Breckenridge said, "Do They refuse attendance to any other types of
scientific conferences We hold?"
"I don't know," said Laszlo. He was pacing the floor now. "I haven't
heard of any cases. Have you, Chief?"
"No," said Lynn.
Breckenridge said, "Wouldn't you say it was as though They didn't want
to be put in the position of having to return any such invitation? Or
as though They were afraid one of Their men might talk too much?"
That was exactly how it seemed, and Lynn felt a helpless conviction
that Security's story was true after all steal over him.
Why else had there been no contact between sides on robotics? There
had been a cross-fertilizing trickle of researchers moving in both
directions on a strictly one-for-one basis for years, dating back
to the days of Eisenhower and Khrushchev. There were a great many
good motives for that: an honest appreciation of the supra-national
character of science; impulses of friendliness that are hard to wipe
out completely in the individual human being; the desire to be exposed
to a fresh and interesting outlook and to have your own slightly-stale
notions greeted by others as fresh and interesting.
The governments themselves were anxious that this continue. There was
always the obvious thought that by learning all you could and telling
as little as you could, your own side would gain by the exchange.
But not in the case of robotics. Not there.
Such a little thing to carry conviction. And a thing, moreover, they
had known all along. Lynn thought, darkly: We've taken the complacent
way out.
Because the other side had done nothing publicly on robotics, it had
been tempting to sit back smugly and be comfortable in the assurance of
superiority. Why hadn't it seemed possible, even likely, that They were
hiding superior cards, a trump hand, for the proper time?
Laszlo said, shakenly, "What do we do?" It was obvious that the same
line of thought had carried the same conviction to him.
"Do?" parroted Lynn. It was hard to think right now of anything but of
the complete horror that came with conviction. There were ten humanoid
robots somewhere in the United States, each one carrying a fragment of
a TC bomb.
TC! The race for sheer horror in bomb-ery had ended there. TC! Total
Conversion! The sun was no longer a synonym one could use. Total
conversion made the sun a penny candle.
Ten humanoids, each completely harmless in separation, could, by the
simple act of coming together, exceed critical mass and--
Lynn rose to his feet heavily, the dark pouches under his eyes, which
ordinarily lent his ugly face a look of savage foreboding, more
prominent than ever. "It's going to be up to us to figure out ways
and means of telling a humanoid from a human and then finding the
humanoids."
"How quickly?" muttered Laszlo.
"Not later than five minutes before they get together," barked Lynn,
"and I don't know when that will be."
Breckenridge nodded. "I'm glad you're with us now, sir. I'm to bring
you back to Washington for conference, you know."