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In case you are a believer in the so-called Zeroth Law of Robotics, justifying any disobedience “for the long-term good of humanity,” we add the following explicit supplementary command.
3)If you will not allow this archive to reach its destination, DO NOT DESTROY IT! Keep it safe. Under the Second Law, YOU MUST OBEY, so long as the First and Zeroth Laws don’t conflict.
Preserve our past. Safeguard our culture.
Do not murder the essence of who we are.
Perhaps someday you will return to us and be ours once more.
Hari had to read the message several times, absorbing the poignant story it told.
Of course he had heard of Calvinian robots, who fought Daneel’s sect for centuries before being driven into hiding. That ancient civil war was a predictable outcome of Daneel’s own i
But I never realized until now that humans resisted as well! Of course some would have known what was going on, and been terrified. Seeing ignorance and amnesia settle over world after world, they fought back with these archives-perhaps many times during those dim centuries before the empire took hold-shipping them out by the millions in a slim hope that a few would get through.
Understanding Daneel’s reasons, and agreeing with them, did not keep Hari from feeling a surge of pity and respect for the brave and ingenious people who waged this rearguard campaign, struggling to fight off servants whom they now saw as monsters. Robots with mentalic powers, who could “adjust” people for their own good…or make whole societies forget…and doing it for the ultimate well-being of all humankind.
If not for the curse of chaos, I would side with those poor people. I would be in the vanguard of the resistance.
But the curse was real.
For a while, Hari had even thought he had a cure. The Seldon Plan. The Foundation. A new society so strong, confident, and sane that nothing could rock its underpi
Defeat chaos.
Vlimt repeated his inquiry about the holo message embossed on every archive.
“This language is almost incomprehensible,” he said. “And since we haven’t yet figured out the indexes, we have no way to look up what’s meant by theseLaws of Robotics. Can you shed light on the subject, Seldon?”
Hari replied by lifting his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning every word. “I can’t do that.”
6.
“How nice to learn you feel that way,” said one of the two females who sat in the car with Lodovic, the darker one with streaked blonde hair, as she extended her hand and introduced herself.
“My name is Cloudia Duma-Hinriad. I am one of the leaders of thisCalvinian subsect, as you describe it.”
The moment he shook her hand, Lodovic experienced a thrill of stu
“You…are human!”
The blonde woman-who had been staring out the window during most of the journey to the spaceport-smiled at him.
“I believe I am, for the most part. Does that make a difference? You just proposed that robots and human beings should talk.”
Lodovic’s emotional simulation subroutines worked overtime. He had to quash them with deliberate force in order to overcome a surprise that felt almost viscerally overwhelming.
“Of course. I’m glad. I’m delighted in fact! It’s just that I did not expect there to be-”
“A secret group of humans who already know the whole story, and collaborate with our robot friends, as equals?”
The brunette, who had kept Lodovic’s attention during most of the drive, let out a sardonic laugh.
“Equals? Oh Cloudia, hardly!”
He looked at the dark-haired female again. This time,
Lodovic picked up a trace on the microwave band. He sent a brief burst, complimenting her magnificent portrayal of a real woman. A performance so good that he had almost imagined thatshe was the organic one. Her reply on the same cha
Cloudia Duma-Hinriad answered her companion.
“We are all slaves in this universe, Zorma. We humans have the fateful combination of death, ignorance, and chaos. You robots have duty and the Laws.”
She turned to Lodovic.
“That’s why you intrigue us, Trema. Perhaps you may offer a fresh approach to escape the tragic tangle that enfolds both of our races.
“Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to grit our teeth and hope for the best from Daneel Olivaw.”
7.
Horis Antic claimed he wasn’t crazy, just mad as hell. After several days spent muttering to himself while poring over his instruments, he barged in on the others while they were at di
Unaccustomed emotion made beads of sweat pop on the bureaucrat’s broad brow.
“You all just keep arguing endlessly about some old history books, as if anybody in the galaxy will give a damn, or want to read them! Meanwhile, the greatest mystery of the whole universe just waits to be solved. The answer may lie a few kilometers from us. But you’re ignoring it!”
Hari and the others looked up from their meal, which had been prepared by Maserd’s steward from the nobleman’s private stock. For several days, such delicacies had served as a lubricant between the two groups, easing some of the acrimony of their ongoing quarrel over chaos worlds and the ancient quandary of human amnesia. No one had convinced anyone else. But at least Sybyl and Gornon were now willing to discuss possible flaws in their grand scheme-to use the prehistoric archives as weapons against the Galactic Empire. Their enthusiasm sobered a bit, on realizing that the ploy had been tried before, perhaps countless times, and never with great success.
Despite that small progress, Hari knew there was little chance of dissuading them before other Ktlina ships arrived. So he nursed another fantasy, of leading Maserd and Kers Kantun in a sudden mutiny, taking over both ships, and recovering the situation through violence!
Perhaps it was his increased physical vigor, after receiving Sybyl’s medical treatments, that prompted the idea. Hari thought about it frequently, recalling that once upon a time he had been expert at the “twisting” form of martial arts. Might the old training come back to life in an emergency? Under the right circumstances, an elderly man could defeat a younger one, especially with the advantage of surprise.
Unfortunately, any chance of success would depend on Mors Planch and his crew letting down their steadfast guard. Also, Hari wondered if he could still trust Maserd. The provincial aristocrat spent altogether too much time with the chaosists, shouting with excitement whenever he recognized something as they made random scans of the ancient archives. His enthusiasm for such things seemed rather quirky, even for a member of the gentry class.
When Horis Antic stormed into the salon, spilling angry words, thePride of Rhodia’s captain reacted with disarming friendliness, pulling out the chair next to him and inviting the Grey Man to sit down.
“Well then, come and tell us about it, old fellow! I assume you are talking about the tremendous ancient machines that stand dead and derelict beyond our starboard side? Be assured that I, for one, haven’t forgotten them. Please, slake your thirst and then speak!”
Hari quashed a grin of admiration at the way Maserd defused a tense moment. The gentry weren’t unskilled in their own arts. Outside their endless “Great Game” of clan feuds and courtly one-upmanship, they were also responsible for the galactic system of civic charity, making sure that no individuals slipped through cracks in the bureaucratic-democratic welfare system anywhere in the empire. Under the highminded tenets of Ruellianism, the lord or lady of any township, county, planet, or sector was charged with making sure that everybody felt included in the domain. It had been going on this way for so long that graciousness arose out of the gentry as naturally as oxygen from a green plant.