“ ‘A robot may not, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm,’ ” Kresh quoted with a chuckle.
Grieg looked at Donald, opened his mouth as if to protest, and then thought better of it. Sensible of him, Kresh thought. There was no appeal against a robot driven by a First Law imperative—especially an Inferno-built robot. The planet had a tradition of setting First Law potential very high indeed. Grieg had to know that arguing with Donald would be about as effective as shouting at a stone wall.
Grieg turned toward Kresh. “You set him up to this,” the Governor protested. “You had this planned.”
Alvar Kresh laughed and shook his head. “Sir, I wish I had set it up. But Donald deserves all the credit.”
“Or all the blame,” Grieg said, still rather irritated. He turned to the robot. “You know, Donald, it’s remarkable, really, how soon one forgets.”
“Forgets what, sir? The need to take reasonable precautions?”
“No. It’s remarkable how soon one forgets the habits of slavery.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand, sir.”
“Not so long ago I sent my own personal robots away,” Grieg said. “I started taking care of myself. And I discovered that I no longer had to be careful about what I said or did. All my life, up until that time, I had been careful. I knew that if I phrased something a bit too adventurously, or stood a trifle too close to an open window in a tall building, or reached for a piece of fruit that had not been sterilized, you robots would rush in to protect me from myself. A year ago, I never would have dared discuss my personal safety in front of a robot—precisely because the robot would overreact in just the same way you have now. I would not have dared say or do anything that might upset a robot. My robots controlled my actions, my words, my thoughts. Who controls whom, Donald? Human or robot? Which is the slave, and which is the master?”
“I wouldn’t suggest repeating that pretty speech in public, sir,” Kresh cut in, thinking it was probably best not to give Grieg the chance to play any more word games. “Not unless you wanted to face an Ironhead lynch mob.”
Grieg laughed without humor. “You see, Donald? I am a slave to robots. I am the Governor of this world, and yet I dare not speak out against them, for fear of my life. How does that square with your First Law? How does a robot deal with the knowledge that its very existence could cause harm to humans?”
“There are low-function general-purpose robots who would experience significant First Law cognitive dissonance when asked that question,” Donald said. “However—”
“Donald, damnation,” Kresh said. “The Governor was asking a rhetorical question.”
“Forgive me if I was in error. I thought the Governor required me to answer.”
“As I do, Donald,” Grieg said, grinning at the Sheriff. Kresh sighed. “You were saying?”
“I was saying that I am a police robot, with my Third Law potential especially strengthened so as to allow me to witness unpreventable harm to a human in the course of my work and survive. The bald statement that my existence harms humans does not cause me any meaningful distress, as I know it to be untrue. Beyond that, I would observe that you did not make any statement to the effect that robots harmed you.”
“I did not?”
“No, sir. You said that being near robots caused you to be more careful of your safety, and that expressing your opinion of robots—not robots themselves—might expose you to danger at the hands of your enemies.”
“This has ceased to be amusing,” Grieg said. “I am going to attend my own reception.”
“No, sir,” Donald said. “I am prepared to restrain you physically in order to prevent it.”
“Excuse me, but I think there is a compromise possible,” Kresh said. “Donald, would you regard the Governor as being sufficiently protected if the security robots in the basement were activated and deployed? Protected enough so you could allow him to attend the party?” There were fifty Security, Patrol and Rescue robots in the basement. SPRs, or Sappers, were sentinel robots. They were powered down for the moment, but ready for use if needed in an emergency. Ten more SPRs had been flown in with the Governor, but those were still stored in a cargo flier, a deep reserve. The ones in the basement could be deployed much more quickly.
Donald hesitated a moment. “Very well,” he said at last. “I could permit it under those circumstances.”
“Governor?”
“The publicity of all those robots around,” the Governor said. “I don’t know.”
Good. He was weakening. “We play up the security threat,” Kresh said. “And we urge the camera crews to keep the robots out of frame as much as possible.”
“Hmmm. The camera crews were supposed to clear off shortly after my entrance in any event. All right—if you make an announcement beforehand that it is a security precaution. If you cause the trouble, Kresh, you’re going to take the blame.”
“Believe me,” said Alvar Kresh, “nothing could make me happier than taking the blame for surrounding you with robots.”
It took far less time to change all the arrangements than anyone had expected. It took a mere twenty minutes for a pair of Rangers to power up the security robots and deploy them, and it would have taken less time than that if they hadn’t lost time working on one defective robot.
It didn’t take much convincing at all to get the press to cooperate, once Kresh made a few dark hints about an unexpected security problem and the possibility of remaining danger. Normally, the Governor was fair game for all sorts of sour coverage—but no one in the press pool was going to twit him for accepting security precautions in the face of a real threat to his life.
And so, in very short order, Governor Grieg was able to attend his own party, making a first-rate entrance from the top of the formal staircase, with a grand and swelling fanfare playing as he descended with everyone cheering and applauding even more loudly than they had for Beddle. Somehow, it all fell into place, and Grieg got exactly the boost he had been looking for. In the twinkling of an eye, the Governor stopped being the man in danger of impeachment and became the dynamic leader, the man of the hour. It could all change back just as fast, of course, but that was in the nature of the beast. For now, it was working. Grieg was in the center of a swirl of noise and light, a focus for adulation.
He stepped off the bottom of the stairs. He spotted Kresh in the crowd and came. over. He pumped Kresh’s hand, patted him on the back, and leaned toward him. “I think it’s going to be all right,” Grieg half shouted into his ear. “But thank you for your concern. We’ll talk again tomorrow, you and I. There are some important things I need to tell you. There isn’t time to cover them properly tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” Kresh bellowed back. “But first you go and have a good time tonight.”
“I will, Sheriff, I will,” the Governor said, and made his way into the press of the crowd.
4
TIERLAW VERICK WAS deeply annoyed to be in the same room with so many robots. For what seemed the dozenth time, he stepped out of the way of one of the SPR robots on random patrol. They were certainly necessary under the circumstances—he would be the last to argue that—but he did not have to like them. And Beddle’s presence was even more intolerable. Sooner or later someone would have to do something about that man. Verick only hoped it was sooner. He didn’t know a great deal about the man’s politics, but he knew that Beddle was pro-robot, and that was all he needed to know.
Verick was a Settler, and hated robots with a passion rare even for that breed. But he was also a businessman, and he loved profit with a rare passion as well. Love of money, love of the game of business, had pulled him into all sorts of deals—and introduced him to all sorts of interesting, if unsavory, people.