The Early Asimov. Volume 3

He said, 'We've got Realo's full story, and we've evaluated it fully and capably. I assure you, no harm exists in them. The experiment is so thoroughly academic, I wouldn't spend two days on it if it weren't for the broad scope of the thing. From what we see, the whole idea was to build up a positronic brain containing modifications of one or two of the fundamental axioms. We haven't worked out the details, but they must be minor, as it was the first experiment of this nature ever tried, and even the great mythical psychologists of that day had to progress stepwise. Those robots, I tell you, are neither supermen nor beasts. I assure you - as a psychologist.'

'Sorry! I'm a psychologist, too. A little more rule-of-thumb, I'm afraid. That's all. But even little modifications! Take the general spirit of combativeness. That isn't the scientific term, but I've no patience for that. You know what I mean. We humans used to be combative. But it's being bred out of us. A stable political and economic system doesn't encourage the waste energy of combat. It's not a survival factor. But suppose the robots are combative. Suppose as the result of a wrong turn during the millennia they've been unwatched, they've become far more combative than ever their first makers intended. They'd be uncomfortable things to be with.'

'And suppose all the stars in the Galaxy became novae at the same time. Let's really start worry ing.'

'And there's another point.' Murry ignored the other's heavy sarcasm. 'Theor Realo liked those robots. He liked robots better than he likes real people. He felt that he fitted there, and we all know he's been a bad misfit in his own world.'

'And what,' asked the Board Master, 'is the significance of that?'

'You don't see it?' Wynne Murry lifted his eyebrows. 'Theor Realo likes those robots because he is like them, obviously. I'll guarantee right now that a complete psychic analysis of Theor Realo will show a modification of several fundamental axioms, and the same ones as in the robots.

'And,' the secretary drove on without a pause, 'Theor Realo worked for a quarter of a century to prove a point, when all science would have laughed him to death if they had known about it. There's fanaticism there; good, honest, inhuman perseverance. Those robots are probably like that!'

'You're advancing no logic. You're arguing like a maniac, like a moon-struck idiot.'

'I don't need strict mathematical proof. Reasonable doubt is sufficient. I've got to protect the Federation. Look, it is reasonable, you know. The psychologists of Dorlis weren't as super as all that. They had to advance stepwise, as you yourself pointed out. Their humanoids - let's not call them robots -were only imitations of human beings and they could be good ones. Humans possess certain very, very complicated reaction systems - things like social consciousness, and a tendency toward the establishment of ethical systems; and more ordinary things like chivalry, generosity, fair play and so on, that simply can't possibly be duplicated. I don't think those humanoids can have them. But they must have perseverance, which practically implies stubbornness and combativeness, if my notion on Theor Realo holds good. Well, if their science is anywhere at all, then I don't want to have them running loose in the Galaxy, if our numbers are a thousand or million times theirs. And I don't intend to permit them to do so!'

The Board Master's face was rigid. 'What are your immediate intentions?'

'As yet undecided. But I think I am going to organize a small-scale landing on the planet.'

'Now, wait.' The old psychologist was up and around the desk. He seized the secretary's elbow. 'Are you quite certain you know what you're doing? The potentialities in this massive experiment are beyond any possible precalculation by you or me. You can't know what you're destroying.'

'I know. Do you think I enjoy what I'm doing? This isn't a hero's job. I'm enough of a psychologist to want to know what's going on, but I've been sent here to protect the Federation, and to the best of my ability I intend doing it - and a dirty job it is. But I can't help it.'

'You can't have thought it out. What can you know of the insight it will give us into the basic ideas of psychology? This will amount to a fusion of two Galactic systems, that will send us to heights that will make up in knowledge and power a million times the amount of harm the robots could ever do, if they were metal-electricity supermen.'

The secretary shrugged. 'Now you're the one that is playing with faint possibilities.'

'Listen, I'll make a deal. Blockade them. Isolate them with your ships. Mount guards. But don't touch them. Give us more time. Give us a chance. You must!'

'I've thought of that. But I would have to get Congress to agree to that. It would be expensive, you know.'

The Board Master flung himself into his chair in wild impatience. 'What kind of expense are you talking about? Do you realize the nature of the repayment if we succeed?'

Murry considered; then, with a half smile, 'What if they develop interstellar travel?'

The Board Master said quickly, 'Then I'll withdraw my objections.' The secretary rose, 'I'll have it out with Congress.'

Brand Gorla's face was carefully emotionless as he watched the Board Master's stooped back. The cheerful pep talks to the available members of the expedition lacked meat, and he listened to them impatiently.

He said, 'What are we going to do now?'

The Board Master's shoulders twitched and he didn't turn. 'I've sent for Theor Realo. That little fool left for the Eastern Continent last week -'

'Why?'

The older man blazed at the interruption. 'How can I understand anything that freak does! Don't you see that Murry's right? He's a psychic abnormality. We had no business leaving him unwatched. If I had ever thought of looking at him twice, I wouldn't have. He's coming back now, though, and he's going to stay back.' His voice fell to a mumble. 'Should have been back two hours ago.'

'It's an impossible position, sir,' said Brand, flatly.

'Think so?'

'Well- Do you think Congress will stand for an indefinite patrol off the robot world? It runs into money, and average Galactic citizens aren't going to see it as worth the taxes. The psychological equations degenerate into the axioms of common sense. In fact, I don't see why Murry agreed to consult Congress.'

'Don't you?' The Board Master finally faced his junior. 'Well, the fool considers himself a psychologist, Galaxy help us, and that's his weak point. He flatters himself that he doesn't want to destroy the robot world in his heart, but that it's the good of the Federation that requires it. And he'll jump at any reasonable compromise. Congress won't agree to it indefinitely, you don't have to point that out to me.' He was talking quietly, patiently. 'But I will ask for ten years, two years, six months -as much as I can get. I'll get something. In that time, we'll learn new facts about the world. Somehow we'll strengthen our case and renew the agreement when it expires. We'll save the project yet.'

There was a short silence and the Board Master added slowly and bitterly, 'And that's where Theor Realo plays a vital part.'

Brand Gorla watched silently, and waited. The Board Master said, 'On that one point, Murry saw what we didn't. Realo is a psychological cripple, and is our real clue to the whole affair. If we study him, we'll have a rough picture of what the robot is like, distorted of course, since his environment has been a hostile, unfriendly one. But we ca0 make allowance for that, estimate his nature in a- Ahh, I'm tired of the whole subject.'

The signal box flashed, and the Board Master sighed. 'Well, he's here. All right, Gorla, sit down, you make me nervous. Let's take a look at him.'

Theor Realo came through the door like a comet and brought himself to a panting halt in the middle of the floor. He looked from one to the other with weak, peering eyes.

'How did all this happen?'

'All what?' said the Board Master coldly. 'Sit down. I want to ask you some questions.'

'No. You first answer me,'

'Sit down!'

Realo sat. His eyes were brimming. 'They're going to destroy the robot world.'

'Don't worry about that.'

'But you said they could if the robots discovered interstellar travel. You said so. You fool. Don't you see -' He was choking.

The Board Master frowned uneasily. 'Will you calm down and talk sense?'

The albino gritted his teeth and forced the words out. 'But they'll have interstellar travel before long.'

And the two psychologists shot toward the little man.

'What!!'

'Well… well, what do you think?' Realo sprang upward with all the fury of desperation. 'Did you think I landed in a desert or in the middle of an ocean and explored a world all by myself? Do you think life is a storybook? I was captured as soon as I landed and taken to the big city. At least, I think it was a big city. It was different from our kind. It had - But I won't tell you.'

'Never mind the city,' shrieked the Board Master. 'You were captured. Go ahead.'

'They studied me. They studied my machine. And then, one night, I left, to tell the Federation. They didn't know I left. They didn't want me to leave.' His voice broke. 'And I would have stayed as soon as not, but the Federation had to know.'