"Oh, stop being such a pompous lamebrain, will you?" Heywood said disgustedly. "Russell and I weren't doing any sabotaging. We've been following our orders to the last letter. We built the prototype, and we've been testing the various modifications ever since. Anything wrong with. that?"
"You've made absolutely no attempt to improve the various modifications. There hasn't been an ounce of progress in this project for the last twenty days.
"Now, look, Heywood"-Ligget's voice became wheedling-"I can understand that you might have what you'd consider a good reason for all this. What is it-political, or something? Maybe it's your conscience. Don't you want to work on something that's eventually going to be applied to war? I wish you'd tell me about it. If I could understand your reasons, it would be that much easier for you. Maybe it's too tough a problem. Is that it, Heywood?"
Heywood's face got red. "No, it's not. If you think-" He stopped, dug his fingers at the top of the table, and got control of himself again.
"No," he said in a quieter, but just as deadly, voice. "I'm as anxious to produce an artificial soldier as anybody else. And I'm not too stupid for the job, either. If you had any brains, you'd see that I already have."
That hit Ligget between the eyes. "You have? Where is it, and why haven't you reported your success? What is this thing?" He pointed at me. "Some kind of a decoy?"
Heywood grimaced. "No, you double-dyed jackass, that's your soldier."
"What?"
"Sure. Strip those fifteen pounds of cutoffs out of him, redesign his case for whatever kind of ground he's supposed to operate on, feed him the proper tapes, and that's it. The perfect soldier-as smart as any human ever produced, and a hundred times the training and toughness, overnight. Run them out by the thousands. Print your circuits, bed your transistors in silicone rubber, and pour the whole brew into his case. Production difficulties? Watchmaking's harder."
"No!" Ligget's eyes gleamed. "And I worked on this with you! Why haven't you reported this!" he repeated.
Heywood looked at him pityingly. "Haven't you got it through your head? Pimmy's the perfect soldier-all of him, with all his abilities. That includes individuality, curiosity, judgment-and intelligence. Cut one part of that, and he's no good. You've got to take the whole cake, or none at all. One way you starve-and the other way you choke."
Ligget had gone white. "You mean, we've got to take the superman-or we don't have anything."
"Yes, you fumbling jerk!"
Ligget looked thoughtful. He seemed to forget Heywood and me as he stared down at his shoetops. "They won't go for it," he muttered. "Suppose they decide they're better fit to run the world than we are?"
"That's the trouble," Heywood said, "They are. They've got everything a human being has, plus incredible toughness and the ability to learn instantaneously. You know what Pimmy did? The day he was assembled, he learned to read and write, after a fashion. How? By listening to me read a paragraph out of a report, recording the sounds, and looking at the report afterwards. He matched the sounds to the letters, recalled what sort of action on Russell's and my part the paragraph had elicited, and sat down behind a typewriter. That's all."
"They'd junk the whole project before they let something like that run around loose!" The crafty look was hovering at the edges of Ligget's mask again. "All right, so you've got an answer, but it's not an acceptable one. But why haven't you pushed any of the other lines of investigation?"
"Because there aren't any," Heywood said disgustedly. "Any other modification, when worked out to its inherent limits, is worse than useless. You've run enough tests to find out."
"All right!" Ligget's voice was high. "Why didn't you report failure, then, instead of keeping on with this shilly-shallying?"
"Because I haven't failed, you moron!" Heywood exploded. "I've got the answer. I've got Pimmy. There's nothing wrong with him-the defect's in the way people are thinking. And I've been going crazy, trying to think of a way to change the people. To hell with modifying the robot! He's as perfect as you'll get within the next five years. It's the people who'll have to change!"
"Uh-huh." Ligget's voice was careful. "I see. You've gone as far as you can within the limits of your orders-and you were trying to find a way to exceed them, in order to force the armed services to accept robots like Pimmy." He pulled out his wallet, and flipped it open. There was a piece of metal fastened to one flap.
"Recognize this, Heywood?"
Heywood nodded.
"All right, then, let's go and talk to a few people."
Heywood's eyes were cold and brooding again. He shrugged.
The lab door opened, and there was another one of the lab technicians there. "Go easy, Ligget," he said. He walked across the lab in rapid strides. His wallet had a different badge in it. "Listening from next door," he explained. "All right, Heywood," he said, "I'm taking you in." He shouldered Ligget out of the way. "Why don't you guys learn to stay in your own jurisdiction," he told him.
Ligget's face turned red, and his fists clenched, but the other man must have had more weight behind him, because he didn't say anything.
Heywood looked over at me, and raised a hand. "So long, Pimmy," he said. He and the other man walked out of the lab, with Ligget trailing along behind them. As they got the door open, I saw some other men standing out in the hall. The man who had come into the lab cursed. "You guys!" he said savagely. "This is my prisoner, see, and if you think-"
The door closed, and I couldn't hear the rest of what they said, but there was a lot of arguing before I heard the sound of all their footsteps going down the hall in a body.
Well, that's about all, I guess. Except for this other thing. It's about Ligget, and I hear he's not around any more. But you might be interested. September 4, 1974
I haven't seen Heywood, and I've been alone in the lab all day. But Ligget came in last night. I don't think I'll see Heywood again.
Ligget came in late at night. He looked as though he hadn't slept, and he was very nervous. But he was drunk, too-I don't know where he got the liquor.
He came across the lab floor, his footsteps very loud on the cement, and he put his hands on his hips and looked up at me.
"Well, superman," he said in a tight, edgy voice, "you've lost your buddy for good, the dirty traitor. And now you're next. You know what they're going to do to you?" He laughed. "You'll have lots of time to think it over."
He paced back and forth in front of me. Then he spun around suddenly and pointed his finger at me. "Thought you could beat the race of men, huh? Figured you were smarter than we were, didn't you? But we've got you now! You're going to learn that you can't try to fool around with the human animal, because he'll pull you down. He'll claw and kick you until you collapse. That's the way men are, robot. Not steel and circuits-flesh and blood and muscles. Flesh that fought its way out of the sea and out of the jungle, muscle that crushed everything that ever stood in his way, and blood that's spilled for a million years to keep the human race on top. That's the kind of an organism we are, robot."
He paced some more and spun again. "You never had a chance."
Well, I guess that is all. The rest of it, you know about. You can pull the transcriber plug out of here now, I guess. Would somebody say good-by to Heywood for me-and Russell, too, if that's possible?
COVERING MEMORANDUM,
Blalock, Project Engineer, to Hall, Director,
820TH TDRC, COMASAMPS
September 21, 1974
Enclosed are the transcriptions of the robot's readings from his memory-bank "diary," as recorded this morning. The robot is now enroute to the Patuxent River, the casting of the concrete block having been completed with the filling of the opening through which the transcription line was run.