there was the bald fact that there simply weren't as many robots available for private use these days. People were more careful with the limited amount of robot labor still available. They tended not to waste so much of it on trivial tasks.
The revolution was far from complete, of course. There were still many Infernals out there who had not managed the change in attitude, who clung to the old ways, who rallied around the Ironhead calls for more and better robots as the solution to everything.
But for whatever reason, or reasons, and by however many fits and starts, the change was happening. Allover the planet Infernals had come to realize just how dependent on robots they were, and had begun to back off just a little. And, much to the horror of Simcor Beddle and the Ironheads, people were starting to discover they liked having a bit more freedom in their lives.
From Fredda's point of view, all of it seemed good, positive change for the better. But she had learned, over the past few years, just how frightening-and genuinely dangerous-change, even change for the good, could be. There would be some unintended consequence, or someone left behind, someone who felt disaffected and threatened. Or else someone who was not harmed in the least by the turmoil, but found a way to take advantage of it, to the detriment of others.
Or perhaps she was being too pessimistic. Perhaps the days of Inferno in upheaval, of the planet lurching from crisis to crisis, were over. And yet even steady, incremental change and improvement, of the sort her Alvar had presided over in the last few years, could bring jarring dislocations.
The days ahead were likely to be...interesting.
She heard the sound of her husband and Donald coming in from the rooftop landing pad, and hurried to meet them.
Chapter 3
3
"THEY WERE HERE again," Kresh said as he kissed his wife. It was not a question, and Fredda knew better then to pretend she didn't know who he meant.
"Yes," she said carefully. "They've just left."
"Good," Kresh said as he eased himself down into his favorite chair. "I don't like having them around."
"Nor do I, Dr. Leving," Donald 111 announced. "The danger represented by the presence of those two pseudorobots is far greater than you believe."
"Donald, I built both of those pseudo-robots, as you insist on calling them," Fredda said, feeling as much amusement as irritation. "I understand fully what they are capable of."
"I am not at all sure that is the case, Dr. Leving," Donald said. "But if you will insist on meeting them when I am not present, there is nothing I can do to prevent you from doing so. I would urge you once again to exercise extreme caution when you deal with them."
"I will, Donald, I will," Fredda said, her voice a bit tired. She had built Donald, too, of course. She knew as well as anyone that the First Law forced Donald to mention the potential danger to her at every opportunity. For all of that, it was still tedious to hear the same warning over and over again. Donald, and most other Three-Law robots, referred to Caliban and Prospero-and all New Law robots-as pseudo-robots because they did not possess the Three Laws. By definition, a robot was a sentient being imbued with the Three Laws. Prospero was possessed of the New Laws, and Caliban had no laws at all. They might look like robots, and in some ways act like robots, but they were not robots. Donald saw them as a perversion, as unnatural beings that had no proper place in the universe. Well, perhaps he would not phrase it in quite that way, but Fredda knew she was not far off the mark.
"Why is it, exactly, that they need to come here anyway?" Alvar asked as he leaned back in his chair. "They have passes that give them the freedom of the city."
"Don't get too comfortable," Fredda warned. "Dinner in just a few minutes."
"Fine," Kresh said, leaning forward again. "I'll be as uncomfortable as you like. But answer my question."
Fredda laughed, leaned over and kissed Alvar on the forehead. "Once a policeman, always a policeman," she said.
The robot Oberon chose that moment to appear. "Dinner is served," it announced.
"Always a policeman," Alvar said to his wife. "So don't think this little interruption is going to get you off the hook."
He stood up, and husband and wife went in to dinner, Oberon leading the way, Donald trailing behind. Donald took