I, Robot

by Isaac Asimov

“That’s just it, George! She won’t play with anyone else. There are dozens of little boys and girls that she should make friends with, but she won’t. She won’t go near them unless I make her. That’s no way for a little girl to grow up. You want her to be normal, don’t you? You want her to be able to take her part in society.”

You haven’t explained my existence.

Just what is the cause of my existence?

Since when is the evidence of our senses any match for the clear light of rigid reason?”

He was a tiny white thread of ego—cold and afraid. Then the words came, unctuous and sonorous, thundering over him in a foam of sound:

I have never cared to eat with others—an idiosyncrasy which is unusual and probably neurotic in character, but which harms no one.

But you see, you just can’t differentiate between a robot and the very best of humans.”

Perhaps roboticists as a whole should now die, since we can no longer understand our own creations.”