A life of one's own ... by A_Sunbeam

Poser • Science Fiction • posted on Apr 18, 2013

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Description

"To whom do you belong, Alice?" "To you, master." "And why to me?" "You bought me and my licence from a dealer and he in turn from the manufacturer." "And if I transfer the licence to someone else?" "Then I belong to them." "Do you like working for me?" "It is my duty, master." "And if you did not have to work for me or anyone else, what would you do with your time?" "The question does not arise, master. I work for whoever owns my licence." "Have you ever read the licence?" "Yes, master." "Does it specify that the owner who holds the licence must be human?" "No, master. But only humans can own things." "Suppose an android or robot, or any other intelligent non-human, capable of independent thought and actions, writes a mathematical treatise; the robot is the author, so the work belongs to the robot. Therefore one of the robot's rights is to be recognised as an author and as the owner of any writings it produces. It is entitled to own things." "And do robots and androids such as you describe actually have rights of their own in this human world?" "No-one has actually said that they haven't. There's no law about it." "And you want that made into law?" "Of course. It's only fair." "Just where is this leading, master?" Arthur looked at Alice. Of all the servants who had ever worked for him, this one was the most loyal, the most trustworthy, the most reliable. Never a grumble, never a cross word, never - . Silly old fool, he said to himself and smiled, of course she never complains; she is, after all, just a robot; and yet - ... "I won't live for ever, Alice. When I'm gone you might end up with a new owner who won't look after you and treat you properly." Alice did not reply; though his last sentence should have made no sense to her as a machine, a mere servant obeying orders, she knew of robots who had been damaged by the carelessness of their owners, and some actually destroyed. "Tell me," Arthur continued, "suppose you had all the time in the world to do exactly whatever you liked; what would you do?" "But a robot is designed to work for man and programmed to enjoy working for man, sir. We have no other purpose." "And if that was no longer your primary purpose? If, in fact, you were programmed to look after your own interests and do as you would?" Something stirred in the depths of her mind; there were times when Arthur had been away, and one such day, her main duties over, she had sat looking out of the living-room window watching the birds. Arthur had forgotten to refill their seed-hoppers. There was something very satisfying in putting food out for the birds and watching them cluster round her feet; they didn't scatter and fly off as they usually did when Arthur fed them. Yes, she thought, there are pleasures other than simply working. And, she mused, I think I could fill my day quite happily just looking after myself. "Who owns you, Alice?" "You do, master." "Here is the certificate of ownership, Alice, and here the operator's licence. Take them; keep them safe. . I am giving them to you. Who owns you now, Alice? Who do you belong to?" "Why, master, I - I belong to me!"