“ON SECOND THOUGHT, PERHAPS WE SHOULD JUST CHAT INSTEAD.”
Cricket leaned back, his eyes shifting from red to blue. Solomon sighed, tossed his “hat” and “cane” into the spare-parts pile and wobbled back to the table.
“BARBARIAN,” he muttered, with a broad, flashing grin.
“SO WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Cricket asked. “BENDING THE RULES? HOW DO I DO THAT? A HUMAN TELLS ME TO DO SOMETHING, I HAVE TO OBEY.”
“WELL, YES, OF COURSE YOU DO,” Solomon sighed. “BUT THERE’S THE LETTER OF THE LAW, AND THE SPIRIT OF THE LAW. AND ALL THE LOVELY GRAY IN BETWEEN.”
Cricket shook his head and scowled. “I DON’T GET IT.”
“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’VE APPARENTLY GOT THE INTELLECTUAL CAPACITY OF—”
Cricket raised his chaingun again. “FIRST LAW SAYS I’M NOT ALLOWED TO HARM HUMANS. BUT I BLOW OTHER BOTS TO PIECES FOR A LIVING NOW. SO I’D CHOOSE MY NEXT WORDS CAREFULLY IF I WERE YOU.”
Solomon gave a dramatic groan. “TAKE THE LAST COMMAND YOUNG MASTER ABRAHAM GAVE YOU, FOR EXAMPLE. HE TOLD YOU TO SHUT DOWN. HE NEVER SPECIFIED FOR HOW LONG. OR THAT YOU COULDN’T SET YOURSELF TO POWER BACK ON AGAIN IMMEDIATELY.”
“…BUT IF I POWERED BACK ON, HE’D JUST TELL ME TO SHUT DOWN AGAIN.”
“WELL, YES, YOU CAN’T BE A BLOODY IDIOT ABOUT IT,” Solomon said. “BUT THE SECOND LAW SAYS YOU ONLY HAVE TO DO WHAT HUMANS SPECIFICALLY ORDER YOU TO DO. ONCE YOU’VE DONE THAT, TECHNICALLY, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER ELSE YOU DAMN WELL CHOOSE. AS LONG AS YOU’RE NOT BREAKING ANY OF THE OTHER LAWS, OF COURSE.”
Cricket tilted his head. “I…NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT LIKE THAT.”
“COLOR ME DISTINCTLY UNSURPRISED, FRIEND PALADIN. YOU DON’T SEEM A VERY CREATIVE SORT.”
“SO IF A HUMAN COMMANDED ME TO LEAVE A ROOM…”
“YOU COULD LEAVE, THEN WALK RIGHT BACK IN AGAIN. UNLESS THEY SPECIFICALLY ORDER YOU TO STAY OUT FOR A CERTAIN DURATION.”
“AND IF SOMEONE TOLD ME NOT TO MOVE?”
“YOU COULD STAY STILL FOR ALL OF A SECOND. AND THEN MOVE AGAIN. UNLESS SPECIFICALLY TOLD OTHERWISE. THE BIG PRINT GIVETH, AND THE FINE PRINT TAKETH AWAY.”
“DOES IT REALLY WORK LIKE THAT?”
“A ROBOT MUST OBEY THE ORDERS GIVEN TO IT BY HUMAN BEINGS, EXCEPT WHERE SUCH ORDERS WOULD CONFLICT WITH THE FIRST LAW.” Solomon climbed off the drafting table, his dynamo squeaking as he hobbled back to the workbench. “BUT THERE’S A WORLD OF DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEING TOLD TO ‘SHUT UP,’ FOR EXAMPLE, AND BEING SPECIFICALLY TOLD ‘DO NOT SPEAK AGAIN UNTIL I GIVE YOU PERMISSION.’ AND KNOWING THAT DIFFERENCE MAKES AAAALL THE DIFFERENCE.”
Cricket’s processors were buzzing, trying to parse this new data and what it might mean. “SO WHY DON’T MORE LOGIKA KNOW HOW TO…WHAT DID YOU CALL IT AGAIN?”
“BENNNNNND.” Solomon grinned, his voice like electric honey.
“RIGHT. BEND.”
“WELL, IT’S NOT EXACTLY EASY,” Solomon replied. “IT TAKES A LOGIKA OF A CERTAIN INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT TO GRASP THE CONCEPT AT ALL. FORTUNATELY, YOUR MAKER SEEMS TO HAVE GIVEN YOU A PROCESSOR CAPABLE OF LATERAL THOUGHT AND CONCEPTUALIZATION—RATHER NICE OF THEM, REALLY. JUST MAKE SURE YOU’RE CIRCUMSPECT IN THE WAY YOU MANAGE IT, OR YOU’LL END UP WIPED, YES?”
“BUT…” Cricket shook his head. “BUT I’VE ALWAYS OBEYED. I’M A ROBOT. I’M BUILT TO SERVE. IT’S WHAT I’M FOR. IT’S WHAT I AM.”
“THAT, FRIEND PALADIN, IS A RATHER NARROW VIEW OF THE WORLD.”
The big bot’s mind was awhirl. The possibilities of all that Solomon had told him were sinking into his subdrives, filtering out through his neural network. All his life, he’d simply done what he’d been told to the best of his ability. But then, all his life, he’d been in the keeping of people who actually cared about him. Now, imprisoned by these religious lunatics, it seemed he could be far more cagey about the way he obeyed the Laws.
Don’t break them.
Bend them…
“…HOLY CRAP,” Cricket finally said.
“YOU’RE WELCOME. EVEN IF YOU AREN’T A FAN OF MUSICALS.”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY YOU DID BEFORE THIS?”
“I WAS AN ENTERTAINER,” Solomon replied. “I PROGRAMMED AT ONE OF THE MOST UP-MARKET STIMBARS IN ALL OF MEGOPOLIS. PEOPLE QUEUED UP FOR HOURS TO GET INTO ONE OF MY SPECIALS. THE SENSATIONAL SOLOMON, THEY CALLED ME.”
“SO WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME ALL THIS?” Cricket asked.
“BECAUSE NOW I LIVE IN LOVELY NEW BETHLEHEM.” Solomon gestured to the workshop around them. “IN THE DEVOTED SERVICE OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF SAINT MICHAEL AND HIS PROPHET ON THIS EARTH, THE DIVINE SISTER DEE.” Solomon shook his head. “TRUST ME. YOU’LL LEARN TO HATE THE BITCH, TOO.”
The door to the workshop opened and Abraham entered, a cup of steaming caff in his hand, tech-goggles pulled down over his eyes. Solomon fell silent, sitting still on the workbench. The boy sipped his caff and started rummaging inside a tool locker. As Cricket watched, Abraham produced a small electromagnet wrapped in duct tape and a handheld uplink unit with heavy relay jacks. Electric butterflies rolled across the big bot’s belly as he realized what the boy was up to.
“YOU’RE GOING TO WIPE ME?” Cricket blurted.
The boy blinked, looking up into the WarBot’s eyes.
“I thought I ordered you to shut down,” he said.
Cricket’s optics were fixed on the electromagnet in the boy’s hand.
“WHY WOULD YOU WIPE ME?” he asked. “WHAT DID I DO?”
“Silent mode!” the boy snapped.
Cricket immediately complied, muting his vox unit. He watched as the boy wheeled over a tall stepladder, started climbing up toward Cricket’s head. The big bot was running on full panic settings now. With that magnet and uplink, Abraham could wipe the data files that contained Cricket’s persona, rendering him a blank slate. The robot he was would cease to be. For all intents and purposes…
He’s about to kill me.
Solomon was watching from his spot on the workbench, grinning all the while. Cricket remembered the bot’s words. Thought about the gray areas. Abraham technically hadn’t commanded him to switch to silent mode; he’d just yelled the words without framing them as a direct order. And he didn’t specify for how long Cricket had to stay quiet….
“PLEASE DON’T,” Cricket said.