This story takes place around 50 years
after the events of “The Positronic Man” by Isaac Asimov
Dr Solomons stood gaping at the robot
before him, bewildered by its actions.
“What happened to it?” he asked.
The man, who Dr Solomons assumed was
the owner of the robot, explained: “Well, this ere’ robot was bringin’ some
empty cups down, when my son came chargin’ round the corner and tripped down
the stairs, or at least he would’ve if not for the robot. It pushed ‘im outta
the way, but it fell down the stairs itself!”
“I see,” said Dr Solomons, rubbing his
stubble in thought, “And I’m assuming that after it fell, it started doing
this”, motioning to the robot.
“Yup, that’s ‘bout the gist of it,”
the man said, “though I don’t see what’s so wrong with a robot painting. It’s
not like it’s goin’ mad tryin’ to kill us or anything!”
Dr Solomon studied the robot. It was
seated on a small stool in the middle of the room, brush in hand. Spread around
it was mountains of sheets of paper and canvases, each filled with thousands of
colours. Dr Solomon picked one up and examined it. ‘They’re all abstract
paintings’ he noted, looking around the room. He quickly jotted it down and
returned to examining the paintings.
“So what’s the problem with it?” asked
the man.
Dr Solomons sighed, “It’s not the fact
that is painting that’s the problem. It’s the fact that it’s able to that is.”
He examined the robot for its serial code. ‘NDR-140’ Solomons thought, ‘They
were discontinued for a similar reason.’ He chuckled silently to himself
Clearing his throat, he turned to face
the man. “Would you mind if we took this robot back with us? It would be of
great interest to my superiors. Of course, you would be compensated, and it
would be replaced with a newer model.”
The man scratched his head. “Well…
it’s been in the family for a while now, but I suppose if we’re gettin’ a newer
one, it’s okay for you to take ‘im.” He said nervously.
Dr Solomons deactivated the robot and
called the movement team to pick it up. As he drove away a thought crossed his
mind: ‘I bet Susan Calvin would be having a ball if she was still alive.’
Images flashed across the board as the
people sat around the table watched.
“As you can see, scans indicate that the
positronic pathways related to the three laws are still intact and functional.”
Solomons pointed to another image, “However, it appears that much of the
positronic brain was damaged in the accident, causing it to be obsessed with
painting random strokes, which seems to correlate with the fact that all the
‘art’ is abstract”
The man sitting and the end of the
table groaned. “But what I want to know is, is it a danger? Is it sentient? We
stopped production of that model for a reason you know, and if something like
that happens again I-“
“No,” Solomons interrupted, “There’s
no risk. It’s effectively a pile of metal that swings a brush around randomly.
If I were you, I’d just show it off as ‘The Amazing Artistic Android’ or
something along those lines.
All the people sat at the table let
out a sigh of relief.
Lily crouched under the rope barrier.
She’d heard so much about the ‘Artistic Android’ from the news and her parents,
and since the man who was showing him off had left for lunch and her parents
had just gone to the toilet, she decided she would sneak in for a closer look.
The robot was sat at the stool, brush in hand, painting on a wide canvas. She
stood to in front of it and peeked around.
“Hi there, my name’s Lily, could you
draw a picture of me?” she asked innocently.
The robot stopped painting and looked
at her. It cocked its head sideways and twitched slightly. After a few seconds,
it turned around and continued painting.
“I guess it’s true,” she said glumly,
“It’s just a dumb old broken robot”, and she turned away to go find her
parents.
Just as she was about to leave, she
heard the stool creak from behind her. She looked behind her, and saw the robot
holding out a canvas. She took it from the robot and examined it.
“What a nice painting of a lily!” she
exclaimed, grinning.
