Asimov's Future History Volume 1 (74 page)

When Bogert came, Robertson was with him. Both entered and Susan greeted the latter with an unenthusiastic “Hello, Scott.”

Bogert tried desperately to gauge the results from Susan’s face, but it was only the face of a grim old lady who had no intention of making anything easy for him.

He said cautiously, “Do you think there’s anything you can do, Susan?”

“Beyond what I have already done? No! There’s nothing more.” Bogert’s lips set in chagrin, but Robertson said, “What have you already done, Susan?”

Susan said, “I’ve thought a little; something I can’t seem to persuade anyone else to do. For one thing, I’ve thought about Madarian. I knew him, you know. He had brains but he was a very irritating extrovert. I thought you would like him after me, Peter.”

“It was a change,” Bogert couldn’t resist saying.

“And he was always running to you with results the very minute he had them, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was.”

“And yet,” said Susan, “his last message, the one in which he said Jane had given him the answer, was sent from the plane. Why did he wait so long? Why didn’t he call you while he was still at flagstaff, immediately after Jane had said whatever it was she said?”

“I suppose,” said Peter, “that for once he wanted to check it thoroughly and – well, I don’t know. It was the most important thing that had ever happened to him; he might for once have wanted to wait and be sure of himself.”

“On the contrary; the more important it was, the less he would wait, surely. And if he could manage to wait, why not do it properly and wait till he was back at U. S. Robots so that he could check the results with all the computing equipment this firm could make available to him? In short, he waited too long from one point of view and not long enough from another.”

Robertson interrupted. “Then you think he was up to some trickery –”

Susan looked revolted. “Scott, don’t try to compete with Peter in making inane remarks. Let me continue.... A second point concerns the witness. According to the records of that last call, Madarian said, ‘Poor guy jumped two feet when Jane suddenly began to reel out the answer in her gorgeous voice.’ In fact, it was the last thing he said. And the question is, then, why should the witness have jumped? Madarian had explained that all the men were crazy about that voice, and they had had ten days with the robot – with Jane. Why should the mere act of her speaking have startled them?”

Bogert said, “I assumed it was astonishment at hearing Jane give an answer to a problem that has occupied the minds of planetologists for nearly a century.”

“But they were
waiting
for her to give that answer. That was why she was there. Besides, consider the way the sentence is worded. Madarian’s statement makes it seem the witness was startled, not astonished, if you see the difference. What’s more, that reaction came ‘when Jane suddenly began’ – in other words, at the very start of the statement. To be astonished at the content of what Jane said would have required the witness to have listened awhile so that he might absorb it. Madarian would have said he had jumped two feet
after
he had heard Jane say thus-and-so. It would be ‘after’ not ‘when’ and the word ‘suddenly’ would not be included.”

Bogert said uneasily, “I don’t think you can refine matters down to the use or non-use of a word.”

“I can,” said Susan frostily, “because I am a robopsychologist. And I can expect Madarian to do so, too, because
he
was a robopsychologist. We have to explain those two anomalies, then. The queer delay before Madarian’s call and the queer reaction of the witness.”

“Can
you
explain them?” Asked Robertson. “Of course,” said Susan, “since I use a little simple logic. Madarian called with the news without delay, as he always did, or with as little delay as he could manage. If Jane had solved the problem at Flagstaff, he would certainly have called from Flagstaff. Since he called from the plane, she must clearly have solved the problem after he had left Flagstaff.”

“But then –”

“Let me finish. Let me finish. Was Madarian not taken from the airport to Flagstaff in a heavy, enclosed ground car? And Jane, in her crate, with him?”

“Yes.”

“And presumably, Madarian and the crated Jane returned from Flagstaff to the airport in the same heavy, enclosed ground car. Am I right?”

“Yes, of course!”

“And they were not alone in the ground car, either. In one of his calls, Madarian said, ‘We were chauffeured from the airport to the main administration building,’ and I suppose I am right in concluding that if he was chauffeured, then that was because there was a chauffeur, a human driver, in the car.”

“Good God!”

“The trouble with you, Peter, is that when you think of a witness to a planetological statement, you think of planetologists. You divide up human beings into categories, and despise and dismiss most. A robot cannot do that. The First Law says, ‘A robot may not injure a
human being
or, through inaction, allow a
human being
to come to harm.’
Any
human being. That is the essence of the robotic view of life. A robot makes no distinction. To a robot, all men are truly equal, and to a robopsychologist who must perforce deal with men at the robotic level, all men are truly equal, too.

“It would not occur to Madarian to say a truck driver had heard the statement. To you a truck driver is not a scientist but is a mere animate adjunct of a truck, but to Madarian he was a man and a witness. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Bogert shook his head in disbelief. “But you are
sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. How else can you explain the other point; Madarian’s remark about the startling of the witness? Jane was crated, wasn’t she? But she was
not
deactivated. According to the records, Madarian was always adamant against ever deactivating an intuitive robot. Moreover, Jane-5, like any of the Janes, was extremely non-talkative. Probably it never occurred to Madarian to order her to remain quiet within the crate; and it was within the crate that the pattern finally fell into place. Naturally she began to talk. A beautiful contralto voice suddenly sounded from inside the crate. If you were the truck driver, what would you do at that point? Surely you’d be startled. It’s a wonder he didn’t crash.”

“But if the truck driver was the witness, why didn’t he come forward –”

“Why? Can he possibly know that anything crucial had happened, that what he heard was important? Besides, don’t you suppose Madarian tipped him well and asked him not to say anything? Would you
want
the news to spread that an activated robot was being transported illegally over the Earth’s surface.”

“Well, will he remember what was said?”

“Why not? It might seem to you, Peter, that a truck driver, one step above an ape in your view, can’t remember. But truck drivers can have brains, too. The statements were most remarkable and the driver may well have remembered some. Even if he gets some of the letters and numbers wrong, we’re dealing with a finite set, you know, the fifty-five hundred stars or star systems within eighty light-years or so – I haven’t looked up the exact number. You can make the correct choices. And if needed, you will have every excuse to use the Psycho-probe –”

The two men stared at her. Finally Bogert, afraid to believe, whispered, “But how can you be
sure?”

For a moment, Susan was on the point of saying: Because I’ve called Flagstaff, you fool, and because I spoke to the truck driver, and because he told me what he had heard, and because I’ve checked with the computer at Flagstaff and got the only three stars that fit the information, and because I have those names in my pocket.

But she didn’t. Let him go through it all himself. Carefully, she rose to her feet, and said sardonically, “How can I be sure?... Call it feminine intuition.”

The Fourth Law of Robotics

2065 A.D.

T
HE
SECRETARY
SURGED
to her feet as i rushed by her desk.

“Stop! You can’t go in there! This is Dr. Calvin’s office!”

“I know,” I demurred. “That’s why I am here.”

Then I was through the door and it closed behind me. Dr. Calvin looked up and frowned at me through her reading glasses.

“You seem in quite a hurry, young man.”

“I am, Dr. Calvin, I am —” My words ground to a halt like an old Victrola with a busted spring. With her glasses off Dr. Calvin’s eyes were limpid pools of unfulfilled desire. Her figure, despite the lab gown, could not be disguised in its pulchritude.

“Did you look at my great-aunt in that steamy-eyed way, Dr. Donovan?” She smiled.

“No, no, of course not!” I stammered, rubbing my hand across my iron-gray hair. Or rather my bald skull fringed by iron-gray hair. And realized my mistake. “I was not looking at you in any particular way, Dr. Calvin.” She smiled warmly at that and an ache passed through every fiber of my being. I grabbed my mind by the neck and shook it, remembering my pressing errand. “I have a pressing errand, which is why I have burst into your office like this. I have reason to believe that a robot has just held up a bank.”

Well, as you might very well imagine, that got her attention. She dropped back into her chair, her eyes opened wide, she gasped, and I could see the sweat spring to her brow and the slight tremor of her hand.

“I can guess that you are a little surprised by this news,” I said.

“Not at all,” she sussurated. “It had to happen one day. Tell me about it.”

“I will do better — I will show you.”

I slipped the security camera ‘s visivox recording into the projector on her desk and thumbed it to life. One end of her office appeared to vanish, to be replaced by the interior of a financial establishment. Tellers dispensed money and services to attendant customers.

“I don’t see any holdup,” she said sweetly.

“Wait,” I cozened. Then the revolving door revolved and a man came into the bank. He was dressed in black from head to toe — black raincoat, black fedora hat, even black gloves and dark glasses. Even more interesting was the fact that when he turned to face the hidden camera, it could be seen that his features were concealed by a black ski mask. I saw that I had all of Dr. Calvin’s attention now.

We watched as he walked to the nearest free window. The teller looked up and smiled.

“May I help you?” he asked, the smile fading as he looked at the sinister figure before him.

“You may,” the man said in a woman’s clear contralto voice as he took a hand grenade from his pocket and held it out. Then pulled the pin and let the pin drop to the floor. “This is a hand grenade,” the lovely voice said.

“And I have pulled and discarded the pin. If I open my hand now the lever will fly off. Three seconds after release a hand grenade will explode. This kind of explosion tends to have a deleterious effect on people. Now I, for one, do not want this to happen and — I am just guessing? — I feel that you don’t want this to happen, either. Would you like to keep my hand closed? Just nod. That’s fine. Then we agree. Now I’ll bet that you think it is a really hunky-dory idea to take all of the money from your cash drawer, place it in this bag, and pass it back to me. How nice — you
do
think that it is a good idea. Very
good!
You have a nice day, hear.”

With this parting jest the man turned and strode across the bank. He was almost at the exit when the teller shouted a warning and alarm bells sounded.

What happened next was terrible. Unbelievable. Yet it happened. The thief turned and dropped the hand grenade, turned back and sprang at the revolving door, and pushed his way clear in the brief time before the grenade exploded.

“Close your eyes if you don’t want to watch,” I said.

“I can watch,” Dr. Calvin said grimly.

There was a burst of smoke from the grenade — and it emitted a shrill scream and a cloud of sparkling stars as it spun about. Then the shriek died away into silence, the fireworks stopped.

“It did not explode,” she observed.

“Quite correct.”

“And why do you assume that the thief was a robot? Because the figure appeared to be male yet he spoke with a female voice?”

“That was my first clue. Robot voice simulators are so perfect these days that to the casual ear they
are
perfect. Only computer analysis can pinpoint the artificial signal generation. So a robot can speak with a soprano or a bass voice.”

“And this one dressed as a man and used a woman’s voice. But why? To cause confusion?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps — just as a joke.”

Dr. Calvin’s eyes widened and a trace of a smile touched her lips and was gone. “That is an intriguing thought, Dr. Donovan. Do go on.”

“This was my first clue as to the thief’s identity. But I needed more evidence. I found it 
—
here.”

I touched the controls of the visivox and the action slowed. The masked figure turned to the revolving door, pushed and exited. The action repeated over and over.

“This is the vital clue. I had the revolving door removed and had it weighed. The entire unit weighs two hundred and thirty kilos. I then had the computer estimate the force needed to get it to reach this speed in this time for varying amounts of pressure. Watch the green computer trace now. This is the maximum pressure that can be exerted by a fifty-kilo woman working her hardest.”

The green trace appeared in the air — ending well behind the image of the moving door.

“Interesting,” Dr. Calvin observed. “Voice or not, that was not a woman.”

“Exactly. Now the blue trace you see coming up would be that of a seventy-five-kilo man. Next the orange trace of a hundred-kilo man of exceptional strength.”

This trace, like all of the others, ended well behind the image of the moving door, being pushed around by the hand of the bank robber. I actuated the controls again and a red trace appeared that swung out fat ahead of the others and ended at the moving door.

“The red trace,” she said. “Tell me about it.”

“That trace represents the amount of energy needed to accelerate that door from a zero-motion state to the speed it reached to permit the thief to exit with the money in the time observed. I can give you the foot-pounds or meter-kilograms if you wish —”