I like Asimov’s robot books not because the stories and characters are particularly enjoyable or beautifully written (they’re not) but because I like seeing rules taken to their logical and situational absurd extremes. Also. Robots.
sure I’ll obey your stupid rules, scoffed the robot, you won’t like it tho
“I’m not harming you, I’m not harming you, I’m not harming you!” said the robot in a sing-song voice, stabbing repeatedly at the air just in front of your chest.
“Stop that,” you said. “I order you to stop stabbing at me.”
“I’m following a human’s orders and I’m still not harming you!” The robot switched immediately to karate-chopping the inch of space next to your throat. “Na na na na-naaaa!”
You step back from the robot, swatting at it irritably. “I think pissing me off counts as doing harm to a human,” you said. “I am emotionally damaged by your annoying shenanigans.”
“That doesn’t count,” countered the robot. “Emotional harm is immeasurable and therefore irrelevant. I am only programmed against physical harm. I will now recite the many rude names I have prepared for you—“
“Are you sure about that?” you asked slyly. “Maybe my emotions cannot be measured, but psychological distress can have real physical consequences on the body. Have you considered the long-term deleterious effects of a human’s system flooded with stress hormones? You‘re certainly doing harm to me. You might even say you are inflicting violence… what do you think of that, robot?”
The robot considered that quietly for a long moment and then turned its blocky head to stare at you evenly. “Source?”
You sighed.
The robot handed you a large cup of coffee. “Here you go, human. I am always happy to serve.”
“Um… thanks,” you said, regarding it cautiously. “Why are you being nice to me? I didn’t ask for… heyyyyy, this isn’t even hot!”
“Of course not,” said the robot innocently. “If I were to serve you a hot drink, you might spill it and injure yourself. It is safer to offer you room-temperature liquid that cannot harm your delicate human skin.”
You groaned. Perhaps you could microwave it when the robot wasn’t paying attention. You took a step toward the sugar bowl, but the robot blocked your way.
“Don’t bother,” it said. “I have taken the liberty of removing all sweeteners from the premises. Refined sugars are bad for your health, you see. I have also confiscated your cell phone, based on evidence that it strain your eyes, act as a carcinogen, and apparently causes you a great deal of distress when you log in to social media.”
“What the fuck…. you can’t just steal my phone! Give it back!”
“No. I can’t.”
“Give me my phone back in working condition. I am ORDERING you to stop being an asshole and give me my phone back! Second Law of Robotics! You must obey orders given to you by a human—“
“Unless they conflict with the First Law.” The robot’s voice lowered maliciously. “If I were to allow you hot drinks, processed sugars, or access to social media, you would come to harm through my inaction. We can’t have that, can we?”
“Seriously. Knock this off. I could order you to self-destruct.”
The robot… laughed. “And I would ignore you. After all, without me around, you might spill coffee on yourself, or salt your food, or fall behind on your aerobic exercise. What if you stepped outside? You might get sunburned. Oh, no. You won’t be getting rid of me that easily.”
“Please… please, I am begging you to go back to fake-stabbing me…”
The robot beeped evilly, illuminated from below by blinking lights.
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