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Who: Meyer & Daneel
Where: Near the edge of the woods
When: Day 101, also known as happy fun blackout times
What: They're both gathering firewood (gotta keep productive during unexpected blackouts, after all!) and run into each other.

Meyer had been wary of the woods ever since the incident with the tiger. It strikes him as something isolated, something statistically unlikely to occur again, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't give the denser clumps of trees wide berth, aware that some kind of large animal could be lurking within them. There's good reason to be on the edge of the woods this afternoon, though, and that's because of the blackout; more firewood will be needed soon enough, and gathering it makes him feel as though he's doing something productive.

He's alone, for the moment -- he'd convinced the freshly returned Charlie to stay back, to get some rest, still not entirely convinced that Charlie is as physically healthy as he seems, still not sure what those days of disappearance had done to him. Pausing for a moment in his meticulous gathering of any sticks that look usable for the large fire, he takes a second to light a cigarette (an indulgence which he wouldn't normally allow himself, not when supplies are low, but which seems appropriate at the moment) and takes a long drag on it, surveying the woods with an intent eye, ready to go for his gun in case anything suddenly leaps out at him.

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Daneel bows his head solemnly. "So he says. Still, he is possessed of a strength of feeling towards me that I fear does not make his judgement unbiased. It is very possible that my own judgement towards him is equally suspect."

He isn't used to having to doubt his own judgement; that's a troubling side effect.

"It is not possible to protect humans from all harm that may come to then, as much as I wish it were. Nor is it always wise to; sometimes suffering in small amounts is necessary to prevent greater suffering later. The difficulty lies in recognising which is which."

Strength of feeling sounds an awful lot to him like a discussion of the fact that Ned is apparently in love with Daneel, and that whole conversation has been known to make Meyer feel extremely awkward. It's not that he disapproves -- on the contrary, he's pleased for Ned, in a strange sort of way -- but it's that relationships and feelings aren't particularly a topic of discussion in his life, and it still startles him how people are so seemingly open about it here.

"I doubt that our judgement is ever entirely unbiased when it comes to people we're... close to. You strike me as a logical person, though."

And that, to him, is a compliment. Logic is something he finds sorely lacking in many people, although occasionally he's forced to recognize that his own calculating brand of logic can be a hinderance when it comes to forming close connections.

"I cannot help but be what I am. While the pathways of a positronic brain are similar to a human's brain in many respects, they are not identical. That is not to say," Daneel adds, "that a robot can't grow beyond what it was originally intended for, but there are certain guidelines that govern human behaviour, and different ones for robots.

"Part of that is my reliance upon logic, rather than emotional reasoning. Certainly I do possess and experience what I must describe in terms of emotional responses, but they are not the same as human feeling, merely analogous."

He's earnest, in his own quiet way. "But they are not something I can make decisions upon alone."

Should Meyer be concerned that the way Daneel describes the robot brain sounds very much like his own brain? Perhaps, but he doesn't know any other way of being. What Daneel says makes quite a bit of sense to him -- he, too, doesn't rely on emotional reasoning, although he imagines that it's slightly different for the two of them. He's human, after all. Daneel isn't. Regardless, he sees some similarities between them.

"I don't think anyone should make decisions based on emotional responses," he replies, shrugging. "They're often illogical at best, and downright dangerous, at worst."

"And yet, humans often do. In some ways, it's considered superior to logic-based reasoning." Daneel frowns a little. "I might wish to do something because I find it brings me pleasure, but it is difficult to justify that choice when I have no other reasoning."

And yet, if he is to consider himself a person, then he has every right to make exactly that choice. It's... perplexing.

"But you are human, and you choose logic over emotion when you can? What would you do if faced with that sort of choice?"

"I do try to make my decisions based on logic, yes. Of course, there're times when it's almost impossible not to. Everyone has emotions, whether or not they place much value in them."

Even admitting that he has emotions is uncomfortable for him, but of course he does. As far as he knows, every human does. Apparently, even robots do, to some extent -- or at the very least, Daneel seems capable of understanding them.

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask about that kind of thing, admittedly."

"I prefer a range of opinions to consider," Daneel says. "Humans display remarkable variability. I can't believe that some are more worthy than others."

He understands Meyer very well, and it's something he finds peculiarly interesting. "I have had many years to study humanity and what is typical behaviour, but you are an interesting aberration, in a way. I understand you very well. I can approve of a logical approach combined with genuine human emotion. Partner Elijah could be very logical at times, but he also followed emotional intuition frequently, and I could not always follow it."

He's not sure whether being described as an interesting aberration is meant to be a compliment, but it's always been how he's seen himself, although he's never quite used those words, so he can hardly take offense.

"I often think it's easier to recognize emotions and motivations in other people than it is to recognize them within oneself," he muses, thinking of how easy he finds it to read people, how simple it can be to recognize when people are upset, or lying, or having any kind of feeling they might prefer to hide. "I don't know if it's the same for you. Do you recognize what other people're feeling, even if you might not have the same response to a situation as they would?"

"I recognise it. I don't necessarily understand the reasons behind it." Daneel shakes his head. "I am learning the reasoning behind people's responses. They are many and varied. I find it very interesting, because even if they are different from my own, I feel there must be rules that guide these responses. I don't understand the rules yet, but I am endeavouring to learn through observation."

A simple enough idea, but complicated in its application.

"More than once I have been puzzled by someone's emotional response to a situation. During the brief span of time that I was human, I often found the sheer physicality of human emotion to be overwhelming."

"To some extent, there are rules. That's why people take up the study of psychology, I'd imagine, to figure out what those rules are."

In his own way, he can be very curious about other peoples' psychology -- what makes them respond the way they do, what he can do to alter those responses -- but he approaches it in much the way he'd approach solving any other problem: methodically, mathematically.

"Did you enjoy being human?"

It's not, perhaps, a question there's a ready answer for. He knows what Daneel means by finding human emotion to be overwhelming, in a way, but that doesn't mean Daneel hadn't enjoyed having human emotion.

Daneel needs to take a moment to consider his words -- not the question itself, because he knows his answer already. He's thought much on this.

"There were... aspects that I enjoyed, and that I now miss. You live very intensely, and as overwhelming as I found it, there was a satisfaction I found to letting myself be ruled by such biological impulses, the difference between being pleased and feeling pleased. It is... difficult to explain. I miss, also, the sense of smell and taste, which I found very interesting to explore while I had them. I... I liked the smell of lilacs, and the taste of Ned's apple pie, and of peanut butter."

He says it as though it's an alien idea, and it is.

"At the same time, that is not something that I am. I am a robot, I think as a robot, and I know myself as a robot. To be human is to lose part of myself and gain something else. For better or worse, I am a robot, not human, and I cannot fool myself into being something else."

He pauses, fractionally. "It it the heart of why I am now considering that I ought to be considered a person in my own right, if a different sort."

"I wasn't aware that you didn't have a sense of smell or taste."

It stands to reason, he supposes, but then, he doesn't know much about robots, or at least didn't, before coming here and meeting Daneel. It's difficult to understand, in certain ways, and in other ways, surprisingly easy. While he doesn't like being stuck in this place, he has to admit, it's been an eyeopening experience on many levels.

"I think there're humans who might wish they could be robots, but you're right, we can't exactly be something other than what we are. Not at that level, anyway." Because it's easy to pretend to be something you're not, but he could never turn himself into a robot, just as Daneel could never turn himself into a human.

"And like I said before, the way I see it, you're as much of a person as anyone else around here."

"I can simulate eating," Daneel says. "If need be, I can swallow. But I cannot taste, nor is there any purpose in my doing so unless I need to appear convincingly human. It was not deemed necessary to do more than that. I have a sense of touch, but it is subtly different from a human sense of touch. I cannot, for example, feel pain if I am injured."

He is... a person. It's a thought that comes easier every time he makes himself think it, though it's still the sort of thing that is astonishing to him.

"It is... what I am used to."

"But you're capable of being injured, aren't you? You're not invulnerable."

As much as pain is inconvenient -- and as many times as he's wished the pain from his own injuries would go away more quickly -- he finds it useful, too. He can't imagine not feeling pain, not being able to tell the severity of an injury based on how it feels. Perhaps Daneel isn't as easily injured as humans are, but to some extent, there must be some way in which he's capable of being hurt.

"Certainly. I can suffer physical damage of many types. I would not find it painful, though I would certainly feel it if it were amiss, and I would seek repairs when possible."

Daneel is almost thoughtful as he explains, calmly.

"There is a sensation I can experience which is analogous to pain, if not the same. When I find myself in a situation that is in conflict with the Three Laws, there is a type of feedback in my positronic neural network that is... profoundly uncomfortable. In addition, it interferes with tasks such as speech or walking, making them very difficult. In extreme situations it could cause me to deactivate permanently, but I possess a number of safeguards to help prevent that."

"Around here, it seems like you might find yourself in situations like that a lot."

Maybe he's a cynic, but he figures that part of the reason they're stuck here is for their captors to attempt to hurt them in whatever way they can. Physical damage, emotional damage, whatever it took to negatively affect them. Maybe, by watching them all the time, their captors have caught onto the fact that Daneel follows these laws -- he wouldn't be at all surprised if Daneel got put in situations around here that would bring him into conflict with the Three Laws. Nothing good happens in this town. He's sure of it.

"Sometimes, yes, it is difficult."

He can't argue with that assessment.

"It is... difficult... for me to be comfortable with any harm to a human. People are often hurt, here, and may even die. It is never easier to process that loss. If I could have done anything to prevent it, then I am at fault, and it is worse. If I were to be directly responsible, even unknowingly, then that would be... distinctly different."

He closes his eyes for a moment, a strange spasm crossing his features.

"My apologies. I do not find it easy to speak of this, even in theory."

"You don't need to talk about it. I understand what you're saying."

And he does, to some extent, although he doesn't share the same discomfort with harm coming to people. It's not as though he enjoys people being harmed, it's that he's simply seen it happen all his life, and grown accustomed to it. There are times when harm is unavoidable, and there are times when he's directly contributed to the harm or death of another person.

Needless to say, he has no intention of sharing that with Daneel. They seem to understand each other relatively well; it would be a shame to make Daneel think of him differently, when they seem to be getting along so well.

"Thank you."

It's simpler if he doesn't need to force his way through the theoretical harm of an explanation, certainly.

"At the same time, harm is... inevitable. Humans die. It is... regrettable." He frowns. "I intend to lessen that harm however and wherever I can, even here. It is... the only choice for me."

He wonders, for a moment, what would happen if Daneel was in a situation where he could save Ned, but by saving him, someone else would die. It's not a question he intends to ask, but it's in his mind, all the same. If Daneel wants to lessen the harm to everyone, and doesn't want to have anything to do with anyone's death, then a situation like that could be difficult, to say the least. Then again, from what he can tell, Daneel cares about Ned a great deal. Maybe the curiosity flickers across his face for a moment, but he manages to hold his tongue.

"What about our captors, then? Would you be able to harm them, if you were given the chance?"

That seems like a safer question. Most of the people he's met around here are pretty damn certain that they'd injure or kill the people who'd brought them here, if given the chance.

Daneel closes his eyes. "It is something I have occasionally attempted to consider."

It's a thorny problem. There's no easy solution.

"If the choice came down to harming them in order to save those here, then I would. It would not be easy for me, but it would be the appropriate action. However, I would have to be certain that harming them would not cause more harm to the residents here." Daneel sighs a little, troubled. "The well-being of multiple humans comes before that of a single life, but any harm must be minimized."

"I'm not sure whether you could ever be certain that harming them wouldn't cause more harm to the people stuck here. Statistically speaking, there's no such thing as a true certainty or true impossibility."

He imagines Daneel knows this -- the man is logical, after all, and has likely given this a great deal of thought. However, he thinks he comprehends what Daneel is saying, in general. It's not the way he himself thinks, but he can appreciate it. There's a certain logic to Daneel's laws, even if they're not ones that Meyer himself could follow.

"I know," Daneel says. "My... my friend, if I am permitted to refer to him with that word, ceased to function because he could not be certain in a similar situation. I believe he was right, but he could not be certain."

It's a troubling reality. He doesn't know how he would deal with the situation if it happened.

"I can only deal in probabilities. It is a limitation. If it was probable that that harming our captors would cause us all to come to harm, or even merely likely, I would not be able to take such an action." He shakes his head. "My Laws were never intended to be applied in such circumstances, only to individuals rather than groups of people, and robots are often considered dispensable -- not people, as I am considering that I am. If I knew my actions were for the better, then I could be content with my sacrifice, if I were to make it."

"Then you're in a trickier position than most of us."

He doesn't say it to be rude or discouraging; it's simply the way he sees it. Daneel has more to consider than most of the people who're stuck here. He has these laws to follow, which are simultaneously understandable and yet extremely difficult, it seems, to follow in a place like this one.

"If you could go home, right now, would you?"

It's not necessarily connected to the rest of the conversation, he realizes, but he's been asking this of everyone he's spoken to, recently. It seems that there are some people for whom home is worse than this place. It also seems that, for those who have formed important bonds here, being trapped here might be worth staying close to someone they wouldn't be able to, otherwise.

He takes a moment to answer.

"I left a situation behind me that requires my attention," Daneel says at last. "I need to return and ensure that humanity continues on the path that friend Giskard laid out, and that it does not dwindle and decay and destroy itself as we foresaw. I would..."

He falls silent; in fact, he's momentarily unable to speak. It's difficult to process even the fact that he would have regrets about choosing to care for all humanity. He has no master. Humanity as a whole is his master. He serves humanity.

"I would greatly miss the individuals I have met here. I would greatly miss Ned."