Isaac Asimov - The Naked Sun

A robot entered at once.

Where do they come from, Baley wondered. As one wandered aimlessly about the uninhabited maze that constituted the mansion, not one robot was ever visible. Did they scramble out of the way as humans approached? Did they send messages to one another and clear the path?

Yet whenever a call went out, one appeared without delay.

Baley stared at the robotic newcomer. It was sleek, but not glossy. Its surface had a muted, grayish finish, with a checkerboard pattern on the right shoulder as the only bit of color. Squares in white and yellow (silver and gold, really, from the metallic luster) were placed in what seemed an aimless pattern.

Daneel said, “Take us to the conversation room.” The robot bowed and turned, but said nothing. Baley said, “Wait, boy. What’s your name?”

The robot faced Baley. It spoke in clear tones and without hesitation. “I have no name, master. My serial number”—and a metal finger lifted and rested on the shoulder patch—“is ACX-z745.”

Daneel and Baley followed into a large room, which Baley recognized as having held Gruer and his chair the day before.

Another robot was waiting for them with the eternal, patient nonboredom of the machine. The first bowed and left.

Baley compared shoulder patches of the two as the first bowed and started out. The pattern of silver and gold was different. The checkerboard was made up of a six-by-six square. The number of possible arrangements would be infinite then, or seventy billion. More than enough.

Baley said, “Apparently, there is one robot for everything. One to show us here. One to run the viewer.”

Daneel said, “There is much robotic specialization in Solaria, Partner Elijah.”

“With so many of them, I can understand why.” Baley looked at the second robot. Except for the shoulder patch, and, presumably, for the invisible positronic patterns within its spongy platinum iridium brain it was the duplicate of the first. He said, “And your serial number?”

“ACC-112, master.”

“I’ll just call you boy. Now I want to speak to a Mrs. Gladia Delmarre, wife of the late Rikaine Delmarre—Daneel, is there an address, some way of pin-pointing her location?”

Daneel said gently, “I do not believe any further information is necessary. If I may question the robot—”

“Let me do that,” Baley said. “All right, boy, do you know how the lady is to be reached?”

“Yes, master. I have knowledge of the connection pattern of all masters.” This was said without pride. It was a mere fact, as though it were saying: I am made of metal, master.

Daneel interposed, “That is not surprising, Partner Elijah. There are less than ten thousand connections that need be fed into the memory circuits, and that is a small number.”

Baley nodded. “Is there more than one Gladia Delmarre, by any chance? There might be that chance of confusion.”

“Master?” After the question the robot remained blankly silent.

“I believe,” said Daneel, “that this robot does not understand your question. It is my belief that duplicate names do not occur on Solaria. Names are registered at birth and no name may be adopted unless it is unoccupied at the time.”

“All right,” said Baley, “we learn something every minute. Now see here, boy, you tell me how to work whatever it is I am supposed to work; give me the connection pattern, or whatever you call it, and then step out.”

There was a perceptible pause before the robot answered. It said, “Do you wish to make contact yourself, sir?”

“That’s right.”

Daneel touched Baley’s sleeve gently. “One moment, Partner Elijah.”

“Now what is it?”

“It is my belief that the robot could make the necessary contact with greater ease. It is his specialization.”

Baley said grimly, “I’m sure he can do it better than I can. Doing it myself, I may make a mess of it.” He stared levelly at the impassive Daneel. “Just the same, I prefer to make contact myself. Do I give the orders or don’t I?”

Daneel said, “You give the orders, Partner Elijah, and your orders, where First Law permits, will be obeyed. However, with your permission, I would like to give you what pertinent information I have concerning the Solarian robots. Far more than on any other world, the robots on Solaria are specialized. Although Solarian robots are physically capable of many things, they are heavily equipped mentally for one particular type of job. To perform functions outside their specialty requires the high potentials produced by direct application of one of the Three Laws. Again, for them not to perform the duty for which they are equipped also requires the direct application of the Three Laws.”

“Well, then, a direct order from me brings the Second Law into play, doesn’t it?”

“True. Yet the potential set up by it is ‘unpleasant’ to the robot. Ordinarily, the matter would not come up, since almost never does a Solarian interfere with the day-to-day workings of a robot. For one

thing, he would not care to do a robot’s work; for another, he would feel no need to.”

“Are you trying to tell me, Daneel, that it hurts the robot to have me do its work?”

“As you know, Partner Elijah, pain in the human sense is not applicable to robotic reactions.”

Baley shrugged. “Then?”

“Nevertheless,” went on Daneel, “the experience which the robot undergoes is as upsetting to it as pain is to a human, as nearly as I can judge.”

“And yet,” said Baley, “I’m not a Solarian. I’m an Earthman. I don’t like robots doing what I want to do.”

“Consider, too,” said Daneel, “that to cause distress to a robot might be considered on the part of our hosts to be an act of impoliteness since in a society such as this there must be a number of more or less rigid beliefs concerning how it is proper to treat a robot and how it is not. To offend our hosts would scarcely make our task easier.”

“All right,” said Baley. “Let the robot do its job.”

He settled back. The incident had not been without its uses. It was an educational example of how remorseless a robotic society could be. Once brought into existence, robots were not so easily removed, and a human who wished to dispense with them even temporarily found he could not.

His eyes half closed, he watched the robot approach the wall. Let the sociologists on Earth consider what had just occurred and draw their conclusions. He was beginning to have certain notions of his own.

Half a wall slid aside and the control panel that was revealed would have done justice to a City Section power station.

Baley longed for his pipe. He had been briefed that smoking on non-smoking Solaria would be a terrible breach of decorum, so he had not even been allowed to take his fixings. He sighed. There were moments when the feel of pipe stem between teeth and a warm bowl in his hand would have been infinitely comforting.

The robot was working quickly, adjusting variable resistances a trifle here and there and intensifying field-forces in proper pattern by quick finger pressures.

Daneel said, “It is necessary first to signal the individual one desires to view. A robot will, of course, receive the message. If the individual being signaled is available and wishes to receive the view, full contact is established.”

“Are all those controls necessary?” asked Baley. “The robot’s hardly touching most of the panel.”

“My information on the matter is not complete, Partner Elijah. There is, however, the necessity of arranging, upon occasion, for multiple viewings and for mobile viewings. The latter, particularly, call for complicated and continuing adjustment.”

The robot said, “Masters, contact is made and approved. When you are ready, it will be completed.”