"He's taken the mining worm apart--that's what. I knew he would!"
"Knew he would? Did you warn him not to?"
"Yes. Of course I did. I had to leave him to check the reduction plant.
I had a presentiment...."
"Woman's intuition, I suppose," Hen interrupted. "You'd sold yourself
on the idea R-7 was going to take the worm apart."
"If you like," returned Sofi in a chilly voice. "When I came back, R-7
was gone and the worm was strewn all over the floor. I was furious. I
found R-7 on the fourth level. I started to land into him, but--but--"
"But what?"
"He looked so queer."
"How the hell can a piece of machinery look queer?"
"Well, he did," said Sofi indignantly. "He looked as if he was going to
take me apart, too!"
Henry groaned. "Go on," he said resignedly.
"Why, then R-7 wanted to know if I was put together or if I came all in
one piece." She bit her lip. "He started to find out."
She slipped off the oxygen suit. She was clad in comfortable baggy
coveralls similar to Hen's.
"That rascal," Hen chuckled. Sofi grew pink with rage.
"Rascal!" she retorted witheringly. "Is that all you can say? One of
those mechanical monstrosities dismantles the worm, then starts on
me--and you think it's cute!"
"Well, it's damned queer they always react emotionally when you're
around."
Sofi set her jaw, began to stride up the incline. She was a rangy girl
with a long pantherish stride. Hen followed her, his brow furrowed.
When they came out on the sun deck of the two-storied half-sphere of
clear plastic that was the living quarters, he began, "I'll take a look
at the mining worm. I think I can get it reassembled all right." He
frowned, cracked his bony knuckles. "The robots have been developing
some unexpected quirks. I wouldn't be surprised, Sofi, if this
tinkering with machinery isn't the expression of a sexual urge. The
emergence of an instinct to perpetuate the species...."
"Sexual urge!" Sofi Jokai halted before Hen, shook her finger under his
nose. "If I could sneak up behind R-7, he'd never make calf-eyes at
another mining worm!"
But Hen wasn't listening. He fumbled in the pockets of his coveralls,
resurrected a notebook, wrote: "Robots manifesting decided curiosity
towards machinery. May be emergence of secondary sex characteristics."
He frowned, added in bold script: "Have noted nascent antipathy towards
organic life." Again he hesitated, then scrawled: "Shows signs of
developing into active antagonism." He snapped the notebook shut,
jammed it in his pocket.
"Where are you going," Sofi asked as he started for the door.
"Get my oxygen suit. I want a look at their mining worm."
"You'd better take a crowbar along to fend off R-7."
"Poor psychology," Hen replied with more confidence than he felt. "Fear
and coercion'll only cause their antagonism to become firmly implanted.
The rational robot, Sofi, can be either the greatest single step man
has made towards freedom or...."
"Or what?"
"Enslavement!" It sounded sententious after he had said it. But it was
true. He started for the door again.
"What do you mean by that crack?" Sofi stopped him.
He didn't answer her directly. Instead, he replied: "I'm not sure that
Robots Incorporated didn't make a mistake when they selected this
asteroid as a proving ground. It's too...."
"Don't you go turning in any report like that!" interrupted the girl
hotly.
* * * * *
Sofi Jokai had been operating her wildcat uranium mine on a shoestring
before Robots Incorporated approached her with their proposition. Now
the corporation was paying all the operational expenses so that the
proceeds of the mine were pure gravy. Further, they had guaranteed
that any improvements which they installed would automatically revert
to Sofi when the experimental units were withdrawn. Machinery damaged
by the robots was to be replaced at the corporation's expense. A
substantial bonus to compensate for the risk involved was included.
Robots Incorporated hadn't even over-looked Henry Ohm, their
experimental physicist, whom they'd sent along to check the robots.
Sofi was to get a monthly check to cover Henry Ohm's board, lodging and
nuisance value.
"Hell," said Sofi, "R-7 can chase me twice around the asteroid before
breakfast. Just because I blew my top about the mining worm doesn't
mean...."
"That's got nothing to do with it," Hen said grimly. "The asteroid's
too well adapted to the robots' needs. Airless, waterless, an abundant
supply of metals. There's the laboratory. Your mine and equipment. And
only the two of us as a check on them."
"Check?" Sofi's blue eyes had gradually widened. "What are you driving
at?"
"Why do you suppose Robots Incorporated chose this asteroid as a
proving ground?"
"They--they said the mine would afford an opportunity to observe how
well the robots adapted themselves to actual working conditions."
"That's not all. They wouldn't let you go into this blind."
"No," she admitted nervously. "They mentioned something else that
struck me at the time, but it was too golden an opportunity to pass up.
They said that should the experiment prove--ah--impractical, they would
have the infection isolated on a small asteroid well out in the belt."
"Exactly. Look, I helped develop these robots. I've been on the problem
seven years, but it was started long before I joined the experimental
staff of Robots Incorporated." He paused.
"In fact," he went on dryly, "they were predicted even before science
had advanced to a point where it could set up the intricate nervous
system necessary. A conscious machine, Sofi, is the result of
fusing two sciences which have always been considered more or less
antagonistic."
"You mean psychology and physics?" Sofi had begun to pace nervously up
and down the room.
He nodded.
"It was a logical deduction from mechanistic psychology, which itself
is an outgrowth of the old school of Behaviorism. Mental life is
response to stimulus. Consciousness is like the spark between two
electrodes in a circuit of feeling arising from viscera, muscles, blood
vessels, glands--"
"Get to the point!" commanded Sofi.
Hen set his jaw. He was sounding like a lecturer, he realized. But it
annoyed him for the girl to point it out.
"I'm getting there as fast as I can. We were faced with devising an
intricate mechanical nervous system. Thus, should a joint grow warm
from lack of lubrication, an impulse of distress could be telegraphed
to the central clearing center, identified, shunted to the lubricatory
system which would oil the joints. A spark of consciousness would be
created. It would manifest itself as acute distress in the defective
joint.
"We incorporated a simple metabolism by which the robots converted raw
stuff into fuel and lubrication. The rest of the mechanism was much
the same as that of any animal confronted by the necessity of self
preservation. Organs for locomotion and work. Organs for perception."