they try, you can always hint that by seeing me they stand a chance of heading off a new campaign by Feingold and Charney to strengthen the civil rights of robots even further."
"Wouldn't that be a lie, Andrew?"
"Yes, Paul, and I'm not good at telling lies. I can't tell one at all, in fact, unless I do it under the constraint of one of the Three Laws. That's why you have to make the call for me."
Paul chuckled. "Ah, Andrew, Andrew! You can't tell a lie, but you can urge me to tell one for you, is that it? You're getting more human all the time!"
Chapter Fourteen
THE APPOINTMENT wasn't easy to arrange, even using Paul's supposedly powerful name.
But repeated pressure-coupled with the none too delicate hint that permitting Andrew to have a few minutes of Harley Smythe-Robertson's precious time might well save U. S. Robots and Mechanical Men from having to go through a troublesome new round of litigation over robot rights-finally carried the day. On a balmy spring day Andrew and Paul set out together across the country for the vast and sprawling complex of buildings that was the headquarters of the gigantic robotics company.
Harley Smythe-Robertson-who was descended from both branches of the family that had founded U. S. Robots, and had adopted the hyphenated name by way of declaring that fact-looked remarkably unhappy at the sight of Andrew. He was approaching retirement age and an extraordinary amount of his tenure as president of the company had been devoted to the controversies over robot rights. Smythe-Robertson was a tall, almost skeletally lean man whose gray hair was plastered thinly over the top of his scalp. He wore no facial makeup. From time to time during the meeting he eyed Andrew with brief but undisguised hostility
"And what new trouble have you come here to cause us, may I ask?" Smythe-Robertson said.
"Please understand, sir, it has never been my intention to cause this company trouble. Never."
"But you have. Constantly."
"I have only attempted to gain that to which I have felt entitled."
Smythe-Robertson reacted to the word "entitled" as he might have to a slap in the face.
"How extraordinary to hear a robot speak of feelings of entitlement. "
"This robot is a very extraordinary robot, Mr. Smythe-Robertson," said Paul.
"Extraordinary," Smythe-Robertson said sourly. "Yes. Quite extraordinary."
Andrew said, "Sir, slightly more than a century ago I was told by Melwin Mansky, who was the Chief Robopsychologist of this company then, that the mathematics governing the plotting of the positronic pathways was far too complicated to permit of any but approximate solutions, and that therefore the limits of my own capacities were not fully predictable."
"As you say, that was over a century ago," Smythe-Robertson replied. And after a moment's hesitation added icily, "Sir. The situation is quite different nowadays. Our robots are made with great precision now and are trained precisely to their tasks. We have eliminated every aspect of unpredictability from their natures."
"Yes," said Paul. "So I've noticed. And one result is that my receptionist has to be guided at every point that departs from the expected path, however slightly. I don't see that as much of a step forward in the state of the art."
Smythe-Robertson said, "I think you'd like it a great deal less if your receptionist were to improvise."
"Improvise?" Paul said. "Think is all I ask. Enough thinking to be able to handle the simple situations a receptionist needs to deal with. Robots are designed to be intelligent, aren't they? It seems to me you've backtracked toward a very limited definition of intelligence indeed."
Smythe-Robertson fidgeted and glowered, but made no direct response.
Andrew said, "Are you saying, sir, that you no longer manufacture any robots that are as flexible and adaptable as-let us say-myself?"
"That's right. We discontinued the generalized-pathways line so long ago that I couldn't tell you how far back it was. Perhaps it was in Dr. Mansky's time. Which was long before I was born, and as you see, I am far from young."
"As am I," said Andrew. "The research I have done in connection with my book-I think you know that I have written a book about robotics and robots-indicates that I am the oldest robot presently in active operation."
"Correct," said Smythe-Robertson. "And the oldest ever. The oldest that will ever be, in fact. No robot is useful after its twenty-fifth year. Their owners are entitled to bring them in at that time and have them replaced with new models. In the case of leased robots, we call them in