Asimov's Future History Volume 1

by Isaac Asimov

  His calm, dark eyes said nothing at all, and his warm voice said only words. “Are you hurt, Mrs. Belmont?”

  She noticed for an instant that her falling hand must have mussed that sleek hair of his, because for the first time she could see for herself that it was composed of distinct strands – fine black hairs.

  And then, all at once, she was conscious of his arms about her shoulders and under her knees – holding her tightly and warmly.

  She pushed, and her scream was loud in her own ears. She spent the rest of the day in her room, and thereafter she slept with a chair upended against the doorknob of her bedroom door.

  She had sent out the invitations, and, as Tony had said, they were accepted. She had only to wait for the last evening.

  It came, too, after the rest of them, in its proper place. The house was scarcely her own. She went through it one last time – and every room had been changed. She, herself, was in clothes she would never have dared wear before.... And when you put them on, you put on pride and confidence with them.

  She tried a polite look of contemptuous amusement before the minor, and the mirror sneered back at her masterfully.

  What would Larry say?... It didn’t matter, somehow. The exciting days weren’t coming with him. They were leaving with Tony. Now wasn’t that strange? She tried to recapture her mood of three weeks before and failed completely.

  The clock shrieked eight at her in eight breathless installments, and she turned to Tony. “They’ll be here soon, Tony. You’d better get into the basement. We can’t let them –”

  She stared a moment, then said weakly, “Tony?” and more strongly, “Tony?” and nearly a scream, “Tony!”

  But his arms were around her now; his face was close to hers; the pressure of his embrace was relentless. She heard his voice through a haze of emotional jumble.

  “Claire,” the voice said, “there are many things I am not made to understand, and this must be one of them. I am leaving tomorrow, and I don’t want to. I find that there is more in me than just a desire to please you. Isn’t it strange?”

  His face was closer; his lips were warm, but with no breath behind them – for machines do not breathe. They were almost on hers.

  ... And the bell sounded.

  For a moment, she struggled breathlessly, and then he was gone and nowhere in sight, and the bell was sounding again. Its intermittent shrillness was insistent.

  The curtains on the front windows had been pulled open. They had been closed fifteen minutes earlier. She knew that.

  They must have seen, then. They must all have seen – everything!

  They came in so politely, all in a bunch – the pack come to howl – with their sharp, darting eyes piercing everywhere. They had seen. Why else would Gladys ask in her jabbingest manner after Larry? And Claire was spurred to a desperate and reckless defiance.

  Yes, he is away. He’ll be back tomorrow, I suppose. No, I haven’t been lonely here myself. Not a bit. I’ve had an exciting time. And she laughed at them. Why not? What could they do? Larry would know the truth, if it ever came to him, the story of what they thought they saw.

  But they didn’t laugh.

  She could read that in the fury in Gladys Claffern’s eyes; in the false sparkle of her words; in her desire to leave early. And as she parted with them, she caught one last, anonymous whisper – disjointed.

  “... never saw anything like... so handsome –”

  And she knew what it was that had enabled her to finger-snap them so. Let each cat mew; and let each cat know – that she might be prettier than Claire Belmont, and grander, and richer – but not one, not one, could have so handsome a lover!

  And then she remembered again – again – again, that Tony was a machine, and her skin crawled.

  “Go away! Leave me be!” she cried to the empty room and ran to her bed. She wept wakefully all that night and the next morning, almost before dawn, when the streets were empty, a car drew up to the house and took Tony away.

  Lawrence Belmont passed Dr. Calvin’s office, and, on impulse, knocked. He found her with Mathematician Peter Bogert, but did not hesitate on that account.

  He said, “Claire tells me that U.S. Robots paid for all that was done at my house –”

  “Yes,” said Dr. Calvin. “We’ve written it off, as a valuable and necessary part of the experiment. With your new position as Associate Engineer, you’ll be able to keep it up, I think.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about. With Washington agreeing to the tests, we’ll be able to get a TN model of our own by next year, I think.” He turned hesitantly, as though to go, and as hesitantly turned back again.

  “Well, Mr. Belmont?” asked Dr. Calvin, after a pause.

  “I wonder –” began Larry. “I wonder what really happened there. She – Claire, I mean – seems so different. It’s not just her looks – though, frankly, I’m amazed.” He laughed nervously. “It’s her! She’s not my wife, really – I can’t explain it.”

  “Why try? Are you disappointed with any part of the change?”

  “On the contrary. But it’s a little frightening, too, you see –”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Belmont. Your wife has handled herself very well. Frankly, I never expected to have the experiment yield such a thorough and complete test. We know exactly what corrections must be made in the TN model, and the credit belongs entirely to Mrs. Belmont. If you want me to be very honest, I think your wife deserves your promotion more than you do.”

  Larry flinched visibly at that. “As long as it’s in the family,” he murmured unconvincingly and left.

  Susan Calvin looked after him, “I think that hurt – I hope.... Have you read Tony’s report, Peter?”

  “Thoroughly,” said Bogert. “And won’t the TN-3 model need changes?”

  “Oh, you think so, too?” questioned Calvin sharply. “What’s your reasoning?”

  Bogert frowned. “I don’t need any. It’s obvious on the face of it that we can’t have a robot loose which makes love to his mistress, if you don’t mind the pun.”

  “Love! Peter, you sicken me. You really don’t understand? That machine had to obey the First Law. He couldn’t allow harm to come to a human being, and harm was coming to Claire Belmont through her own sense of inadequacy. So he made love to her, since what woman would fail to appreciate the compliment of being able to stir passion in a machine – in a cold, soulless machine. And he opened the curtains that night deliberately, that the others might see and envy – without any risk possible to Claire’s marriage. I think it was clever of Tony –”

  “Do you? What’s the difference whether it was pretense or not, Susan? It still has its horrifying effect. Read the report again. She avoided him. She screamed when he held her. She didn’t sleep that last night – in hysterics. We can’t have that.”

  “Peter, you’re blind. You’re as blind as I was. The TN model will be rebuilt entirely, but not for your reason. Quite otherwise; quite otherwise. Strange that I overlooked it in the first place,” her eyes were opaquely thoughtful, “but perhaps it reflects a shortcoming in myself. You see, Peter, machines can’t fall in love, but – even when it’s hopeless and horrifying – women can!”

  Balance

  2024 A.D.

  SUSAN CALVIN STEPPED up to the podium and surveyed her audience: the stockholders of the United States Robots and Mechanical Men Corporation.

  “I want to thank you for your attendance,” she said in her brisk, businesslike way, “and to update you on our latest developments.”

  What a fearsome face she has, thought August Geller, seated in the fourth row of the audience. She reminds me of my seventh-grade English teacher, the one I was always afraid of

  Calvin launched into a detailed explanation of the advanced new circuitry she had introduced into the positronic brain, breaking it down into terms a layman – even a stockholder – could understand.

  Brilliant mind, thought Geller. Absolutely brilliant. It’s prob
ably just as well. Imagine a countenance like that without a mind to offset it.

  “Are there any questions at this point?” asked Calvin, her cold blue eyes scanning the audience.

  “I have one,” said a pretty young woman, rising to her feet.

  “Yes?”

  The woman voiced her question.

  “I thought I had covered that point,” said Calvin, doing her best to hide her irritation. “However...”

  She launched into an even more simplistic explanation.

  Isn’t it amazing? thought Geller. Here are two women, one with a mind like a steel trap, the other with an I. Q. that would probably freeze water, and yet I can’t take my eyes off the woman who asked that ridiculous question. Poor Dr. Calvin; Nature has such a malicious sense of humor.

  Calvin noticed a number of the men staring admiringly at her questioner. It was not the first time that men had found something more fascinating than Calvin to capture their attention, nor the hundredth, nor the thousandth.

  What a shame, she thought, that they aren’t more like robots, that they let their hormones overwhelm their logic. Here I am, explaining how I plan to spend twelve billion dollars of their money. and they’re more interested in a pretty face.

  Her answer completed, she launched into a discussion of the attempts they were making to provide stronger bodies for those robots designed for extraterrestrial use by the application of titanium frames with tight molecular bondings.

  I wonder, thought Geller, if she’s ever even had a date with a man? Not a night of wild passion, God knows, but just a meal and perhaps a trip to the theater, where she didn’t talk business. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. No, he decided, it would probably bore her to tears. All she cares about are her formulas and equations. Good looks would be wasted on her.

  Calvin caught Geller staring at her, and met and held his gaze.

  What a handsome young man, she thought. I wonder if I’ve seen him at any previous meetings? I’m sure I’d remember if I had. Why is he staring at me so intently?

  I wonder, thought Geller, if anyone she’s loved has ever loved her back?

  Probably he’s just astounded that a woman can have a brain, she concluded. As if anything else mattered.

  In fact, thought Geller, I wonder if she’s ever loved at all?

  Look at that tan, thought Calvin, still staring at Geller. It’s attractive, to be sure, but do you ever work, or do you spend all your time lazing mindlessly on the beach? She fought back an urge to sigh deeply between sentences. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine that people like you and I even belong to the same species, I have so much more in common with my robots.

  Sometimes, thought Geller, when I listen to you wax rhapsodic about positronic brains and molecular bonding, it’s hard to imagine that we belong to the same species, you sound so much like one of your robots.

  Still, thought Calvin against her will, you are tall and you are handsome, and you certainly have an air of self-assuredness about you. Most men won’t or can’t match my gaze. And your eyes are blue and clear. I wonder...

  Still, thought Geller, there must be something there, some core oJ femininity beneath the harsh features and coldly analytical mind. I wonder...

  Calvin shook her head inadvertently and almost lost track of what she was saying.

  Ridiculous, she concluded. Absolutely ridiculous.

  Geller stared at her one more time, studying the firm jaw, the broad shoulders, the aggressive stance, the face devoid of makeup, the hair that could have been so much more attractive.

  Ridiculous, he concluded. Absolutely ridiculous.

  Calvin spoke for another fifteen minutes, then opened the floor to questions.

  There were two, and she handled them both succinctly.

  “I want to thank Dr. Calvin for spending this time with us,” concluded Linus Becker, the young chief operating executive of United States Robots and Mechanical Men. “As long as we have her remarkable intellect working for us, I feel confident that we will continue to forge ahead and expand the parameters of the science of robotics.”

  “I’ll second that,” said one of the major stockholders. “When we produce a positronic brain with half the capabilities of our own Dr. Calvin, the field of robotics will have come of age.”

  “Thank you,” said Calvin, ignoring a strange sense of emptiness within her. “I am truly flattered.”

  “It’s we who are flattered,” said Becker smoothly, “to be in the presence of such brilliance.” He applauded her, and soon the entire audience, including Geller, got to their feet and gave her a standing ovation.

  Then each in turn walked up to her to introduce himself or herself, and shake her hand, and comment on her intellect and creativity.

  “Thank you,” said Calvin, acknowledging yet another compliment. You take my hand as if you expect it to be tungsten and steel, rather than sinew and bone. Have I come to resemble my robots that much?

  “I appreciate your remarks,” said Calvin to another stockholder. I wonder if lovers speak to each other in the same hail-fellow-well-met tones?

  And then Geller stepped up and took her hand, and she almost jumped from the sensation, the electricity passing from his strong, tanned hand to her own.

  “I think you are quite our greatest asset, Dr. Calvin,” he said.

  “Our robots are our greatest asset,” she replied graciously. “I’m just a scientific midwife.”

  He stared intently at her for a moment, and suddenly the tension left his body. Impossible. You’re too much like them. If I asked you out, it would be an act of charity, and I think you are too proud and too perceptive to accept that particular kind of charity.

  She looked into his eyes one last time. Impossible. I have my work to do – and my robots never disappoint me by proving to be merely human.

  “Remember, everyone,” announced Becker, “there’s a banquet three hours from now.” He turned to Calvin. “You’ll be there, of course.”

  Calvin nodded. “I’ll be there,” she said with a sigh.

  She had only an hour to change into a formal gown for the banquet, and she was running late. She entered her rather nondescript apartment, walked through the living room and bedroom, both of which were filled to overflowing with scientific journals, opened her closet, and began laying out her clothes on the bed.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you have the most beautiful blue eyes?” asked her butler robot.

  “Why, thank you,” said Calvin.

  “It’s true, you know,” continued the butler. “Lovely, lovely eyes, as blue as the purest sapphire.”

  Her robot maid entered the bedroom to help her dress.

  “Such a pretty smile,” said the maid. “If I had a smile like yours, men would fight battles just for the pleasure of seeing it turned upon them.”

  “You’re very kind,” said Calvin.

  “Oh, no, Mistress Susan,” the robot maid corrected her. “You’re very beautiful.”

  Calvin noticed the robot chef standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

  “Stop staring at me,” she said. “I’m only half-dressed. Where are your manners?”

  “Legs like yours, and you expect me to stop staring?” said the chef with a dry, mechanical chuckle. “Every Bight I dream about meeting a woman with legs like yours.”

  Calvin slipped into her gown, then waited for the robot maid to zip up the back.

  “Such clear, smooth skin,” crooned the maid. “If I were a woman, that’s the kind of skin I would want.”

  They are such perceptive creatures, reflected Calvin, as she stood before a mirror and applied her almost-clear lipstick. Such dear creatures, she amended. Of course they are just responding to the needs of First Law – to my needs – but how very thoughtful they are.

  She picked up her purse and headed to the door.

  I wonder if they ever get tired of reciting this litany?

  “You’ll be the belle of the ball, “said the robot butler proudl
y as she walked out of the apartment.

  “Why, thank you very much,” said Calvin. “You grow more flattering by the day.”

  The robot shook its metallic head. “It is only flattery if it is a lie, my lady,” it said just before the door slid shut behind her.

  Her emotional balance fully restored, as it always was whenever she came home from dealing with human beings, she headed toward the banquet feeling vigorous and renewed. She wondered if she would be seated near that handsome August Geller, who had listened to her so intently during her speech.

  Upon reflection, she hoped that she would be seated elsewhere. He aroused certain uneasy feelings within her, this handsome young man – and fantasies, when all was said and done, were for lesser intellects which, unlike herself, couldn’t cope with the cold truths of the real world.

  Lenny

  2025 A.D.

  UNITED STATES ROBOTS and Mechanical Men Corporation had a problem. The problem was people.

  Peter Bogert, Senior Mathematician, was on his way to Assembly when he encountered Alfred Lanning, Research Director. Lanning was bending his ferocious white eyebrows together and staring down across the railing into the computer room.

  On the floor below the balcony, a trickle of humanity of both sexes and various ages was looking about curiously, while a guide intoned a set speech about robotic computing.

  “This computer you see before you,” he said, “is the largest of its type in the world. It contains five million three hundred thousand cryotrons and is capable of dealing simultaneously with over one hundred thousand variables. With its help, U. S. Robots is able to design with precision the positronic brains of new models. “The requirements are fed in on tape which is perforated by the action of this keyboard – something like a very complicated typewriter or linotype machine, except that it does not deal with letters but with concepts. Statements are broken down into the symbolic logic equivalents and those in turn converted to perforation patterns.