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There was a shade of complacency in Bogert’s smile, “I rather thought that would be the case. It is deep. We’ll forget it.” He crumpled the sheets, tossed them down the waste shaft, turned to leave, and then thought better of it.
“By the way-”
The robot waited.
Bogert seemed to have difficulty. “There is something – that is, perhaps you can -” He stopped.
Herbie spoke quietly. “Your thoughts are confused, but there is no doubt at all that they concern Dr. La
The mathematician’s hand went to his sleek hair in the familiar smoothing gesture. “La
“I know that.”
“And he’s been director of the plant for almost thirty years.” Herbie nodded.
“Well, now,” Bogert’s voice became ingratiating, “you would know whether… whether he’s thinking of resigning. Health, perhaps, or some other-”
“Quite,” said Herbie, and that was all.
“Well, do you know?”
“Certainly.”
“Then-uh-could you tell me?”
“Since you ask, yes.” The robot was quite matter-of-fact about it. “He has already resigned!”
“What!” The exclamation was an explosive, almost inarticulate, sound. The scientist’s large head hunched forward, “Say that again!”
“He has already resigned,” came the quiet repetition, “but it has not yet taken effect. He is waiting, you see, to solve the problem of – er – myself. That finished, he is quite ready to turn the office of director over to his successor.”
Bogert expelled his breath sharply, “And this successor? Who is he?” He was quite close to Herbie now, eyes fixed fascinatedly on those unreadable dull-red photoelectric cells that were the robot’s eyes.
Words came slowly, “You are the next director.”
And Bogert relaxed into a tight smile, “This is good to know. I’ve been hoping and waiting for this. Thanks, Herbie.”
Peter Bogert was at his desk until five that morning and he was back at nine. The shelf just over the desk emptied of its row of reference books and tables, as he referred to one after the other. The pages of calculations before him increased microscopically and the crumpled sheets at his feet mounted into a hill of scribbled paper.
At precisely noon, he stared at the final page, rubbed a blood-shot eye, yawned and shrugged. “This is getting worse each minute. Damn!”
He turned at the sound of the opening door and nodded at La
The director took in the disorder of the room and his eyebrows furrowed together.
“New lead?” he asked.
“No,” came the defiant answer. “What’s wrong with the old one?”
La
“Has Calvin told you about the robot? It’s a mathematical genius. Really remarkable.”
The other snorted loudly, “So I’ve heard. But Calvin had better stick to robopsychology. I’ve checked Herbie on math, and he can scarcely struggle through calculus.”
“Calvin didn’t find it so.”
“She’s crazy.”
“And I don’t find it so.” The director’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“You!” Bogert’s voice hardened. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been putting Herbie through his paces all morning, and he can do tricks you never heard of.”
“Is that so?”
“You sound skeptical!” La
Bogert studied the large angular notation covering the sheet, “Herbie did this?”
“Right! And if you’ll notice, he’s been working on your time integration of Equation 22. It comes” – La
“I didn’t neglect it. For Heaven’s sake, La
“Oh, sure, you explained that. You used the Mitchell Translation Equation, didn’t you? Well – it doesn’t apply.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve been using hyper-imaginaries, for one thing.”
“What’s that to do with?”
“Mitchell’s Equation won’t hold when-”
“Are you crazy? If you’ll reread Mitchell’s original paper in the Transactions of the Far-”
“I don’t have to. I told you in the begi
“Well, then,” Bogert shouted, “let that clockwork contraption solve the entire problem for you. Why bother with nonessentials?”
“That’s exactly the point. Herbie can’t solve the problem. And if he can’t, we can’t – alone. I’m submitting the entire question to the National Board. It’s gotten beyond us.”
Bogert’s chair went over backward as he jumped up a-snarl, face crimson. “You’re doing nothing of the sort.”
La
“Exactly,” was the gritted response. “I’ve got the problem beaten and you’re not to take it out of my hands, understand? Don’t think I don’t see through you, you desiccated fossil. You’d cut your own nose off before you’d let me get the credit for solving robotic telepathy.”
“You’re a damned idiot, Bogert, and in one second I’ll have you suspended for insubordination” – La
“Which is one thing you won’t do, La
The ash on La
Bogert chuckled nastily, “And I’m the new director, be it understood. I’m very aware of that, don’t think I’m not. Damn your eyes, La
La
The smile on the other’s face broadened, “Now, what’s the use of that? You’re getting nowhere. I’m holding the trumps. I know you’ve resigned. Herbie told me, and he got it straight from you.”
La
Bogert shrugged, “To see Herbie? Good! Damned good!”
It was also precisely at noon that Milton Ashe looked up from his clumsy sketch and said, “You get the idea? I’m not too good at getting this down, but that’s about how it looks. It’s a honey of a house, and I can get it for next to nothing.”
Susan Calvin gazed across at him with melting eyes. “It’s really beautiful,” she sighed. “I’ve often thought that I’d like to-” Her voice trailed away.
“Of course,” Ashe continued briskly, putting away his pencil, “I’ve got to wait for my vacation. It’s only two weeks off, but this Herbie business has everything up in the air.” His eyes dropped to his fingernails, “Besides, there’s another point – but it’s a secret.”
“Then don’t tell me.”
“Oh, I’d just as soon, I’m just busting to tell someone – and you’re just about the best -er- confidante I could find here.” He gri
Susan Calvin’s heart bounded, but she did not trust herself to speak.
“Frankly,” Ashe scraped his chair closer and lowered his voice into a confidential whisper, “the house isn’t to be only for myself. I’m getting married!”