Isaac Asimov - The Naked Sun

“I don’t depend on that motive,” said Baley. “I think it was there, unconsciously, but you had a plainer motive, too. Dr. Rikaine Delmarre was in the way of your plans, and had to be removed.”

“What plans?” demanded Leebig.

“Your plans aiming at the conquest of the Galaxy, Dr. Leebig,” said Baley.

“The earthman is mad,” cried Leebig, turning to the others. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Some stared at Leebig wordlessly, some at Baley.

Baley gave them no chance to come to decisions. He said, “You know better, Dr. Leebig. Dr. Delmarre was going to break off with you. Mrs. Delmarre thought it was because you wouldn’t marry. I don’t think so. Dr. Delmarre himself was planning a future in which ectogenesis would be possible and marriage unnecessary. But Dr. Delmarre was working with you; he would know, and guess, more about your work than anyone else. He would know if you were attempting dangerous experiments and he would try to stop you. He hinted about such matters to Agent Gruer, but gave no details, because he was not yet certain of the details. Obviously, you discovered his suspicions and killed him.”

“Mad!” said Leebig again. “I will have nothing more to do with this.”

But Attlebish interrupted. “Hear him out, Leebig!”

Baley bit his lip to keep from a premature display of satisfaction at the obvious lack of sympathy in the Security Head’s voice. He said, “In the same discussion with me in which you mentioned robots with detachable limbs, Dr. Leebig, you mentioned spaceships with built-in positronic brains. You were definitely talking too much then. Was it that you thought I was only an Earthman and incapable of understanding the implications of robotics? Or was it that you had just been threatened with personal presence, had the threat lifted, and were a little delirious with relief? In any case, Dr.

Quemot had already told me that the secret weapon of Solaria against the Outer Worlds was the positronic robot.”

Quemot, thus unexpectedly referred to, started violently, and cried, “I meant—”

“You meant it sociologically, I know. But it gives rise to thoughts. Consider a spaceship with a built-in positronic brain as compared to a manned spaceship. A manned spaceship could not use robots in active warfare. A robot could not destroy humans on enemy spaceships or on enemy worlds. It could not grasp the distinction between friendly humans and enemy humans.

“Of course, a robot could be told that the opposing spaceship had no humans aboard. It could be told that it was an uninhabited planet that was being bombarded. That would be difficult to manage. A robot could see that its own ship carried humans; it would know its own world held humans. It would assume that the same was true of enemy ships and worlds. It would take a real expert in robotics, such as you, Dr. Leebig, to handle them properly in that case, and there are very few suck experts.

“But a spaceship that was equipped with its own positronic brain would cheerfully attack any ship it was directed to attack, it seems to me. It would naturally assume all other ships were unmanned. A positronic-brained ship could easily be made incapable of receiving messages from enemy ships that might undeceive it. With its weapons and defenses under the immediate control of a positronic brain, it would be more maneuverable than any manned ship. With no room necessary for crewmen, for supplies, for water or air purifiers, it could carry more armor, more weapons and be more invulnerable than any ordinary ship. One ship with a positronic brain could defeat fleets of ordinary ships. Am I wrong?”

The last question was shot at Dr. Leebig, who had risen from his seat and was standing, rigid, almost cataleptic with—what? Anger? Horror?

There was no answer. No answer could have been heard. Something tore loose and the others were yelling madly. Klorissa had the face of a Fury and even Gladia was on her feet, her small fist beating the air threateningly.

And all had turned on Leebig.

Baley relaxed and closed his eyes. He tried for just a few moments to unknot his muscles, unfreeze his tendons.

It had worked. He had pressed the right button at last. Quemot had made an analogy between the Solarian robots and the Spartan Helots. He said the robots could not revolt so that the Solarians could relax.

But what if some human threatened to teach the robots how to harm humans; to make them, in other words, capable of revolting?

Would that not be the ultimate crime? On a world such as Solaria would not every last inhabitant turn fiercely against anyone even suspected of making a robot capable of harming a human; on Solaria, where robots outnumbered humans by twenty thousand to one?

Attlebish cried, “You are under arrest. You are absolutely forbidden to touch your books or records until the government has a chance to inspect them—” He went on, almost incoherent, scarcely heard in the pandemonium.

A robot approached Baley. “A message, master, from the master Olivaw.”

Baley took the message gravely, turned, and cried, “One moment.” His voice had an almost magical effect. All turned to look at him solemnly and in no face (outside Leebig’s frozen glare) was there any sign of anything but the most painful attention to the Earthman.

Baley said, “It is foolish to expect Dr. Leebig to leave his records untouched while waiting for some official to reach them. So even before this interview began, my partner, Daneel Olivaw, left for Dr. Leebig’s estate. I have just heard from him. He is on the grounds now and will be with Dr. Leebig in a moment in order that he may be put under restraint.”

“Restraint!” howled Leebig in an almost animal terror, His eyes widened into staring holes in his head. “Someone coming here? Personal presence? No! No!” The second “No” was a shriek.

“You will not be harmed,” said Baley coldly, “if you co-operate.”

“But I won’t see him. I can’t see him.” The roboticist fell to his knees without seeming aware of the motion. He put his hands together in a desperate clasped gesture of appeal. “What do you want? Do you want a confession? Delmarre’s robot had detachable limbs. Yes. Yes. Yes. I arranged Gruer’s poisoning. I arranged the arrow meant for you. I even planned the spaceships as you said. I haven’t succeeded, but, yes, I planned it. Only keep the man away. Don’t let him come. Keep him away!”

He was babbling.

Baley nodded. Another right button. The threat of personal presence would do more to induce confession than any physical torture.

But then, at some noise or movement outside the field of sound or vision of any of the others, Leebig’s head twisted and his mouth opened. He lifted a pair of hands, holding something off.

“Away,” he begged. “Go away. Don’t come. Please don’t come. Please—”

He scrambled away on hands and knees, then his hand went suddenly to a pocket in his jacket. It came out with something and moved rapidly to his mouth. Swaying twice, he fell prone.

Baley wanted to cry: You fool, it isn’t a human that’s approaching; only one of the robots you love.

Daneel Olivaw darted into the field of vision and for a moment stared down at the crumpled figure.

Baley held his breath. If Daneel should realize it was his own pseudo humanity that had killed Leebig, the effect on his First Law enslaved brain might be drastic.

But Daneel only knelt and his delicate fingers touched Leebig here and there. Then he lifted Leebig’s head as though it were infinitely precious to him, cradling it, caressing it.

His beautifully chiseled face stared out at the others and he whispered, “A human is dead!”

Baley was expecting her; she had asked for a last interview; but his eyes widened when she appeared.