“Well, that was real nice, Caliban,” Reybon said. “That was real, real nice. Why don’t you come right in here and playa little game with us? That’s why Santee brought you here, you know. So you could playa game with us. Come right in here, to the middle of the room, in front of all your new friends.”

Caliban moved forward and stood in the spot Reybon pointed toward. He stood facing Reybon and the others.

“We’re Settlers, Caliban,” Reybon said. “Do you know what Settlers are?”

“No,” he said.

Reybon looked surprised. “Either your owner didn’t teach you much, or else you ain’t as smart and fancy as you look, robot. But the only thing you need to know right now is that some Settlers don’t like robots very much. In fact, they don’t like robots at all. Do you know why?”

“No, I do not,” Caliban said, confused. How could this human expect Caliban to know the philosphy of a group he knew nothing about? The datastore offered up an answer, something about the concept of a rhetorical question, but Caliban ignored the information, mentally brushed it away.

“Well, I’ll tell you. They believe that by sheltering humans from all harm, by removin’ all risk, by performing all work an, breakin’ the link between effort and reward, robots’re sapping th, will of the Spacers. Doyou think that’s true?”

Spacers?There was another undefined term. Apparently it was some other group of humans. Perhaps the people he had seen in the city, or else some third group. This was perilous territory, covered with terms and concepts he did not understand. Caliban considered for a moment before he answered Reybon’ s question. “I do not know,” he said at last. “I have not seen enough or learned enough to know.”

Reybon laughed at that, and swung around, lurching in the direction of his friends.What is wrong with these people? Caliban wondered. At last his mind and the datastore made the cognitive connection.Drunk. Yes, that was the explanation-they were inebriated by the effects of alcohol or some similar drug. The datastore reported that the sensations of drunkenness were often pleasurable, though Caliban could not see how that could be so. How could disabling the capacity of one’ s own mind be pleasant?

“Well, Caliban,” Reybon said, turning back toward him, “we think that robots, by their very exist’nce, ‘re bad for human beings.” Reybon turned toward his companions and laughed. “Watch this,” he said to them. “I got three laborer robots to toast themselves last week with this one. Let’s see how Santee’s find holds up.” He turned back toward Caliban and addressed him in a firm, commanding voice. “Listen t’ me, Caliban.Robots harm humans just by existing. You are causing harm to humans merely by existing! You are hurtingall th’ Spacersright now!”

Reybon leaned in toward Caliban and stared up at him expectantly. Caliban looked back at Reybon, sorely confused. The man’ s words and expression seemed to suggest that he was expecting a major reaction from Caliban, some outburst or dramatic behavior. But Caliban had no idea what, specifically, the man was expecting. He could not simulate normal robotic behavior when he had no clue to tell him what normal was. He remained still, and spoke in a level, calm voice. “I have harmed no one,” he said. “I have done nothing wrong.”

Reybon acted surprised, and Caliban knew that he had made a major error, though he could not know what it was.

“That don’t matter, robot,” Reybon said, trying to hold on to the commanding edge in his voice. “Under th’ Three Laws, doing no harm is not enough. You cannot, through inaction, allow a human to come to harm.”

The words were meaningless to him, but clearly they were meant to elicit some reaction from him. He did not know what to do. Caliban said nothing, did nothing. There was danger in this room, and to act from ignorance would be disaster.

Reybon laughed again and turned toward his friends. “See?” he said. “Froze him right up. The more sophist’cated ones can handle that concept better, disting’ish the facts from th’ theories.” Reybon turned back to Caliban and spoke in what seemed even to Caliban ‘ s inexperienced ears to be a most unconvincing attempt at a soothing voice. “All right, robot. It’s okay. Thereis action y’ can take to prevent harm to humans.”

Why was Reybon assuming harm to humans to be of such paramount importance? Caliban, still feeling his way, looked directly at Reybon and spoke. “What action is that?” he asked.

Reybon laughed again. “You c’n destroy yourself. Then you will do no harm, and will prevent harm from being done.”

Caliban was thoroughly alarmed now. “No,” he said. “I do not wish to destroy myself. There is no reason for me to do it.”

Behind Reybon, the woman he had called Santee giggled. “Maybe he’s a li’l higher function than y’thought, Reybon.”

“Ah, maybe so,” Reybon said, clearly irritated. “So what? Iwanted a tougher one.”

“Ah, this is boring,” one of them said. “Maybe we should just toast this one ourselves and get on home.”

“No!” another one said. “Reybon’s gotta make him do it to himself. It’s more fun when ya can get ‘em t’ take themselves out.”

“I will not destroy myself no matter what you do or say,” Caliban said. This was a place full of madness and anger. Even in the middle of all his confusion and turmoil, Caliban spent the briefest of moments on the thought that it was remarkable that he could recognize and understand those emotions. Somehow he knew that was an ability far beyond that of most robots. It was that ability that made it clear just how much danger he was in here. “I will not stay here any longer,” he said, and turned toward the door.

“Stop!” Reybon said from behind him, but Caliban ignored him. Reybon ran in front of him, got to the doorway, and turned to face Caliban. “I said stop! That is an order!”

But Caliban could see no point in further discussion. He walked steadily toward the door, fully aware that Reybon still had his blaster, and that many robots had died here tonight. Careful not to make any threatening movement, he crossed all but the last two meters of the distance to the door. Reybon raised the blaster, and now Caliban could see fear, real fear, in the man’s eyes. “I am a human being and I order you to stop. Stop or I will destroy you.”

Caliban hesitated for a split millisecond in front of Reybon. It was clear that there was no “or” about the situation: The man intended to shoot no matter what Caliban did. Therefore, to obey, to act on the threat and submit, was to ensure his own doom. There was danger in action, in refusal, but surely risk was preferable to certain death. He had made his decision before Reybon was done speaking.

Moving with every bit of speed and accuracy he could muster, Caliban lunged forward and snatched the blaster from Reybon’ s hand. He crushed it in one hand, reduced it to a wad of scrap. The weapon shorted and flared as some of its stored energy escaped, but Caliban had already flung the burning weapon away. It struck against the wall and a shower of white-hot spark-sized fragments broke off the weapon, to be scattered across the littered room. The sparks landed everywhere. Instantly a dozen fires sprang up from the bits of packing material and other litter scattered about the floor of the room. Two or three of the people cried out in pain as fragments hit their skin.

Caliban moved forward, toward the door. Reybon lunged and grabbed him by the arm, but Caliban shook him off the way a man would brush away a fly. Reybon went flying across the room and slammed into the wall.

Caliban did not look back, but stepped through the door and out into the night.

BEit ironic or appropriate, the city of Hades on the planet of Inferno had always prided itself on superb fire safety. Orbital sensor satellites and robot-operated aircars functioned as a coordinated detection system. And if the sometimes violent duties of the Sheriff’s Department were impossible for robots to perform, the work of fire rescue was ideally suited to robots.