From the manufacturer’s standpoint, that arrangement meant that the positronic brains did not have to be specialized according to the robot’s function. From the owner’s viewpoint, it meant that their investment was protected against obsolescence or changing needs.
But from Derec’s perspective, it meant trouble. The headless robot had five cube slots, four of them occupied. For the EG, the numbers were seven and five. But the two empty slots and three of the occupied ones had been caught in the same blast that had damaged the power cradle.
There was no repairing them and no replacing them. But what was worse was that Derec was bound to use one of the two functional slots for the standard Systems cube, without which the robot would know nothing about its own structure and operation. He had five cubes packed full of data and logic routines, and he could only use one of them at a time. Eventually he settled on the Mathematics cube, concealing the Personal Defense cube for possible use at some future time.
Derec’s inventory of visible damage to the robot included severed cables that would render the right arm paralyzed and a frozen gimbal on one of the dual gyroscopes. But with power and the working library restored, there was only one truly critical part left to see to: the positronic brain.
In appearance, the brain was a three-pound lump of platinum-iridium. In function, it was the repository for the fundamental positromotive potentials governing the robot’s activity, for the temporary potentials which represented thought and decision, and for the pathways which represented learning.
What Derec was hoping was that the fundamental pathways had not been randomized, as could happen if the brain had been exposed to hard radiation. There was no hope for the robot’s experience base. The backup microcell, used to refresh the pathways while the robot was being serviced, had long since been exhausted and the pathways had long ago decayed. The robot would remember nothing of its previous service. But if the brain was undamaged, it should function normally when reinitiated.
Just like me-
Given the equipment available, the only way to test the condition of the positronic brain was to activate the robot and test it. For obvious reasons, that was dangerous. At one point in the history of robotics, robots had been designed to shut down when they detected any internal error conditions. But several hundred years of progress in robotics design had produced a different philosophy built around fault-tolerance and self-maintenance. He could not be sure what would happen.
By the time he was ready to find out, Wolruf had either grown bored or was obliged to go tend to some other duty. That was a fortunate turn, since when the robot was activated, it would be facing a situation that no robot had ever faced before. It would have to decide whether Aranimas and Wolruf were “human” enough that it was required to protect them and obey their orders.
Since robots were as a rule literal-minded to a fault, it should not have been a problem. Aranimas was clearly an alien, despite his superficially humanoid appearance. Wolruf was even more so.
Those who manufactured robots did not ordinarily limit the definition of a human being, but left it as broad as possible. A power plant worker in a max suit did not look human, but a robot would obey its order. Robots were not, could not be, completely literal. They did not judge merely on appearance. A three-year-old child was human, yet a robot would frequently decline its orders.
It was possible that the programming which permitted those distinctions would find some fundamental identity between the aliens and Derec. If there was any way of preventing that, Derec was determined to do so. Because of the First Law, the robot could not be used against him. But if the robot could be persuaded that the aliens were not entitled to protection under the First Law, he might be able to use the robot against Aranimas.
With some trepidation, Derec pressed the power reset. A moment later, all of the robot’s joints except those in the damaged arm stiffened. Its eyes lit up with a red glow that pulsed rhythmically.
“Alpha alpha epsilon rho,” Derec said, repeating the sequence of Greek letters which had appeared on the ID grating. “Sigma tau sigma.”
There was a brief pause, and then the robot’s eyes began to glow steadily. “My default language is Galactic Standard, Auroran dialect,” it said. “No other language banks are currently available. Is that acceptable, sir?”
Derec broke into a smile. After his frustrations with the robots on the asteroid, it was a pleasure to be addressed civilly again. “Auroran Galactic is fine.”
“Yes, sir. Who is my owner, sir?”
“I am,” Derec said. “You are never to acknowledge that to anyone. But if you ever receive conflicting orders from myself and another, my orders are always to take precedence.”
“Yes, sir. By what name may I call you, sir?”
For some reason, Derec resented having to supply the robot with his meaningless, casually adopted name. “Derec,” he said finally, unable to think of an alternative.
“Yes, sir. To what name would you like me to respond?”
Derec suppressed a bitter laugh. Who am I to tell you your name, when I can’t even tell myself mine? “So long as you are the only one on this ship, Alpha is name enough.”
“Thank you, Derec. During my power-on self-test I detected a number of error states. Would this be a convenient time to review them?”
“In a moment,” Derec said. “Can you scan this compartment?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are there any spyeyes here with us?”
“I detect no active sensors of any sort, Derec.”
“Good. Listen closely. I need to tell you something about what’s happening. You and I are on board a spaceship populated by hostile lifeforms. These lifeforms are a potential threat to both of us. Until I tell you otherwise, you are to immediately enter a passive wait-state any time we have company or I leave the lab.”
“I understand. You do not wish them to know that I am functional.”
“That’s right.”
“Is it possible that these wait-states will be of extended duration, sir?”
“It is.”
“Then may I ask if there are any problems to which I may devote myself during those periods?”
“I’m sure we’ll find some,” Derec said. “Right now, the problem is getting you in shape. Let’s have the first anomaly off your error list.”
The first that Derec knew of Wolrufs return was when the robot stiffened suddenly and its eyes went black. A few seconds later, the caninoid entered the lab and crossed to where Derec was seated. She stood at Derec’s elbow and peered briefly into the exposed inner mechanisms of the robot, then turned to him. She seemed less animated than she had been earlier.
“Aranimas would like a report on ‘urr progress.”
“You can tell Aranimas that I have reason to hope I’ll have a robot for him in a few days.”
“ ’Ow many days?”
“I don’t know,” Derec said, laying down the pen he had been using as a probe. “I also don’t know how much it’ll be able to do. I’ve replaced a few damaged components. Right now I’m trying to do something with the servo linkages for the right arm, which are really a mess. Was it you people who roughed up these robots, or did you find them this way?”
“Can’t say,” Wolruf said, and headed for the door. “I tell Aranimas.”
“Hold on a moment,” Derec said, standing. “You can also tell him that I don’t work around the clock. I need time to rest and a place to do it.”
“Rest ‘ard to get on Aranimas’s ship,” Wolruf said, gesturing toward the floor. “Sleep ‘ere.”
That was not an entirely unhappy prospect, since Derec had already determined that he had some privacy there. “What about a pillow, some kind of cushion?”
The caninoid made a sort of whistling sound that Derec read as a sigh. “I get ‘u something,” she said, and started to go.
“Am I going to be allowed to eat?” he called after her.
The sigh was a wheeze this time. “I get ‘u something.”