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necessary reason why I'd automatically equal the record he ran up in
the Legislature. There'll never be anyone like him again, I'm afraid."
Andrew nodded. " And how sad for us that he is no longer with
is. I would find it pleasant, George, if Sir were still--" He paused, for
he did not want to say, "in working order." He knew that that would
not be the appropriate expression to use. And yet it was the first
phrase that had come into his mind.
"Still alive?" George finished for him. "Yes. Yes, it would be
good to have him around. I have to confess I miss the old monster at
least as much as you do."
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r r
"Monster?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Ah. Yes. A manner of speaking."
When George had gone, Andrew replayed the conversation in
his mind, puzzling over its twists and turns and trying to see why he
had been so badly off balance throughout it. It had been George's use
of idiomatic phrases and colloquial language, Andrew decided, that
had caused the problems.
Even after all this time, it was still difficult sometimes for
Andrew to keep pace with humans when they struck out along
linguistic pathways that were something other than the most direct
ones. He had come into being equipped with an extensive innate
vocabulary, a set of grammatical instructions, and the ability to
arrange words in intelligible combinations. And through whatever
fluke in his generalized positronic pathways it was that made
Andrew's intelligence more flexible and adaptable than that of the
standard robot, he had been able to develop the knack of conversing
easily and gracefully with humans. But there were limits to his
abilities along that line.
The problem was only going to get worse as time went along,
Andrew realized.
Human languages, he knew, were constantly in a state of flux.
There was nothing fixed or really systematic about them. New words
were invented all the time, old words would change their meanings,
all sorts of short-lived informal expressions slipped into ordinary
conversation. That much he had already had ample reason to learn,
though he had not done any kind of scientific investigation of the
kinds of changes that tended to take place.
The English language, which was the one Andrew used most
often, had altered tremendously over the past six hundred years. Now
and then he had looked at some of Sir's books, the works of the
ancient poets--Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare--and he had seen that
their pages were sprinkled with footnotes to explain archaic word
usage to modern readers.
What if the language were to change just as significantly in the
next six hundred years? How was he going to be able to communicate
with the human beings around him, unless he kept up with the
changes?
Already, in one brief conversation, George had baffled him
three times. "Like grandfather, like grandson." How simple that
seemed now that George had explained it--but how mysterious it had
been at first.
And why had George called him a "hunk of tin," when George
surely knew that there was no tin in Andrew's makeup whatsoever?
And--it was the most puzzling one of all--why should George have
called Sir a "monster," when that was plainly not an appropriate
description of the old man?
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r r
Those were not even the latest modern phrases, Andrew knew.
They were simply individual turns of phrase, a little too colloquial or
metaphorical for instant handling by Andrew's linguistic circuitry. He
would face far more mystifying ways of speech in the outside world,
he suspected.
Perhaps it was time for him to update some of his linguistic
documentation.
His own books would give him no guidance. They were old and
most of them dealt with woodworking, with art, with furniture design.
There were none on language, none on the ways of human beings. Nor
was Sir's library, extensive as it was, likely to be of much use. No one
was living in the big house just now--it was sealed, under robot
maintenance--but Andrew still could have access to it whenever he
wanted. Nearly all of Sir's books, though, dated from the previous
century or before. There was nothing there that would serve Andrew's
purpose.
All things considered, the best move seemed to be for him to get
some up-to-date information--and not from George. When Andrew
turned to George at the time he had wanted to start wearing clothing,
he had had to fight his way through George's incomprehension and a
certain amount of George's condescending amusement. Though he
doubted that George would treat him the same way in this matter, he
preferred not to find out.
No, he would simply go to town and use the public library. That
was the proper self-reliant thing to do--the correct way for a free
robot to handle a problem, he told himself. It was a triumphant
decision and Andrew felt his electropotential grow distinctly higher as
he contemplated it, until he had to throw in an impedance coil to
bring himself back to equilibrium.
To the library, yes.
And he would dress for the occasion. Yes. Yes. Humans did not
enter the public library unclothed. Neither would he.
He put on a full costume--elegant leggings of a velvety purple
fabric, and a flowing red blouse with a satiny sheen, and his best
walking boots. He even donned a shoulder chain of polished wooden
links, one of his finest productions. It was a choice between that and
another chain he had, one made of glitter-plastic, which perhaps was
better suited for daytime wear; but George had said that the wooden
chain was terribly impressive, particularly since anything made of
wood was far more valuable than mere plastic. And he wanted to
impress, today. There would be humans in the library, not robots.
They would never have seen a robot there before. It was important for [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]