The Rod of Light (Soul of the Robot)

Indeed, Jasperodus foresaw robot military planners drawing lessons from such débâcles should construct-human conflict become general. They would conclude that it was necessary for robots to fight their wars long-range, so that they could be looked on as an abstract game, without the unnerving element of personal confrontation. That meant long-range missiles and orbital bombs. It also meant, perhaps, developing a type of warrior that consisted of nothing but his fighting function, without a personality that a human being could dominate by his presence, and with scarcely even the faculty of self-direction.

The Bellum construct said: ‘We have been deliberating as to whether, or when, to deploy the gas and disease weapons.’

Jasperodus paused to give weight to his words. ‘My view,’ he said slowly, ‘is that we should not deploy them at all. There is a curious quirk in human conduct. If we defeat the Borgors in a straight fight they will retire, lick their wounds and talk of making another assault—but their resolve will have been blunted. They will likely turn their attention elsewhere, so that we will not hear from them for a long time. But if we use these weapons to which they are vulnerable but which do not touch us at all, they will not see that as a setback but as a threat of a very different order. Gasification and plague are not understood by human beings in the simple way that being blown apart by explosives is. It affects them with horror and wrath; it will cause them to bend every effort to our destruction, to ensure that we can never again use these weapons against them. That is my argument.’

There was silence. Jasperodus felt a prejudice against chemical and virological agents and had opposed their production in the first place. His prejudice was based not only on their obnoxious nature, but also on the recognition that their very existence abnegated his assurance, given both to the Zoroastrian mage and to himself, that robots offered no threat to mankind. Conceivably chemical and biological agents could be devised that would wipe Earth clean of life altogether, leaving it a desert suitable for machine occupation.

‘Strange that a weapon so admirably fitted for victory should ensure our defeat,’ another committee member rumbled.

‘That is my reasoning,’ Jasperodus repeated. They had, in fact, heard these persuasions from him before, in one form or another.

He stepped up to the map. ‘The air strike should come first. It should be brief and intense, designed to throw the enemy momentarily off balance rather than to cause maximum damage. The land attack should begin while the enemy’s attention is still engaged by the air strike. That way we achieve maximum surprise.’

The war robot nodded. ‘We should be able to complete the manoeuvre tonight. There is no moon, at dawn we attack. We must decide which of us will lead the strike force and which will remain behind in the city to preserve morale in case of failure.’

‘Is that necessary?’ queried the older robot. ‘To some extent we are gambling all on this one throw.’

The Bellum class deliberated. ‘It seems hard to have no reserve plans. What do you think Jasperodus?’

Jasperodus hesitated. As so often, decisions were being forced on him—his quality of leadership asserted itself among the constructs no matter how diffident a life he tried to lead. Yet somehow he no longer had any enthusiasm for it.

‘Let us stake all on the affray,’ he said. ‘If we break the back of the Borgor army, all well and good. If we do not, let any who get back to the city organise its defence—or else the citizens must appoint a new defence committee.’

The Bellum class turned his head grimly to the others. ‘Is it agreed?’

Heads nodded. The infra-red brain hummed quietly to himself in the ensuing silence, which was broken by an eruption of clattering and rumbling: more equipment being driven through the streets to the jumping-off point at the edge of the city.

If he had any sense, Jasperodus told himself as he made his way towards his archaeology shed, he would quit the township now, before he was included in its possible annihilation. He was risking his life to defend machines—albeit machines that made a passable semblance of humanity.

But loyalty had many curious twists in it, and was seldom reasonable. Illogical as it might seem, he felt some towards these half-creatures among whom he had settled, and who in some measure had looked to him for guidance.

Many of his fellow citizens failed to share his resolve. Darkness was approaching; he had spent the intervening hours helping prepare for the planned foray and only now had allowed himself a short break to ensure that his instructions as regards the archaeological findings had been carried out. In the interim all industrial work in the township had ceased. The clangour of metal on metal was replaced by a treading of feet and a clinking of limb against limb, as a great crowd of robots flowed out of the ramshackle city and fled south.