Connie Willis
Dilemma
We want to see Dr. Asimov, “ the bluish-silver robot said.
“Dr. Asimov is in conference,” Susan said. “You’ll have to make an appointment.” She turned to the computer and called up the calendar.
“I knew we should have called first,” the varnished robot said to the white one. “Dr. Asimov is the most famous author of the twentieth century and now the twenty-first, and as such he must be terribly busy.”
“I can give you an appointment at two-thirty on June twenty-fourth,” Susan said, “or at ten on August fifteenth.”
“June twenty-fourth is one hundred and thirty-five days from today,” the white robot said. It had a large red cross painted on its torso and an oxygen tank strapped to its back.
“We need to see him today,” the bluish-silver robot said, bending over the desk.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. He gave express orders that he wasn’t to be disturbed. May I ask what you wish to see Dr. Asimov about?”
He leaned over the desk even farther and said softly, “You know perfectly well what we want to see him about. Which is why you won’t let us see him. “
Susan was still scanning the calendar. “I can give you an appointment two weeks from Thursday at one forty-five.”
“We’ll wait,” he said and sat down in one of the chairs. The white robot rolled over next to him, and the varnished robot picked up a copy of The Caves of Steel with his articulated digital sensors and began to thumb through it. After a few minutes the white robot picked up a magazine, but the bluish-silver robot sat perfectly still, staring at Susan.
Susan stared at the computer. After a very long interval the phone rang. Susan answered it and then punched Dr. Asimov’s line. “Dr. Asimov, it’s a Dr. Linge Chen. From Bhutan. He’s interested in translating your books into Bhutanese.”
“All of them?” Dr. Asimov said. “Bhutan isn’t a very big country.”
“I don’t know. Shall I put him through. sir?” She connected Dr. Linge Chen.
As soon as she hung up, the bluish-silver robot came and leaned over her desk again. “I thought you said he gave express orders that he wasn’t to be disturbed.”
“Dr. Linge Chen was calling all the way from Asia,” she said. She reached for a pile of papers and handed them to him. “Here.”
“What are these?”
“The projection charts you asked me to do. I haven’t finished the spreadsheets yet. I’ll send them up to your office tomorrow. “
He took the projection charts and stood there, still looking at her.
“I really don’t think there’s any point in your waiting, Peter,” Susan said. “Dr. Asimov’s schedule is completely booked for the rest of the afternoon, and tonight he’s attending a reception in honor of the publication of his one thousandth book.”
“Asimov’s Guide to Asimov’s Guides, “ the varnished robot said. “Brilliant book. I read a review copy at the bookstore where I work. Informative, thorough, and comprehensive. An invaluable addition to the field.”
“It’s very important that we see him,” the white robot said, rolling up to the desk. “We want him to repeal the Three Laws of Robotics. “
“‘First Law: A robot shall not injure a human being, or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm,’ “ the varnished robot quoted. “ ‘Second “Law: A robot shall obey a human being’s order if it doesn’t conflict with the First Law. Third Law: A robot shall attempt to preserve itself if it doesn’t conflict with the first or second laws.’ First outlined in the short story ‘Runaround,’ Astounding magazine, March 1942, and subsequently expounded in I, Robot, The Rest of the Robots, The Complete Robot, and The Rest of the Rest of the Robots. “
“Actually, we just want the First Law repealed,” the white robot said. “, A robot shall not injure a human being. ‘ Do you realize what that means? I’m programmed to diagnose diseases and administer medications, but I can’t stick the needle in the patient. I’m programmed to perform over eight hundred types of surgery, but I can’t make the initial incision. I can’t even do the Heimlich Maneuver. The First Law renders me incapable of doing the job I was designed for, and it’s absolutely essential that I see Dr. Asimov to ask him-”
The door to Dr. Asimov’s office banged open and the old man hobbled out. His white hair looked like he had been tearing at it, and his even whiter muttonchop sideburns were quivering with some strong emotion. “Don’t put any more calls through today, Susan,” he said. “Especially not from Or. Linge Chen. Do you know which book he wanted to translate into Bhutanese first? 2001: A Space Odyssey!”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir. I didn’t intend to-”
He waved his hand placatingly at her. “It’s all right. You had no way of knowing he was an idiot. But if he calls back, put him on hold and play Also Sprach Zarathustra in his ear.”
“I don’t see how he could have confused your style with Arthur Clarke’s,” the varnished robot said, putting down his book. “Your style is far more lucid and energetic, and your extrapolation of the future far more visionary. “
Asimov looked inquiringly at Susan through his blackframed metafocals.
“They don’t have an appointment,” she said. “I told them they-”
“Would have to wait,” the bluish-silver robot said, extending his finely coiled Hirose hand and shaking Dr. Asimov’s wrinkled one. “ And it has been more than worth the wait, Dr. Asimov. I cannot tell you what an honor it is to meet the author of I, Robot, sir. “
“And of The Human Body, “ the white robot said, rolling over to Asimov and extending a four-fingered gripper from which dangled a stethoscope. “ A classic in the field.”
“How on earth could you keep such discerning readers waiting?” Asimov said to Susan.
“I didn’t think you would want to be disturbed when you were writing,” Susan said.
“Are you kidding?” Asimov said. “Much as I enjoy writing, having someone praise your books is even more enjoyable, especially when they’re praising books I actually wrote.”
“It would be impossible to praise Foundation enough,” the varnished robot said. “Or any of your profusion of works, for that matter, but Foundation seems to me to be a singular accomplishment, the book in which you finally found a setting of sufficient scope for the expression of your truly galaxy-sized ideas. It is a privilege to meet you, sir,” he said, extending his hand.
“I’m happy to meet you, too,” Asimov said, looking interestedly at the articulated wooden extensor. “ And you are?”
“My job description is Book Cataloguer, Shelver, Reader, Copyeditor, and Grammarian. “ He turned and indicated the other two robots. “ Allow me to introduce Medical Assistant and the leader of our delegation, Accountant, Financial Analyst, and Business Manager.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Asimov said, shaking appendages with all of them again. “You call yourselves a delegation. Does that mean you have a specific reason for coming to see me?”
“Yes, sir,” Office Manager said. “We want you to-”
“It’s three forty-five, Dr. Asimov,” Susan said. “You need to get ready for the Doubleday reception. “
He squinted at the digital on the wall. “That isn’t till six, is it?”
“Doubleday wants you there at five for pictures, and it’s formal,” she said firmly. “Perhaps they could make an appointment and come back when they could spend more time with you. I can give them an appointment-”
“For June twenty-fourth?” Accountant said. “Or August fifteenth?”
“Fit them in tomorrow, Susan,” Asimov said, coming over to the desk.
“You have a meeting with your science editor in the morning and then lunch with Al Lanning and the American Booksellers Association dinner at seven.”
“What about this?” Asimov said, pointing at an open space on the schedule. “Four o’clock.”