Asimov's Future History Volume 1 (23 page)

What would Larry say?... It didn’t matter, somehow. The exciting days weren’t coming with him. They were leaving with Tony. Now wasn’t that strange? She tried to recapture her mood of three weeks before and failed completely.

The clock shrieked eight at her in eight breathless installments, and she turned to Tony. “They’ll be here soon, Tony. You’d better get into the basement. We can’t let them –”

She stared a moment, then said weakly, “Tony?” and more strongly, “Tony?” and nearly a scream, “
Tony!
”

But his arms were around her now; his face was close to hers; the pressure of his embrace was relentless. She heard his voice through a haze of emotional jumble.

“Claire,” the voice said, “there are many things I am not made to understand, and this must be one of them. I am leaving tomorrow, and I don’t want to. I find that there is more in me than just a desire to please you. Isn’t it strange?”

His face was closer; his lips were warm, but with no breath behind them – for machines do not breathe. They were almost on hers.

... And the bell sounded.

For a moment, she struggled breathlessly, and then he was gone and nowhere in sight, and the bell was sounding again. Its intermittent shrillness was insistent.

The curtains on the front windows had been pulled open. They had been closed fifteen minutes earlier. She knew that.

They must have seen, then. They must
all
have seen – everything!

They came in so politely, all in a bunch – the pack come to howl – with their sharp, darting eyes piercing everywhere. They
had
seen. Why else would Gladys ask in her jabbingest manner after Larry? And Claire was spurred to a desperate and reckless defiance.

Yes, he
is
away. He’ll be back tomorrow, I suppose. No, I haven’t been lonely here myself. Not a bit. I’ve had an exciting time. And she laughed at them. Why not? What could they do? Larry would know the truth, if it ever came to him, the story of what they thought they saw.

But
they
didn’t laugh.

She could read that in the fury in Gladys Claffern’s eyes; in the false sparkle of her words; in her desire to leave early. And as she parted with them, she caught one last, anonymous whisper – disjointed.

“... never saw anything like... so
handsome
 –”

And she knew what it was that had enabled her to finger-snap them so. Let each cat mew; and let each cat know – that she might be prettier than Claire Belmont, and grander, and richer – but not one,
not one
, could have so handsome a lover!

And then she remembered again – again – again, that Tony was a machine, and her skin crawled.

“Go away! Leave me be!” she cried to the empty room and ran to her bed. She wept wakefully all that night and the next morning, almost before dawn, when the streets were empty, a car drew up to the house and took Tony away.

Lawrence Belmont passed Dr. Calvin’s office, and, on impulse, knocked. He found her with Mathematician Peter Bogert, but did not hesitate on that account.

He said, “Claire tells me that U.S. Robots paid for all that was done at my house –”

“Yes,” said Dr. Calvin. “We’ve written it off, as a valuable and necessary part of the experiment. With your new position as Associate Engineer, you’ll be able to keep it up, I think.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. With Washington agreeing to the tests, we’ll be able to get a TN model of our own by next year, I think.” He turned hesitantly, as though to go, and as hesitantly turned back again.

“Well, Mr. Belmont?” asked Dr. Calvin, after a pause.

“I wonder –” began Larry. “I wonder what really happened there. She – Claire, I mean – seems so different. It’s not just her looks – though, frankly, I’m amazed.” He laughed nervously. “It’s
her!
She’s not my wife, really – I can’t explain it.”

“Why try? Are you disappointed with any part of the change?”

“On the contrary. But it’s a little frightening, too, you see –”

“I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Belmont. Your wife has handled herself very well. Frankly, I never expected to have the experiment yield such a thorough and complete test. We know exactly what corrections must be made in the TN model, and the credit belongs entirely to Mrs. Belmont. If you want me to be very honest, I think your wife deserves your promotion more than you do.”

Larry flinched visibly at that. “As long as it’s in the family,” he murmured unconvincingly and left.

Susan Calvin looked after him, “I think that hurt – I hope.... Have you read Tony’s report, Peter?”

“Thoroughly,” said Bogert. “And won’t the TN-3 model need changes?”

“Oh, you think so, too?” questioned Calvin sharply. “What’s your reasoning?”

Bogert frowned. “I don’t need any. It’s obvious on the face of it that we can’t have a robot loose which makes love to his mistress, if you don’t mind the pun.”

“Love! Peter, you sicken me. You really don’t understand? That machine had to obey the First Law. He couldn’t allow harm to come to a human being, and harm was coming to Claire Belmont through her own sense of inadequacy. So he made love to her, since what woman would fail to appreciate the compliment of being able to stir passion in a machine – in a cold, soulless machine. And he opened the curtains that night deliberately, that the others might see and envy – without any risk possible to Claire’s marriage. I think it was clever of Tony –”

“Do you? What’s the difference whether it was pretense or not, Susan? It still has its horrifying effect. Read the report again. She avoided him. She screamed when he held her. She didn’t sleep that last night – in hysterics. We can’t have that.”

“Peter, you’re blind. You’re as blind as I was. The TN model will be rebuilt entirely, but not for your reason. Quite otherwise; quite otherwise. Strange that I overlooked it in the first place,” her eyes were opaquely thoughtful, “but perhaps it reflects a shortcoming in myself. You see, Peter, machines can’t fall in love, but – even when it’s hopeless and horrifying – women can!”

Balance

2024 A.D.

S
USAN
C
ALVIN
STEPPED
up to the podium and surveyed her audience: the stockholders of the United States Robots and Mechanical Men Corporation.

“I want to thank you for your attendance,” she said in her brisk, businesslike way, “and to update you on our latest developments.”

What a fearsome face she has,
thought August Geller, seated in the fourth row of the audience.
She reminds me of my seventh-grade English teacher, the one I was always afraid of

Calvin launched into a detailed explanation of the advanced new circuitry she had introduced into the positronic brain, breaking it down into terms a layman – even a stockholder – could understand.

Brilliant mind,
thought Geller.
Absolutely brilliant. It’s probably just as well. Imagine a countenance like that without a mind to offset it.

“
Are there any questions at this point?” asked Calvin, her cold blue eyes scanning the audience.

“I have one,” said a pretty young woman, rising to her feet.

“Yes?”

The woman voiced her question.

“I thought I had covered that point,” said Calvin, doing her best to hide her irritation. “However...”

She launched into an even more simplistic explanation.

Isn’t it amazing?
thought Geller.
Here are two women, one with a mind like a steel trap, the other with an I. Q. that would probably freeze water, and yet I can’t take my eyes off the woman who asked that ridiculous question. Poor Dr. Calvin; Nature has such a malicious sense of humor.

Calvin noticed a number of the men staring admiringly at her questioner. It was not the first time that men had found something more fascinating than Calvin to capture their attention, nor the hundredth, nor the thousandth.

What a shame,
she thought,
that they aren’t more like robots, that they let their hormones overwhelm their logic. Here I am, explaining how I plan to spend twelve billion dollars of their money. and they’re more interested in a pretty face.

Her answer completed, she launched into a discussion of the attempts they were making to provide stronger bodies for those robots designed for extraterrestrial use by the application of titanium frames with tight molecular bondings.

I wonder,
thought Geller,
if she’s ever even had a date with a man? Not a night of wild passion, God knows, but just a meal and perhaps a trip to the theater, where she didn’t talk business.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
No,
he decided,
it would probably bore her to tears. All she cares about are her formulas and equations. Good looks would be wasted on her.

Calvin caught Geller staring at her, and met and held his gaze.

What a handsome young man,
she thought.
I wonder if I’ve seen him at any previous meetings? I’m sure I’d remember if I had. Why is he staring at me so intently?

I wonder,
thought Geller,
if anyone she’s loved has ever loved her back?

Probably he’s just astounded that a woman can have a brain,
she concluded.
As if anything else mattered.

In fact,
thought Geller,
I wonder if she’s ever loved at all?

Look at that tan,
thought Calvin, still staring at Geller.
It’s attractive, to be sure, but do you ever work, or do you spend all your time lazing mindlessly on the beach?
She fought back an urge to sigh deeply between sentences.
Sometimes it’s hard to imagine that people like you and I even belong to the same species, I have so much more in common with my robots.

Sometimes,
thought Geller,
when I listen to you wax rhapsodic about positronic brains and molecular bonding, it’s hard to imagine that we belong to the same species, you sound so much like one of your robots.

Still,
thought Calvin against her will,
you are tall and you are handsome, and you certainly have an air of self-assuredness about you. Most men won’t or can’t match my gaze. And your eyes are blue and clear. I wonder..
.

Still,
thought Geller,
there must be something there, some core oJ femininity beneath the harsh features and coldly analytical mind. I wonder..
.

Calvin shook her head inadvertently and almost lost track of what she was saying.

Ridiculous,
she concluded.
Absolutely ridiculous.

Geller stared at her one more time, studying the firm jaw, the broad shoulders, the aggressive stance, the face devoid of makeup, the hair that could have been so much more attractive.

Ridiculous,
he concluded.
Absolutely ridiculous.

Calvin spoke for another fifteen minutes, then opened the floor to questions.

There were two, and she handled them both succinctly.

“I want to thank Dr. Calvin for spending this time with us,” concluded Linus Becker, the young chief operating executive of United States Robots and Mechanical Men. “As long as we have her remarkable intellect working for us, I feel confident that we will continue to forge ahead and expand the parameters of the science of robotics.”

“I’ll second that,” said one of the major stockholders. “When we produce a positronic brain with half the capabilities of our own Dr. Calvin, the field of robotics will have come of age.”

“Thank you,” said Calvin, ignoring a strange sense of emptiness within her. “I am truly flattered.”

“It’s we who are flattered,” said Becker smoothly, “to be in the presence of such brilliance.” He applauded her, and soon the entire audience, including Geller, got to their feet and gave her a standing ovation.

Then each in turn walked up to her to introduce himself or herself, and shake her hand, and comment on her intellect and creativity.

“Thank you,” said Calvin, acknowledging yet another compliment.
You take my hand as if you expect it to be tungsten and steel, rather than sinew and bone. Have I come to resemble my robots that much?

“I appreciate your remarks,” said Calvin to another stockholder.
I wonder if lovers speak to each other in the same hail-fellow-well-met tones?

And then Geller stepped up and took her hand, and she almost jumped from the sensation, the electricity passing from his strong, tanned hand to her own.

“I think you are quite our greatest asset, Dr. Calvin,” he said.

“Our robots are our greatest asset,” she replied graciously. “I’m just a scientific midwife.”

He stared intently at her for a moment, and suddenly the tension left his body.
Impossible. You’re too much like them. If I asked you out, it would be an act of charity, and I think you are too proud and too perceptive to accept that particular kind of charity.

She looked into his eyes one last time.
Impossible. I have my work to do – and my robots never disappoint me by proving to be merely human.

“Remember, everyone,” announced Becker, “there’s a banquet three hours from now.” He turned to Calvin. “You’ll be there, of course.”

Calvin nodded. “I’ll be there,” she said with a sigh.

She had only an hour to change into a formal gown for the banquet, and she was running late. She entered her rather nondescript apartment, walked through the living room and bedroom, both of which were filled to overflowing with scientific journals, opened her closet, and began laying out her clothes on the bed.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have the most beautiful blue eyes?” asked her butler robot.

“Why, thank you,” said Calvin.

“It’s true, you know,” continued the butler. “Lovely, lovely eyes, as blue as the purest sapphire.”

Her robot maid entered the bedroom to help her dress.

“Such a pretty smile,” said the maid. “If I had a smile like yours, men would fight battles just for the pleasure of seeing it turned upon them.”

“You’re very kind,” said Calvin.

“Oh, no, Mistress Susan,” the robot maid corrected her. “
You’re
very beautiful.”