“And then one day—”
A robot standing at Amadiro’s elbow would not have dared to interrupt a guest unless a true emergency existed, but Amadiro had no difficulty in understanding the significance of the waiting. He said, “Is dinner ready?”
“Yes, sir,” said the robot.
Amadiro gestured rather impatiently in Vasilia’s direction. “You are invited to have dinner with me.”
They walked into Amadiro’s dining room, which Vasilia had never entered before. Amadiro was, after all, a private person and was notorious for his neglect of the social amenities. He had been told more than once that he would succeed better in politics if he entertained in his home and he had always smiled politely and said, “Too high a price.”
It was perhaps because of his failure to entertain, thought Vasilia, that there was no sign of originality or creativity in the furnishings. Nothing could be plainer than the table, the dishes, and the cutlery. As for the walls, they were merely flat colored vertical planes. Put together, in rather dampened one’s appetite, she thought.
The soup they began with a clear bouillon was as plain as the furniture and Vasilia began to dispose of it without enthusiasm.
Amadiro said, “My dear Vasilia, you see, I am being patient. I have no objection to having you write your autobiography if you wish. But is it really your plan to recite several chapters of it to me? If it is, I must tell you bluntly that I’m not really interested.”
Vasilia said, “You will become extremely interested in just a little while. Still, if you’re really enamored of failure and want to continue to achieve nothing you wish to achieve, simply say so. I will then eat in silence and leave. Is that what you wish?”
Amadiro sighed. “Well, go on, Vasilia.”
Vasilia said, “And then one day I came up with a pattern more elaborate, more pleasant, and more enticing than I had ever seen before or, in all truth, than I have ever seen since. I would have loved to show it to my father, but he was away at some meeting or other on one of the other worlds.
“I didn’t know when he’d be back and I put aside my pattern, but each day I would look at it with more interest and more fascination. Finally, I could wait no longer. I simply could not. It seemed so beautiful that I thought it ludicrous to suppose it could do harm. I was only an infant in my second decade and had not yet completely outgrown irresponsibility, so I modified Giskard’s brain by incorporating the pattern into it.
“And it did no harm. That was immediately obvious. He responded to me with perfect ease and—it seemed to me was far quicker in understanding and much more intelligent than he had been. I found him far more fascinating and lovable than before.
“I was delighted and yet I was nervous, too. What I had done—modifying Giskard without clearing it with Fastolfe was strictly against the rules Fastolfe had set for me and I knew that well. Yet clearly, I was not going to undo what I had done. When I had modified Giskard’s brain, I excused it to myself by saying that it would only be for a little while and that I would then neutralize the modification. Once the modification had been made, however, it became quite clear to me that I would not neutralize it. I was simply not going to do that. In fact, I never modified Giskard again, for fear of disturbing what I had just done.
“Nor did I ever tell Fastolfe what I had done. I destroyed all record of the marvelous pattern I had devised and Fastolfe never found out that Giskard had been modified without his knowledge. Never!
“And then we went our separate ways, Fastolfe and I, and Fastolfe would not give up Giskard. I screamed that he was mine and that I loved him, but Fastolfe’s kindly benevolence, of which he made such a parade all his life—that business of loving all things, great and small—was never allowed to stand in the way of his own desires. I received other robots I cared nothing for, but he kept Giskard for himself.
“And when he died, he left Giskard to the Solarian woman—a last bitter slap at me.”
Amadiro had only managed to get halfway through the salmon mousse. “If all this is intended to advance your case of having Giskard’s ownership transferred from the Solarian woman to yourself, it won’t help. I have already explained to you why I cannot set aside Fastolfe’s will.”
“There’s something more to it than that, Kelden,” said Vasilia. “A great deal more. Infinitely more. Do you want me to stop now?”
Amadiro stretched his lips into a rueful grin. “Having listened to so much of this, I will play the madman and listen to more.”
“You would play the madman if you did not, for I now come to the point.—I have never stopped thinking of Giskard and of the cruelty and injustice of my having been deprived of him, but somehow I never thought of that pattern with which I had modified him with no one’s knowledge but my own. I am quite certain I could not have reproduced that pattern if I had tried and from what I can now remember it was like nothing else I have ever seen in robotics until I saw, briefly, something like that pattern during my stay on Solaria.
“The Solarian pattern seemed familiar to me, but I didn’t know why. It took some weeks of intense thought before I dredged out of some well-hidden part of my unconscious mind the slippery thought of that pattern I had dreamed out of nothing twenty-five decades ago.
“Even though I can’t remember my pattern exactly, I know that the Solarian pattern was a whiff of it and no more. It was just the barest suggestion of something I had captured in miraculously complex symmetry. But I looked at the Solarian pattern with the experience I had gained in twenty-five decades of deep immersion in robotics theory and it suggested telepathy to me. If that simple, scarcely interesting pattern suggested it, what must my original have meant—the thing I invented as a child and have never recaptured since?”
Amadiro said, “You keep saying that you’re coming to the point, Vasilia. Would I be completely unreasonable if I asked you to stop moaning and reminiscing and simply set out that point in a simple, declarative sentence?”
Vasilia said, “Gladly. What I am telling you, Kelden, is that, without my ever knowing it, I converted Giskard into a telepathic robot and that he has been one ever since.”
62
Amadiro looked at Vasilia for a long time and, because the story seemed to have come to an end, he returned to the salmon mousse and ate some of it thoughtfully.
He then said, “Impossible! Do you take me for an idiot?”
“I take you for a failure,” said Vasilia. “I don’t say Giskard can read conversations in minds, that he can transmit and receive words or ideas. Perhaps that is impossible, even in theory. But I am quite certain he can detect emotions and the general set of mental activity and perhaps can even modify it.”
Amadiro shook his head violently. “Impossible!”
“Impossible? Think a while. Twenty decades ago, you had almost achieved your aims. Fastolfe was at your mercy, Chairman Horder was your ally. What happened? Why did everything go wrong?”
“The Earthman—” Amadiro began, choking at the memory.
“The Earthman,” Vasilia mimicked. “The Earthman. Or was it the Solarian woman? It was neither! Neither! It was Giskard, who was there all the time. Sensing. Adjusting.”
“Why should he be interested? He is a robot.”
“A robot loyal to his master, to Fastolfe. By the First Law, he had to see to it that Fastolfe came to no harm and, being telepathic, he could not interpret that as signifying physical harm only. He knew that if Fastolfe could not have his way, could not encourage the settlement of the habitable worlds of the Galaxy, he would undergo profound disappointment—and—that would be ‘harm’ in Giskard’s telepathic Universe. He could not let that happen and he intervened to keep it from happening.”