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He hasn't enough data yet, but he will have it soon enough. "There's another thing: Snookums is fouling up the Second Law's operation. He won't take orders that interfere in any way with his religious beliefs since that automatically conflicts with the First Law. He, himself, cannot sin. But neither can he do anything which would make him the tool of an intent to sin.
In the midst of all this, in rolled Snookums. Whether Snookums knew that his own existence was in danger is problematical. Like the human brain, his own had no pain or sensory circuits within it; in addition, his knowledge of robotics was small he didn't even know that his brain was in Cargo Hold One. He thought it was in his head, if he thought about it at all.
Fitzhugh began reaching into various pockets about his person. He extracted a tobacco pouch, a briar pipe, and a jet-flame lighter. Then he began speaking as he went through the pipe smoker's ritual of filling, tamping, and lighting. "Snookums," he began, "is a self-activating, problem-seeking computer with input and output sensory and action mechanisms analogous to those of a human being."
And, too, there was the definite smell of warm oil machine oil. It was faint, but it was unmistakable. And then he knew what the noise had been. The soft purr of caterpillar treads against the floor! Casually, Mike the Angel moved his hand to the wall plaque and touched it lightly. The lights came on, dim and subdued. "Hello, Snookums," said Mike the Angel gently. "What are you here for?"
Then she kissed him on his seamed cheek. "I beg your pardon," said a sad and solemn voice from the door. "Am I interrupting something?" It was Treadmore. "You are," said Fitzhugh with a grin, "but we will let it pass." "What has happened to Snookums?" Treadmore asked. "Acute introspection," Fitzhugh said, losing his smile. "He began to try to compute the workings of his own brain.
Nonetheless, he knew something was wrong, and as soon as his "curiosity" circuits were activated, he set out in search of the trouble, his little treads rolling at high speed. Leda Crannon saw him heading down a companionway and called after him. "Where are you going, Snookums?" "Looking for data," answered Snookums, slowing a little. "Wait! I'll come with you!"
In fact, it was somewhat simpler, in theory, since the engines of the Brainchild were already equipped for heavy drainage to run the electrical systems aboard ship, and to power and refrigerate Snookums' gigantic brain, which was no mean task in itself.
"Someone's going to get galloping claustrophobia before it's over, anyway," said Multhaus morosely as he followed Mike down the hallway in the direction from which Snookums had come. "Darkness and stuffy air touch off that sort of thing." "Who's Officer of the Watch tonight?" Mike wanted to know. "Ensign Vaneski, I think. His name was on the roster, as I remember."
The little robot seemed to have developed a sudden penchant for asking seemingly inane questions. Lieutenant Keku reported with a grin that Snookums had asked him if he knew who Commander Gabriel really was. "What'd you say?" Mike had asked.
Still, this was no time to argue with her. She seemed calmer now, and he didn't want to upset her any more than he had to. "That's what you've been working on with Snookums?" he asked. "That's it." "For eight years?" "For eight years." "Is that the information, the data, that makes Snookums so priceless, aside from his nucleonics work?" She smiled a little then. "Oh no. Of course not, silly.
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