The Caves of Steel

“It is not a device, Dr. Gerrigel. Tell me, now, in constructing a robot as humanoid as this one, with the deliberate purpose of having it pass as human, is it not necessary to make its brain possess properties as close to that of the human brain as possible?”

“Certainly.”

“Very well. Could not such a humanoid brain lack the First Law? Perhaps it is left out accidentally. You say the theory is unknown. The very fact that it is unknown means that the constructors might set up a brain without the First Law. They would not know what to avoid.”

Dr. Gerrigel was shaking his head vigorously. “No. No. Impossible.”

“Are you sure? We can test the Second Law, of course.—Daneel, let me have your blaster.”

Baley’s eyes never left the robot. His own hand, well to one side, gripped his own blaster tightly.

R. Daneel said calmly, “Here it is, Elijah,” and held it out, butt first.

Baley said, “A plain-clothes man must never abandon his blaster, but a robot has no choice but to obey a human.”

“Except, Mr. Baley,” said Dr. Gerrigel, “when obedience involves breaking the First Law.”

“Do you know, Doctor, that Daneel drew his blaster on an unarmed group of men and women and threatened to shoot?”

“But I did not shoot,” said R. Daneel.

“Granted, but the threat was unusual in itself, wasn’t it, Doctor?” Dr. Gerrigel bit his lip. “I’d need to know the exact circumstances to judge. It sounds unusual.”

“Consider this, then. R. Daneel was on the scene at the time of the murder, and if you omit the possibility of an Earthman having moved across open country, carrying a weapon with him, Daneel and Daneel alone of all the persons on the scene could have hidden the weapon.”

“Hidden the weapon?” asked Dr. Gerrigel.

“Let me explain. The blaster that did the killing was not found. The scene of the murder was searched minutely and it was not found. Yet it could not have vanished like smoke. There is only one place it could have been, only one place they would not have thought to look.”

“Where, Elijah?” asked R. Daneel.

Baley brought his blaster into view, held its barrel firmly in the robot’s direction.

“In your food sac,” he said. “In your food sac, Daneel!”

Chapter 13.

SHIFT TO THE MACHINE

“That is not so,” said R. Daneel, quietly.

“Yes? We’ll let the Doctor decide. Dr. Gerrigel?”

“Mr. Baley?” The roboticist, whose glance had been alternating wildly between the plain-clothes man and the robot as they spoke, let it come to rest upon the human being.

“I’ve asked you here for an authoritative analysis of this robot. I can arrange to have you use the laboratories of the City Bureau of Standards. If you need any piece of equipment they don’t have, I’ll get it for you. What I want is a quick and definite answer and hang the expense and trouble.”

Baley rose. His words had emerged calmly enough, but he felt a rising hysteria behind them. At the moment, he felt that if he could only seize Dr. Gerrigel by the throat and choke the necessary statements out of him, he would forgo all science.

He said, “Well, Dr. Gerrigel?”

Dr. Gerrigel tittered nervously and said, “My dear Mr. Baley, I won’t need a laboratory.”

“Why not?” asked Baley apprehensively. He stood there, muscles tense, feeling himself twitch.

“It’s not difficult to test the First Law. I’ve never had to, you understand, but it’s simple enough.”

Baley pulled air in through his mouth and let it out slowly. He said, “Would you explain what you mean? Are you saying that you can test him here?”

“Yes, of course. Look, Mr. Baley, I’ll give you an analogy. If I were a Doctor of Medicine and had to test a patient’s blood sugar, I’d need a chemical laboratory. If I needed to measure his basal metabolic rate, or test his cortical function, or check his genes to pinpoint a congenital malfunction, I’d need elaborate equipment. On the other hand, I could check whether he were blind by merely passing my hand before his eyes and I could test whether he were dead by merely feeling for his pulse.

“What I’m getting at is that the more important and fundamental the property being tested, the simpler the needed equipment. It’s the same in a robot. The First Law is fundamental. It affects everything. If it were absent, the robot could not react properly in two dozen obvious ways.”

As he spoke, he took out a flat, black object which expanded into a small book-viewer. He inserted a well-worn spool into the receptacle. He then took out a stop watch and a series of white, plastic slivers that fitted together to form something that looked like a slide rule with three independent movable scales. The notations upon it struck no chord of familiarity to Baley.

Dr. Gerrigel tapped his book-viewer and smiled a little, as though the prospect of a bit of field work cheered him.

He said, “It’s my Handbook of Robotics. I never go anywhere without it. It’s part of my clothes.” He giggled self-consciously.

He put the eyepiece of the viewer to his eyes and his finger dealt delicately with the controls. The viewer whirred and stopped, whirred and stopped.

“Built-in index,” the roboticist said, proudly, his voice a little muffled because of the way in which the viewer covered his mouth. “I constructed it myself. It saves a great deal of time. But then, that’s not the point now, is it? Let’s see. Umm, won’t you move your chair near me, Daneel.”

R. Daneel did so. During the roboticist’s preparations, he had watched closely and unemotionally.

Baley shifted his blaster.

What followed confused and disappointed him. Dr. Gerrigel proceeded to ask questions and perform actions that seemed without meaning, punctuated by references to his triple slide rule and occasionally to the viewer.

At one time, he asked, “If I have two cousins, five years apart in age, and the younger is a girl, what sex is the older?”

Daneel answered (inevitably, Baley thought), “It is impossible to say on the information given.”

To which Dr. Gerrigel’s only response, aside from a glance at his stop watch, was to extend his right hand as far as he could sideways and to say, “Would you touch the tip of my middle finger with the tip of the third finger of your left hand?”

Daneel did that promptly and easily.

In fifteen minutes, not more, Dr. Gerrigel was finished. He used his slide rule for a last silent calculation, then disassembled it with a series of snaps. He put away his stop watch, withdrew the Handbook from the viewer, and collapsed the latter.

“Is that all?” said Baley, frowning.

“That’s all.”

“But it’s ridiculous. You’ve asked nothing that pertains to the First Law.”

“Oh, my dear Mr. Baley, when a doctor hits your knee with a little rubber mallet and it jerks, don’t you accept the fact that it gives information concerning the presence or absence of some degenerative nerve disease? When he looks closely at your eyes and considers the reaction of your iris to light, are you surprised that he can tell you something concerning your possible addiction to the use of certain alkaloids?”

Baley said, “Well, then? What’s your decision?”

“Daneel is fully equipped with the First Law!” The roboticist jerked his head in a sharp affirmative.

“You can’t be right,” said Baley huskily.

Baley would not have thought that Dr. Gerrigel could stiffen into a rigidity that was greater than his usual position. He did so, however, visibly. The man’s eyes grew narrow and hard.

“Are you teaching me my job?”

“I don’t mean you’re incompetent,” said Baley. He put out a large, pleading hand. “But couldn’t you be mistaken? You’ve said yourself nobody knows anything about the theory of non-Asenion robots. A blind man could read by using Braille or a sound-scriber. Suppose you didn’t know that Braille or sound-scribing existed. Couldn’t you, in all honesty, say that a man had eyes because he knew the contents of a certain book-film, and be mistaken?”