"No robot in any of your presently manufactured series is useful after the twenty-fifth year," said Paul pleasantly. "But Andrew is a robot of a quite different sort."
"Indeed he is," said Smythe-Robertson. "I'm only too aware of that."
Andrew, adhering steadfastly to the path he had marked out for himself, said, "Since I am the oldest robot in the world and the most flexible one in existence, would you not say that I am so unusual that I merit special treatment from the company?"
"Not at all," said Smythe-Robertson icily. "Let me be blunt with you-sir. Your unusualness is a continuing embarrassment to the company. You have caused us all manner of difficulties, as I've already pointed out, as a result of the various activist positions you have taken over the years. Your feelings of-ah-entitlement are not shared here. If you were on lease as most of our robots are, instead of having been acquired by outright purchase through some regrettable bit of ancient administrative carelessness, we'd have called you in long ago and replaced you with a robot of a more docile type."
"At least you're straightforward about it," Paul said.
"There's no secret about the way we feel over this. We're in business to sell robots, not to engage in endless unprofitable political squabblings. A robot that believes it's something more than a useful mechanical device is a direct threat to our corporate welfare."
"And therefore you would destroy me if you could," said Andrew. "I quite understand that. But I am a free robot and I own myself, so I can't be called in and it would be pointless to make an attempt to repurchase me. And I am protected by the law against any harm you might want to do to me. Which is why I have been willing to put myself in your hands for periodic upgrading. And why I have come to you today to request the most extensive upgrading you have ever done on any robot. What I want is a total replacement for myself, Mr. Smythe-Robertson."
Smythe-Robertson looked both astounded and bewildered. He stared at Andrew in total silence, and the silence went on for a seemingly interminable time.
Andrew waited. He looked past Smythe-Robertson toward the wall, where a holographic portrait looked back at him. It showed a dour, austere female face: the face of Susan Calvin, the patron saint of all roboticists. She had been dead nearly two centuries now, but after having delved into her working papers as deeply as he had during the course of writing his book, Andrew felt he knew her so well that he could half persuade himself that he had met her in life.
Smythe-Robertson said finally, "A total replacement, you say? But what does that mean?"
"Exactly what I said. When you call in an obsolete robot, you provide its owner with a replacement. Well, I want you to provide me with a replacement for me."
Still looking confused, Smythe-Robertson said, "But how can we do that? If we replace you, how can we turn the new robot over to you as owner, since in the very act of being replaced you would have to cease to exist?" And he smiled grimly.
"Perhaps Andrew hasn't made himself sufficiently clear," interposed Paul. "May I try? -the seat of Andrew's personality is his positronic brain, which is the one part that cannot be replaced without creating a new robot. The positronic brain, therefore, is the locus of Andrew Martin, who is the owner of the robot in which Andrew Martin's positronic brain is currently housed. Every other part of the robotic body can be replaced without affecting the Andrew Martin personality-most of those parts, as you may know, have already been replaced, sometimes more than once, in the hundred-odd years since Andrew was first manufactured. Those subsidiary parts are the brain's possessions. The brain, at its option, can have them replaced at any time, but the continuity of the brain's existence is unbroken. What Andrew actually wants, Mr. Smythe-Robertson, is simply for you to transfer his brain to a new robotic body."
"I see," Smythe-Robertson said. " A total upgrade, in other words." But his face showed perplexity again. "To what kind of body, may I ask? You already are housed in the most advanced mechanical body that we manufacture."
"But you have manufactured androids, haven't you?" said Andrew. "Robots that have the outward appearance of humans, complete to the texture of the skin? That is what I want, Mr. Smythe-Robertson. An android body."