Isaac Asimov - Caliban

Fredda knew this was not the time to go into the intricate negotiations that had made it all possible. When Tonya Welton had gotten wind of the New Law robots—and the devil only knew how she had found that one out—her initial demand was that all new robots built on Inferno be gravitonic New Law robots as a precondition of Settler terraforming help. Governor Grieg had done a masterful job of negotiating from weakness in getting the Settlers to adjust their position. But never mind that now.

Fredda went on speaking. “The task before this unique team of Settlers, Spacers, and robots: nothing less than the restoration of this world. They shall rebuild the terraforming center on Purgatory. For the first time in history, robots will work alongside humans, not as slaves, but as partners, for the New Laws shall set them free.

“Now, let me tell you what those New Laws are.

“The New First Law of Robotics: A robot may not injure a human being. The negation clause has been deleted. Under this law, humans can depend on being protected from robots, but cannot depend on being protected by robots. Humans must once again depend on their own initiative and self-reliance. They must take care of themselves. Almost as important, under this law, robots have greater status relative to humans.

“The New Second Law of Robotics: A robot must cooperate with human beings except where such cooperation would conflict with the First Law. New Law robots will cooperate, not obey. They are not subject to capricious commands. Instead of unquestioning obedience, robots will make their orders subject to analysis and consideration. Note, however, that cooperation is still mandatory. Robots will be the partners of humans, not their slaves. Humans must take responsibility for their own lives and cannot expect to have absurd orders obeyed. They cannot expect robots to destroy or injure themselves in aid of some human whim.

The New Third Law of Robotics: A robot must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First Law. Note that Second Law is not mentioned here, and thus no longer has priority over Third Law. Robotic self-preservation is made as important as utility. Again, we raise the status of robots in relation to humans, and correspondingly free humans from the debilitating dependence of slave masters who cannot survive without their slaves.

“And finally, the New Fourth Law, which we have already discussed: A robot may do anything it likes except where such action would violate the First, Second, or Third Law. Here we open the doors to robotic freedom and creativity. Guided by the far more adaptive and flexible gravitonic brain, robots will be free to make use of their own thoughts, their own powers. Note, too, that the phrasing is ‘may do anything it likes,’ not ‘must do.’ The whole point of New Fourth is to permit freedom of action. Free action cannot be imposed by coercion.”

Fredda looked out over the audience. There. There was a closing, a summing up, still to come. But she had gotten it all said, and kept the crowd from—

“No!”

Fredda’s head snapped around in the direction of the shout, and suddenly her heart was pounding.

“No!” the call came again. The voice-deep, heavy, angry-came from the back of the room. “She’s lying!” it cried out. There, in the back, one of the Ironheads. Their leader, Simcor Beddle. A pale, heavyset man, his face hard and angry. “Look at her! Up on the stage with our traitor Governor and Queen Tonya Welton. They are behind this. It’s a trick, boys! Without the Three Laws, there are no robots! You’ve heard her bad-mouth robots all night long. She’s not out to make ’em better—she wants to help her Settler pals wipe ’em out! Are we going to let that happen?”

A loud, ragged chorus cried out “No!”

“What was that?” Beddle demanded. “I didn’t hear you.”

“NO!” This time it was not merely a shout, but a bellow that seemed to shake the very room.

“Again!” the fat man demanded.

“NO!” the Ironheads bellowed again, and then began to chant. “NO, NO, NO!” The Ironheads started to stand. They came out of their seats and started moving toward the center aisle. “NO, NO, NO!” The sheriff’s deputies moved toward them, a bit uncertainly, and the Ironheads leapt on that moment of indecision. It was obvious the Heads had planned for this moment. They knew what they were going to do. They had just been waiting for their cue.

Fredda stared down at them as they formed up in the aisle. The simplest and most impossible of all demands, she thought. Make it stop, keep the world from changing, leave things as they are. It was a lot to wrap up in one word, but the meaning came through loud and clear.

“NO, NO, NO!”

Now they were a solid mass of bodies moving down the center aisle, toward the block of seats where the Settlers sat.

“NO, NO, NO!”

The deputies struggled to break up the Ironheads, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. Now the Settlers were getting to their feet, some of them attempting to flee, others seeming just as eager for the fight as the Ironheads, slowed only by the press of bystanders intent on nothing more than escape.

Fredda looked to the front row, to the only robot in the audience. She was about to call out a warning, but Alvar Kresh knew what to do. He reached around to Donald’s back, pulled open an access panel, and stabbed down on a button inside. Donald collapsed to the floor. After all, she had just got done saying robots were no good in a riot. First Law conflicts would send even a police robot like Donald right into a major, and probably fatal, brainlock. Kresh had shut his assistant down just barely in time. Kresh looked up at Fredda, and she looked back at him. Their eyes met, and in some strange way the two of them were alone in that moment, two combatants eye-to-eye, all the pretense, all the side issues, stripped away.

And Fredda Leving was terrified to discover how much of herself she saw in Alvar Kresh.

THE audience was a mob, a whirl of bodies rushing in all directions, and Kresh was jostled, shoved, knocked down to land on Donald. He got to his feet, turned, and looked back toward Fredda Leving. But the moment, whatever it had been, was already gone. A metallic hand snatched at Fredda’s injured shoulder. Alvar saw her jump in surprise, flinch back from the contact.

It was Tonya Welton’s robot, Ariel. Alvar saw Fredda turn and face the robot, saw Ariel urge her toward the backstage area, away from the chaos in the auditorium. She allowed herself to be led away, hustled with the others through the door that led off the backstage area. There was something strange in that moment, something Alvar could not quite place. But there was no time to think it over. The Ironheads and Settlers were closing in on each other, and the riot was about to begin in earnest. Alvar Kresh turned to lend a hand to his deputies.

He threw himself into the fight.

ALVAR Kresh had not been in the middle of a real brawl for longer than he could remember. The blood rushed into his veins, and he felt an eager desire for battle. He launched himself into the fight and then—and then he quite suddenly remembered why he always tried to avoid riot duty back when he was a deputy.

A stranger’s elbow jammed into his ribs, an anonymous hand clawed at his face, and a disembodied boot crushed down on his toes. All three assaults were completely unintentional. He could not even tell which people, in the press of bodies, were responsible. There were no people in the melee, just a random collection of fists and feet, bodies and shouts. One moment, Alvar found himself buried beneath a tangle of Settlers and deputies, and the next he was suspended in midair over a tangle of Ironheads.