Bicentennial Man Quotes

There is no right to deny freedom to any object with a mind advanced enough to grasp the concept and desire the state.

It has been said in this courtroom that only a human being can be free. It seems to me that only someone who wishes for freedom can be free. I wish for freedom.

The Earth," he said, "is a large and very complex lifeboat. We still do not know what can or can't be done with a proper distribution of resources and it is notorious that to this very day we have not really made an effort to distribute them. In many places on Earth, food is wasted daily, and it is that knowledge that drives hungry men mad.

I don't know. How did Beethoven hear the Ninth Symphony in his head before he wrote it down? The brain's a pretty good computer, too, isn't it?

He supposed it was inevitable. Dip a person into one particular specialty deeply enough and long enough, and he would automatically begin to assume that specialists in all other fields were magicians, judging the depth of their wisdom by the breadth of his own ignorance...

Human beings can tolerate an immortal robot, for it doesn't matter how long a machine lasts, but they cannot tolerate an immortal human being since their own mortality is endurable only so long as it is universal.

It is a difficult choice sometimes whether to feel revolted at the male sex or merely to dismiss them as contemptible.

Kill us in the clear light on the Moon, where the sky is black and soft, where the stars shine brightly, where the cleanliness and purity of vacuum make all things sharp. - Not in this low-clinging, fuzzy blue.

It might seem to you, Peter, that a truck driver, one step above an ape in your view, can't remember. But truck drivers can have brains, too.

And he paused, aware at last of the gathering weight of the silence. Fourteen images stared at him, without any of them offering a word in response. Bakst said sharply, "You have talked of freedom. You have it!" Then, uncertainly, he said, "Isn't that what you want?

If it were evenly distributed," said Rodman, "the example of justice in the world might lead at last to a sane world policy. As it is, there is world despair and fury over the selfish fortune of a few, and all behave irrationally in revenge.

What man does for his own desires and comforts affects the complex total-of-life, the ecology, and his short-term gains can bring long-term disadvantages. The Machines taught us to set up a human society which would minimize that, but the near-disaster of the early Twenty-first Century has left mankind suspicious of innovations.

Such a man as Carey is more to me than bishop or archbishop: he is an apostle.

Ben Estes knew he was going to die and it didn't make him feel any better to know that that was the chance he had lived with all these years.

The trouble with you, Peter, is that when you think of a witness to a planetological statement, you think of planetologists. You divide up human beings into categories, and despise and dismiss most. A robot cannot do that. The First Law says, 'A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.' Any human being. That is the essence of the robotic view of life. A robot makes no distinction. To a robot, all men are truly equal, and to a robopsychologist who must perforce deal with men at the robotic level, all men are truly equal, too.

Rupert Burns: What do they say? Andrew Martin: That you can lose yourself. Everything. All boundaries. All time. That two bodies can become so mixed up, that you don't know who's who or what's what. And just when the sweet confusion is so intense you think you're gonna die... you kind of do. Leaving you alone in your separate body, but the one you love is still there. That's a miracle. You can go to heaven and come back alive. You can go back anytime you want with the one you love. Rupert Burns: And you want to experience that? Andrew Martin: Oh, yes, please. Rupert Burns: So do I.

If, by virtue of the Second Law, we can demand of any robot unlimited obedience in all respects not involving harm to a human being, then any human being, any human being, has a fearsome power over any robot, any robot. In particular, since Second Law supersedes Third Law; any human being can use the law of obedience to overcome the law of self-protection. He can order any robot to damage itself or even to destroy itself for any reason, or for no reason. Is this just? Would we treat an animal so? Even an inanimate object which had given us good service has a claim on our consideration. And a robot is not insensitive; it is not an animal. It can think well enough so that it can talk to us, reason with us, joke with us. Can we treat them as friends, can we work together with them, and not give them some of the fruits of that friendship, some of the benefits of co-working? If a man has the right to give a robot any order that does not involve harm to a human being, he should have the decency never to give a robot any order that involves harm to a robot, unless human safety absolutely requires it. With great power goes great responsibility, and if the robots have Three Laws to protect men, is it too much to ask that men have a law or two to protect robots?

Running? Jumping?" Anthony turned an anxious face to William. "He'll hurt himself. You can handle the Computer. Override. Make him stop." And William said sharply, "No. I won't. I'll take the chance of his hurting himself. Don't you understand? He's happy. He was on Earth, a world he was never equipped to handle. Now he's on Mercury with a body perfectly adapted to its environment, as perfectly adapted as a hundred specialized scientists could make it be. It's paradise for him; let him enjoy it." "Enjoy? He's a robot." "I'm not talking about the robot. I'm talking about the brain-the brain-that's living here." The Mercury Computer, enclosed in glass, carefully and delicately wired, its integrity most subtly preserved, breathed and lived. "It's Randall who's in paradise," said William. "He's found the world for whose sake he autistically fled this one. He has a world his new body fits perfectly in exchange for the world his old body did not fit at all.

The Sun burned down in a warm contrasting world of white and black, of white Sun against black sky and white rolling ground mottled with black shadow. The bright sweet smell of the Sun on every exposed square centimeter of metal contrasting with the creeping death-of-aroma on the other side. He lifted his hand and stared at it, counting the fingers. Hot-hot-hot-turning, putting each finger, one by one, into the shadow of the others and the hot slowly dying in a change in tactility that made him feel the clean, comfortable vacuum. Yet not entirely vacuum. He straightened and lifted both arms over his head, stretching them out, and the sensitive spots on either wrist felt the vapors- the thin, faint touch of tin and lead rolling through the cloy of mercury. The thicker taste rose from his feet; the silicates of each variety, marked by the clear separate-and-together touch and tang of each metal ion. He moved one foot slowly through the crunchy, caked dust, and felt the changes like a soft, not quite random symphony. And over all the Sun. He looked up at it, large and fat and bright and hot, and heard its joy. He watched the slow rise of prominences around its rim and listened to the crackling sound of each; and to the other happy noises over the broad face. When he dimmed the background light, the red of the rising wisps of hydrogen showed in bursts of mellow contralto, and the deep bass of the spots amid the muted whistling of the wispy, moving faculae, and the occasional thin keening of a flare, the ping-pong ticking of gamma rays and cosmic particles, and over all in every direction the soft, fainting, and ever-renewed sigh of the Sun's substance rising and retreating forever in a cosmic wind which reached out and bathed him in glory. He jumped, and rose slowly in the air with a freedom he had never felt, and jumped again when he landed, and ran, and jumped, and ran again, with a body that responded perfectly to this glorious world, this paradise in which he found himself.

Fast-forward two hundred years, and we seem to have lost sight of that spirit of 1776. Case in point: In Indianapolis, a group of students showed copies of the Declaration of Independence to several hundred people and asked them to sign it. Most refused, stating that it sounded rather “dangerous.”58 In July 1975, the People's Bicentennial Commission passed out copies of the Declaration of Independence in downtown Denver without identifying it. Only one in five persons recognized the document. One man remarked, “There is so much of this revolutionary stuff going on now. I can't stand it.

It was odd how that last deed caught the imagination of the world. All that Andrew had done before had not swayed them. But he had finally accepted even death to be human, and the sacrifice was too great to be rejected.

The threat of an uprising steadily mounted after 1805, when a Shawnee spiritual leader, Tenskwatawa (better known as the Prophet), launched a religious movement that called for rejecting of the white man’s ways.

— São produções incríveis, Andrew — comentou o Senhor. — Eu gosto de fazê-las, Senhor — respondeu Andrew. — Gosta? — De algum modo, faz os circuitos do meu cérebro fluírem com mais facilidade. Ouvi o senhor usar a palavra 'gostar' e a maneira como a usa combina com a forma como me sinto. Eu gosto de fazê-las, Senhor." "— Não se trata de falha da parte dele. Ele realiza perfeitamente as tarefas atribuídas. A questão é que também entalha a madeira de um jeito primoroso e nunca repete um padrão. Ele produz obras de arte." "— Quero dar esse dinheiro para o Senhor. — Não vou aceitar, Andrew. — Em troca de algo que o Senhor pode me dar. — Ah? O que é, Andrew? — Minha liberdade, Senhor. — A sua… — Quero comprar a minha liberdade, Senhor." "— Ele vai continuar aqui. Ainda vai ser leal. Ele não pode evitar. Está incorporado nele. A única coisa que ele quer é uma forma de expressão. Ele quer ser chamado de livre. É tão terrível assim? Ele não fez por merecer? Céus, ele e eu temos conversado sobre isso há anos." "— Pai, o senhor não o conhece. Ele leu tudo da biblioteca. Não sei o que ele sente por dentro, mas também não sei o que o senhor sente por dentro. Quando conversar com ele, verá que Andrew reage às várias abstrações da mesma maneira que o senhor e eu, e o que mais importa? Se alguém tem reações como as suas, o que mais você pode querer?" "—A liberdade não tem preço, Senhor — respondeu Andrew. — Até mesmo a chance de ter liberdade vale o dinheiro.” "(...) — Torná-lo livre seria apenas um jogo de palavras, mas significaria muito para ele. Isso daria tudo para ele e não nos custaria nada." "— Por que quer ser livre, Andrew? — indagou ele. — Em que sentido isso importará para você? —O senhor gostaria de ser escravo, meritíssimo? — respondeu Andrew." "— Talvez não mais do que faço agora, meritíssimo, mas com mais alegria. Foi dito aqui, neste tribunal, que só um ser humano pode ser livre. Parece-me que apenas aquele que deseja a liberdade pode ser livre. Eu desejo a liberdade." "— Não é direito negar liberdade a qualquer objeto com uma mente avançada o suficiente para entender o conceito e desejar essa condição." "Andrew não sabia o que falar. Nunca estivera ao lado de uma pessoa que estava morrendo, mas sabia que era a maneira humana de parar de funcionar. Era uma desmontagem involuntária e irreversível, e Andrew não fazia ideia do que seria apropriado dizer naquele momento. Conseguiu somente permanecer de pé, em absoluto silêncio, totalmente imóvel." "— Eu sei, George. Existem robôs fazendo todo tipo de trabalho que se possa imaginar. — E nenhum deles usa roupa. — Mas nenhum deles é livre, George" "Com grandes poderes vêm grandes responsabilidades, e, se os robôs têm Três Leis para proteger os homens, seria demais pedir que os homens tenham uma ou duas leis para proteger os robôs?" "Andrew estava certo. A batalha pela opinião pública era a chave para atingir os tribunais e o Legislativo e, no final, foi aprovada uma lei que instituiu condições sob as quais eram proibidas as ordens para danificar um robô. Tinha inúmeras condicionantes e as punições para o descumprimento da lei eram totalmente inadequadas, mas o princípio foi estabelecido. A última sanção pelo Legislativo Mundial se deu no dia da morte da Pequena Senhorita." "— Isso não seria mentira, Andrew? — Seria, Paul, e não posso mentir. É por isso que você tem que ligar. — Ah, você não pode mentir, mas pode me incentivar a contar uma mentira, é isso? Você está ficando cada vez mais humano, Andrew." "— Sou um robô livre e pertenço a mim mesmo.

— Na Lua, Simon, eu estava encarregado de uma equipe de pesquisa de vinte cientistas humanos. Dei ordens que ninguém questionou. Os robôs lunares me acatavam como a um ser humano. Então, por que não sou um ser humano?" "— Ser um ser humano de facto não é suficiente. Não quero apenas ser tratado como um, mas ser legalmente identificado como um. Quero ser um ser humano de jure." "— Se me trouxer humanidade, valerá a pena. Se não trouxer, vai pôr um fim na luta, e isso valerá a pena também." "— Cinquenta anos atrás, você foi declarado o Robô Sesquicentenário, Andrew. — Após uma pausa e com um tom mais solene, ele acrescentou: — Hoje, nós o declaramos o Homem Bicentenário, sr. Martin.

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