“And when he does steal food again?” The mother’s question left no doubt it would happen.
Susan shrugged. “We understand it’s caused by biology, not disobedience. Talk about the incident in the context of keeping him safe and healthy rather than as a terrible or criminal act. You may need to involve other people: neighbors, his friends’ parents, your church, and, of course, the school. Dallas may need a full-time aide to watch him if all of you together can’t keep him safe.”
Susan knew the parents needed time to process the vast amount of information she had dropped on them. “You can stay here as long as you want. When you’re ready to leave, let the nurses know so they can unlock the doors. By then, you may have more questions. Don’t hesitate to ask for me, Susan Calvin.” She turned to leave, stopped by another question from Diesel’s father.
“Dallas will come home soon?”
Susan turned back to face them again. “As soon as Endocrinology sees him, a dietitian writes a plan, and your home is secured. We will begin the transition immediately. When we change our approach to him, I believe he will respond quickly. In the meantime, we need to have your house and family fully prepared.” With that, Susan headed out of the room and down the hallway, preparing for the rest of her day. During rounds, she had outlined her plans for Diesel, and the nurses had shown support. Susan had already spoken with Diesel, preparing him for the many changes. No longer would anyone berate his willpower or damn him for stealing food; those things would not work. From now on, they would become a team, working together to find ways to make his difficult life longer and better.
Mr. Moore called down the hallway. “One more thing, Dr. Calvin.”
Hand on the locked door to the unit, Susan turned.
“We’ll need someone to coordinate all his care, someone he knows and likes. Would you do that for us?”
Susan thought the job better handled by a general pediatrician, but she recognized the honor inherent in the question. She had found the answer so many others had missed, and they trusted her. Dallas was her first breakthrough, special for that as well as all his other issues. On a more selfish level, she realized she needed to know what happened to him from this point on. “I’d be thrilled,” she replied.
Chapter 7
Susan chose to lunch alone, heading to the hidden charting room that had served as her on-call hideaway. She took her lunch and her palm-pross, dropping them on the central table in the cozy nook, but her real reason for coming was to find Nate. She sank into one of the unmatched chairs and opened her reusable lunch sack. Her father had packed her favorite: peanut butter on twelve-grain bread. She removed it from its container, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully, studying the modular shelving, the well-worn textbooks, the computer-processing units, and the plastic storage boxes.
Susan had nearly finished her sandwich, her legs flopped over the arm of her chair, when Nate finally arrived, his tread light and his footsteps nearly silent on the tiled floor. When his gaze fell on her, he stopped, and a welcoming grin split his face. “Dr. Susan Calvin.”
Susan sat up properly in her chair. “Robot N8-C.”
“Call me Nate.”
“Only if you call me Susan.”
“Deal.”
For the second time in two days, Susan studied the robot. He still looked like nothing other than a tall, male human. He might have gears inside, but they did not stutter and whir. If anything, he seemed more graceful, more easily gliding than most humans. “Nate, can you sit for a little while? Do you have some time to talk?”
“I do.” Nate chose the chair catty-corner to Susan’s.
It amazed her how human that action seemed. Most people would have selected the exact same spot, comfortably close for conversation but not violating any personal space. Nothing about him suggested mechanization. Had he not told her, had her father not confirmed it, she would never have known his true nature. “Would you answer a hypothetical question for me?”
Nate spread his hands and nodded, clearly trying to calculate a purpose that had not yet become obvious. “If you wish.”
Susan leaned forward. “Let’s say a fire broke out in a chemical factory with one man trapped inside. Based on the last-known location of the man, and the composition of the fire, he is certainly dead. You also know exposure to the particular heated chemicals involved would destroy your circuitry. You’re told to go in and rescue the man. What do you do?”
Nate laughed. “Someone just learned about the Three Laws of Robotics.”
Caught, Susan could only join the laughter. “Indeed. So, what do you do?”
“Hypothetically.”
“Of course.”
Nate sat back with a sigh of consideration. “It would greatly depend on the specifics of the situation. The Laws have a balance that can actually push Number Two ahead of Number One or Number Three ahead of Number Two in certain situations. It’s not as black and white as the wording might, at first, seem.”
Susan continued to smile. She had been right.
Nate went on. “If I knew for a fact the man inside was alone and dead, Law Number One no longer takes priority. The issue of a human coming to harm from my actions or inactivity becomes moot.”
Susan nodded.
“Law Number Two commands me to obey all orders given by human beings. In your scenario, I’ve been ordered to rescue the man, presumably by a human being. If I know the man is dead, then the command becomes nonsensical; and, therefore, I am no longer obligated to follow it. In that case, Law Number Three comes into effect, and I must protect my own existence. So, assuming all the facts you and I presented, I would not enter the burning chemical factory.”
Susan had surmised as much when she had discussed it with her father.
“However,” Nate added, “if I had any reason to believe the man inside might still be alive, or another human being might be in danger, Law Number One would override all the others. With or without the command, I would do whatever I could to rescue those humans, even if it led to my own destruction.”
Susan liked that she could predict Nate’s actions, and she wished humans were that easy to read.
“Now let me add something to your scenario that might surprise you.”
Susan became all ears. This, she had not anticipated. “All right.”
“Let’s say I heard meowing coming from that burning factory and saw a girl crying and calling for her Fluffy. Then, I would also go inside.”
Susan paused in uncertainty. “To save a cat?”
“Yes.”
Susan tried to guess the reason. “Because . . . if the cat survived . . . the man might . . . also —”
“No.” Nate did not allow her to finish. “We’re still assuming the man is definitely dead.”
“The cat . . . ,” Susan started, then stopped. “The cat is not a human being. Law Number One says nothing about animals.”
“True.” Nate met Susan’s gaze directly. His brown eyes looked placidly into hers, so very real, so human. “But the girl is. Losing her cat would harm her emotionally. And so, by Law Number One, I’m driven to save it at risk to my own existence.”
Excitement thrilled through Susan, and she could do nothing more than stare. Instinctively, she had known the Three Laws of Robotics would not prove as solid and obvious as they originally seemed. However, she had not expected to discover such critical and expressive thinking from a robot. Her father had not given this positronic brain concept the credit it deserved. Clearly, robots did not just think and learn. Nate had applied logic to circumstances to account, not only for facts in evidence, but for complex human emotions. Susan knew more than a few living, breathing people with a lesser grasp of empathy than Nate. “Wow.” She could think of nothing else to say.