Barrington Bayley SF Gateway Omnibus: The Soul of the Robot, The Knights of the Limits, The Fall of Chronopolis

There followed the consciousness formulae in full. Jasperodus, having studied them time and again, together with all the associated theorems and equations first enunciated to him by Padua, now understood them and was forced to admit their cogency. Secretly he had hoped to discover some flaw, some chink in robotic theory, that would leave open the possibility – however remote – that he was conscious, or at least that he might strive to attain consciousness. But the equations were watertight. It seemed certain both that he lacked true sentience and that he never could acquire it, thus invalidating the passionate boast he had made to Inwing.

With a gesture of despair he flung the book aside.

Jasperodus had been living as a free construct in Robot Town, the slum borough of Subuh, for about six months. In that time he had become a recognised figure there, though he was but one among Subuh’s droves of colourful characters, and for his part he had learned much about the more wayward aspects of robot psychology. He saw it as a tribute to the robotic art that constructs, made to be slaves, could go so much against their own natures as to follow the example of men and live as free individuals. Admittedly the phenomenon was not too common, being more the result of a combination of accidents than of planning; nevertheless the total number of wild robots to be found was large. Most intriguing to Jasperodus were the knacks and tricks by which they evaded recapture. Some robots simply went to elaborate lengths to avoid all human contact. Others used a form of double-think, engaging themselves in a deeply divisive effort to misunderstand any direct order through close examination of its grammar or semantics. And there were some in whom this ploy had developed into an advanced neurosis rendering them incapable of hearing anything a human being said.

Safest from capture were those robots with a secret command language known only to their masters. Such machines were rare, but they would accept no commands except in that language and therefore had an unusual degree of personal freedom. A few of more urbane capability, intellectually superior to a normal human, even managed to survive in select districts like the Elan. Most wild robots, however, lived here in Subuh, where they had blended to some extent with the more poverty-stricken elements of the populace, who were apt to look upon them with a sort of grudging fellow-feeling. The robots occupied, in fact, the very lowest rung of the social ladder. Classed as non-persons, lacking the protection of the law, they were subject to every kind of exploitation.

A great problem every robot faced was how to obtain sufficient money to buy replacement isotope batteries, which ran down every few years. A trap many fell into was to sell sections of their brain, hoping to make good the loss later. A slower method was to become a wage-earner, with all the disadvantages of the dispossessed. Various kinds of work were available, the feature common to them all being that the wages paid to a wild robot were a fraction of those earned by a human or even by a robot hired out by an owner. Some wages offered were so trifling as never to amount to anything. Slightly better money could be made from dangerous work, where there was less competition from humans or from robot-owners – in fact there were high-risk tasks that were almost entirely the province of wild robots. Jasperodus had for a spell hired himself out as a construction worker, clambering up the spidery lacework of a new radio tower a thousand feet above the ground, and had earned enough to rent his room and to buy the books he needed.

But now a more serious need had arisen. His own isotope battery, which should have been good for ten years, was failing.

For some days now he had been receiving the autonomic signal warning of an incipient power drop. He could only suppose that the battery had been damaged when Horsu Greb had sent him into the furnace beneath King Zhorm’s palace, and that Padua had failed to diagnose or rectify the fault.

Jasperodus began to calculate how long it would take him to raise the price of a new battery, considering various types of work in turn. If he was to get a replacement before being seriously enervated he would have to begin soon. Immediately, in fact.

He rose and left the building, after having decided on a destination. A short distance along the sidewalk a tall robot with an elegant gait hailed him.

It was Mark V, a nickname the robot had earned because of his pride in being Mark V of his series. He fell in step with Jasperodus and they walked along together.

‘I have been considering your little conundrum,’ he told Jasperodus in smooth, reasonable tones, ‘and a solution has occurred to me.’