RC3 - Cyborg, Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 3 - William F Wu

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Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 3: Cyborg

ISAAC ASIMOV'S

ROBOT

CITY

BOOK 3: CYBORG

WILLIAM F. WU

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks for help in writing this novel are due to David M. Harris, Michael P. Kube-

McDowell, Rob Chilson, Alison Telure, my parents, Dr. William Q. Wu and Cecile F. Wu, and

Plus Five Computer Services, Inc.

This novel is dedicated to

Laura J. Lehew

who always remains very special

CYBERNETIC ORGANISM

ISAAC ASIMOV

A robot is a robot and an organism is an organism.

An organism, as we all know, is built up of cells. From the molecular standpoint, its key

molecules are nucleic acids and proteins. These float in a watery medium, and the whole has a

bony support system. It is useless to go on with the description, since we are all familiar with

organisms and since we are examples of them ourselves.

A robot, on the other hand, is (as usually pictured in science fiction) an object, more or less

resembling a human being, constructed out of strong, rust-resistant metal. Science fiction writers

are generally chary of describing the robotic details too closely since they are not usually

essential to the story and the writers are generally at a loss how to do so.

The impression one gets from the stories, however, is that a robot is wired, so that it has wires

through which electricity flows rather than tubes through which blood flows. The ultimate source

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of power is either unnamed, or is assumed to partake of the nature of nuclear power.

What of the robotic brain?

When I wrote my first few robot stories in 1939 and 1940, I imagined a “positronic brain” of a

spongy type of platinum-iridium alloy. It was platinum-iridium because that is a particularly inert

metal and is least likely to undergo chemical changes. It was spongy so that it would offer an

enormous surface on which electrical patterns could be formed and un-formed. It was

“positronic” because four years before my first robot story, the positron had been discovered as a

reverse kind of electron, so that “positronic” in place of “electronic” had a delightful science-

fiction sound.

Nowadays, of course, my positronic platinum-iridium brain is hopelessly archaic. Even ten years

after its invention it became outmoded. By the end of the 1940s, we came to realize that a robot's

brain must be a kind of computer. Indeed, if a robot were to be as complex as the robots in my

most recent novels, the robot brain-computer must be every bit as complex as the human brain. It

must be made of tiny microchips no larger than, and as complex as, brain cells.

But now let us try to imagine something that is neither organism nor robot, but a combination of

the two. Perhaps we can think of it as an organism—robot or “orbot.” That would clearly be a

poor name, for it is only “robot” with the first two letters transposed. To say “orgabot”, instead, is

to be stuck with a rather ugly word.

We might call it a robot-organism, or a “robotanism”, which, again, is ugly, or “roborg”. To my

ears, “roborg” doesn't sound bad, but we can't have that. Something else has arisen.

The science of computers was given the name “cybernetics” by Norbert Weiner a generation ago,

so that if we consider something that is part robot and part organism and remember that a robot is

cybernetic in nature, we might think of the mixture as a “cybernetic organism”, or a “cyborg”. In

fact, that is the name that has stuck and is used.

To see what a cyborg might be, let's try starting with a human organism and moving toward a

robot; and when we are quite done with that, let's start with a robot and move toward a human

being.

To move from a human organism toward a robot, we must begin replacing portions of the human

organism with robotic parts. We already do that in some ways. For instance, a good percentage of

the original material of my teeth is now metallic, and metal is, of course, the robotic substance

par excellence .

The replacements don't have to be metallic, of course. Some parts of my teeth are now ceramic in

nature, and can't be told at a glance from the natural dentine. Still, even though dentine is ceramic

in appearance and even, to an extent, in chemical structure, it was originally laid down by living

material and bears the marks of its origin. The ceramic that has replaced the dentine shows no

trace of life, now or ever.

We can go further. My breastbone, which had to be split longitudinally in an operation a few

years back, was for a time held together by metallic staples, which have remained in place ever

since. My sister-in-law has an artificial hip-joint replacement. There are people who have

artificial arms or legs and such non-living limbs are being designed, as time passes on, to be ever

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more complex and useful. There are people who have lived for days and even months with

artificial hearts, and many more people who live for years with pacemakers.

We can imagine, little by little, this part and that part of the human being replaced by inorganic

materials and engineering devices. Is there any part which we would find difficult to replace,

even in imagination?

I don't think anyone would hesitate there. Replace every part of the human being but one—the

limbs, the heart, the liver, the skeleton, and so on—and the product would remain human. It

would be a human being with artificial parts, but it would be a human being.

But what about the brain?

Surely, if there is one thing that makes us human it is the brain. If there is one thing that makes us

a human individual, it is the intensely complex makeup, the emotions, the learning, the memory

content of our particular brain. You can't simply replace a brain with a thinking device off some

factory shelf. You have to put in something that incorporates all that a natural brain has learned,

that possesses all its memory, and that mimics its exact pattern of working.

An artificial limb might not work exactly like a natural one, but might still serve the purpose. The

same might be true of an artificial lung, kidney, or liver. An artificial brain, however, must be the

precise replica of the brain it replaces, or the human being in question is no longer the same

human being.

It is the brain, then, that is the sticking point in going from human organism to robot.

And the reverse?

In my story “The Bicentennial Man”, I described the passage of my robot-hero, Andrew Martin,

from robot to man. Little by little, he had himself changed, till his every visible part was human

in appearance. He displayed an intelligence that was increasingly equivalent (or even superior) to

that of a man. He was an artist, a historian, a scientist, an administrator. He forced the passage of

laws guaranteeing robotic rights, and achieved respect and admiration in the fullest degree.

Yet at no point could he make himself accepted as a man. The sticking point, here, too, was his

robotic brain. He found that he had to deal with that before the final hurdle could be overcome.

Therefore, we come down to the dichotomy, body and brain. The ultimate cyborgs are those in

which the body and brain don't match. That means we can have two classes of complete cyborgs:

a) a robotic brain in a human body, or

b) a human brain in a robotic body.

We can take it for granted that in estimating the worth of a human being (or a robot, for that

matter) we judge first by superficial appearance.

I can very easily imagine a man seeing a woman of superlative beauty and gazing in awe and

wonder at the sight. “What a beautiful woman,” he will say, or think, and he could easily imagine

himself in love with her on the spot. In romances, I believe that happens as a matter of routine.

And, of course, a woman seeing a man of superlative beauty is surely likely to react in precisely

the same way.

If you fall in love with a striking beauty, you are scarcely likely to spend much time asking if she

(or he, of course) has any brains, or possesses a good character, or has good judgment or kindness

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or warmth. If you find out eventually that good looks are the person's only redeeming quality,

you are liable to make excuses and continue to be guided, for a time at least, by the conditioned

reflex of erotic response. Eventually, of course, you will tire of good looks without content, but

who knows how long that will take?

On the other hand, a person with a large number of good qualities who happened to be distinctly

plain might not be likely to entangle you in the first place unless you were intelligent enough to

see those good qualities so that you might settle down to a lifetime of happiness.

What I am saying, then, is that a cyborg with a robotic brain in a human body is going to be

accepted by most, if not all, people as a human being; while a cyborg with a human brain in a

robotic body is going to be accepted by most, if not all, people as a robot. You are, after all—at

least to most people—what you seem to be.

These two diametrically opposed cyborgs will not, however, pose a problem to human beings to

the same degree.

Consider the robotic brain in the human body and ask why the transfer should be made. A robotic

brain is better off in a robotic body since a human body is far the more fragile of the two. You

might have a young and stalwart human body in which the brain has been damaged by trauma

and disease, and you might think, “Why waste that magnificent human body? Let's put a robotic

brain in it so that it can live out its life.”

If you were to do that, the human being that resulted would not be the original. It would be a

different individual human being. You would not be conserving an individual but merely a

specific mindless body. And a human body, however fine, is (without the brain that goes with it)

a cheap thing. Every day, half a million new bodies come into being. There is no need to save

anyone of them if the brain is done.

On the other hand, what about a human brain in a robotic body? A human brain doesn't last

forever, but it can last up to ninety years without falling into total uselessness. It is not at all

unknown to have a ninety-year-old who is still sharp, and capable of rational and worthwhile

thought. And yet we also know that many a superlative mind has vanished after twenty or thirty

years because the body that housed it (and was worthless in the absence of the mind) had become

uninhabitable through trauma or disease. There would be a strong impulse then to transfer a

perfectly good (even superior) brain into a robotic body to give it additional decades of useful

life.

Thus, when we say “cyborg” we are very likely to think, just about exclusively, of a human brain

in a robotic body—and we are going to think of that as a robot.

We might argue that a human mind is a human mind, and that it is the mind that counts and not

the surrounding support mechanism, and we would be right. I'm sure that any rational court

would decide that a human-brain cyborg would have all the legal rights of a man. He could vote,

he could be enslaved, and so on.

And yet suppose a cyborg were challenged: “Prove that you have a human brain and not a robotic

brain, before I let you have human rights.”

The easiest way for a cyborg to offer the proof is for him to demonstrate that he is not bound by

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the Three Laws of Robotics. Since the Three Laws enforce socially acceptable behavior, this

means he must demonstrate that he is capable of human (i.e. nasty) behavior. The simplest and

most unanswerable argument is simply to knock the challenger down, breaking his jaw in the

process, since no robot could do that. (In fact, in my story “Evidence”, which appeared in 1947, I

use this as a way of proving someone is not a robot—but in that case there was a catch.)

But if a cyborg must continually offer violence in order to prove he has a human brain, that will

not necessarily win him friends.

For that matter, even if he is accepted as human and allowed to vote and to rent hotel rooms and

do all the other things human beings can do, there must nevertheless be some regulations that

distinguish between him and complete human beings. The cyborg would be stronger than a man,

and his metallic fists could be viewed as lethal weapons. He might still be forbidden to strike a

human being, even in self-defense. He couldn't engage in various sports on an equal basis with

human beings, and so on.

Ah, but need a human brain be housed in a metallic robotic body? What about housing it in a

body made of ceramic and plastic and fiber so that it looks and feels like a human body—and has

a human brain besides?

But you know, I suspect that the cyborg will still have his troubles. He'll be different. No matter

how small the difference is, people will seize upon it.

We know that people who have human brains and full human bodies sometimes hate each other

because of a slight difference in skin pigmentation, or a slight variation in the shape of the nose,

eyes, lips, or hair.

We know that people who show no difference in any of the physical characteristics that have

come to represent a cause for hatred, may yet be at daggers-drawn over matters that are not

physical at all, but cultural-differences in religion, or in political outlook, or in place of birth, or

in language, or in just the accent of a language.

Let's face it. Cyborgs will have their difficulties, no matter what.

CHAPTER 1

THE KEY TO PERIHELION

Derec sighed and ran his hand through his brush-cut sandy hair. “Katherine, I don’t know if this

stupid computer knows who has the Key to Perihelion or not. Anyhow, if it does, it won’t tell me.

I’ve asked it every way I can think of.” He swiveled his chair away from the computer console to

face her.

Katherine looked down at him from where she stood, and shook her head in apparent disgust. “I

didn’t know computers could be stupid,” she said pointedly.

“Well, this one is,” he muttered lamely, feeling his face grow hot. “Look if someone else

programmed a higher priority of secrecy into the computer, it won’t answer any questions it was

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forbidden to answer. I can’t do anything about that.” He was glad he was seated. She was a bit

taller than he, though he was—he hoped—still growing. He guessed that she was a year or two

older than he was, but that was as uncertain as the rest of her identity...and his.

Derec sprang out of his chair to put some distance between them and started pacing around the

room. Through his manipulation of the computer, he had ordered the builder robots of Robot City

to continue developing the quarters he and Katherine shared. They had constructed a bedroom for

each of them, a kitchen area, and a console for the computer access equipment he had put

together himself. Now he strode around the perimeter of the office, burning up nervous energy.

The apartment was hexagonal, and the furniture was shaped from the interior surface. Light

glowed from the ceiling itself in a pleasant, soft diffusion. The room walls now obscured the

elegant shape of the quarters, which resembled the interior of a crystal, but he and Katherine were

more comfortable than before, and more independent.

Ever since Derec had stopped Robot City from its automatic, frantic, and self-destructive growth,

they had been living in a city that almost resembled a normal one. Construction now continued at

a steady pace, within the capacity of the city to adjust as it grew. With the Laws of Robotics in

effect, the two humans had a comfortable and safe existence here now.

The First Law of Robotics is: “A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow

a human being to come to harm.”

“Look, Derec,” said Katherine. “We both want to get off this planet, I guess. At the moment, we

aren’t suffering here. Sure, if we had a ship, we’d be gone by now. But as long as that Key is our

only chance to get away, we simply have to find it.”

Her tone was milder now, Derec noticed, but he just spun around, turning his back on her, and

went on pacing. Ever since he had found out that she was not really Katherine Ariel Burgess, as

she had told him she was, he had known he could not trust her. Or, at least, he could only believe

her when she was being sarcastic or condescending. When she sounded pleasant, he had to figure

out what she was up to.

Besides, he still suffered from his amnesia. It was a little too awkward to demand her identity

when he couldn’t even figure out his own. In fact, even raising the subject was embarrassing. The

situation left him perpetually uneasy. The best place to get away from it was in the computer.

He moved past her and threw himself back into the chair. Then he started working on the

keyboard before he had any idea of what he should do. He just tried to look busy.

He had declined to construct a VoiceCommand in his terminal, since he felt it a barrier between

him and the labyrinth of the central computer. The computer was comprised of the top seven

planner robots, or Supervisors, in the city, joined by their communication links. The central core

could only be accessed in the mysterious office inside the Compass Tower, but he had had no use

for it since instructing it to discontinue the excessive building and shapechanging of the city.

Using only his keyboard to access the computer allowed him to bring up more raw data and to

streamline the whole system when he had the time. Now it also allowed him to tinker silently.

After a moment of concentrating, his discomfort was gone. When he spoke, his voice was casual.

“Actually, this computer really is kind of stupid. Not the individual Supervisors, of course, but

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the way they combine their information. The shapechanging loaded so much data into them so

fast that they recorded it without organizing it. The computer has become too complex to work

well. It needs a lot more streamlining to become efficient.”

“I thought you were streamlining it.”

“When I get the chance,” he snapped, suddenly annoyed again. He was fairly sure he could make

some real progress, given time, but he was tired of her always questioning his ability with

computers. It was the one subject he actually knew something about, and he had demonstrated it

many times over. Since his amnesia had left him with little knowledge of himself, the knowledge

he did have was very important to him. He had even learned the kind of amnesia he had,

something called “fractionated, retrograde, hypnosis-resistant psychogenic amnesia”—whatever

that meant.

Katherine didn’t say anything, though he remained aware that she was watching him.

“Well, we are stuck with a rather odd computer, after all,” he said. Her composure made him self-

conscious about his own discomfort. He made an effort to cool off a little. “Here we are in Robot

City, a place built and run and populated exclusively by robots, and we have no idea of who

created it, or why. I mean, who ever heard of a planet like this?”

“I know,” she said gently. “Derec, we are in this together.”

“Let me explain the computer again. We’re sure the robots have the Key, because there is no one

else here on the planet except us. No—”

“Derec, I know this part,” she said with exaggerated weariness.

“Let me go on. I’m trying to build up to my point. Look, I’ve never encountered a computer quite

like this, and I’m still trying to think through how to handle it.”

“Go on.”

“The computer obviously is subject to the Three Laws of Robotics, and that should make it honor

my requests for information, under the Second Law. It did not, probably for two reasons. One is

prior programming, where the Second Law required the robots collectively to keep certain secrets

under orders they received from another human, presumably the creator of Robot City, whoever it

was.”

The Second Law of Robotics is: “ A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except

where such orders would conflict with the First Law.”

Katherine nodded quietly, now gazing at the floor. “What’s the second reason?”

“The second reason is that the computer system has apparently expanded to the point where it

needs fundamental reorganization to operate efficiently. Too many parts of the system just don’t

seem to know what the other parts know. All sorts of information is lost in there. Even when it

does know the answer to a question, sometimes the information takes much too long to locate.

And I have to think up special ways of giving orders and asking questions to get it out.

Katherine lifted her head and smiled. “We’re both getting better at that, Derec. We’ve had some

practice now, especially with individual robots.”

Derec grinned. “I guess I can’t argue with that. So far, the best way to make the robots cooperate

is to convince them that we’re in danger, thus activating their First Law programming.”

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“I know, I know—have you forgotten my charade on Rockliffe Station with that little alien friend

of yours, Wolruf? The trouble is, it’s even harder to convince them when we’re just debating. I

seem to recall that we’ve both gone a few rounds with various robots that way.”

“That’s true, too.” The positronic brains of the humanoid robots were quite sophisticated, and

debating with their cold logic could be frustrating. “The Supervisors were so cooperative—within

their limits of programming, of course—that it’s too bad we can’t just try to work with them to

get the Key back.”

“They haven’t even admitted that they took it from our hiding place on the Compass Tower,” said

Katherine. “Why would they cooperate with us?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t, or couldn’t. That’s why we’ll have to try locating the Key without

confronting them. The longer it takes them to realize that we’re after it, the more freedom we’ll

have.”

Despite their current rapport, Derec was afraid that if he didn’t stay on the computer, Katherine

would make more comments about his incompetence. She might even call him a quitter.

Determined not to give her any excuse for that, he continued to play idly on the keyboard.

Katherine pulled up the other chair—they only had two—and sat down. “Derec, let’s try to think

up some questions I could ask some of the other robots, not the Supervisors. I know they won’t

answer our direct questions about the Key, but I’ve gotten information out of them before. Like

you were saying, we just have to think up the right questions. Stuff they have to answer because

of the Laws.”

He nodded. “Or else questions they don’t realize will lead us anywhere. The problem is, that’s

what I’ve been trying to do through the computer. I guess I just don’t know.”

All they really knew about the Key to Perihelion was that it was a teleportation device and that it

had been taken from the place where they had hidden it. Obviously, the robots had taken it, and

so far they had not even revealed that much information. Since the Key seemed to belong here, or

at least had some special relationship to Robot City, the robots apparently did not feel that they

had stolen it. They were incapable of dishonesty as such.

“We know the robots were searching for the Key for a long time,” said Derec. “So whatever

they’ve done with it must have been part of their long-term programming.”

He could certainly use her help, but he didn’t know if he trusted her enough to speak freely. At

one point, he had offered to let her use it to leave the planet while he stayed, and she had chosen

to remain here with him. That had been some time ago, though. Sometimes they seemed very

close, but he still wasn’t sure that if she got to the Key first, she would share its use with him. She

had some kind of chronic physical condition—precisely what kind of condition was her secret—

and she just might be in a bigger hurry to get off the planet than she claimed.

For that matter, he was worried about her. He wanted to get her some human medical care, and

that meant getting away from Robot City. However, he did not want to be left behind.

“What they’re doing is obvious,” said Katherine. “They plan to teleport somewhere. That’s all the

Key is good for, as far as we know.”

“But where do they have to go? The planet is all theirs already, except for us.”

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“Oh, Derec.” She sounded exasperated. “At some point, they’re going to teleport off the planet

entirely, just like we want to do.”

“But why—” Derec stopped. They couldn’t possibly know why, because they didn’t know the

robots’ purpose here on the planet in the first place. Discussing the robots’ motives would not get

them very far. “Well, let’s think out loud for a minute. On the asteroid where they found the Key,

they were programmed to self-destruct when they were under attack. The Key and the element of

secrecy were much more important than the robots or other materials to the person who

programmed them. Cost was absolutely not a real concern. And that programming was critically

important, since it violated the Third Law.”

The Third Law of Robotics is: “ A robot must protect his own existence as long as such

protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws. “

“So their self-destruction—probably for the purpose of secrecy—must have been programmed by

their creator under the First or Second Laws.” She thought a moment. “There’s that minimalist

engineering again, which you keep talking about. “

“Now, wait a minute.” He turned in his chair to face her. “Haven’t I already explained this?

When I use that term, I mean these designs that we keep seeing that make things easy to use, even

though the technology may have to be much more complicated than necessary to make it that

easy.” He laughed, glad to have the advantage on her for a change. “What’s that got to do with

robots melting themselves down into hot puddles of molten junk?”

“Well, it’s the same attitude. It’s not the engineering as such, but the priorities. The creator of

Robot City doesn’t care about conserving materials.”

“Oh. Well...you might have a point, I suppose. Of course, they have all the materials they want,

since there is no competition here. I...say!” He suddenly turned back to the console. Without

mentioning the Key at all, he called up the records of supply requisitions. Then he searched out

unusual movements of materials with a top-level priority. Several locations were given. “Ha!

What do you bet they’ve just set up some kind of place to keep the Key?”

“Yes!” Katherine threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick squeeze. “They must

have. Considering how important it is, they’ll want it under the tightest security you ever saw on

this planet.” She laughed. “And if we get too close, maybe these suicidal robots will start melting

themselves down into hot little puddles of molten junk again.”

Derec had stiffened in surprise at her embrace and felt his face grow hot with embarrassment

again. They had been affectionate at times before, but arguments always seemed to follow. He

had no idea how she really felt.

Katherine went on excitedly. “Do you suppose a particular robot is in charge? That would tell us

who to look for.”

Glad to have something else to do, Derec called up a list of duty changes among the robots. That

list included geographical changes of assignment where they were pertinent. Major changes in

reorganization were still taking place in the wake of the building frenzy that Derec had recently

stopped. Now he correlated that information with the list of locations for which an abundance of

materiel had just been requisitioned. All at once, he had the number of a single robot. “There it

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is!”

Katherine was looking over his shoulder. “And, look—it has a huge crew that’s just been

assigned to work under it. Wow, this serial number is a mouthful.” Normally, robots with a lot of

human contact were given language names instead of numbers or duty designations, but on Robot

City the robots had no reason to assume that human contact would be made with any frequency;

only the Supervisors had been given names.

“Watch this. Let’s see. Key....How about Keymo?” He hit a sequence of keys.

“What did you do?”

“I’ve given it a name. It’ll be easier for us to remember. Now that it’s in the computer, it’ll

respond to that as well as its number. The other robots can learn it if they ask.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

He grinned up at her. “I just figured it out today.”

“Congratulations. Say, Derec....”

“Yeah?”

“Look at the size of that crew it has assembled. What could they possibly be doing?”

Derec shrugged. “Security? You’re right about that part. The robots will have that Key guarded

heavily.”

“What would they be afraid of on Robot City?” Besides, they can have other kinds of security

systems. They don’t need a bunch of robots just standing around.”

“You got me, kiddo.”

“What about their last duties? What kind of skills have they specialized in?”

He started calling up a list of their previous duties, and spoke as he worked. “I know that skills

matter to some of the robots, but I’m not sure how much. Certainly, for information, they can all

draw upon the central computer. If they can manage to get the data out of that tangled

contraption, anyone of them can know practically anything that any robot here knows.” He

looked at the list that came up. “There we are. Hmm—let me try this.” In a couple of strokes, he

had the computer subdivide the list according to previous duties that the various robots had in

common.

“I don’t see much of a pattern,” Katherine admitted after a moment.

Derec shook his head. “I don’t, either. They have all kinds of different backgrounds.”

“Maybe they have something else in common. Can you ask the computer to tell you if they have

some other common trait?”

“I can ask it anything we can think of.” Derec smiled ruefully. “Whether or not I get a civilized

answer is another matter.” A moment later, he had a new list in front of them. He looked it over

and let out a slow breath. “Wow.”

“It must be the Key,” Katherine said softly.

According to the computer, the robots on this new duty roster had been selected for their absolute

peak efficiency. They had recorded the fewest breakdowns, the shortest repair times, and the

finest work records. Those who had experienced contact with humans had consistently reached

any necessary decisions regarding the Laws with the least time and effort, though of course all

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IsaacAsimov'sRobotCityBook3:CyborgISAACASIMOV'SROBOTCITYBOOK3:CYBORGWILLIAMF.WUCopyright©1987ACKNOWLEDGMENTSSpecialthanksforhelpinwritingthisnovelareduetoDavidM.Harris\,MichaelP.Kube-McDowell,RobChilson,AlisonTelure,myparents,Dr.WilliamQ.Wuand\CecileF.Wu,andPlusFiveComputerServices,Inc.Thisnovelisde...

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RC3 - Cyborg, Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 3 - William F Wu

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