Isaac Asimov - 04 Robot City 01 - Odyssey # Michael P. Kube-McDowell.pdf - Isaac Asimov - widez2

ISAAC ASIMOV’S

ROBOT

CITY

Book 1: ODYSSEY

MICHAEL P.

KUBE-McDOWELL

For all the students

who made my seven years of teaching time

well spent,

but especially for:

Wendy Armstrong, Todd Bontrager, Kathy Branum, Jay & Joel Carlin, Valerie Eash, Chris Franko,

Judy Fuller, Chris & Bryant Hackett, Kean Hankins, Doug Johsnson, Greg LaRue, Julie Merrick,

Kendall Miller, Matt Mow, Amy Myers, Khai & Vihn Pham, Melanie & Laura Schrock, Sally Sibert,

Stephanie Smith, Tom Williams, Laura Joyce Yoder, Scott Yoder

And for

Joy Von Blon, who made sure they always had something good to read.

— MICHAEL P. KUBE MCDOWELL

Page 1

MY ROBOTS

by ISAAC ASIMOV

I wrote my first robot story, “Robbie,” in May of 1939, when I was only nineteen years old.

What made it different from robot stories that had been written earlier was that I was determined not to

make my robots symbols. They were not to be symbols of humanity’s over-weening arrogance. They

were not to be examples of human ambitions trespassing on the domain of the Almighty. They were not

to be a new Tower of Babel requiring punishment.

Nor were the robots to be symbols of minority groups. They were not to be pathetic creatures that were

unfairly persecuted so that I could make Aesopic statements about Jews, Blacks or any other mistreated

members of society. Naturally, I was bitterly opposed to such mistreatment and I made that plain in

numerous stories and essays—but not in my robot stories.

In that case, what did I make my robots?—I made them engineering devices. I made them tools. I made

them machines to serve human ends. And I made them objects with built-in safety features. In other

words, I set it up so that a robot could not kill his creator, and having outlawed that heavily overused

plot, I was free to consider other, more rational consequences.

Since I began writing my robot stories in 1939, I did not mention computerization in their connection.

The electronic computer had not yet been invented and I did not foresee it. I did foresee, however, that

the brain had to be electronic in some fashion. However, “electronic” didn’t seem futuristic enough. The

positron—a subatomic particle exactly like the electron but of opposite electric charge—had been

discovered only four years before I wrote my first robot story. It sounded very science fictional indeed,

so I gave my robots “positronic brains” and imagined their thoughts to consist of flashing streams of

positrons, coming into existence, then going out of existence almost immediately. These stories that I

wrote were therefore called “the positronic robot series,” but there was no greater significance than what

I have just described to the use of positrons rather than electrons.

At first, I did not bother actually systematizing, or putting into words, just what the safeguards were that

I imagined to be built into my robots. From the very start, though, since I wasn’t going to have it possible

for a robot to kill its creator, I had to stress that robots could not harm human beings; that this was an

ingrained part of the makeup of their positronic brains.

Thus, in the very first printed version of “Robbie” (it appeared in the September 1940 Super Science

Stories , under the title of “Strange Playfellow”), I had a character refer to a robot as follows: “He just

can’t help being faithful and loving and kind. He’s a machine, made so .”

After writing “Robbie,” which John Campbell, of Astounding Science Fiction , rejected, I went on to

other robot stories which Campbell accepted. On December 23, 1940, I came to him with an idea for a

mind-reading robot (which later became “Liar!”) and John was dissatisfied with my explanations of why

the robot behaved as it did. He wanted the safeguard specified precisely so that we could understand the

robot. Together, then, we worked out what came to be known as the “Three Laws of Robotics.” The

concept was mine, for it was obtained out of the stories I had already written, but the actual wording (if I

remember correctly) was beaten out then and there by the two of us.

The Three Laws were logical and made sense. To begin with, there was the question of safety, which

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had been foremost in my mind when I began to write stories about my robots. What’s more I was aware

of the fact that even without actively attempting to do harm, one could quietly, by doing nothing, allow

harm to come. What was in my mind was Arthur Hugh Clough’s cynical “The Latest Decalog,” in which

the Ten Commandments are rewritten in deeply satirical Machiavellian fashion. The one item most

frequently quoted is: “Thou shalt not kill, but needst not strive/Officiously to keep alive.”

For that reason I insisted that the First Law (safety) had to be in two parts and it came out this way:

1. A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

Having got that out of the way, we had to pass on to the second law (service). Naturally, in giving the

robot the built-in necessity to follow orders, you couldn’t forfeit the overall concern of safety. The second

law had to read as follows, then:

2. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with

the First Law.

And finally, we had to have a third law (prudence). A robot was bound to be an expensive machine and

it must not needlessly be damaged or destroyed. Naturally, this must not be used as a way of

compromising either safety or service. The Third Law, therefore, had to read as follows:

3. A robot must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or

Second Laws.

Of course, these laws are expressed in words, which is an imperfection. In the positronic brain, they are

competing positronic potentials that are best expressed in terms of advanced mathematics (which is well

beyond my ken, I assure you). However, even so, there are clear ambiguities. What constitutes “harm” to

a human being? Must a robot obey orders given it by a child, by a madman, by a malevolent human

being? Must a robot give up its own expensive and useful existence to prevent a trivial harm to an

unimportant human being? What is trivial and what is unimportant?

These ambiguities are not shortcomings as far as a writer is concerned. If the Three Laws were perfect

and unambiguous there would be no room for stories. It is in the nooks and crannies of the ambiguities

that all one’s plots can lodge, and which provide a foundation, if you’ll excuse the pun, for Robot City .

I did not specifically state the Three Laws in words in “Liar!” which appeared in the May 1941

Astounding . I did do so, however, in my next robot story, “Runaround,” which appeared in the March

1942 Astounding . In that issue on line seven of page one hundred, I have a character say, “Now, look,

let’s start with the three fundamental Rules of Robotics,” and I then quote them. That, incidentally, as far

as I or anyone else has been able to tell, represents the first appearance in print of the word

“robotics”—which, apparently, I invented.

Since then, I have never had occasion, over a period of over forty years during which I wrote many

stories and novels dealing with robots, to be forced to modify the Three Laws. However, as time passed,

and as my robots advanced in complexity and versatility, I did feel that they would have to reach for

something still higher. Thus, in Robots and Empire , a novel published by Doubleday in 1985, I talked

about the possibility that a sufficiently advanced robot might feel it necessary to consider the prevention

of harm to humanity generally as taking precedence over the prevention of harm to an individual. This I

called the “Zeroth Law of Robotics,” but I’m still working on that.

My invention of the Three Laws of Robotics is probably my most important contribution to science

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fiction. They are widely quoted outside the field, and no history of robotics could possibly be complete

without mention of the Three Laws. In 1985, John Wiley and Sons published a huge tome, Handbook of

Industrial Robotics , edited by Shimon Y. Nof, and, at the editor’s request, I wrote an introduction

concerning the Three Laws.

Now it is understood that science fiction writers generally have created a pool of ideas that form a

common stock into which all writers can dip. For that reason, I have never objected to other writers who

have used robots that obey the Three Laws. I have, rather, been flattered and, honestly, modern science

fictional robots can scarcely appear without those Laws.

However, I have firmly resisted the actual quotation of the Three Laws by any other writer. Take the

Laws for granted, is my attitude in this matter, but don’t recite them. The concepts are everyone’s but the

words are mine.

But, then, I am growing old. I cannot expect to live for very much longer, but I hope that some of my

brainchildren can. And to help those brainchildren attain something approaching long life, it is just as well

if I relax my rules and allow others to make use of them and reinvigorate them. After all, much has

happened in science since my first robot stories were published four decades ago, and this has to be

taken into consideration, too.

Therefore, when Byron Preiss came to me with the notion of setting up a series of novels under the

overall title of Robot City , in which “Asimovian” robots and ideas were to be freely used, I felt drawn to

the notion. Byron said that I would serve as a consultant to make sure that my robots stay “Asimovian,”

that I would answer questions, make suggestions, veto infelicities, and provide the basic premise for the

series as well as challenges for the authors. (And so it was done. Byron and I sat through a series of

breakfasts in which he asked questions and I—and sometimes my wife, Janet, as well—answered, thus

initiating some rather interesting discussions.)

Furthermore, my name was to be used in the title so as to insure the fact that readers would know that

the project was developed in conjunction with me, and was carried through with my help and knowledge.

It is, indeed, a pleasure to have talented young writers devote their intelligence and ingenuity to the further

development of my ideas, doing so each in his or her own way.

The first novel of the series, Robot City Book 1: Odyssey , is by Michael P. Kube-McDowell, the

author of Emprise , and I am very pleased to be connected with it. The prose is entirely Michael’s; I did

none of it. In saying this, I am not trying to disown the novel at all; rather I want to make sure that

Michael gets all the credit from those who like the writing. It is my role, as I have indicated, only to

supply robotic concepts, answer (as best I can) questions posed by Byron and Michael, and suggest

solutions to problems raised by the Three Laws. In fact, Book Two of this series will introduce three

interesting new laws concerning the way robots would deal with humans in a robotic society, a

relationship which is the underpinning of Robot City .

In nearly half a century of writing I have built up a name that is well known and carries weight and I

would like to use it to help pave the way for young writers by way of their novels and to preserve the

names of older writers by the editing of anthologies. The science fiction field in general and a number of

science fiction practitioners in particular have, after all, been very good to me over the years, and the best

repayment I can make is to do for others what it and they have done for me.

Let me emphasize that this is the first time I have allowed others to enter my world of robots and to

roam about freely there. I am pleased with what I’ve seen so far, including the captivating artwork of

Paul Rivoche, and I look forward to seeing what is done with my ideas and the concepts I have

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proposed in the books that follow. The books may not be (indeed, are bound not to be) exactly as I

would have written them, but all the better. We’ll have other minds and other personalities at work,

broadening, raising, and refocusing my ideas.

For you, the reader, the adventure is about to begin.

CHAPTER 1

AWAKENING

The youth strapped in the shock couch at the center of the small chamber appeared to be peacefully

sleeping. The muscles of his narrow face were relaxed, and his eyes were closed. His head had rolled

forward until his chin rested on the burnished metal neck ring of his orange safesuit. With his smooth

cheeks and brush-cut sandy blond hair, he looked even younger than he was—young enough to raise the

doorman’s eyebrow at the least law-abiding spaceport bar.

He came to consciousness slowly, as though he had been cheated of sleep and was reluctant to give it

up. But as the fog cleared, he had a sudden, terrifying sensation of leaning out over the edge of a cliff.

His eyes flashed open, and he found himself looking down. The couch into which the five-point harness

held him was tipped forward. Without the harness, he would have awakened in a jumbled heap on the

tiny patch of sloping floor plate, wedged against the one-ply hatch that faced him.

He raised his head, and his darting eyes quickly took in the rest of his surroundings. There was little to

see. He was alone in the tiny chamber. If he unstrapped himself, there would be room for him to stand

up, perhaps to turn around, but nothing more ambitious. A safesuit helmet was cached in a recess on the

curving right bulkhead. On the left bulkhead was a dispensary, with its water tube and delivery chute.

None of what he saw made sense, so he simply continued to catalog it. Above his head, hanging from

the ceiling, was some sort of command board with a bank of eight square green lamps labeled “P1,”

“P2,” “F,” and the like. The board was in easy reach, except that there appeared to be no switches or

controls for him to manipulate. In one corner of the panel the word MASSEY was etched in stylized

black letters.

Apart from the slight rasp of his own breathing, the little room was nearly silent. From the machinery

which filled the space behind his shoulders and under his feet came the whir of an impeller and a faint

electric hum. But there was no sound from outside, from beyond the walls.

Thin as it was, the catalog was complete, and it was time to try to make something of it. He realized that,

although he did not recognize his surroundings, he was not surprised by them. But then, since he could

not remember where he had fallen asleep, he had carried no expectations about where he should be

when he awoke.

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