Chapter 12: Mario Puzo

“Robots must not harm a human being, nor, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm...” Asimov seemed suddenly struck by a flash of inspiration, murmuring the phrase repeatedly to himself.

He gave Enni a firm pat on the shoulder. “This law is brilliant! Simple, precise—like the three laws of physics!”

Pausing briefly, his eyes gleamed as he said, “Perhaps we should, like the three laws of physics, establish three fundamental laws for robots.”

“Hey, you’re hitting so hard, do you think I’m a robot?” Enni clutched his shoulder, popcorn tumbling from his hand thanks to Asimov’s enthusiastic pat.

Apologetically, Asimov rubbed Enni’s shoulder and asked, “What do you think of my idea?”

“You’re more skilled at writing robot-themed science fiction. It’d be better if you expanded on this idea.”

“No, no, we should collaborate closely. I often discuss sci-fi with several pen pals in letters—I'll introduce you to them.”

“Well then, how about making the second law: ‘A robot must never harm a human being under any circumstances’?”

“That’s good! But the details need to be fleshed out... for example, exceptions when this order conflicts with the first law.”

Their conversation grew more animated, voices rising as Enni brought up many laws later added by other authors for Asimov’s reference.

Yet Asimov remained unsatisfied with those expansions. In his view, the foundational laws of “robotics” must be as concise and exact as “Newton’s three laws.”

Nearby, other moviegoers exiting the theater overheard their discussion and cast them amused, slightly mocking glances.

But there was little to be done—science fiction still fell under the category of “lowbrow literature.”

Discussing such topics openly was akin to loudly debating a lady’s bust size in public, inevitably drawing odd looks.

“Mario! How many times have I told you, no slacking off even during breaks!”

“Because of your laziness, I’m cutting your pay to one-third, and you can pack up and leave right now!”

Suddenly, loud insults echoed through the cinema lobby.

The theater owner was angrily berating the Italian usher, violently knocking a battered book from the young man’s arms onto the floor.

Asimov and Enni felt this was excessive, but not everyone treated everyone equally. The audience trailing behind whispered about the scene with a sense of schadenfreude, some muttering the slur “Dago.”

Like the word “nigger,” this was a derogatory term specifically aimed at Italian immigrants.

Outside many Brooklyn factories, signs read: “No Dogs, No Dagos.”

Meaning “No dogs or Italians allowed.”

Amidst rising isolationism and nativism, only white Americans truly had rights in this era.

The Apollo Cinema owner had hired the Italian usher only because paying him half the wage of a white usher saved money.

But the owner hadn’t expected the youth to read during quiet times... which was absolutely forbidden!

The young man was scolded with a fierce glare.

The corpulent owner, hands on his ample hips, scoffed, “God! You want to hit meI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.