I, Robot - Isaac Asimov [85]
“Except that a robot might fail due to the inherent inadequacies of his brain. The positronic brain has never equalled the complexities of the human brain.”
“He would have advisers. Not even a human brain is capable of governing without assistance.”
Byerley considered Susan Calvin with grave interest. “Why do you smile, Dr. Calvin?”
“I smile because Mr. Quinn didn’t think of everything.”
“You mean there could be more to that story of his.”
“Only a little. For the three months before election, this Stephen Byerley that Mr. Quinn spoke about, this broken man, was in the country for some mysterious reason. He returned in time for that famous speech of yours. And after all, what the old cripple did once, he could do a second time, particularly where the second job is very simple in comparison to the first.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
Dr. Calvin rose and smoothed her dress. She was obviously ready to leave. “I mean there is one time when a robot may strike a human being without breaking the First Law. Just one time.”
“And when is that?”
Dr. Calvin was at the door. She said quietly, “When the human to be struck is merely another robot.”
She smiled broadly, her thin face glowing. “Good-by Mr. Byerley. I hope to vote for you five years from now—for co-ordinator.”
Stephen Byerley chuckled. “I must reply that that is a somewhat far-fetched idea.”
The door closed behind her.
I stared at her with a sort of horror, “Is that true?”
“All of it,” she said.
“And the great Byerley was simply a robot.”
“Oh, there’s no way of ever finding out. I think he was. But when he decided to die, he had himself atomized, so that there will never be any legal proof. —Besides, what difference would it make?”
“Well—”
“You share a prejudice against robots which is quite unreasoning. He was a very good mayor; five years later he did become Regional Co-ordinator. And when the Regions of Earth formed their Federation in 2044, he became the first World Co-ordinator. By that time it was the Machines that were running the world anyway.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts! The Machines are robots, and they are running the world. It was five years ago that I found out all the truth. It was 2052; Byerley was completing his second term as World Co-ordinator—”
THE EVITABLE
CONFLICT
The Co-ordinator, in his private study, had that medieval curiosity, a fireplace. To be sure, the medieval man might not have recognized it as such, since it had no functional significance. The quiet, licking flame lay in an insulated recess behind clear quartz.
The logs were ignited at long distance through a trifling diversion of the energy beam that fed the public buildings of the city. The same button that controlled the ignition first dumped the ashes of the previous fire, and allowed for the entrance of fresh wood. —It was a thoroughly domesticated fireplace, you see.
But the fire itself was real. It was wired for sound, so that you could hear the crackle and, of course, you could watch it leap in the air stream that fed it.
The Co-ordinator’s ruddy glass reflected, in miniature, the discreet gamboling of the flame, and, in even further miniature, it was reflected in each of his brooding pupils.
—And in the frosty pupils of his guest, Dr. Susan Calvin of U. S. Robots & Mechanical Men Corporation.
The Co-ordinator said, “I did not ask you here entirely for social purposes, Susan.”
“I did not think you did, Stephen,” she replied.
“—And yet I don’t quite know how to phrase my problem. On the one hand, it can be nothing at all. On the other, it can mean the end of humanity.”
“I have come across