‘U.S. Robots is not a human being and the First Law of Robotics does not recognize a corpqration as a person the way ordinary laws do. Besides, it would be dangerous to try to lift this particular sort of inhibition. The person who laid it on could lift it off least dangerously, because the robot’s motivations in that respect are centered on that person. Any other course—’ She shook her head and grew almost impassioned. ‘I won’t let the robot be damaged!’
Lanning interrupted with the air of bringing sanity to the problem. ‘It seems to me that we have only to prove a robot incapable of the act of which Easy is accused. We can do that.’
‘Exactly,’ said Defense, in annoyance. ‘}ou can do that. The only witnesses capable of testifying to Easy’s condition and to the nature of Easy’s state of mind are employees of U.S. Robots. The judge can’t possibly accept their testimony as unprejudiced.’
‘How can he deny expert testimony?’
‘By refusing to be convinced by it. That’s his right as the judge. Against the alternative that a man like Professor Ninheimer deliberately set about ruining his own reputation, even for a sizeable sum of money, the judge isn’t going to accept the technicalities of your engineer . The judge is a man, after all. If he as to hoose_ betw en a an om an impossible thing and a robot domg an 1mposs1ble thmg, he s quite hkely to decide in favor of the man.’
‘A man can do an impossible thing,’ said Lanning, ‘because we don’t know all the complexities of the human mind and we don’t know what, in a given human mind, is impossible and what is not. We do know what is really impossible to a robot.’
‘Well, we’ll see if we can’t convince the judge of that,’ Defense replied wearily.
‘If all you say is so,’ rumbled Robertson, ‘I don’t see how you can.’
‘We’ll see. It’s good to know and be aware of the difficulties involve?, but let’s not be too downhearted. I’ve tried to look ahead a few moves m the chess game, too.’ With a stately nod in the direction of the robopsychologist, he added, ‘With the help of the good lady here.’
Lanning looked from one to the other and said, ‘What the devil is this?’
But the bailiff thrust his head into the room and announced somewhat breathlessly that the trial was about to resume.
They took their seats, examining the man who had started all the trouble.
Simon Ninheimer owned a fluffy head of sandy hair, a face that narrowed past a beaked nose toward a pointed chin, and a habit of ome-times hesitating before key words in his conversation that gave him an air of a seeker after an almost unbearable precision. When he said, ‘The Sun rises in the – uh – east,’ one was certain he had given due consideration to the possibility that it might at some time rise in the west.
Prosecution said, ‘Did you oppose employment of Robot EZ-27 by the university?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘Why was that?’
‘I did not feel that we understood the-uh-motives of U.S. Robots thoroughly. I mistrusted their anxiety to place the robot with us.’
‘Did you feel that it was capable of doing the work that it was allegedly designed to do?’
‘I know for a fact that it was not.’
‘Would you state your reasons?’
Simon Ninheimer’s book, entitled Social Tensions Involved in Space-Flight and Their Resolution, had been eight years in the making. Ninheimer’s search for precision was not confined to his habits of speech, and in a subject like sociology, almost inherently imprecise, it left him breathless.
Even with the material in galley proofs, he felt no sense of completion. Rather the reverse, in fact. Staring at the long strips of print, he felt only the itch to tear the lines of type apart and rearrange them differently.
Jim Baker, Instructor and soon to be Assistant Professor of Sociology, found Ninheimer, three days after the first batch of galleys had arrived from the printer, staring at the handful of paper in abstraction. The galleys came in three copies: one for Ninheimer to proofread, one for Baker to proofread independently, and a third, marked ‘Original,’ which was to receive the final corrections, a combination of those made by Ninheimer and by Baker, after a conference at which possible conflicts and disagreements were ironed out. This had been their policy on the several papers on which they had collaborated in the past three years and it worked well.
Baker, young and ingratiatingly soft-voiced, had his own copies of the galleys in his hand. He said eagerly, ‘I’ve done the first chapter and they contain some typographical beauts.’
‘The first chapter always has them,’ said Ninheimer distantly.
‘Do you want to go over it now?’
Ninheimer brought his eyes to grave focus on Baker. ‘I haven’t done anything on the galleys, Jim’ . I don’t think I’ll bother.’
Baker looked confused. ‘Not bother?’
Ninheimer pursed his lips. ‘I’ve asked about the – uh – workload of the machine. After all, he was originally – uh – promoted as a proofreader. They’ve set a schedule.’
‘The machine? You mean Easy?’
‘I believe that is the foolish name they gave it.’
‘But, Dr Ninheimer, I thought you were staying clear of it!’
‘I seem to be the only one doing so. Perhaps I ought to take my share of the – uh – advantage.’
‘Oh. Well, I seem to have wasted time on this first chapter, then,’ said the younger man ruefully.
‘Not wasted. We can compare the machine’s result with yours as a check.’
‘If you want to, but—’
‘Yes?’
‘I doubt that we’ll find anything wrong with Easy’s work. It’s sup- posed never to have made a mistake.’
‘I dare say,’ said Ninheimer dryly.
The first chapter was brought in again by Baker four days later. This time it was Ninheimer’s copy, fresh from the special annex that had been built to house Easy and the equipment it used.
