"Allen, Roger Macbride - 01 - Isaac Asimov's Caliban" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Roger Macbride)

ДWeТre Settlers, Caliban,У Reybon said. ДDo you know what Settlers are?У
ДNo,У he said.
Reybon looked surprised. ДEither your owner didnТt teach you much, or else you ainТt as smart and fancy as you look, robot. But the only thing you need to know right now is that some Settlers donТt like robots very much. In fact, they donТt like robots at all. Do you know why?У
ДNo, I do not,У Caliban said, confused. How could this human expect Caliban to know the philosphy of a group he knew nothing about? The datastore offered up an answer, something about the concept of a rhetorical question, but Caliban ignored the information, mentally brushed it away.
ДWell, IТll tell you. They believe that by sheltering humans from all harm, by removinТ all risk, by performing all work an, breakinТ the link between effort and reward, robotsТre sapping th, will of the Spacers. Do you think thatТs true?У
Spacers? There was another undefined term. Apparently it was some other group of humans. Perhaps the people he had seen in the city, or else some third group. This was perilous territory, covered with terms and concepts he did not understand. Caliban considered for a moment before he answered ReybonТ s question. ДI do not know,У he said at last. ДI have not seen enough or learned enough to know.У
Reybon laughed at that, and swung around, lurching in the direction of his friends. What is wrong with these people ? Caliban wondered. At last his mind and the datastore made the cognitive connection. Drunk. Yes, that was the explanation--they were inebriated by the effects of alcohol or some similar drug. The datastore reported that the sensations of drunkenness were often pleasurable, though Caliban could not see how that could be so. How could disabling the capacity of oneТ s own mind be pleasant?
ДWell, Caliban,У Reybon said, turning back toward him, Дwe think that robots, by their very existТnce, Сre bad for human beings.У Reybon turned toward his companions and laughed. ДWatch this,У he said to them. ДI got three laborer robots to toast themselves last week with this one. LetТs see how SanteeТs find holds up.У He turned back toward Caliban and addressed him in a firm, commanding voice. ДListen tТ me, Caliban. Robots harm humans just by existing. You are causing harm to humans merely by existing! You are hurting all thТ Spacers right now!У
Reybon leaned in toward Caliban and stared up at him expectantly. Caliban looked back at Reybon, sorely confused. The manТ s words and expression seemed to suggest that he was expecting a major reaction from Caliban, some outburst or dramatic behavior. But Caliban had no idea what, specifically, the man was expecting. He could not simulate normal robotic behavior when he had no clue to tell him what normal was. He remained still, and spoke in a level, calm voice. ДI have harmed no one,У he said. ДI have done nothing wrong.У
Reybon acted surprised, and Caliban knew that he had made a major error, though he could not know what it was.
ДThat donТt matter, robot,У Reybon said, trying to hold on to the commanding edge in his voice. ДUnder thТ Three Laws, doing no harm is not enough. You cannot, through inaction, allow a human to come to harm.У
The words were meaningless to him, but clearly they were meant to elicit some reaction from him. He did not know what to do. Caliban said nothing, did nothing. There was danger in this room, and to act from ignorance would be disaster.
Reybon laughed again and turned toward his friends. ДSee?У he said. ДFroze him right up. The more sophistТcated ones can handle that concept better, distingТish the facts from thТ theories.У Reybon turned back to Caliban and spoke in what seemed even to Caliban С s inexperienced ears to be a most unconvincing attempt at a soothing voice. ДAll right, robot. ItТs okay. There is action yТ can take to prevent harm to humans.У
Why was Reybon assuming harm to humans to be of such paramount importance? Caliban, still feeling his way, looked directly at Reybon and spoke. ДWhat action is that?У he asked.
Reybon laughed again. ДYou cТn destroy yourself. Then you will do no harm, and will prevent harm from being done.У
Caliban was thoroughly alarmed now. ДNo,У he said. ДI do not wish to destroy myself. There is no reason for me to do it.У
Behind Reybon, the woman he had called Santee giggled. ДMaybe heТs a liТl higher function than yТthought, Reybon.У
ДAh, maybe so,У Reybon said, clearly irritated. ДSo what? I wanted a tougher one.У
ДAh, this is boring,У one of them said. ДMaybe we should just toast this one ourselves and get on home.У
ДNo!У another one said. ДReybonТs gotta make him do it to himself. ItТs more fun when ya can get Сem tТ take themselves out.У
ДI will not destroy myself no matter what you do or say,У Caliban said. This was a place full of madness and anger. Even in the middle of all his confusion and turmoil, Caliban spent the briefest of moments on the thought that it was remarkable that he could recognize and understand those emotions. Somehow he knew that was an ability far beyond that of most robots. It was that ability that made it clear just how much danger he was in here. ДI will not stay here any longer,У he said, and turned toward the door.
ДStop!У Reybon said from behind him, but Caliban ignored him. Reybon ran in front of him, got to the doorway, and turned to face Caliban. ДI said stop! That is an order!У
But Caliban could see no point in further discussion. He walked steadily toward the door, fully aware that Reybon still had his blaster, and that many robots had died here tonight. Careful not to make any threatening movement, he crossed all but the last two meters of the distance to the door. Reybon raised the blaster, and now Caliban could see fear, real fear, in the manТs eyes. ДI am a human being and I order you to stop. Stop or I will destroy you.У
Caliban hesitated for a split millisecond in front of Reybon. It was clear that there was no ДorУ about the situation: The man intended to shoot no matter what Caliban did. Therefore, to obey, to act on the threat and submit, was to ensure his own doom. There was danger in action, in refusal, but surely risk was preferable to certain death. He had made his decision before Reybon was done speaking.
Moving with every bit of speed and accuracy he could muster, Caliban lunged forward and snatched the blaster from ReybonТ s hand. He crushed it in one hand, reduced it to a wad of scrap. The weapon shorted and flared as some of its stored energy escaped, but Caliban had already flung the burning weapon away. It struck against the wall and a shower of white-hot spark-sized fragments broke off the weapon, to be scattered across the littered room. The sparks landed everywhere. Instantly a dozen fires sprang up from the bits of packing material and other litter scattered about the floor of the room. Two or three of the people cried out in pain as fragments hit their skin.
Caliban moved forward, toward the door. Reybon lunged and grabbed him by the arm, but Caliban shook him off the way a man would brush away a fly. Reybon went flying across the room and slammed into the wall.
Caliban did not look back, but stepped through the door and out into the night.

BE it ironic or appropriate, the city of Hades on the planet of Inferno had always prided itself on superb fire safety. Orbital sensor satellites and robot-operated aircars functioned as a coordinated detection system. And if the sometimes violent duties of the SheriffТs Department were impossible for robots to perform, the work of fire rescue was ideally suited to robots.
Alvar Kresh, roused in the middle of the night for the second night in a row, stood, watching the fire squad dousing the last of the flames. Sometimes he envied the fire department their robots. Fire fighters merely had to save people and property, pure and simple, exactly the sort of thing robots were meant to do.
Police had to apprehend felons--and sometimes struggle with them, or even injure them. Obviously those duties could not be done by robots, but it went deeper than that. Even for the most sophisticated police robots made, most jobs requiring unsupervised direct contact with suspects were impossible.
For the average criminal on Inferno, being able to manipulate a robot with clever orders and judicious lies was a vital job skill. Even DonaldТs access to suspects had to be strictly limited and controlled. If he were left by himself, there was an irreducible risk that some gifted con artist would find a way to talk his way through the Three Laws and convince Donald to let him go.
Robots, in short, made lousy cops but great fire fighters.
Not that there was much even the best fire fighters in the universe could do to save this building. These old warehouses were little more than storage sheds to keep low-value merchandise out of the sun. This one hadnТt even been made of fire-resistant material, an economy that was turning out to be unwise this evening. It had gone up like a torch. Now, not more than forty minutes after the fire started, no more than a half hour after the initial response of the fire brigade, the building was little more than a half-collapsed frame of girders under a pall of smoke.
But the fire chief had noted that the interior was filled with some very interesting artifacts indeed, and called in the Sheriff. The ruined remains of at least a half dozen robots along with a pile of empty liquor bottles and a few odds and ends left behind in what was no doubt a rather hasty retreat were enough to interest Kresh, sleep or no sleep. But the slightly singed remains of a Settler-issue laborerТs cap were all he really needed to see.
Kresh felt his hunterТs instinct come to the fore. Here he was, not an hour behind a mob of Settler robot bashers. Now they were using arson to cover their tracks, but it wasnТt going to work.
But hell, their timing made it rough. DidnТt he have enough on his Сplate with the Leving assault? Damnation, he would have to get two major cases at the same time. It was going to be hard to, handle both investigations at once, but so be it.
The last of the flames died under the jets of water, and the fire robots shut off their hoses and set to work on the cleanup. phase. At almost the same moment, SheriffТs Department crime scene robots moved in on the ruined building. Tall, spindly robots built to poke and pry; other, subminiature units designed to get in close to watch for small details and two or three other subspecialized types swarmed in. Kresh stepped forward into the rubble of the ruined building and was not at all surprised when Donald moved to stop him.
ДSir,У Donald said, ДI do not believe it is wise for you to enter the building. There is still danger from hot spots and from possible further collapse of the frame.У
ДLook at the fire robots,У Kresh said gently. ДNone of them are trying to stop me. Therefore, the danger is minimal. They and you together will surely be protection enough if a hot spot does flare. Come, join me. We can investigate this together.У
ДYes, sir,У Donald said, a bit doubtfully.
Kresh stepped into the ruined building, pulled a handlight out of his pocket, and shone it down on the debris-covered floor. Waterlogged bits of the fallen ceiling, a slurry of ash and fire-quenching chemicals, pieces of robot left behind by the SettlersТ festivities--the place was a mess. No clue was going to jump out at him here. It was hard to imagine the crime scene and fire investigation observer robots being able to make much of anything out of it, either, but that was what they were good at. All right, then, leave them to do the job.
What was he good at? It was at times a rather depressing question, in the face of all the things his robots could do that he could not. But this time he knew an answer: He could think through the cracks and crevices of human psychology, specifically criminal psychology, putting himself inside his quarryТs head. Alvar Kresh knew how to think like whomever he was chasing. It had been observed in more than one culture that good cops had to know how to be good criminals.
All right, then, Kresh decided. Think the way these criminals were thinking. Part of the story was obvious. A bunch of drunken Settler laborers head out for a good time and, say, a chance to pay back the Ironhead goons. But maybe they didnТt even need that excuse. They meet here, or come here together. How? Aircar, presumably. They have to get into this part of town unnoticed and be ready to get out fast if the cops show up.
In and out, in and out. Then something goes wrong. Arson, arson, Alvar thought. Something didnТt .fit about it. And then he had it. The motive was defective. There was no logical reason to set a fire. It had not hidden the evidence--too many robot parts had survived. Indeed, the fire had signaled the authorities to respond. If the bashers had simply walked away from this abandoned warehouse, it might easily have been days, or weeks, before anyone looked in here.
So, an accident, then? Drunken Settlers, a random shot with a blaster into this firetrap of a building--had it happened that way?
And then what? Panic, Kresh decided. A rush for the exit, and the waiting aircar outside. Drunks. They were drunk, running to get out, maybe one or two of them in worse shape than the others. Maybe one or two who didnТt make it all the way to the car before the terrified driver took off.
In which case...
ДDonald!У he said. ДOrder a squad of crime scene robots to start a sweep of the area around the warehouse, looking for stragglers.У
ДStragglers, sir?У Donald asked, straightening up from his searching.