “You’re going to help me solve the murder, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” he laughed, returning the embrace. “Tomorrow we go back to the body and pick up where you left off.” He moved away from her and intertwined his fingers. “It’s all like this, all connected. If we can put a few of the pieces together, I’ll bet the rest fall into place. Whatever, or whoever, killed David, is the reason for the alert.”

  “First thing in the morning, we’ll have Eve take us back there.”

  “Not first thing,” he said. “First thing, I’ve set up a brief meeting with the supervisors at the Compass Tower.”

  “Why?”

  “Two reasons. First, I want to ask them some questions about their underground operations; and second, I want to be able to poke around the building for a bit.”

  “Looking for the office?”

  He nodded. “1-1 said it was fully furnished. I bet we’ll find answers there.”

  Her face got suddenly serious. “I hope you find the kind of answers you’re looking for,” she said.

  Chapter 9

  THE OFFICE

  A TABLE HAD been set up in the meeting room. It was long and narrow and included seats for nine. Derec sat at the head of the table, with Katherine at his right. The supervisors took up the rest of the seats, still holding hands, with the two at the end of the line holding hands over the tabletop.

  “Why do human beings lie, Friend Derec?” Supervisor Dante asked, his elongated, magnifying eyes staring all the way down the table. “The most difficulty we’ve had with you is your penchant for lies and exaggeration. It is what keeps us from trusting you completely.”

  Derec licked dry lips and watched them all expectantly watching him. He knew he’d have to get beyond this hurdle if he were to work with them in solving the city’s problems.

  “Robots receive their input in two ways,” he said, hoping his explanation would be adequate. He’d gotten up early to think it out and prepare it. “Through direct programming, and through input garnered through the sensors that is then tested in analog against existing programming. Your sensors record events accurately, with mathematic precision, and classify them through the scientific validity of several thousand years of empirical thought. You are then able, through your positronics, to reason deductively by weighing, again through analog, incoming data against existing data. You can make true second-level connections.”

  “We understand the workings of the positronic brain,” Friend Derec,” Waldeyer said. “It is the human brain that confounds us.”

  “Bear with me,” Derec said. “I want to pose you a question. Suppose, just suppose, that your basic programming was in error—not just in small ways, but in its most basic assumptions. Suppose every bit of sensory input you received was in total opposition to your basic programming.”

  “We would spend a great deal of time reasoning erroneously,” Wohler said. “But human brains are not at the mercy of programming. You have the freedom to sift through all empirical data and arrive at the truth at all times.”

  “That’s where you are wrong,” Derec replied. “The human mind is not a computer with truth as its base. It is merely a collection of ganglia moved by electrical impulses. Truth is not its basis, but rather ego gratification. Truth to the human mind is a shifting thing, a sail billowing on the wind of fear and hope and desire. It has no reality, but rather creates it from moment to moment with that same creative intelligence that you value so highly in us.”

  “But the base program is available,” Euler said. “It is there for the human to use.”

  “And it is also there for him to reject,” Derec countered. “You must observe your programming. My mind has no such chains on it. The human mind is painfully mortal. That particular truth in itself is more than most humans can tolerate. We are frail creatures, seeking permanence in an impermanent world. We lie to those around us. We lie to ourselves. We lie in the face of all logic and all reason. We lie because, quite often, the truth would destroy us. We lie without even knowing it.”

  Avernus spoke. “How do robots that exist with humans on other worlds deal with the deceit?”

  “They follow instruction according to the Laws of Robotics,” Derec said, quite simply. “They are not autonomous as you are, so they have no choice. The Laws were invented with the salvation of the species in mind. Robots protect humans from their own lies, and honor them because of what’s noble in the species. You saw Katherine’s grief when she thought I was dead.” He reached out and took her hand. “We are fragile creatures capable of great nobility and great ignominy. We make no excuses for ourselves. We are the creators of great good and great evil, and in the creation of robots, we were at the height of our goodness. Our species deserves praise and condemnation, and, in the final analysis, it is beyond rational, positronic explanation.”

  “You are saying we must take you as you are,” Euler said.

  “No laws will define us,” Derec answered, “no theorem hold us in check. We will amaze and confound you, but I can guarantee you we will never be boring.”

  “You would tame us with your words,” Wohler, the philosopher, said.

  “Yes,” Derec said, smiling. “I would do exactly that. And I will tell you now that you will let me because the wonders of the universe are contained in my confounding mind, and you can only reach them through me . . . and you desperately want to reach them!”

  “But what of the Laws of Humanics?” Rydberg asked.

  “Very simple,” Katherine added, winking at Derec. “There is only one Law of Humanics: expect the unexpected.”

  “An oxymoron,” Arion said.

  “As close as you’ll ever get,” Derec said. “That’s the point. You needn’t give up your search for the Laws of Humanics, but you must make them fit us, not try to make us fit them. We can’t be anything but what we are, but if you accept us—good and bad—we’ll see to it that you reach your full potential.”

  “Intriguing words,” Dante said, “but just words. Where is an example of what you can do with your creative intelligence?”

  “If you’ll let me,” Derec said, “perhaps I can help you save your city.”

  “All your suggestions so far have tried to force us away from our programming,” Euler said.

  Derec stood; he thought better on his feet. “That’s because until yesterday I never fully realized what was going on and how little control you had over the situation. I’m working on that, too, but I have some other ideas.”

  Arion and Waldeyer sat side by side, pincers locked together. Derec walked between the two of them, resting his elbows on their shoulders.

  “I’ve watched you digging in the tunnels, trying to siphon off reservoir water to lower the level and avoid a flooding of your underground operations. Has it been successful?”

  “To a degree,” Rydberg said. “We will break through after our meeting this morning. Unfortunately, we calculate that it will only postpone the inevitable for one more day. We can save our operations through tonight’s expected rain, but that’s it.”

  “All right,” Derec said. “Let’s think about something. I was in the main chamber of one of the quadrants yesterday. Was that chamber dug?”

  “No,” Avernus said. “Each quadrant Extruder Station is located in a chamber similar to that one. Our first action in beginning underground operations was to take sonogram readings to determine natural caverns under the surface. The mine tunnels were dug, but the main chambers are natural.”

  “Has it occurred to you,” Derec said, “to take sonograms now, in the present situation?”

  “I do not understand,” Avernus said.r />
  Derec pounded the tabletop with an index finger. “Find the closest underground cavern to your reservoir, dig a tunnel connecting it to the reservoir, and . . . ”

  “And drain the reservoir water in there!” Avernus said, standing abruptly and breaking contact with the central core.

  “Right!” Derec pointed to him. “Meanwhile, Katherine and I will be working on solving the murder. I’m absolutely convinced that the solution to the murder will also provide the reasons for the state of emergency.” He turned to Supervisor Dante. “Is that creative enough for you?”

  “Happily so,” Dante said.

  “It seems,” Euler said, “that if we are to have the opportunity of putting Friend Derec’s suggestions into practice, we should adjourn this meeting and set to work.”

  The robots stood, Derec wondering if they realized that he had gently manipulated them, for the first time, into including him as a real partner in their planning.

  He watched them filing out of the large room, for the first time beginning to feel he was getting a handle on the deviousness of the mind that had brought all of them together. Synnoetics. The worst hills still remained to be scaled toward reaching a truly equal social union of human and robot. Now, if they could only survive the rains, they could perhaps be the trailblazers in the opening of a new era.

  As soon as the robots left the room, Katherine hurried to the door and peered out. “They’re gone,” she said, turning back to Derec.

  “Good.”

  He joined her at the door, Eve and Rec, trailing dutifully. Derec turned to them. “Has either of you ever witnessed within this building before?”

  “Yes,” Rec said. “Most of this building is given to experimentation on the positronic brain and ways to improve its function. I have witnessed experiments in almost every laboratory in the structure.”

  “Have you ever seen an office, something that a human might use as his personal quarters?”

  “No,” the robot answered.

  “Are there parts of the building you have never seen?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, listen carefully,” Derec said, shrugging in Katherine’s direction. “I want you to take me to all the parts of the building you have never seen.”

  “I cannot do that.”

  “Why not?” Katherine asked.

  “There is a sector in the Compass Tower that is off-limits to robots. No one goes there.”

  “Did someone tell you that,” Derec asked, “a supervisor?”

  “It is part of our programming,” Rec said.

  Eve agreed. “Not even supervisors are allowed.”

  Derec shook his head. Just like robots—all duty, no inquisitiveness. “I want you to take us there,” he said.

  “I already told you it was off-limits,” Rec said.

  Derec smiled. “I don’t mean for you to take me inside the off-limits part,” he said. “Just take me as close as you can get and point it out to me.”

  That seemed amenable enough, so the two witnesses led the way, while Derec and Katherine followed closely. They walked the maze-like halls, twisting and turning, but always going higher. An elevator took them six floors up, but that wasn’t even the end of it. It was interesting to Derec. The meeting room had been designed to look like it was at the apex of the pyramid, but it was actually only about halfway up the structure, perhaps the illusion being more spiritual in intent than anything else.

  The upper levels had begun to get rather small, doorways appearing more sparsely between the gently glowing wall panels, when the robots abruptly stopped. Rec pointed to a door at the end of a short hallway.

  “We can go no farther,” the robot said. “No one knows where that doorway leads.”

  “If you want to wait here,” Derec said, “we’ll be back soon.”

  “But it is off-limits,” Eve said.

  “To robots, not humans,” Katherine replied.

  “But we cannot separate,” Rec persisted.

  “It is only one door,” Derec said. “We’ll have to come back through it.”

  “Our orders . . . ”

  “Do what you want,” Derec said. “We’re going on.”

  With that, Derec and Katherine continued down the hallway, turning once to see the attentive robots before opening the door and stepping inside.

  What they found was a spiral staircase leading up to a door set ten feet above their heads.

  “You want to go first?” Derec asked.

  “Go ahead,” Katherine returned. “I left my courage back in that sealed room.”

  Derec moved slowly up the stairs, a feeling of expectation rising slowly in his stomach. He connected the word, butterflies, to the feeling, but had no idea of what it meant. He reached the door, and pushed the stud, expecting it to be locked up tight.

  It wasn’t.

  The door slid easily and opened, he thought at first, to the outside. It was as if he were walking onto an open platform set with furniture and a desk, a beautiful, panoramic view of Robot City all around. But there was no feel of the air, no wind, no heat from the mid-morning sun.

  “How did we get outside?” Katherine asked, following him in.

  “We’re not,” Derec said, pointing behind her.

  The outside view was marred by the still-open doorway, a black maw in the center of downtown. When he pushed the stud to close the door, the full view was restored.

  “Viewscreens?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he replied. “There must be a series of small cameras set around the peak of the pyramid to give the view, which is then put on the screens. Look,” he pointed, “even above us.”

  She looked up to see pinkish-blue sky above. “That would be the view from the platform we materialized on,” she said.

  “Fascinating,” he said softly, knowing they’d finally stumble upon something. “If you were sitting in here, you could watch someone materialize on the platform and they’d never know it.”

  “Do you think someone watched us materialize?” she asked, eyes wide.

  He shrugged. “I’d have to think it probable at this point,” he said. “We were brought here. We were meant to be here. It seems logical that our progress would be measured.”

  “Have you ever considered the fact, Derec, that you were brought here and I’m excess baggage?” she asked.

  He walked slowly through the room. It was designed for someone to live in. There were easy chairs and a couch that converted to abed. Not city-robot material, but real furniture. There was even a plant of some kind under its own growth light. That told Derec that whoever kept this office returned at least often enough to keep the plant watered.

  “I’ve considered a great many things,” Derec told her, “including the scenario you’ve just outlined. But there are several things to consider. I believe our meeting on Aranimas’s ship was accidental. The situation was too dangerous and uncontrollable to be otherwise, our injuries too real. But consider the facts that you admit to having known me previously by another name and that that name just happens to belong to someone who looked enough like me to be my twin. It’s a large universe, Katherine. That’s an awful lot of coincidence. Let me ask you something. Have you ever considered the possibility that the David you knew could be the one lying dead in that sealed room, and that I’m somebody else?”

  Her face became confused, lips sputtering. “I—I . . . ”

  Then she started to say something and stopped. Derec would have given a fortune, ten fortunes, to know the thoughts that had been running through her mind that second before she shut herself up.

  “What are you hiding from me?” he asked loudly, in frustration.

  Her face was a mixture of pain and longing. She responded by solidifying, as she had done so many times since they’d met on Aranimas’s ship. “There’s nothing up here for me,” she said. “I’m going back down with the robots. Join us quickly. We have other work to do.”

  Then she turned and departed without a
backward glance, leaving Derec angry again. He could feel so close to her, and so far away. There was never any mid-point with Katherine; it was all one way or the other.

  He decided to inspect the office methodically, rather than simply tearing furiously into things, which had been his strongest desire. Starting on the outer edges of the room, he traversed it slowly, saving the plum of the desk for last.

  He found a small, air-tight shelf full of tapes, all marked “Philosophy,” then broken down according to planet. Nearly all of the fifty-five Spacer worlds were represented. They weren’t of interest to him at the moment, but a perusal in future wasn’t out of the question.

  He continued his walk of the outer perimeter, his hand finding the ladder where his eyes couldn’t. It was a metal ladder, set against the screen and lost in shadows. Even knowing it was there, he still found it difficult to see. It went up from the floor and stopped at the flat ceiling.

  He climbed it until he reached the ceiling screen. There was no reason at all for this ladder to exist unless it went somewhere. Gingerly, he reached out and touched the ceiling screen above the ladder. It gave easily on well-oiled hinges, flapping open to reveal real sky.

  He moved up through the trap door to find himself standing on the platform where he had materialized. Amazing. He began to put together a theory. Whoever started this civilization, whoever’s arm it was that turned on 1-1, with proper use of a Key to Perihelion, could materialize on Robot City at will, move down into the off-limits office and observe his city’s progress without ever being seen. When he was through, he could leave by the same means.

  So, the city had an overseer, a guardian, who had apparently brought Derec here to sweeten the mix with the human ingredient. Why Derec? That question, he couldn’t answer.

  He wondered if the overseer had been present during his and Katherine’s stay, if he had been watching them, perhaps all the way up to the moment they opened the office door. It would be simple enough for him to get away. All he’d need was the Key and a few seconds’ time.