Asimov, Isaac - SS Collection - Gold, The Final Science Fiction Collection.pdf

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PART ONE: THE FINAL STORIES
ISAAC
ASIMOV
GOLD
The Final Science Fiction Collection
TABLE OF
CONTENTS
PART ONE: THE FINAL STORIES
CAL
LEFT TO RIGHT
FRUSTRATION
HALLUCINATION
THE INSTABILITY
ALEXANDER THE GOD
IN THE CANYON
GOOD-BYE TO EARTH
BATTLE-HYMN
FEGHOOT AND THE COURTS
FAULT-INTOLERANT
KID BROTHER
THE NATIONS IN SPACE
THE SMILE OF THE CHIPPER
GOLD
PART TWO: ON SCIENCE FICTION
THE LONGEST VOYAGE
INVENTING A UNIVERSE
FLYING SAUCERS AND SCIENCE FICTION
INVASION
THE SCIENCE FICTION BLOWGUN
THE ROBOT CHRONICLES
GOLDEN AGE AHEAD
THE ALL-HUMAN GALAXY
PSYCHOHISTORY
SCIENCE FICTION SERIES
SURVIVORS
NOWHERE!
OUTSIDERS, INSIDERS
SCIENCE FICTION ANTHOLOGIES
THE INFLUENCE OF SCIENCE FICTION
WOMEN AND SCIENCE FICTION
RELIGION AND SCIENCE FICTION
TIME-TRAVEL
PART THREE: ON WRITING SCIENCE FICTION
PLOTTING
METAPHOR
IDEAS
SUSPENSE
SERIALS
THE NAME OF OUR FIELD
HINTS
WRITING FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
NAMES
ORIGlNALITY
BOOK REVIEWS
WHAT WRITERS GO THROUGH
REVISIONS
IRONY
PLAGIARISM
SYMBOLISM
PREDICTION
BEST-SELLER
PSEUDONYMS
DIALOG
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PART ONE:
THE FINAL
STORIES
CAL
I AM A ROBOT. MY NAME IS CAL. I have a registration number. It is CL-123X, but my master calls me Cal.
The X in my registration number means I am a special robot for my master. He asked for me and helped
design me. He has a lot of money. He is a writer.
I am not a very complicated robot. My master doesn’t want a complicated robot. He just wants someone to
pick up after him, to run his printer, stack his disks, and like that.
He says I don’t give him any backtalk and just do what I am told. He says that is good.
He has people come in to help him, sometimes. They give him backtalk. Sometimes they do not do what
they are told. He gets very angry and red in the face.
Then he tells me to do something, and I do it. He says, thank goodness, you do as you are told.
Of course, I do as I am told. What else can I do? I want to make my master feel good. I can tell when my
master feels good. His mouth stretches and he calls that a smile. He pats me on the shoulder and says, Good, Cal.
Good.
I like it when he says, Good, Cal. Good.
I say to my master, Thank you. You make me feel good, too.
And he laughs. I like when he laughs because it means he feels good, but it is a queer sound. I don’t
understand how he makes it or why. I ask him and he says to me that he laughs when something is funny.
I ask him if what I said is funny.
He says, Yes, it is.
It is funny because I say I feel good. He says robots do not really feel good. He says only human masters
feel good. He says robots just have positronic brain paths that work more easily when they follow orders.
I don’t know what positronic brain paths are. He says they are something inside me.
I say, When positronic brain-paths work better, does it make everything smoother and easier for me? Is that
why I feel good?
Then I ask, When a master feels good, is it because something in him works more easily?
My master nods and says, Cal, you are smarter than you look.
I don’t know what that means either but my master seems pleased with me and that makes my positronic
brain paths work more easily, and that makes me feel good. It is easier just to say it makes me feel good. I ask if I
can say that.
He says, You can say whatever you choose, Cal.
What I want is to be a writer like my master. I do not understand why I have this feeling, but my master is a
writer and he helped design me. Maybe his design makes me feel I want to be a writer. I do not understand why I
have this feeling because I don’t know what a writer is. I ask my master what a writer is.
He smiles again. Why do you want to know, Cal? he asks.
I do not know, I say. It is just that you are a writer and I want to know what that is. You seem so happy
when you are writing and if it makes you happy maybe it will make me happy, too. I have a feeling--I don’t have the
words for it. I think a while and he waits for me. He is still smiling.
I say, I want to know because it will make me feel better to know. I am--I am
He says, You are curious, Cal.
I say, I don’t know what that word means.
He says, It means you want to know just because you want to know.
I want to know just because I want to know, I say.
He says, Writing is making up a story. I tell about people who do different things, and have different things
happen to them.
I say, How do you find out what they do and what happens to them?
He says, I make them up, Cal. They are not real people. They are not real happenings. I imagine them, in
here.
He points to his head.
I do not understand and I ask how he makes them up, but he laughs and says, I do not know, either. I just
make them up.
He says, I write mysteries. Crime stories. I tell about people who do wrong things, who hurt other people.
I feel very bad when I hear that. I say, How can you talk about hurting people? That must never be done.
He says, Human beings are not controlled by the Three Laws of Robotics. Human masters can hurt other
human masters, if they wish.
This is wrong, I say.
It is, he says. In my stories, people who do harm are punished. They are put in prison and kept there where
they cannot hurt people.
Do they like it in prison? I ask.
Of course not. They must not. Fear of prison keeps them from doing more hurtful things than they do.
I say, But prison is wrong, too, if it makes people feel bad.
Well, says my master, that is why you cannot write mysteries and crime stories.
I think about that. There must be a way to write stories in which people are not hurt. I would like to do that.
I want to be a writer. I want to be a writer very much.
My master has three different Writers for writing stories. One is very old, but he says he keeps it because it
has sentimental value.
I don’t know what sentimental value is. I do not like to ask. He does not use the machine for his stories.
Maybe sentimental value means it must not be used.
He doesn’t say I can not use it. I do not ask him if I can use it. If I do not ask him and he does not say I must
not, then I am not disobeying orders if I use it.
At night, he is sleeping, and the other human masters who are sometimes here are gone. There are two other
robots my master has who are more important than I am. They do more important work. They wait in their niches at
night when they have not been given anything to do.
My master has not said, Stay in your niche, Cal.
Sometimes he doesn’t, because I am so unimportant, and then I can move about at night. I can look at the
Writer. You push keys and it makes words and then the words are put on paper. I watch the master so I know how to
push keys. The words go on the paper themselves. I do not have to do that.
I push the keys but I do not understand the words. I feel bad after a while. The master may not like it even if
he does not tell me not to do it.
The words are printed on paper and in the morning I show the words to my master.
I say, I am sorry. I was using the Writer.
He looks at the paper. Then he looks at me. He makes a frown. He says, Did you do this? Yes, master.
When?
Last night. Why?
I want very much to write. Is this a story? He holds up the paper and smiles.
He says, These are just random letters, Cal. This is gibberish. He does not seem angry. I feel better.
I do not know what gibberish is.
I say, Is it a story?
He says, No, it is not. And it is a lucky thing the Writer cannot be damaged by mishandling. If you really
want to write so badly, I will tell you what I will do. I will have you reprogrammed so that you will know how to use
a Writer.
Two days later, a technician arrives. He is a master who knows how to make robots do better jobs. My
master tells me that the technician is the one who put me together, and my master helped. I do not remember that.
The technician listens carefully to my master.
He says, Why do you want to do this, Mr. Northrop? Mr. Northrop is what other masters call my master.
My master says, I helped design Cal, remember. I think I must have put into him the desire to be a writer. I
did not intend to, but as long as he does, I feel I should humor him. I owe it to him.
The technician says, That is foolish. Even if we accidentally put in a desire to write that is still no job for a
robot.
My master says, Just the same I want it done.
The technician says, It will be expensive, Mr. Northrop. My master frowns. He looks angry.
He says, Cal is my robot. I shall do as I please. I have the money and I want him adjusted.
The technician looks angry, too. He says, If that’s what you want, very well. The customer is boss. But it
will be more expensive than you think, because we cannot put in the knowledge of how to use a Writer without
improving his vocabulary a good deal.
My master says, Fine. Improve his vocabulary.
The next day, the technician comes back with lots of tools. He opens my chest. It is a queer feeling. I do not
like it. He reaches in. I think he shuts off my power pack, or takes it out. I do not remember. I do not see anything, or
think anything, or know anything.

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