Light Verse

光雕

这是阿西莫夫一篇很有意思的短篇机器人小说，仍然收录于《机器人短篇全集》。

注意：中文约3000字，英文约1600词，阅读需要少量时间。

本文仅供学习交流使用，未经版权方授权，不得用于商业用途，如有侵权请联系删除。

光雕

任何人无论如何都不会想到艾薇·拉德纳太太会成为凶手。身为遗孀的她，是一位慈善家、一位艺术收藏家、一位非凡的女主人，而且是个有口皆碑的艺术天才。最重要的是，她是人们心目中最高雅、最和蔼的人。

她的先夫，威廉.J.拉德纳，是一位伟大的太空人烈士。大家都知道，他是死于太阳闪焰的辐射效应。当时他执意留置在太空中，好让一艘太空客船能安全驶抵五号太空站。

拉德纳太太因而获得一笔丰厚的抚恤金，从此开始进行精明稳健的投资。到了快要步入晚年的时候，她已经非常富有。

她的巨宅是一处名胜，一座名副其实的博物馆，里头陈列着量小质精、精挑细选的收藏品，全是美丽非凡的镶宝石器物。她的收藏品涵盖十几种不同的文化，几乎网罗了各种可能镶上宝石、供贵族玩赏的工艺品。她有一只美国制的第一批镶宝石腕表，一柄来自柬埔寨的镶宝石匕首，一副来自意大利的镶宝石眼镜……诸如此类的古董几乎数之不尽。

拉德纳太太所有的收藏全部公开展示。这些工艺品皆未保险，宅内也没有一般的保全措施。任何传统的防范都没有必要，因为拉德纳太太拥有一大批机器人仆佣，每一个都绝对值得信赖，都会以绝无旁骛的专心、无懈可击的忠诚，以及无可取代的效率保卫每一件收藏。

人人都知道这些机器人的存在，因此巨宅从来没有宵小光顾的记录。

此外，更值得一提的是她的光雕。拉德纳太太是如何发现自己具有这项艺术天分的，接受过她大方款待的众多宾客没有人猜得透。每次她的巨宅大宴宾客，都会有一首新的光体交响曲盈满一间间厅堂；三维的曲线与实心体映出动人的色彩，有些纯净、有些以惊人的晶体效应相互融合。这些光彩让每位客人沐浴在惊喜中，而且总是自我调整得恰到好处，让拉德纳太太泛白的发丝与毫无皱纹的脸庞显得高雅美丽。

客人们踊跃赴宴的主因，正是为了这些光雕。它们从来不重复，每次都在探索艺术殿堂中新的实验领域。其实，许多买得起光雕控制台的人，也将创作光雕当成消遣，但无人比得上拉德纳太太的专业水准，就连自认是专业艺术家的人也不例外。

她自己对这点却表现出迷人的谦虚。“不，不。”当有人灌迷汤时，她总会否认，“我不会说它是‘光中有诗’，那实在太抬举我了。顶多，我只会说它是‘光中有画’。”然后，大家便会对她的机智发出会心微笑。

虽然她常常受到请托，但除了她自己的宴会，她绝对不为任何场合创作光雕。“那样会变得商业化。”她这么说。

然而，她不反对为她的光雕作品摄制精致的全讯像，好让它们能永久保存，并在世界各地的美术馆中重现。此外，不论拿她的光雕做任何用途，她一律不收任何费用。

“我不能要一分钱。”她一面说，一面摊开双手，“人人都可以免费取得。毕竟，它对我自己已经没用了。”这是实话！她从未重复使用过同一件光雕。

在摄制全讯像时，她还会主动合作。她亲切地旁观每个步骤，并随时准备命令她的机器人仆佣帮忙。“拜托，柯特尼，能不能请你好心调整一下那把梯子？”她会这样说。

那就是她的风格。她总是以最正式的礼仪跟她的机器人说话。

几年前，有一次，她差点被“机器人与机械人管理局”的一位政府官员训斥一顿。“你不能这样做，”他严厉地说，“那样会妨碍他们的效率。他们是造来服从命令的，你下的命令越明确，他们服从命令的效率就越高。如果你客客气气提出请求，客气到让他们难以了解这是下达命令的意思，就会反应得比较慢。”

拉德纳太太抬起她雍容华贵的脑袋。“我不要求什么速度和效率，”她说，“我要求的是乐意。我的机器人都爱我。”

那位政府官员本想解释机器人没有感情，但在她悲伤却温柔的眼神下，他气馁得说不出一句话。

众所皆知，拉德纳太太甚至从未将任何机器人送回工厂调整。机器人的正电子脑极端复杂，差不多有十分之一的机会，在出厂时并未调整得尽善尽美。有些时候，好长一段时间都还不会显现错误，但无论何时出现错误，美国机器人与机械人股份公司都会免费负责调整。

拉德纳太太每次都摇头。“一旦机器人进了我家门，”她说，“开始执行他的任务，任何小小的反常我都得忍受。我不会让他被人捣弄。”

谁要是想对她解释机器人只是一架机器，结局总是更糟。她会非常强硬地说：“像机器人这么聪明的东西，绝不可能只是个机器。我把他们当人看待。”

就是这样！

她甚至还留着麦克斯，虽然那个机器人几乎没用了。他简直无法了解人类要他做些什么，然而，拉德纳太太却极力否认这点。“没这回事！”她总以断然的口吻说，“他能接下帽子和外套，把它们收好，真的。他能帮我端东西，他还能做许多事情。”

“可是为什么不送他去做调整呢？”有一次，一位朋友这样问。

“喔，我不能这样做。他是他自己，他非常可爱，你知道吧？毕竟，正电子脑是这么复杂的东西，没人能判断它究竟是怎么个偏差法。假使弄得完全正常，就没办法把他调回现在这么可爱了。我不要放弃这一点。”

“但如果他真的失调了，”朋友一面说，一面紧张兮兮地望着麦克斯，“难道他不会危险吗？”

“绝不会！”拉德纳太太哈哈大笑，“他在我身边好些年了。他一点危险都没有，而且可爱极了。”

的确，他看来与其他机器人一模一样，全身是光滑的金属，样子有点像人却面无表情。

不过，对高雅的拉德纳太太而言，他们个个都是人，个个都温柔，个个都可爱。她就是这样的女人。

她怎么会犯下凶杀案呢？

任何人无论如何都不会想到约翰·山波·崔维斯会遭杀害。个性内向又温和的他，身在这个世界却不属于这个世界。他拥有特殊的数学天赋，一个脑袋就足以发展出无数机器人正电子脑路的复杂结构。

他是美国机器人与机械人股份公司的首席工程师。

他同时也是光雕的业余爱好者，而且十分醉心。他曾就这个题目写过一本书，试图证明他用来发展正电子脑路的那种数学，经过一番改头换面，便可当成创作艺术光雕的指导原则。

然而，当他将理论化为实际行动时，却惨遭失败。他根据自己的数学原理亲手制做的光雕，一律显得笨拙、匠气，索然无味。

在他平静、内向、安全的生活里，不快乐的唯一原因就是这个了，而且足以令他实在非常不快乐。他明明知道自己的理论正确，却无法让它们派上用场。除非他能完成一件光雕的极品……

自然，他听说过拉德纳太太的光雕。举世推崇她是天才，但崔维斯知道她连机器人数学最简单的基础都不懂。他曾写信向她请教，但她总是拒绝解释她的方法，崔维斯因此不禁怀疑她究竟有没有方法。难道只是直觉？但即使是直觉，也有可能化约成数学。最后，他终于设法获得她的邀请宴——他无论如何得见她一面。

崔维斯到得相当迟。赴宴前，他还对一件光雕进行最后的尝试，结果仍是惨遭失败。

他带着一种不解的神态向拉德纳太太请安，并且说：“帮我摆放衣帽的那个机器人很特别。”

“那是麦克斯。”拉德纳太太答道。

“他相当失调，而且是个颇老旧的型号。你怎么没把他送回工厂去？”

“喔，不。”拉德纳太太说，“那样太麻烦了。”

“一点也不麻烦，拉德纳太太。”崔维斯说，“你要是知道那多简单，一定会很惊讶。因为我是美国机器人公司的工程师，所以我自作主张把他调整好了，几乎没花什么时间。你将发现他现在已经处于完美的运作状态。”

拉德纳太太的脸庞出现一种诡异的变化。有生以来第一次，愤怒在她脸上找到容身之地，一时之间那些线条好像还不知道该如何形成。

“你调整了他？”她尖叫道，“可是创作那些光雕的正是他呀！就是那些失调，那些失调！你再也恢复不了……”

实在很不幸，当时她正在向客人展示她的收藏品，而那柄来自柬埔寨的镶宝石匕首，正好摆在她面前的大理石桌上。

崔维斯的脸孔同样扭曲：“你的意思是，如果我研究那个独一无二的失调正电子脑路，我就可能发现……”

她手中的尖刀猛然刺出，动作快到任何人都来不及阻止，而崔维斯也没有闪避的意思。有人还说，他是故意迎上去的——仿佛一心求死。

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转自 <机器人短篇全集（上）>

出版社: 天地出版社

出版日期: 2005-6

作者: [美] 艾萨克·阿西莫夫

译者: 汉声杂志

2005 天地出版社

Light Verse

The very last person anyone would expect to be a murderer was Mrs. Avis Lardner. Widow of the great astronaut-martyr, she was a philanthropist, an art collector, a hostess extraordinary, and, everyone agreed, an artistic genius. But above all, she was the gentlest and kindest human being one could imagine.

Her husband, William J. Lardner, died, as we all know, of the effects of radiation from a solar flare, after he had deliberately remained in space so that a passenger vessel might make it safely to Space Station 5.

Mrs. Lardner had received a generous pension for that, and she had then invested wisely and well. By late middle age she was very wealthy.

Her house was a showplace, a veritable museum, containing a small but extremely select collection of extraordinarily beautiful jeweled objects. From a dozen different cultures she had obtained relics of almost every conceivable artifact that could be embedded with jewels and made to serve the aristocracy of that culture.

She had one of the first jeweled wristwatches manufactured in America, a jeweled dagger from Cambodia, a jeweled pair of spectacles from Italy, and so on almost endlessly.

All was open for inspection. The artifacts were not insured, and there were no ordinary security provisions. There was no need for anything conventional, for Mrs. Lardner maintained a large staff of robot servants, all of whom could be relied on to guard every item with imperturbable concentration, irreproachable honesty, and irrevocable efficiency.

Everyone knew the existence of those robots and there is no record of any attempt at theft, ever.

And then, of course, there was her light-sculpture. How Mrs. Lardner discovered her own genius at the art, no guest at her many lavish entertainments could guess. On each occasion, however, when her house was thrown open to guests, a new symphony of light shone throughout the rooms; three-dimensional curves and solids in melting color, some pure and some fusing in startling, crystalline effects that bathed every guest in wonder and somehow always adjusted itself so as to make Mrs. Lardner’s blue-white hair and soft, unlined face gently beautiful.

It was for the light-sculpture more than anything else that the guests came. It was never the same twice, and never failed to explore new experimental avenues of art. Many people who could afford light-consoles prepared light-sculptures for amusement, but no one could approach Mrs. Lardner’s expertise. Not even those who considered themselves professional artists.

She herself was charmingly modest about it. „No, no,“ she would protest when someone waxed lyrical. „I wouldn’t call it ‘poetry in light.’ That’s far too kind. At most, I would say it was mere ‘light verse.’„ And everyone smiled at her gentle wit.

Though she was often asked, she would never create light-sculpture for any occasion but her own parties. „That would be commercialization,“ she said.

She had no objection, however, to the preparation of elaborate holograms of her sculptures so that they might be made permanent and reproduced in museums of art an over the world. Nor was there ever a charge for any use that might be made of her light-sculptures.

„I couldn’t ask a penny,“ she said, spreading her arms wide. „It’s free to all. After all, I have no further use for it myself.“ It was truer She never used the same light-sculpture twice.

When the holograms were taken, she was cooperation itself. Watching benignly at every step, she was always ready to order her robot servants to help.

„Please, Courtney,“ she would say, „would you be so kind as to adjust the step ladder?“ It was her fashion. She always addressed her robots with the most formal courtesy.

Once, years before, she had been almost scolded by a government functionary from the Bureau of Robots and Mechanical Men. „You can’t do that,“ he said severely. „It interferes with their efficiency. They are constructed to follow orders, and the more clearly you give those orders, the more efficiently they follow them. When you ask with elaborate politeness, it is difficult for them to understand that an order is being given. They react more slowly.“

Mrs. Lardner lifted her aristocratic head. „I do not ask for speed and efficiency,“ she said. „I ask goodwill. My robots love me.“

The government functionary might have explained that robots cannot love, but he withered under her hurt but gentle glance.

It was notorious that Mrs. Lardner never even returned a robot to the factory for adjustment. Their positronic brains are enormously complex, and once in ten times or so the adjustment is not perfect as it leaves the factory. Sometimes the error does not show up for a period of time, but whenever it does, u. S. Robots and Mechanical Men, Inc., always makes the adjustment free of charge.

Mrs. Lardner shook her head. „Once a robot is in my house,“ she said, „and has performed his duties, any minor eccentricities must be borne with. I will not have him manhandled.“

It was the worse thing possible to try to explain that a robot was but a machine. She would say very stiffly, „Nothing that is as intelligent as a robot can ever be but a machine. I treat them as people.“

And that was that!

She kept even Max, although he was almost helpless. He could scarcely understand what was expected of him. Mrs. Lardner denied that strenuously, however. „Not at all,“ she would say firmly. „He can take hats and coats and store them very well, indeed. He can hold objects for me. He can do many things.“

„But why not have him adjusted?“ asked a friend, once. „Oh, I couldn’t. He’s himself. He’s very lovable, you know. After all, a positronic brain is so complex that no one can ever tell in just what way it’s off. If he were made perfectly normal there would be no way to adjust him back to the lovability he now has. I won’t give that up.“

„But if he’s maladjusted,“ said the friend, looking at Max nervously, „might he not be dangerous?“

„Never,“ laughed Mrs. Lardner. „I’ve had him for years. He’s completely harmless and quite a dear.“

Actually he looked like all the other robots, smooth, metallic, vaguely human but expressionless.

To the gentle Mrs. Lardner, however, they were all individual, all sweet, all lovable. It was the kind of woman she was.

How could she commit murder?

The very last person anyone would expect to be murdered would be John Semper Travis. Introverted and gentle, he was in the world but not of it. He had that peculiar mathematical turn of mind that made it possible for him to work out in his mind the complicated tapestry of the myriad positronic brain-paths in a robot’s mind.

He was chief engineer of U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men, Inc.

But he was also an enthusiastic amateur in light-sculpture. He had written a book on the subject, trying to show that the type of mathematics he used in working out positronic brain-paths might be modified into a guide to the production of aesthetic light-sculpture.

His attempt at putting theory into practice was a dismal failure, however. The sculptures he himself produced, following his mathematical principles, were stodgy, mechanical, and uninteresting.

It was the only reason for unhappiness in his quiet, introverted, and secure life, and yet it was reason enough for him to be very unhappy indeed. He knew his theories were right, yet he could not make them work. If he could but produce one great piece of light sculpture.

Naturally, he knew of Mrs. Lardner’s light-sculpture. She was universally hailed as a genius, yet Travis knew she could not understand even the simplest aspect of robotic mathematics. He had corresponded with her but she consistently refused to explain her methods, and he wondered if she had any at all. Might it not be mere intuition? But even intuition might be reduced to mathematics. Finally he managed to receive an invitation to one of her parties. He simply had to see her.

Mr. Travis arrived rather late. He had made one last attempt at a piece of light sculpture and had failed dismally.

He greeted Mrs. Lardner with a kind of puzzled respect and said, „That was a peculiar robot who took my hat and coat.“

„That is Max,“ said Mrs. Lardner. „He is quite maladjusted, and he’s a fairly old model. How is it you did not return it to the factory?“

„Oh, no,“ said Mrs. Lardner. „It would be too much trouble.“

„None at all, Mrs. Lardner,“ said Travis. „You would be surprised how simple a task it was. Since I am with U. S. Robots, I took the liberty of adjusting him myself. It took no time and you’ll find he is now in perfect working order.“

A queer change came over Mrs. Lardner’s face. Fury found a place on it for the first time in her gentle life, and it was as though the lines did not know how to form.

„You adjusted him?“ she shrieked. „But it was he who created my light-sculptures. It was the maladjustment, the maladjustment, which you can never restore, that--that--“

It was really unfortunate that she had been showing her collection at the time and that the jeweled dagger from Cambodia was on the marble tabletop before her.

Travis’s face was also distorted. „You mean if I had studied his uniquely maladjusted positronic brain-paths I might have learned.“

She lunged with the knife too quickly for anyone to stop her and he did not try to dodge. Some said he came to meet it, as though he wanted to die.

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From <The Complete Robot>

Publisher: Doubleday

Publication Date: 1982-3

BY ISAAC ASIMOV

Copyright 1982 by Nightfall, Inc.

小说搬运|阿西莫夫: 光雕