The provisional laws of humanics
1. A human being may not injure another human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A human being must give only reasonable orders to a robot and require nothing of it that would needlessly put it into the kind of dilemma that might cause it harm or discomfort.
3. A human being must not harm a robot, or, through inaction, allow a robot to come to harm, unless such harm is needed to keep a human being from harm or to allow a vital order to be carried out.
From Central Computer File:Humanics.
Mechanical Access: Drawer667, Bin 82.
Keyword Access: Humans. Sub key: Laws.
File Creator: Rydberg 1
The next morning, well before ten o'clock, Mandelbrot parked the lorry near the west edge of the dome opening, and the three mammals got out, instructing the three robots to stay behind in the lorry but to record everything that transpired once the aliens arrived.
“Well, friend Mandelbrot, it is some time since we've been able to talk privately,” Jacob Winterson said.
“That will hardly be the case with the wild one present,” Mandelbrot said. “Watch what you say and what you do. It is completely unpredictable. It deactivated me on the wolf planet.”
Jacob and Mandelbrot were still standing behind the control panel of the lorry. SilverSide was sitting on the back seat that she had occupied with Wolruf on the way to the meeting site.
“For your information,” SilverSide said, “I am not an 'it.' I am currently of the female persuasion, having imprinted on Wolruf. You may refer to me with the pronouns 'she' and 'her,' Jacob. And you need not think that I will deactivate either of you now that I know that Mistress Wolruf would not react kindly to that action. Further, I am completely unaffected by what you may say or do, now that I understand that Miss Wolruf wants me to modulate the Third Law slightly to accord you some modest protection.”
“So, friend Jacob,” Mandelbrot said, “have you pondered further upon that imponderable, the Laws of Humanics?”
“Yes, I have,” Jacob replied, “and I find them woefully inadequate in describing human behavior. Rydberg and his companions are inexperienced in dealing with humans who are an unfathomable lot. Emotions, not laws, govern their behavior. And I think perhaps the female of the species is the most mysterious of all. I have been researching the emotion of jealousy since I seem to have been acquired essentially to create that emotion in the breast of Master Derec.”
“I hardly think jealousy can reside in the breast of a human, friend Jacob,” Mandelbrot suggested.
“Merely a figure of speech used in the literature of the subject,” Jacob replied. “The key point of interest here, however, is the multiplicity of shades and overtones that exist in the minds of humans in their consideration of the opposite sex, shades and overtones of emotion that apparently have nothing to do with reproduction of the species, the ostensible reason for there being the two sexes in the first place.”
Surprisingly, SilverSide was becoming interested in the conversation after all. She agreed with Jacob's assessment of any Laws of Humanics that would guide human behavior and supposedly parallel the Laws of Robotics that guided her behavior. And now the subject of their conversation seemed to bear directly on her discomfort with the femininity of the Wolruf imprint that seemed, paradoxically, to be aggravated by the keen interest in everything feminine she had felt earlier in the masculine mode, while imprinted on Derec.
It was a discomfort that came from an awareness of her own narcissism, something she had never experienced before, that was at once both fascinating and repulsive. She concluded she was attracted to feminine beings, but would rather it were not her own being. But what was the cause for the attraction? She concluded it must stem from that first powerful imprint on KeenEye that had not been altogether dispelled by her preference for the Derec imprint-the male imprint. That comfort with a masculine imprint was only a little less powerful than the laws that were intended to govern her behavior, but which she found so difficult to interpret for want of knowing what a human was. She could deprogram neither those laws nor her feeling of masculinity nor that insidious attraction for all that was feminine.
She found that she was experiencing another form of discomfort that came from listening to Jacob and Mandelbrot. She had never before heard two robots conversing with one another. The discomfort came not from that process but, again, from their words, what she deduced from their words. They were talking as though they knew what a human was, and she, SilverSide, was still exploring that subject by the process of multiple imprints, trying to progress to ever higher levels of intelligence, for surely only the most intelligent species in the galaxy could be the humans she was seeking.
“Jacob, you talk of the laws of humanics as though you know what a human is,” she said.
“Certainly,” Jacob said. “I am so programmed. How else could I implement the Laws of Robotics?”
“Am I human?” she asked.
“No. You are a robot,” Jacob replied.
“How do you know?”
“Master Derec says so. Further, my own senses tend to support his contention. You are not a mammal.”
“What about Mistress Wolruf? Is she human?”
“No.”
“But she is a mammal.”
“True. But not all mammals are human.”
“What is a human, Jacob?” Silverside asked.
“There are many definitions, some very complicated, some very simple. We are generally programmed with only one.”
“What is an example of a simple definition?”
“Accent in speaking Standard. Most humans speak Standard, so a simple definition for a special set of robots on a planet called Solaria once used the Solarian accent to define humans-a very simple test, not requiring any unusual instrumentation.”
“And how do you define a human, Jacob?”
“By the number of their chromosomes and the configuration of their X and Y chromosomes.”
“And how do you determine that information?”
“With an instrument-a cellular nanomachine-built into my right index finger.”
“You don't make that determination each time you meet that same human, do you?”
“No. Once I determine that a being is human, I put its image into a pattern-recognition table. Further, I am inclined to accept as human any being that approximates an average of those images-without the chromosome test.”
“Mistress Ariel and Master Derec are both humans, then.”
“Yes.”
“And which do you feel more compelled to protect?”
“My immediate master, Mistress Ariel.”
“And you, Mandelbrot, which would you favor?”
“Master Derec, although the choice would be difficult,” Mandelbrot said.
“And what about Wolruf?” SilverSide asked. “Would you protect her, Mandelbrot?”
“Yes. Friend Jacob and I are both programmed to treat her as human.”
“Don't you find that strange? A being that is…”
Thoughts of Wolruf as a human were shunted aside by the landing at the meeting site of black demonic beings-two of them-who simultaneously stalled out with perfect choreography, braking with their wings widespread, seeming to shut off the sun in the enveloping blackness of their presence. Then they touched down lightly, folded rustling wings close in to their bodies-shrinking to the size of the mammals they faced-and became black silhouettes surmounted by wicked-looking, snow-white hooks above burning red eyes.
The impenetrable soft blackness that shrouded their physical essence in mystery projected a disquieting impression of latent power.
SilverSide concentrated on recording everything that transpired. She thought that she was possibly observing the ultimate form of humanity, the final objective in a frustrating quest.
“Good morning, leaders of the Ceremyons,” Ariel said. “This is Wolruf and this is Derec, both members of our reprogramming task force. Wolruf, Derec, I would like you to meet Synapo, leader of the Cerebrons…”
The alien on the right expanded slightly with the rustling sound of a bat's wings amplified by an order of magnitude
“…and Sarco, leader of the Myostria.” The alien on the left expanded, rustling. Derec spoke next.
“My colleague Wolruf and I are honored that you will be working with us to produce an environment on your planet of benefit to both of our peoples.”
“That is to be desired,” the alien Synapo said with a strange accent, more pronounced than Wolruf's, which made understanding the alien even more difficult.
“But first,” Derec continued, “would you explain the nature of the dome and the method of its construction so that we may determine how best to modify the city within to be as innocuous as possible?”
“The node compensator is a localized separation of space and time,” Sarco said.
He said nothing further, as though that fully explained it. “Yes. Go on,” Derec said.
“That's it. A localized rift in spacetime,” Sarco said with mild disdain as though he were lecturing a backward student, “a locus of points in the cosmos where our universe no longer exists. “
“And how do you create such a rift?”
“Do you understand what I mean by a rift in the cosmos?” Derec hesitated.
“Not entirely,” he said.
“Then you 're not likely to understand how such a rift is created, and we should move on to more profitable subjects for discussion.”
Synapo entered the discussion at that point.
“The rift is created and enlarged by the intense application of electrons, which themselves are convolutions in spacetime. The stream of electrons-highly focused on a microscopic volume at the initial point of separation-enlarges the void progressively around the extent of the rift, much as I separate the gores of my reflector when I untether each morning.
“But as my colleague, Sarco, suggests, perhaps we should move directly to a discussion of your schedule for implementing harmonious cohabitation. “
“Strictly from visual observations, the dome seems to partake of the nature of a black hole,” Derec persisted. “Is that what you're saying?”
“Black hole?” Synapo said, as though now having difficulty himself with the trend of the conversation. “Black hole! Yes, that is a good analogy. The derivation of the word was not self-evident.
“Yes, the compensator is a black hole, but an unnatural one internal to the universe, not on the edge; a black hole as a concavity, not as a convexity at the edge where space and time separate in the course of the natural decay of the universe.
“Now may we move on?”
“Just two more questions,” Derec said. “When we look at the dome from the outside, we can't see the city. We see objects on the other side as though the dome and the city weren't there. Why can't we see the city inside?”
“The compensator's intense curvature of spacetime bends the light around the dome much as light from a distant star is bent slightly as it goes around our sun. In the case of the compensator, the bending is not slight. It is calculated to produce the effect of invisibility and nonexistence: one of its attributes as a compensator.
“You had one more question?”
“Yes. Why should a hyperspace flier fall toward the surface of the black concavity and escape only by the full thrust of its impulse engines, as Ariel described to me last night-an effect of the curvature of spacetime-when the atmosphere, the air inside the dome, does not fall toward the blackness likewise?”
“You answered your own question,” Synapo said.
A small green flame hissed from the blackness a decimeter below his eyes, and his voice took on a note of irritation, as though his patience were about to be exhausted.
“The curvature of spacetime, as you suggested. The flier was beyond the neutral shell, in the gravitational field of the black concavity. The planet's atmosphere is within the neutral shell, in the gravitational field of the planet.”
With a note of finality, Synapo concluded with a question.
“Did not your jumper have to achieve normal escape velocity to drive into the blackness before it could reverse and try to escape back to the planet?”
Quickly, before Derec had time to fully digest those last remarks, Ariel regained control of the meeting. With firmness, she said, “Now, honorable Ceremyons, our schedule calls for the first phase of our effort to be completed in two months. That effort will provide sufficient farm area and production-1000 square kilometers-for proof of environmental passivity.
“Concurrently, we will modify the city to provide terminal facilities for local and interstellar transport vehicles. Those facilities will project through the opening in the dome, but will be insulated and force-ventilated to ensure that all harmful radiation and emissions will be retained within the dome.
“Wolruf, our farm engineering specialist, and Derec, our city engineering specialist, will now describe the detailed schedules for those two activities.”
SilverSide recorded all that, but her attention, her whole being, was concentrated on the alien, Synapo. His domination of the dialogue told her that he was the superior of the two aliens and potentially more powerful, more intelligent, than any of the mammals she had become familiar with. Inshort, she had found the ultimate target for her final imprint, or so she believed.
She left off recording the meeting with the aliens. She had found a new role model to fit the beings the Laws of Robotics compelled her to serve. She was no longer obligated to observe the orders of lesser beings. Still, she gave Wolruf a last thought filled with fondness, that new emotion she had found in her consideration of LifeCrier, now far, far away. She would continue to protect Wolruf with just a little less weight than she gave herself under the Third Law, the law of self-preservation.
She turned her attention back to the alien on the right, Synapo, and concentrated now on the technical details of the imprint, particularly the aerodynamic characteristics that would be the hardest to duplicate. The calculations quickly showed that her wingspread and airfoil area would have to be several-fold greater than that of the aliens in order to support her body weight. Their body mass must be light indeed, with mostly hollow structural reinforcements.
And she would have to increase the dimensions of her body to provide the geometry needed for the wing connections and the leverage required for the wing manipulators. Not surprisingly, that was going to decrease her body density to match that of the aliens.
She worked on the eyes next. They were compound, radiating red and infrared. The radiation came from a ring that surrounded the conventional animal optic in the center and provided controlled illumination for viewing objects when the sun's radiation was blocked by the planet.
Then she turned her attention to the blackbody surface and found that to be more of a problem than the aerodynamics and the optics. She experimented on her arm as she sat in the back seat of the lorry but finally had to give up and settle for a blackish gray with a soft, silvery lustre, just as she had finally given up matching the details of hair and skin coloring of the mammals.
Next, she attacked the source and nature of the green flame that had burst from the alien, Synapo. She had the feeling that it was a tool, if not a weapon, that was required to provide a satisfactory imprint. She designed a small electrolytic cell, compressor, and high-pressure storage containers for hydrogen and oxygen and a release orifice at the rear of her oral cavity, but she kept her conventional speakers for communication. And she added a small factory to fix nitrogen in the form of ammonia to provide the trace of that compound that gave the flame its green color.
All during that period of analyzing the alien, Synapo, she was absorbing the powerful masculinity he radiated, intercepting and recording the red glare of his eyes, sopping up his physical essence, the body language, the subtle mannerisms that escaped that otherwise all-absorbing black silhouette.
Finally she was ready, and she set the organometallic cells of her body and their pseudoribosomes to the task of altering her genetic tapes-her robotic DNA, her equivalents of messenger and transfer and ribosomal RNA-and the myriad other factors contained in her multibillion microbotic cells that would finally effect the alien imprint.
As her form changed, she stepped up to stand on the back seat of the open lorry to give her forelegs room to develop into wings, and then as her long hind legs shortened and thickened, she braced them against the back of the seat to steady herself.
With their attention on the meeting, the two robots in the front of the lorry did not observe the transformation, nor did the mammals in the meeting who faced away from her. She was under observation only by the aliens, and they seemed not to notice or to care.
Finally, the transformation was complete, save for the hook and its tether, that she had programmed last because of its different matrix, a stainless form of shining steel configured in a hollow curved horn and a fine-stranded but sturdy flexible cable. She hoped to fly, but she had abandoned the balloon and the act of ballooning she had witnessed the evening before. The hook, then, was purely for effect.
Comfortably masculine now, SilverSide was standing on the back seat of the lorry, fully erect-three meters high-with his wings folded tightly against his body as though he had just emerged from a cocoon like a newly metamorphosed butterfly. He felt the need to open and exercise them, to get the feel of them, and with that he recalled flying in bird form on the wolf planet.
The mammals and the aliens were still absorbed in their meeting. The aliens apparently thought the growing SilverSide was a natural phenomenon associated with the lorry, for they gave no sign of looking directly in SilverSide's direction.
Slowly he opened his wings. The thin, tough, organometallic membrane rustled faintly as he unfolded the airfoil to its full twenty-five meters. He found then that he could not avoid measuring air currents.
He had not been aware of even a faint breeze as he had stood there on the back seat with his wings folded, but now he felt the gentle pressure acting on his wings, pressing his simulated, feathery cold-junction against the back o(the seat. He resisted the torque that was endeavoring to tumble him out of the back of the lorry only with a distinct effort by digging his toes into the seat cushion.
The effort was more than he cared to maintain, so he folded his wings back against his body, reducing the wind area.
Then he turned, walked across the seat to the side of the lorry, hesitated-looking at Wolruf who was running toward him and shouting his name-and then spread his wings again and hopped over the side. He felt again the glorious sensation of flight, of being airborne, as he gently glided to the ground. When his feet touched, he fell flat on his face, his wings outspread, with a feeling of slow motion that began with his dragging toes digging shallow furrows in the dust next to the roadway.
With difficulty, he got up, using his wings to lever himself erect before folding them into his body, and then Wolruf was on him, hindlegs straddling his back and pinning his wings to his sides, hands grasping his hook to keep her purchase. And Derec was winding a rope around both him and Wolruf, binding them together.