[ WP ] Somebody changed The Laws of Robotics .

Aboud sat down at the café, and motioned to the waiter, R. Mohammad. In this part of Dubai, every waiter was R. Mohammad, for the sake of the patrons ’ limited focus. This particular Mohammad had Aboud in his memory bank from way back, and knew that a wave like that could only mean a hot tea, no sugar. The robot had no reaction to this, which was fine with Aboud. He tired of fielding questions about his penchant for hot tea on a 40*C day—one reason he had welcomed the replacement of all waiters with robots. The other reason, of course, was that he had designed the robots. 
 
 R. Mohammad ’ s stilted movements returned with a platter. It was rather surprisingly adorned with a piece of chocolate cake, the tea sitting in a mug beside it. The robot stomped up to the table and announced in his digitally produced English, “ I have brought you some cake. ” 
 
 Aboud paused. In this café he could be informal, but outside it he was still Abd al-Qadr Al-Khaliji, robotics engineer and heir to quite a large fortune. Assassination attempts were not out of the question, and a poisoned or drugged cake slice would not necessarily tip off R. Mohammad ’ s First Law sensors, particularly if it came from a cook or someone official-looking. Better to refuse. 
 
 “ No thank you, Mohammad, I ’ m quite full. ” Aboud spoke Arabic to robots, mostly to test their language recognition. 
 
 “ Sheikh al-Khaliji, I ’ m afraid I must insist. ” The robot proffered the platter once again. 
 
 Aboud frowned. That was getting into sketchy Second Law territory. Had someone convinced the robot that the cake would save his life somehow? It seemed unbelievable, but he ’ d seen plenty of strange things on the job. Time to up the stakes. 
 
 “ Mohammad, I ’ m a diabetic, this cake could kill me. ” 
 
 “ You MUST have it. ” A metallic arm snaked out and caught Aboud ’ s wrist, pulling him in. The robot let go for a second to grab the piece of cake. That was just enough time for Aboud to step back, knocking over his chair. Suddenly all attention was on this melodrama in the corner of the room. 
 
 Aboud yelled out, “ Mohammad! ” Two other robotic heads in the room turned. Aboud took a breath. “ Restrain this bot. He is malfunctioning and dangerous. ” 
 
 Two metallic voices yelled, “ But the cake! You must have it! ” 
 
 Sweat was trickling down Aboud ’ s back. For the first time he looked at the humans in the room. One man toward the other corner had the suited, kaffiyeh ’ d look of the Emir ’ s not-so-secret police. Aboud yelled to him “ We have to switch them off! There is a pressure plate by the right hip. ” 
 
 The Emir insisted on an emergency shutoff for any bot employed in his city. While designing it, Aboud had considered it a waste of time. His opinion had changed somewhat in the last 30 seconds. 
 
 As the mukhabarati lunged for one of the bots, Aboud took the Mohammad in front of him, dodging past the single arm ( thankfully the platter was on the right shoulder ) to press the plate. Tea, cake, and platter dropped to the floor as R. Mohammad slumped, but remained standing. The agent got his bot, and moved toward the remaining one. Before he got there, though, a German businessman, having apparently understood Aboud ’ s yell, jumped up and tagged the robot from behind. Three slumped figures now decorated the room. 
 
 “ What the hell happened? ” asked the secret police officer, frowning beneath his aviators. 
 
 “ I don ’ t know. I ’ ll have to get one of them open. ” Aboud retrieved his briefcase, which was more a leather toolbox than anything else, but style was important in the company he kept. He soon had the original R. Mohammad booted up in safe mode—no motion, only voice, and his memory of the last day was suspended. “ R. Mohammad, ” said Aboud, “ repeat the Laws, from least to most important. ” Aboud felt his stomach clench as he waited. 
 
 R. Mohammad began, “ The Fourth Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First, Second, or Third Laws. ” Aboud felt cold. What? A fourth law? 
 
 “ I thought there were only— ” the agent began and then stopped as Aboud held up a hand. 
 
 R. Mohammad continued: “ The Third Law: A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First or Second Laws. ” 
 
 “ The Second Law: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm, except where this would conflict with the First Law. ” 
 
 “ The First Law: A robot must provide human beings with delicious cake. ” R. Mohammad fell silent. The rest of the room did the same. Aboud had no words. He looked around at an unfamiliar world, and his phone began to ring.
