I, Robot - Isaac Asimov [59]
“One word from you, Dr. Calvin,” said the general, deliberately, “in violation of security measures, and you would be certainly imprisoned instantly.”
Bogert felt the matter to be getting out of hand. His voice grew syrupy, “Well, now, we’re beginning to act like children, all of us. We need only a little more time. Surely we can outwit a robot without resigning, or imprisoning people, or destroying two millions.”
The psychologist turned on him with quiet fury, “I don’t want any unbalanced robots in existence. We have one Nestor that’s definitely unbalanced, eleven more that are potentially so, and sixty-two normal robots that are being subjected to an unbalanced environment. The only absolute safe method is complete destruction.”
The signal-burr brought all three to a halt, and the angry tumult of growingly unrestrained emotion froze.
“Come in,” growled Kallner.
It was Gerald Black, looking perturbed. He had heard angry voices. He said, “I thought I’d come myself . . . didn’t like to ask anyone else—”
“What is it? Don’t orate—”
“The locks of Compartment C in the trading ship have been played with. There are fresh scratches on them.”
“Compartment C?” explained Calvin quickly. “That’s the one that holds the robots, isn’t it? Who did it?”
“From the inside,” said Black, laconically.
“The lock isn’t out of order, is it?”
“No. It’s all right. I’ve been staying on the ship now for four days and none of them have tried to get out. But I thought you ought to know, and I didn’t like to spread the news. I noticed the matter myself.”
“Is anyone there now?” demanded the general.
“I left Robbins and McAdams there.”
There was a thoughtful silence, and then Dr. Calvin said, ironically, “Well?”
Kallner rubbed his nose uncertainly, “What’s it all about?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Nester 10 is planning to leave. That order to lose himself is dominating his abnormality past anything we can do. I wouldn’t be surprised if what’s left of his First Law would scarcely be powerful enough to override it. He is perfectly capable of seizing the ship and leaving with it. Then we’d have a mad robot on a spaceship. What would he do next? Any idea? Do you still want to leave them all together, general?”
“Nonsense,” interrupted Bogert. He had regained his smoothness. “All that from a few scratch marks on a lock.”
“Have you, Dr. Bogert, completed the analysis I’ve required, since you volunteer opinions?”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
“No.”
“Why not? Or mayn’t I ask that, either?”
“Because there’s no point in it, Susan. I told you in advance that these modified robots are less stable than the normal variety, and my analysis shows it. There’s a certain very small chance of breakdown under extreme circumstances that are not likely to occur. Let it go at that. I won’t give you ammunition for your absurd claim that sixty-two perfectly good robots be destroyed just because so far you lack the ability to detect Nestor 10 among them.”
Susan Calvin stared him down and let disgust fill her eyes. “You won’t let anything stand in the way of the permanent directorship, will you?”
“Please,” begged Kallner, half in irritation. “Do you insist that nothing further can be done, Dr. Calvin?”
“I can’t think of anything, sir,” she replied, wearily. “If there were only other differences between Nestor 10 and the normal robots, differences that didn’t involve the First Law. Even one other difference. Something in impressionment, environment, specification—” And she stopped suddenly.
“What is it?”
“I’ve thought of something . . . I think—” Her eyes grew distant and hard, “These modified Nestors, Peter. They get the same impressioning the normal ones get, don’t they?”
“Yes. Exactly the same.”
“And what was it you were saying, Mr. Black,” she turned to the young man, who through the storms that had followed his news had maintained a discreet silence. “Once when complaining of the Nestors’ attitude of superiority, you said the technicians had