Mirage

Twenty

Derec touched pavement at street level, relieved to finally be off the rooftops. He looked back up the length of ladder, toward the distant ceiling of D. C. Some of those roofs ended at that ceiling, forming part of the support for the cap that covered the city.

He shook his right arm to ease the bum. He had climbed down the entire length of this building -about fifteen meters, he guessed-with the crate under his left arm. His muscles ached.

"You know," he observed, "it's been a long time since I did any serious climbing, but this really isn't a very good substitute."

Ariel was looking around, her face pulled into an annoyed scowl.

"What?" he asked. "You've been looking like you lost something since we got to this sector."

"It's-I don't know, I can't quite put my finger on it. I should know something else about this area."

"What does your datum say about it?"

"A warehouse district, some small assembly plants, mostly merchandiser's storage. I-"

Ariel snatched out her datum and tapped it quickly. She turned and pointed. "That way."

Derec followed, irritated afresh. "You have an appointment?"

"Actually, yes."

"Have you ever been here before?"

"No, but it's part of my duties to know certain areas."

Derec waited for more explanation, but none came. He resigned himself to following and waiting for a bit longer.

Ariel went down a narrow gangway and out into a broad service alley that ran between loading docks. She glanced left and right and went left. At the fourth dock she stopped, referred to her datum, then pointed.

"That's the place."

"What place?" Derec asked.

Ariel climbed onto the dock apron and tried the employee door. When it did not open, she looked expectantly at Derec.

"Don't overuse this," he said as he joined her and inserted his decrypter. The lock was simple and the door opened within seconds.

Inside, they found a small, neat office. Business licenses hung on the walls.

"This is Auroran," Derec noted.

"I know."

"What are we looking for?"

"Contraband."

The warehouse proper was filled with rows of ceiling-high shelving containing crates of a similar dull grey as the one beneath Derec's arm, though much larger. Ariel stepped up to the nearest one and studied it, then looked around. She found a small handheld device hanging from the end of the shelves and ran it along the length of the crate.

The lid unsealed and swung out. Within stood a humaniform robot, minus the head.

"A DP-8," she said. "Porter model drone."

"A bit too human for here, isn't it?" Derec commented dryly

"Just a bit." Ariel checked three more and they all contained headless DP-8 drones. "Now, where do you suppose the heads are?"

They wandered among the shelves. Derec saw cases containing a variety of drones-factory assembler units, agromaintenance, cleaning drones-but only one section with the humaniforms, and every one of those that they opened they found headless. He began to suspect now what it was he carried under his arm.

"Derec," Ariel called.

He followed her voice to a wide door leading into another, smaller storage chamber. He saw machinery and workbenches.

"How come no one's here?" he asked.

"The embassy ordered all our nationals to close their businesses for the duration of the crisis."

"There's a crisis?"

She gave him a warning look.

On one of the benches sat a row of humaniform heads. Not absolutely human, but broadly so-caricatures of human faces. The backs were open. Derec turned one to peer into it.

"Empty."

"And…?"

He looked at Ariel. "It's easily adaptable to a positronic brain, if that's what you mean."

"I do."

He looked at the crate he carried, then back at Ariel.

"This place is only a short distance from the garage," she said. "Proximity doesn't usually mean much, but in this case I'd have to say the coincidence is a little too much."

"I think we'd better leave before another incident."

Ariel nodded vaguely and let Derec lead her back to the small office. She went to one of the three desks, though, and switched on the terminal. She took out her datum and connected it to the I/O.

"Ariel-"

She held up a hand and Derec pressed his lips together tightly. It was futile to argue with her when she had her mind set on a goal. He waited while she riffled the system and transferred data.

Finally, she shut down and pocketed her datum.

"Let's go."

Relieved, Derec stepped out onto the loading dock.

Derec looked sharply to the right. A police cruiser squatted in the alley and two officers stood behind it, weapons aimed at them.

"Shit," he muttered and slowly placed the crate at his feet. "Just what were you looking for?"

Ariel stared angrily at the back of the cop's head. Her voice was controlled and reasonable, completely at odds with the frustration Derec saw in her face.

"Convention space," she said. "There's going to be a trade show of Spacer manufactures. That's what I do, I'm the commerce liaison with the Auroran Embassy."

"Convention-? There aren't any convention facilities in this area, Ambassador, and that was a private warehouse-"

"But it's called Convention Center District on all the maps."

"Yes, it is," the cop said agreeably. "But there really aren't any convention facilities there."

"So why is it called that if that's not what it contains?"

"It's always been called that," the other cop said. "You must be new on Earth. "

"So it must be a practical joke, is that it? Leave outdated names on all the maps so the new tourists end up over their head in a bad neighborhood. Of course, that's a joke, too, since the Terran Tourism and Visitors Department swears there are no bad areas in D. C. or in any other major urban center on the planet."

"Tourism doesn't ask the police, Ms. Sorry."

"Someone should ask someone," Ariel went on, her voice acquiring an edge now.

Derec watched appreciatively as she gradually amplified her rant, over the course of the several kilometers back to the Auroran embassy, irritating and then enraging the two police officers who had, in fairness, just done their jobs. She picked on every explanation they offered until they clammed up and gave her only monotone answers and clearly could not wait to get her out of their cruiser. They had not arrested them because Ariel had her embassy ID on her and had convinced them that she had had business at that warehouse. Derec still had the crate, secured by the same explanation, though the policemen were clearly not happy about it. They were not willing to risk the trouble, though, in arresting an ambassador. Now she had gotten them to the point where they cared about nothing other than returning them to the Auroran embassy, which they had been more than willing to do, no doubt under orders to make sure no more Spacers got harmed or killed in the aftermath of Union Station. Ariel took advantage of that to so thoroughly outrage them with her petty slurs against Earth that they did not bother asking for Derec's ID, nor did they ask the questions that would have opened the door to answers Ariel did not wish to give.

On the landing pad, fifth floor of the embassy, they climbed out of the transport. Ariel strode off in a huff. Derec looked in at the two cops.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," he said.

The nearer one glared at him. "Your boss needs to learn a little circumspection."

Derec shrugged. "Well…"

"Have a good day, sir."

They lifted off and Derec staggered back from the wash of hot, compressed air. He wondered how much of a report they would file.

Derec caught up with Ariel at the elevator.

"That was-"

She shot him a look. "Unnecessary?"

"-masterful."

She frowned briefly, then laughed. "Those poor…"

The elevator door opened, letting three people out. Ariel did not finish her thought. "All the log recorded was date, destination, and distance," Derec announced. "It was used once in the last eleven months."

"Union Station?" Mia asked.

"Correct. And directly back to that garage. There's no record of the driver, the medical technicians, or the patient."

"No surprises, then," Ariel said.

"But it's confirmation," Mia said, nodding. She pointed at the crate on the end of the table. "What's in that?"

Derec felt inexplicably reluctant to open it. He looked at Ariel, his heart pounding. "Do you still have that key?"

Ariel handed him the seal key from the warehouse. Derec switched it on and ran it along the seam. The crate lid popped open.

Nestled within padding lay a plastic-wrapped mound of silver-and-gold webbing, wrapped tightly and mingled with darker nodes.

"Damn," Ariel hissed.

"What is it?" Mia asked.

"A positronic brain," Derec said. "Absolute contraband."

"Close it up," Ariel said.

Derec complied, then looked at Mia. "You called the police, didn't you?"

Mia nodded. "Something came up. I had Bogard issue a dispatch through their channels. Not much, just a cruiser to go look-see."

"Bogard is just full of tricks," Ariel said icily. "Pity it couldn't do its primary job as well."

Derec looked at her. She was staring at Bogard, arms folded, an expression of unconcealed resentment on her face.

"You sent me a message," Derec said, "after the Incident. You said 'I see you got your wish. ' What did you mean by that?"

"You knew it was from me. Can't you figure out what it means?"

"Eliton's death was-"

"Beside the point. You got what you wanted by being able to create a dangerous robot. I don't think you wanted to kill Eliton. I think you wanted to build robots, any way you could, any way you wanted."

"How does that follow?" Derec asked. "With Eliton's death, no one will be able to build robots on Earth."

"I don't think it matters. Someone will hire you to build bodyguards now, no matter what."

"Excuse me, but I failed to do that."

Ariel waved her hand dismissively. "Glitches. No one on Earth would buy it, but Spacers understand that prototypes always have bugs to be worked out. It brought back three of the assassins. That's the point that won't be missed. You've got your opportunity to build your special positronics now. More leeway, more freedom of action, more humanlike. Hell, they'll even make mistakes."

"Ariel-"

"Pardon me," Mia said. "I feel like I've come in at the tail end of a very complicated argument."

"Derec and I disagree fundamentally over Bogard. What it represents."

"I gathered that much. Why?"

"Derec's robot here is the product of an attempt to circumvent Three Law programming-"

"That's a complete mischaracterization!" Derec shouted. "You never understood what I was after!"

"Really? Tell me something-why is that robot still functioning?"

"What? I don't-"

"It failed," Ariel snapped. "It let a human in its care die. It stood witness to dozens of fatalities and injuries. It should be a mass of collapsed positronic gelatin. Instead, it is fully functional."

"What good would it be if it had collapsed?"

"It would be inert. It would pose no further threat."

"What threat?"

"The threat of negligence!"

"It wasn't negligent! Look at how it performed for Mia."

"Then why is Eliton dead?"

"We don't know he's dead!"

"As far as Bogard is concerned, he is! Why?"

Derec did not know. Of everything he had intended in designing and building Bogard, that was precisely the thing which ought never to have happened. He looked at the unmoving, unmoved machine and wondered what had gone so profoundly wrong that it had allowed the human it was programmed expressly to protect to die.

"Would someone please explain this to me?" Mia asked.

"Derec built it, let him try," Ariel said in disgust.

"Under normal circumstances…" Derec started. His throat caught, and he coughed. "Normal circumstances… whatever that means… the Three Laws are built into every positronic brain, part of the core template. They represent the First Principles for a robot, the foundation on which all its subsequent learning and experience rests. The initial designers set it up so that almost all the secondary programming requires the presence of those laws in order to function. It would require a complete redesign of all the manufacturing methods as well as the basic pathways themselves to build a brain without the Three Laws. They aren't just hardwired into the brain, they are basic to the processes of constructing one."

"Is that what you did? Redesign everything?"

"No. I'm not that good. Nor am I that irresponsible. All I did was set in place a new set of parameters for the application of the Laws."

"You circumvented them," Ariel snapped.

"I did not. I took an accepted standard practice and stretched it."

"What practice?" Mia asked.

"Setting conditions of when the robot perceives that it is responsible for a violation," Derec explained. "Think about it. According to the First Law, if a robot followed it absolutely, all robots would collapse. 'A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. ' Consider that as an absolute. Human beings are always coming to harm. Time and distance alone guarantee that a robot can't act to prevent that harm in all cases. If some kind of buffer zone, a hierarchical response, weren't in place, the instant robots realized how many humans came to harm because they weren't doing something to prevent it, we would have no functional robot population. So we establish a reasonable limitation for its application. If a robot does nothing to stop the human it is standing right next to from being killed-say, by a speeding vehicle, out of control-then it fails and collapse follows. If that same robot can do nothing to prevent the same fate happening to a human a kilometer away from it, the only way it fails is if another human forcefully asserts that it was at fault. It does not automatically perceive itself as responsible."

Mia nodded. "That makes sense. "

"Practical engineering," Derec said. "But then we run into a functional brick wall when it comes to certain tasks. Law enforcement, for one. Most positronic brains cannot cope with violent crime. A few have been programmed to dissociate under very specific circumstances so that, say, witnessing dead humans at a crime scene won't create a Three Law crisis. But they still can't make arrests because that offers the potential of harm to a human being."

"But a criminal-" Mia began.

"Is still a human being," Derec insisted. "What a human has done by violating a law does not mitigate the robot's adherence to the Three Laws."

"Unless you redefine harm," Ariel said. "Which is how you got around the Three Law imperative."

"That's an oversimplification," Derec replied. "What I redefined was the sphere of responsibility. Bogard is just as committed to the Three Laws as any other robot, but it has a broader definition of that commitment. It can make the determination that limiting a human's freedom action, even if it results in a degree of harm-bruises or strained muscles, for instance-may prevent harm from coming to other humans."

"You're telling me you gave it a moral barometer?" Ariel demanded.

"Sort of. It relies on the human to which it is assigned to make that determination. It also recognizes a human prerogative to go in harm's way should circumstances require risk to prevent further harm."

"And when confronted with a clear case of Three Law violation?"

"It has memory buffers and a failsafe that shunts the data out of the primary positronic matrix. It prevents positronic collapse and allows for the opportunity for further evaluation. In a proper lab debriefing, the cause-and-effect of a situation can be properly explained and set in context. The robot can be reset and returned to duty."

"You gave it selective amnesia," Ariel said. "It can allow a human to come to harm and still function because after the fact it doesn't remember doing it."

"That's why Bogard left data out of its report," Mia said.

"That's why I have to take Bogard back to Phylaxis to debrief it."

Mia nodded thoughtfully. "So why don't you approve, Ariel?"

"A robot is a machine," she said. "A very powerful machine. It is intelligent, it can make decisions. I want them inextricably joined to the Three Laws so that they can never-never-circumvent their concern for my safety. If they fail to protect me, I want them shut down. I don't want them thinking it over. I don't want to ever be considered a secondary or tertiary concern by a robot who may decide that I ought to be sacrificed for the good of the many. Or of a specific individual. I think loosening the bonds like this can only lead to operational conflicts that will result in unnecessary harm."

"That's the only way to construct a robot bodyguard, though," Derec said.

"There should be no such thing, then!" Ariel shouted. "It didn't work! Somewhere in its sloppy brain it made a decision and sacrificed Senator Eliton! Explain it to me how that was for anyone's greater good!"

Derec stared at her, ashamed. He could think of no answer to give her. In fact, he had no answer for himself.