The Positronic Man (12 page)

"I understand now."

"Good. But of course the thing my mother doesn't take into account is that I'm not really all that much like my grandfather in temperament, and perhaps I'm not as clever as he was, either, because he had a truly formidable intellect, and so there's no necessary reason why I'd automatically equal the record he ran up in the Legislature. There'll never be anyone like him again, I'm afraid."

Andrew nodded. " And how sad for us that he is no longer with is. I would find it pleasant, George, if Sir were still-" He paused, for he did not want to say, "in working order." He knew that that would not be the appropriate expression to use. And yet it was the first phrase that had come into his mind.

"Still alive?" George finished for him. "Yes. Yes, it would be good to have him around. I have to confess I miss the old monster at least as much as you do."

"Monster?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Ah. Yes. A manner of speaking."

When George had gone, Andrew replayed the conversation in his mind, puzzling over its twists and turns and trying to see why he had been so badly off balance throughout it. It had been George's use of idiomatic phrases and colloquial language, Andrew decided, that had caused the problems.

Even after all this time, it was still difficult sometimes for Andrew to keep pace with humans when they struck out along linguistic pathways that were something other than the most direct ones. He had come into being equipped with an extensive innate vocabulary, a set of grammatical instructions, and the ability to arrange words in intelligible combinations. And through whatever fluke in his generalized positronic pathways it was that made Andrew's intelligence more flexible and adaptable than that of the standard robot, he had been able to develop the knack of conversing easily and gracefully with humans. But there were limits to his abilities along that line.

The problem was only going to get worse as time went along, Andrew realized.

Human languages, he knew, were constantly in a state of flux. There was nothing fixed or really systematic about them. New words were invented all the time, old words would change their meanings, all sorts of short-lived informal expressions slipped into ordinary conversation. That much he had already had ample reason to learn, though he had not done any kind of scientific investigation of the kinds of changes that tended to take place.

The English language, which was the one Andrew used most often, had altered tremendously over the past six hundred years. Now and then he had looked at some of Sir's books, the works of the ancient poets-Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare-and he had seen that their pages were sprinkled with footnotes to explain archaic word usage to modern readers.

What if the language were to change just as significantly in the next six hundred years? How was he going to be able to communicate with the human beings around him, unless he kept up with the changes?

Already, in one brief conversation, George had baffled him three times. "Like grandfather, like grandson." How simple that seemed now that George had explained it-but how mysterious it had been at first.

And why had George called him a "hunk of tin," when George surely knew that there was no tin in Andrew's makeup whatsoever? And-it was the most puzzling one of all-why should George have called Sir a "monster," when that was plainly not an appropriate description of the old man?

Those were not even the latest modern phrases, Andrew knew. They were simply individual turns of phrase, a little too colloquial or metaphorical for instant handling by Andrew's linguistic circuitry. He would face far more mystifying ways of speech in the outside world, he suspected.

Perhaps it was time for him to update some of his linguistic documentation.

His own books would give him no guidance. They were old and most of them dealt with woodworking, with art, with furniture design. There were none on language, none on the ways of human beings. Nor was Sir's library, extensive as it was, likely to be of much use. No one was living in the big house just now-it was sealed, under robot maintenance-but Andrew still could have access to it whenever he wanted. Nearly all of Sir's books, though, dated from the previous century or before. There was nothing there that would serve Andrew's purpose.

All things considered, the best move seemed to be for him to get some up-to-date information-and not from George. When Andrew turned to George at the time he had wanted to start wearing clothing, he had had to fight his way through George's incomprehension and a certain amount of George's condescending amusement. Though he doubted that George would treat him the same way in this matter, he preferred not to find out.

No, he would simply go to town and use the public library. That was the proper self-reliant thing to do-the correct way for a free robot to handle a problem, he told himself. It was a triumphant decision and Andrew felt his electropotential grow distinctly higher as he contemplated it, until he had to throw in an impedance coil to bring himself back to equilibrium.

To the library, yes.

And he would dress for the occasion. Yes. Yes. Humans did not enter the public library unclothed. Neither would he.

He put on a full costume-elegant leggings of a velvety purple fabric, and a flowing red blouse with a satiny sheen, and his best walking boots. He even donned a shoulder chain of polished wooden links, one of his finest productions. It was a choice between that and another chain he had, one made of glitter-plastic, which perhaps was better suited for daytime wear; but George had said that the wooden chain was terribly impressive, particularly since anything made of wood was far more valuable than mere plastic. And he wanted to impress, today. There would be humans in the library, not robots. They would never have seen a robot there before. It was important for him to look his best.

But he knew that he was doing something unusual and that there might be unusual consequences. If George dropped by unexpectedly, he would be surprised to find Andrew gone, and he might be troubled by that.

Andrew had placed a hundred feet between himself and the house before he felt resistance gathering within himself and rapidly reaching the level that would bring him to a halt. He shifted the impedance coil out of circuit, and when that did not seem to make much difference, he returned to his home and on a piece of paper wrote neatly:

I HAVE GOne TO THE LIBRARY. 

—Andrew Martin

and placed it in clear view on his worktable.

ANDREW NEVER QUITE MADE IT to the library that day. He had never been there before-he rarely had reason to venture into the little town a short way down the road from the Martin estate-but he had not expected that to be any problem. He had studied the map with great care. And therefore he knew the route, or so he believed.

But everything he saw, once he was more than a short distance from the house, seemed strange to him. The actual landmarks along the road did not resemble the abstract symbols on the map, not to his way of thinking. He hesitated again and again, comparing the things he was seeing out here with the things he had expected to see, and after he had been walking for a little while he realized that he was lost, that he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere without noticing it and could no longer relate his position to anything on the map.

What to do now? Go back and start again? Or keep on in this direction, and hope that his path would somehow link up with the proper route?

The most efficient thing, Andrew decided, was to ask someone for directions. It might be that he could regain the direction he wanted with relatively little effort.

But who was there to ask? Closer to the house he had seen an occasional field robot, but there were none in sight here. A vehicle passed, but did not stop. Perhaps another one would come by soon. He stood irresolute, which meant calmly motionless; and then he saw two human beings walking diagonally across the field that lay to his left.

He turned to face them.

They saw him, and changed course so that now they were heading in his direction. They changed their demeanor, too. A moment before, they had been talking loudly, laughing and whooping, their voices carrying far across the field-but now they had fallen silent. Their faces bore the look that Andrew associated with human uncertainty.

They were young, but not very young, twenty, perhaps? twenty-five? Andrew had never been very good at judging the age of humans.

He said, when they were still some distance away, "Pardon me, sirs. Would you kindly describe to me the route to the town library?"

They halted and stared.

One of them, the taller and thinner of the two, who was wearing a tall narrow black hat that looked like a length of pipe and extended his height still further, almost grotesquely, said-not to Andrew, but to the other-"I think it's a robot."

"I think you're right," said the other, who was short and plump, and had a bulbous nose and heavy eyelids. "It's got a robot kind of face, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does. Definitely a robot kind of face."

"But it's wearing clothes."

"Very fancy clothes too."

"Imagine that. A robot wearing fancy clothes! What will they think of next?"

"Pardon me, sirs," Andrew said again. "I am in need of assistance. I have been trying to locate the town library, but I seem to have lost my way."

"Speaks just like a robot," the taller one said.

"Got a face just like a robot," said the other.

"Then it must be a robot."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

"But he's wearing clothes."

"Clothes. Absolutely. There's no denying the truth of that, is there?"

"Robots don't wear clothes, do they?"

"Not that I know of."

"If it's wearing clothes, do you think it can be a robot?"

"It's got a metal face. Metal everything. But if it's a robot, why is it wearing clothes?"

The taller one snapped his fingers. "You know what we have here? It's the free robot. There's a robot that lives at the old Charney place that isn't owned by anybody, and I bet this is the one. Why else would it be wearing clothes?"

"Ask it," said the one with the nose.

"Good idea," said the other. He took a few steps toward Andrew and said, " Are you the robot from the Charney place?"

"I am Andrew Martin, sir," said Andrew.

"Pretty snotty kind of robot, aren't you?" the tall one said. "Give me a direct answer when I ask you a question."

"The place where I live is the Martin estate, which is owned by the Charney family. It was formerly the home of Mr. Gerald Martin. Therefore my name is Andrew Martin."

"You're a robot, right?"

"Of course I am, sir."

"Then why are you wearing clothes? Robots don't wear clothes, do they?"

"I wear clothes when I choose to wear them," said Andrew quietly.

"That's disgusting. You're a hideous spectacle decked out like that, do you know that? Absolutely hideous. A robot wearing clothes! Who ever heard of that?" He glanced at his companion. "Have you ever seen anything so disgusting?" And to Andrew he said, "Take off your clothes."

Andrew hesitated. He hadn't heard an order in that tone of voice in so long that his Second Law circuits had momentarily jammed.

The tall one said, "Well, what are you waiting for? I told you to take off your clothes, didn't I? I order you to take off your clothes!"

Slowly, Andrew began to obey. He unfastened his shoulder chain and set it down carefully on the ground. Then he removed his satiny blouse and folded it with great care so that it would not look crumpled when he put it on again. He placed it on the ground next to the chain.

"Faster," said the tall one. "Don't bother folding your things. Just drop them, you hear? Get everything off. Everything."

Andrew unfastened the velvety leggings. He removed the elegant boots.

The nose said, "Well, at least he follows orders."

"He has to. Every robot does. There isn't any two ways about it. Following orders is built right into them. You say, 'Go jump in the lake,' and they jump. You say, 'Bring me a plate of strawberries,' and it goes right out and finds you some strawberries somewhere, even if it's the wrong time of year."

"Sounds like a good deal, having something like that around."

"You bet it is. I've always wondered what it would be like to have a robot of my own. Haven't you?"

The tall one shrugged. "Who could afford it?"

"This one's real available. If it doesn't belong to anyone, he could be ours as much as somebody else's. We just have to tell him that he belongs to us. Make it an order, don't you see?"

The tall one blinked. "Hey! That's right!"

"We'll make him run errands for us. Do all sorts of jobs. Anything we like, it'll have to do. And nobody can stop us. It isn't as if we're stealing anybody's property. He isn't anybody's property."

"But what if someone else tries to take him from us the same way?"

"We'll give him an order that says he can't go off with anybody else," said the nose.

The tall one frowned. "I'm not sure that would work. If he has to obey orders from humans, he'll have to obey orders from anybody else just the same as he does ours, right?"

"Well-"

"Let's worry about that later. -Hey! you! You, robot! Stand on your head!"

"The head is not meant-" Andrew began.

"I said, stand on your head. That's an order. If you don't know how to stand on your head, this is a good moment to start learning the way it's done."

Andrew hesitated again. Then he bent his head toward the ground and put his arms out so that they would bear his weight He attempted to lift his legs. But there was nothing in his circuitry to equip Andrew for dealing easily with such an inverted position, and he lost his balance almost at once. He toppled and fell heavily to the ground, landing on his back. For a moment he lay still, struggling to shake off the effects of his fall, before starting slowly to rise.

"No," the tall one said. "Just stay down there. And don't make a sound." To the other he said, "I bet you we could take him apart and put him back together again. You ever take a robot apart?"

"No. you?"

"Never. But I always wanted to."

"You think he'll let us?"

"How can he stop us?"

Indeed there was no way at all that Andrew was able to stop them, if they ordered him not to resist in a forceful enough manner. The Second Law-obedience to humans-would always take precedence over the Third Law of self-preservation. In any case, it was impossible for him to defend himself against them without running the risk of hurting them, and that would mean breaking the First Law. At that thought every motile unit in him contracted slightly and Andrew began to quiver as he lay stretched full length on the ground.

The tall one walked over and shoved at him with the tip of his boot.

"He's heavy. And I think we're going to need tools to do the job."

Bulbous-nose said, "What if we can't put him back the right way again afterward?"

"What of it?"

"Then we've wasted a perfectly good robot that we could have used for all sorts of other things. I think what we ought to do is order him to take himself apart. He's got to know the right way of doing it. It would be fun to watch him try, anyhow. And then we can assemble him again."

"Right," said the tall one thoughtfully. "But let's get him off the road. If someone happens to come along-"

It was too late. Someone had indeed come along and it was George. From where he lay, Andrew could see him topping a small rise in the middle distance. He would have liked to signal for help. But the last order he had received was, "Don't make a sound," and he was bound by that until countermanded by its giver or some other human being.

George was looking this way, though. And now he was breaking into a trot. In another few moments he was there, somewhat winded, standing at Andrew's side looking down at him in dismay.

The two young men stepped back a little and waited, frowning, glancing uncertainly at each other.

George said anxiously, "Andrew, has anything gone wrong with you?"

Andrew said, "I am quite well, George."

"Why are you lying on the ground like that, then? Can't you get up?"

"I would have no difficulty in doing that, if you wished me to," Andrew said.

"Then do it! Don't just lie there!"

Andrew arose, gratefully, when he heard the order.

George said, " And why are your clothes scattered around all over the place? How come you're not wearing them? What's been going on here?"

The tall young man said, "That your robot, Mac?"

George turned sharply. "He's no one's robot. Have you two been playing games with him?"

"Well, we thought it was pretty weird that a robot would be wearing clothes. So we politely asked him to take them off. What's that to you if you don't own him?"

George said, "Were they trying to harm you, Andrew?"

Andrew said, "It was their intention in some way to dismember me. They were about to move me to a quiet spot and require me to dismember myself."

George looked at the two young men. He was attempting to appear fearless and bold even though he was outnumbered, but Andrew saw his chin tremble.

"Is this true?" George asked them sternly.

The two had evidently also noticed George's obvious discomfort, though, and plainly they had begun to decide that he represented no serious threat to them. George was no longer a young man. His children were grown, now, old enough so that his son Paul had joined the family law firm. George's russet hair had turned gray and his cheeks-without their flaring side-whiskers, now-were the soft pink cheeks of a sedentary man. He was hardly likely to put up much of a fight, no matter how fierce his manner might seem. As the two took note of that, their manner changed, becoming less wary and more confident.

The tall one said lightly, with a smirk on his face, "We wanted to see how he'd go about it, yes. Especially how he was going to manage things toward the end, when he only had one arm still attached."

"You have a peculiar way of amusing yourselves."

"Is that any business of yours?"

"As a matter of fact, it is."

The tall one laughed. " And what are you going to do about it, pudgy? Beat us up?"

"No," George said. "I don't have to. This robot has been with my family for over seventy years, are you aware of that? He knows us and he values us more than he values anyone else in the world. What I'm going to do is tell him that you two have been threatening my life, that you're planning to kill me. I'll ask him to defend me. He'll have to choose between my life and yours, and I know very well which choice he's going to make. -Do you know how strong a robot is? Do you know what's going to happen to you when Andrew attacks you?"

"Hey, wait a second-" the bulbous-nosed one said. He looked troubled again, now. So did the other. They were both beginning to back away a little.

George said sharply, "Andrew, I am in direct personal danger. These two young men are about to cause me harm. I order you to move toward them!"

Andrew obediently took a couple of steps forward, though he wondered what he would be able to do by way of defending George beyond that. In sudden inspiration he brought his arms up into what could perhaps have been interpreted as a menacing position. If the whole idea was simply to have him seem formidable, well, he would make himself look as formidable as he could.

He held the fierce pose. His photoelectric eyes glowed their strongest shade of red. His bare metallic form gleamed in the sunlight.

The two young men didn't choose to stay around to see what was going to happen next. They took off across the field as fast as they could run, and it was only when they were something like a hundred meters away and felt that they had reached a safe place that they turned and glared back, shaking their fists and yelling angry curses.

Andrew took a few more steps in their direction. They swung around and sped away over the top of the hill. Within moments they were down the far side and out of sight.

Even now, Andrew remained in his posture of threat.

"All right, Andrew, you can relax," said George. He was shaking and his face was pale and sweaty. He looked very much unstrung. George was well past the age where he could comfortably face the possibility of a physical confrontation with one young man, let alone two of them at once.

Andrew said, "It is just as well that they ran away. You know that I could never have hurt them, George. I could plainly see that they weren't attacking you."