Isaac Asimov - Caliban

There was a chorus of shouts and boos and hisses from the room, and an angry chant began in the back of the room, among the Ironheads. “Settler, Settler, Settler.” In the Ironhead view of things, there was no fouler name they could call her.

Fredda let it go on for a minute or two, declining to challenge it this time, preferring to let it peter out on its own. The tactic worked—at least this once. Others in the audience turned toward the Ironheads and shushed them, and Kresh’s deputies leaned in toward a few of the rowdier ones. The Ironheads settled down.

“If I may continue, then, to the Second Law of Robotics: A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. This Law ensures that robots will be useful tools, and will remain subservient to humans, despite the many ways in which they can be physically and intellectually superior to us.

“But in our analysis of the First Law, we saw that human reliance on robots creates a human dependence upon them. Second Law reinforces this. Just as we are losing the will and ability to see to our own welfare, we are losing the capacity for direct action. We can do nothing for ourselves, only what we can direct our robots to do for us. Much technical training consists of teaching the means by which to give complex orders to specialized robots.

“The result: With the exceptions of our increasingly decadent and decorative arts, we create nothing new. As we shall see in a moment, even our art forms are not immune to robotic interference.

“We tell ourselves that the Spacer way of life frees us to build a better, higher culture, frees us from all drudgery to explore the better places of human ability. But with what result?

“Let me cite one example that is close to hand. We meet here tonight in one of our planet’s finest theaters, a palace of art, a monument to creativity. But who does the work here? To what use do we put this place? There is a short and simple answer. It is here that we order our robots to rake over the dead bones of our culture for us.

“No one bothers to write plays anymore. It is too much effort. I have done some research on this point. It has been twenty years since a play by a living playwright has been performed here, or anywhere in the city of Hades. It is well over fifty years since the last time a large-cast show used only human actors. The extras, the chorus, the supporting players, are all theatrical robots, human in appearance and specially built for the purpose of re-creating human action on the stage. Indeed, it is becoming all too common for the lead roles to be taken by robots as well. But do not worry, we are told. The only truly creative task in theater has always been that of the director, and the director will always be human.

“I think the great actors of the past would object to being dismissed as noncreative. I likewise think that the great directors of the past would not regard their creative tasks as complete if they merely selected the play and ordered a pack of robots to perform it.

“But perform the robots do, and perform it to an empty house. The performances put on here are seen by millions, millions who stay safely home and watch on televisor. It is rare that even twenty percent of the seats in this house are filled by humans. So, in order to provide the proper feel of a live performance, the management fills the empty seats with crude humanoid robots, capable of little more than laughing and clapping on command. Their rubber and plastic faces look enough like people to fool the watchers at home when the cameras pan the audience. You sit at home, ladies and gentlemen, watching a theater full of robots watching a stage full of robots. Where in all that is the human interaction that makes the theater live? The emotions in this room are thick and strong tonight. How could that be so if all of you were tailor’s dummies preprogrammed to respond to another tailor’s dummy giving this talk?” There was an uncomfortable silence, and Fredda noticed more than a few members of the audience glancing about, as if to reassure themselves that the people to either side of them were not audience-response robots.

“Nor have other creative fields fared better. The museums are full of paintings done by robots under the ‘direction’ of the nominal human painter. Novelists dictate the broad outlines of their books to robotic ‘assistants’ who return with complete manuscripts, having ‘amplified’ certain sections.

“As of now, there are still artists and poets and writers and sculptors who do their own work for themselves, but I do not know how much longer that will be true. Art itself is a dying art. I must admit my research is incomplete in this area. Prior to giving this talk, I should have gone out there to see if anyone cares if the books and the art are machine-made or not. But I must admit I found the prospect of that research too depressing.

“I did not and do not know if anyone looks at these paintings or reads these books. I do not know which would be worse—the empty exercise of sterile creation admired and praised, or such a pointless charade going forth without anyone even bothering to notice. I doubt the so-called artists themselves know. As in all of our society, there is no penalty for failure in the arts, and no reward for success. And if failure is treated in exactly the same way as success, why go to all the effort of being a success? Why should there be, when the robots take care of everything, anyway?”

Fredda took another sip of water and shifted her stance behind the podium. So far it was going well. But what would happen when she got to the tough part?

“On, then, to the Third Law of Robotics: A robot must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. Of the Three Laws, this has the smallest effect on the relationship between robots and humans. It is the only one of the Laws that provides for robotic independence of action, a point I shall come back to. Third Law makes robots responsible for their own repair and maintenance, as well as ensuring that they are not destroyed capriciously. It means that robots are not dependent on human intervention for their continued survival. Here, at last, in Third Law, we have a Law that sees to the well-being of the robots. At least, so it appears at first glance.

“However, Third Law is there for the convenience of humans: If the robots are in charge of their own care, it means we humans need not bother ourselves with their maintenance. Third Law also makes robotic survival secondary to their utility, and that is clearly more for the benefit of humans than robots. If it is useful for a robot to be destroyed, or if it must be destroyed to prevent some harm to a human, then that robot will be destroyed.

“Note that a large fraction of all Three Laws deals with negation, with a list of things a robot must not do. A robot rarely has impetus for independent action. We ran an experiment once, in our labs. We built a high-function robot and set a timer switch into its main power link. We sat it down in a chair in a spare room by itself and closed—but did not lock—the door. The switch engaged, and the robot powered up. But no human was present and no human arrived giving orders. No management robot came by to relay orders from a human. We simply left that robot alone, free to do whatever it liked. That robot sat there, motionless, utterly inert, for two years. We even forgot the robot was there, until we needed the room for something else. I went in, told the robot to stand up and go find some work to do. The robot got up and did just that. That robot has been an active and useful part of the lab’s robot staff ever since, completely normal in every way.