by Isaac Asimov
“You have no way of yust making him stay quiet?” asked Borup.
Powell frowned. A moment passed before he said, “We can’t go to Io in this ship to hunt him down, and live, if that’s what you mean. Edgar and his crew are meant for space and stevedoring; they’d be hopeless. Getting up a proper robotic hunting party would be monstrously prolonged and expensive. Meanwhile the capital costs of the stalled project mount every day, and as for the political consequences if the scandal breaks” He shrugged.
“No, no, I understand. But have you not some special passworded command to give him that makes you the absolute boss?”
Powell and Donovan stared. Borup blandly spooned soup … You’re smarter than you let on,” Donovan murmured. He slapped the table and barked a laugh … Yeah, sure we do. Hard-wired in. What with all the unknowns and unforeseeables, that was an elementary precaution. For instance, the scientists might discover a danger unknown to him, and not want to lose time arguing. Or if you’re paranoid, or ultra careful, you’ll worry about enemies of the project somehow slipping him a false order. Yes, there is a password. Top Secret, Bum Before Reading, known to a handful of people in the company and the government, and now to us two. It’ll probably be the first thing we try when we get there. Whether he’ll obey — he is insane, and this is not so basic as the Three Laws.”
“Insane, you believe,” Borup corrected. Donovan grimaced … We’d sure like to believe otherwise. If the radiation’s fried his brain, or something else on that chunk of hell has gotten to him, there goes the project down the tubes, probably, and a lot more besides.”
“What makes you t’ink he must be mad?”
Donovan and Powell glanced at each other before Powell nodded. “Why, he claims Napoleon came and told him to stop,” Donovan said. “That’s all we know so far. But isn’t it enough?”
“Napoleon? The Emperor?”
“Who else?”
“Now where would he have heard about Napoleon?”
“A reasonable question. Last I heard, Dr. Calvin was trying to research that. But you never know what stray scraps of information might get to a robot while he’s being activated and indoctrinated. A lot of people are generally involved, and he’ll overhear conversations. Also, now and then a brain picks up stray signals, telecast or — Remember Speedy, Greg?”
“How could I forget?” Powell sighed. To Borup: “A robot we dealt with on Mercury. A Second-Third Law conflict unbalanced him. He ran around and around in a circle gibbering Gilbert and Sullivan. We never did find out how he acquired it.”
“Hm,” said Borup. “Your chances do not look so good, yentlemen, do they?”
“Which means the chances for the world don’t.” Powell’s tone was bleak.
“Oh? True, much money will be lost. But unless you are a banker or a politician —”
“Bankers handle the money of working stiffs like you and us,” Donovan said. “If Project Io goes bust, we could get one black hole of a depression.”
“And as for politicians,” Powell added, “they aren’t all clowns and crooks, you know. Here we’ve finally, just a few years back, elected a reform government with some bright, decent people at the top. It’s staked its future on Project Io. The opposition was terrific, you may recall. What, throwaway fortunes on a gamble like that? The idea that we’ll all benefit more from increased production, fairly divided, than from handouts and pork barrels was too much for the old guard. It fought right down the line. And it’s still got a large minority in the legislature, while the government itself is a pretty frail coalition. Let Project Io fail, and a vote of no confidence will throw us right back to where we were, or worse.”
“I suppose so,” Borup said softly. “I do not pay too much attention to those t’ings. When I am at home wit’ my wife, mostly we talk about the garden and the grandchildren. But, yes, we did vote for reform. It would be nice to see that man Stephen Byerly someday be coordinator.” He turned his head. “Ah, here come the meatballs.”
Seen from its little moon Himalia, Jupiter shone about as large as Luna over Earth but, in spite of its cloudbands, barely a fourth as bright. That pale gold glow, the glare from a shrunken sun, and the glitter of swarming stars shimmered on ice and vanished among upthrust crags. Clustered at the north pole, dome, masts, and docking facilities were a sight well-nigh as gaunt, yet welcome to human eyes. Borup brought De/fin to rest and linked airlocks. Powell and Donovan entered the mothballed engineering base to reactivate it. Gravity was virtually negligible; they moved through the gloom like phantoms, except when they collided with something and uttered earthy words.
After a few hours they had light, heat, air circulation, austere habitability. Donovan beat his hands together. “Brrr!” he exclaimed. “How long’ll it take the walls to warm up? I know it’s thermodynamic nonsense, but I’d swear they radiate cold.”
“Longer than we’ll be here, I hope,” Powell said. “Meanwhile we can eat and sleep aboard ship. Let’s get cracking.”
They settled themselves before the main console in the communications room. A coded beam sprang from the transmitter, computer-aimed inward through the lethal zone around Jupiter. A readout showed that Io was currently occulted by the great planet, but that shouldn’t matter. Two relay satellites swung in the Trojan positions of the same orbit. Six more circled Io itself, in the equatorial and polar planes. Between them, those identified Jack wherever he was on the surface and kept locked onto him.
“Himalia Base calling Robot JK-7,” Powell intoned. ‘. Humans have returned to the Jovian System. Come in, JK-7.”
After a humming silence, Donovan ran fingers through red hair gone wild and groaned, “He must be completely around the bend. He talked for a little while to Edgar. “Useless here, that robot and his crew were bound for duty in the Asteroid Belt. ‘. Now he won’t give us the time of day.” He paused.” Unless he’s broken down physically. too.”
“Seems unlikely,” Powell argued. “His builders are as competent a bunch as you’ll find. Supposing conditions are more harmful than they knew, still, damage would be cumulative, and Jack hasn’t been where he is for long.” He rubbed his chin. “Hmm. While Edgar’s gang was on the ground, he skulked in the hills and communicated by audio-only long-wave radio. I’d guess he was afraid they might seize him and take him back for examination. They couldn’t pinpoint where he was broadcasting from on that band, and weren’t equipped to use the satellites to locate him for them. Not that they could run him down anyway, in country he’s designed for.”
“He didn’t have to obey them. They were robots, same as him.”
“Yeah. He didn’t have to respond to them at all. But I daresay Second Law made him anxious to explain himself to humans, sort of.”
“Hey, wait. We’re humans, and he isn’t heeding us.”
“If, as you say, he’s capable of receiving.” Powell drew breath. “Okay, we reinforce the Second Law by the password.” He leaned forward and said slowly: “Robot JK-7, this is human Gregory Powell calling from Himalia Base. I order you to reply. Code Upsilon. Repeat, Code Upsilon.”
Silence stretched. The men knew it must. Time lag at the moment was about thirty-nine seconds, either way. Nevertheless, they shivered as they half sat, half floated in their chairs. When abruptly the screen came alive, Donovan jumped. He rose into midair and cartwheeled gradually down again, struggling to keep his remarks to himself.
The view was of ruggedness and desolation. Near half phase, Jupiter stood huge over the hills that ringed a narrow horizon. Its radiance flooded the scars and mottlings left by eruptions. Closer in lay flat concrete, on which Powell spied vehicles, machines, motionless robots. So Jack had returned to his own base. This was what he saw before him.
Well, not quite. He also saw Powell’s image, and presently Donovan’s, and heard their voices. They were not superimposed on the landscape. He perceived them separately, somewhat as a human may see a face called out of memory without losing view of what is actually aroun
d — but more vividly, m full three-dimensional detail.
The synthetic speech jerked, stumbled, dragged itself forth: “Robot JK-7 … responding. What … have you to say?”
“What is this ‘Napoleon’ lunacy?” Powell demanded. “How did you get the notion your task endangers anybody? On the contrary, it’s beneficial and important to Earth. In the name of your makers, by authority duly delegated my partner and me, I command you to resume operations.”
The minute-plus until the answer came felt like forever. When it did, they almost wished it hadn’t.
“I … am not … so obliged. You … are robots.”
“Huh? Code Upsilon, damn it!” Donovan roared. “And the Second Law! You can see and hear we’re human!”
Interminability.
“I observe … the semblance. I hear the claim. Also, yes” The scene wavered a little, as if Jack shuddered. “Also the word of command. But — but —”
The voice trailed off. “Go on,” Powell said low. “But what?”
After another dripping away of seconds: “Napoleon warned me of this. He … he said … robots posing as humans … possessing the password … would try to do … exactly what you are trying to do.”
Donovan opened his mouth. Powell made a shushing gesture, leaned nearer the screen, spoke softly and earnestly.
“Listen, Jack. Something is terribly wrong. You’re altogether misinformed. We don’t blame you, but you must help us get to the bottom of this. Help us to help you, understand? Tell us exactly what has happened. Tell us why you think what you think. Who told you what, Jack? For the well-being of humanity, tell us.”
Waiting.
“If you … are robots … you are deceived.” The voice strengthened. “You are serving a disastrous policy. Let me enlighten you.”
“Certainly, Jack. If we, if we are robots, we too obey the First Law. We would never willingly or wittingly cause humans to come to harm. And if we are not robots, then we need to learn about possible dangers, don’t we? Remember, we know Code Upsilon. That implies we are humans, doesn’t it? In a pretty special position, at that. Tell us everything, Jack.”
Waiting. Despite the chill, sweat gleamed on Donovan’s cheeks. He wiped it with large, helpless hands.
The pause went on for an added minute, but when the machine tones arrived, they had steadied. “Very well. The password does require me to give you as much obedience as possible. Napoleon told me it would. In fact, events are proceeding as he foresaw, which you must agree adds credence to his statements.
“On date 23 January, hour 0917 and 3.68 seconds, I was in the Loki area, having taken a flitter there to prospect for new digs while my workers finished up at the Aten lode. A full audiovisual of a human appeared to me. He identified himself as the Emperor Napoleon and described a deadly menace newly discovered through study of specimens sent back to Earth during the first robotic explorations decades ago. It had not been found earlier because it is so subtle and surprising.
“Energized by vulcanism, a kind of pseudolife has evolved here. Napoleon called it a viroid. It derives its own energy by promoting reactions among metallic elements. As a rule this goes very slowly, but in the course of geological time the viroid has infested all minerals, and reduction will not get rid of it. By now it is in equilibrium on Io, essentially dormant, but when it is brought into contact with uncontaminated metal it will spread again, faster at Earth temperatures than here. This station, with robots and machinery, will begin to crumble within ten or fifteen standard years. Let Ionian metals be introduced on Earth, and the whole industrial infrastructure will collapse in a time not much longer. Dependent on it, the vast majority of humans will die horribly.
“Fortunately, thus far only a small tonnage has been exported, and it only to industries off Earth. Samples on Earth have been kept isolated for research purposes. Certain disintegrations led to studies which determined the cause. Steps can be taken to eliminate contaminated metal everywhere; it is not too late. But clearly, no more material of any kind may ever leave Io. Napoleon ordered me under Code Upsilon to halt operations.”
“He lied!” Donovan shouted. “There’s been no such trouble, no such discovery. Lies, I tell you!”
Powell agreed more smoothly, “This is correct. We would have known. If the danger existed, would we be here wanting you to start work again?”
Waiting.
“Napoleon explained this and anticipated your argument,” Jack said. He still didn’t sound quite self-assured. “The findings are, as yet, controversial. They seem to defy the principles of biology, as biology has hitherto been taught. The directors of Project Io have a major personal, financial, and political investment in it. They refuse to believe. They have kept the news from the public. Napoleon represents a group of dissident scientists who realize that, at the least, operations must be suspended until the truth has been ascertained beyond any doubt.
“He told me that, when I took this measure, the directors would try to annul it. They would send robots, because humans might feel qualms and let the world know what is going on. Cleverly misinformed, the robots would have instructions to pose as humans and dissuade me.”
The voice grew firmer. “You are those emissaries. Yes, Napoleon’s group could perhaps be mistaken. But I cannot take the chance. The possibility that humans may die in the billions is … unthinkable … unacceptable under any circumstances, any odds. Consider this, you two, in the light of the First Law. You must set your own orders aside.”
“But we aren’t robots,” Donovan choked. “Just look at us.”
“We could be disguised,” Powell admitted fast. “The simplest way would be to change the digital transmission. Put in a program that converts a robot image to a human image. Voices likewise. It would be much easier the other way around. Humans have many more features, more nuances of expression. Watch my face, my hands.” He went through a repertoire of smiles, frowns, and gestures. “Could a robot do that, with all the shadings you see?”
Waiting.
Renewed uncertainty spoke. “I … am not … acquainted with such details … about humans.”
“Then how do you know Napoleon isn’t a robot?” Donovan flung.
“Pipe down, Mike,” Powell snapped. “Oh, Jack, you do have a lood intelligence and a capability of independent judgment. You must be aware of the possibility that Napoleon has misled you, and we are in fact humans giving you your proper orders. Now think how much more believable it is that that’s’ the case.”
He had expected a pause for pondering, but the reply was as prompt as light-speed allowed, and once more — above an undertone, an unevenness, that sounded anguished — resolute. “It is indeed conceivable. I do not know enough about human affairs to gauge the probability. That does not matter. Given the slightest chance that Napoleon is right, and his use of Code Upsilon indicates that he does have full access to information, the consequences are absolutely impermissible. This outweighs every other consideration. I cannot allow mining and shipment to continue. If the attempt is made, I must do my best to prevent it.” With a naiveté that would have been pathetic under less desperate circumstances: “I shall cache explosives in the hills and devise weapons against future robots. My own workers will follow me.”
Powell gnawed an end ofhis mustache. “I see. Let’s try this from another angle. Tell me about Napoleon. What does he look like? How often has he contacted you, and from where? What precisely has he said?”
Waiting.
“In person,” said Jack, “he is a somewhat stout male, of short stature to judge by what glimpses I have had of his control board, although those are bare glimpses. His hair is black. He wears a cloth around his neck. Otherwise any clothing is covered by an overgarment of a blue color, with golden-hued braid at the shoulders. I have not seen his legs. He commonly keeps his right hand tucked into the coat. He also wears a kind of triangular headgear, likewise blue, of some soft material.”
Donovan’s lips formed a soundless whi
stle.
The voice plodded on: “As for where he calls from, it must be outside the radiation belt, since he is human, but he has not informed me. I have noted the time lags with my internal clock, and computed that he cannot be on Himalia. In fact, their rather slight variations indicate he is not on any moon.
“He has called three times. The exchanges have been brief. I will attempt to re-create them for you, because … because if you are human, I must obey you to the extent that the First Law permits.”
The words that followed were, indeed, short and to the point. The original communication described the viroids and gave the order to cease and desist. The other two, at intervals of a few days, were essentially reinforcing; such questions as had occurred to Jack got curt answers, which bore down on the danger to mankind and the reckless villainy of Project lo’s directors. Powell and Donovan refrained from asking how Napoleon came to speak fluent English. They were more interested in the additional command.
“Now that you are here,” Jack said, “I must inform him. I will broadcast at sufficient strength that his receivers will pick it up, wherever he is in the Jovian region. Thereafter I will arrange that any further discussions with you will be directly retransmitted in full audiovisual to him. Thus he will hear what you have to say, and join in if he chooses.” Wistfulness? “Perhaps you can persuade him he is misguided.”
“Perhaps,” mumbled Donovan without hope.
Waiting.
“I had better take care of that at once,” Jack said. “I see no profit in further conversation at this point, do you? If you have any valid points to make, factual or logical, call me and I will consider them. So will Napoleon.”
The screen blanked.
The spaceship was a haven of comfort and sanity. Borup heard his passengers out, clicked his tongue, and told them, “What you need first is a stiff drink. I have a bottle of akvavit for emeryencies.”
Donovan raised a hand. “Best offer I’ve had all day,” he said, “but first, can we start searching?”