by Isaac Asimov
She was interrupted by the door chime announcing a visitor.
David glanced at the view screen and exclaimed, “The plot thickens! It’s Noÿs Harlan. I wonder what she wants.”
“Well we aren’t going to find out by leaving her on the door step so let’s let her in and find out,” said Sue rising to meet her at the door. “You’d better hide your research or it will look very strange!”
David quickly tidied up the papers and discs and put them in the bureau while Sue greeted her and made her welcome.
Noÿs entered as David was sitting back down. Sue organized drinks for them all while David exchanged pleasantries regarding the weather.
“Well I cannot believe you’ve only come to talk about the weather,” said Sue coming straight to the point. “What can we do for you?”
David grimaced at Sue and tried to interrupt her. Noÿs smiled and in a relieved fashion said, “Oh good. I was wondering how we’d get down to business.”
She sat back and addressed them both.
“Why are you investigating Andrew and me?”
David and Sue sat there for a moment unable to answer. It was not the question that they were expecting and certainly not in such an open way.
David started to stammer out a reply. “Well … you see … it’s like this …”
Sue took control. “You can probably blame me. I asked David about both you and Andrew and that set him thinking about your backgrounds and we started finding information about you.”
She then switched to the defensive, “All of the information we’ve found was in the public domain so saying we’ve been ‘investigating you’ is a bit heavy.”
Noÿs replied, “Oh I’ve no worries about that. I’m not aware of any skeletons in cupboards that we need to be embarrassed about.”
She then sat back and smiled, “By the way, why didn’t you ask us about our background. We’d have been pleased to tell you.”
Sue looked at David and laughed, “Investigated all the possible sources of information did you!”
The atmosphere lightened immediately. Noÿs started to tell them about her life in New Zealand and how she had drifted into computers almost by accident. She went on to say about her meeting with Andrew and their previous work. By the end of the evening they both felt as if they’d heard the complete life stories of Andrew and Noÿs Harlan.
As she left Noÿs said they must get together for another evening, this time with Andrew, and this time David and Sue would have to tell them all about their past.
“It’s a deal,” laughed David. “We’ll get the baby sitter sorted out.”
Harlan and Noÿs sat quietly late that evening reviewing the way things had worked out.
“That was very close,” said Harlan. “We must be very careful in future not to allow our pasts to appear to be so mysterious that people get suspicious.”
“I thought that the accident at the laboratory was a very effective way of creating the first platinum sponge for the positronic brain. You could say it nudged the project into life! Mind you, I was beginning to despair that Williams would discard it before he discovered its properties.”
“I didn’t think we had made our pasts mysterious,” retorted Noÿs. “What else could we have done in order to appear normal whilst allowing such rapid development of the new company. I think we were just unlucky with a few comments that set somebody putting two and two together and making five!”
“Just be thankful that they only made five!” laughed Andrew. “With further investigation our pasts may not have stood up to close scrutiny.”
“Anyway I do not think that anyone will connect the seminar that David and his wife were invited to with us. The creation, funding and subsequent disappearance of the consultancy should not be a great surprise to anyone if there were to be an investigation of the group company.”
“We knew that some of the ‘fuzzy spots’ in the picture of the future that you viewed in the ‘Hidden Centuries’ would keep coming back to haunt us. Presumably the episodes that we have experienced recently have been examples of those.”
Noÿs said thoughtfully, “I think it will soon be time for us to disappear into the background. We must not take on high profile in US Robot. History will hopefully remember Robertson, Lanning and whoever follow us, but not us.
“However we are nearly there. With US Robot and Mechanical Men Corporation we will have the tool to enable Humanity to develop the Hyperatomic Drive and then the settlement of the Galaxy can begin.”
The last Immortal and the Woman from the future sat back contented and raised their glasses in their personal toast.
To the continuing End of Eternity
A Boy’s Best Friend
1995 A.D.
MR. ANDERSON SAID, “Where’s Jimmy, dear?”
“Out on the crater,” said Mrs. Anderson. “Hell be all right Robutt is with him. – Did he arrive?”
“Yes. He’s at the rocket station, going through the tests. Actually, I can hardly wait to see him myself. I haven’t really seen one since I left Earth 15 years ago. You can’t count films.”
“Jimmy has never seen one,” said Mrs. Anderson.
“Because he’s Moonborn and can’t visit Earth. That’s why I’m bringing one here. I think it’s the first one ever on the Moon.”
“It cost enough,” said Mrs. Anderson, with a small sigh. “Maintaining Robutt isn’t cheap, either,” said Mr. Anderson.
Jimmy was out on the crater, as his mother had said. By Earth standards, he was spindly, but rather tall for a 10-year-old. His arms and legs were long and agile. He looked thicker and stubbier with his spacesuit on, but he could handle the lunar gravity as no Earth-born human being could. His father couldn’t begin to keep up with him when Jimmy stretched his legs and went into the kangaroo hop.
The outer side of the crater sloped southward and the Earth, which was low in the southern sky (where it always was, as seen from Lunar City) was nearly full, so that the entire crater-slope was brightly lit
The slope was a gentle one and even the weight of the spacesuit couldn’t keep Jimmy from racing up it in a floating hop that made the gravity seem nonexistent.
“Come on, Robutt,” he shouted.
Robutt, who could hear him by radio, squeaked and bounded after.
Jimmy, expert though he was, couldn’t outrace Robutt, who didn’t need a spacesuit, and had four legs and tendons of steel. Robutt sailed over Jimmy’s head, somersaulting and landing almost under his feet.
“Don’t show off, Robutt,” said Jimmy, “and stay in sight.”
Robutt squeaked again, the special squeak that meant “Yes.”
“I don’t trust you, you faker,” shouted Jimmy, and up he went in one last bound that carried him over the curved upper edge of the crater wall and down onto the inner slope.
The Earth sank below the top of the crater wall and at once it was pitch-dark around him. A warm, friendly darkness that wiped out the difference between ground and sky except for the glitter of stars.
Actually, Jimmy wasn’t supposed to exercise along the dark side of the crater wall. The grown ups said it was dangerous, but that was because they were never there. The ground was smooth and crunchy and Jimmy knew the exact location of every one of the few rocks.
Besides, how could it be dangerous racing through the dark when Robutt was right there with him, bouncing around and squeaking and glowing? Even without the glow, Robutt could tell where he was, and where Jimmy was, by radar. Jimmy couldn’t go wrong while Robutt was around, tripping him when he was too near a rock, or jumping on him to show how much he loved him, or circling around and squeaking low and scared when Jimmy hid behind a rock, when all the time Robutt knew well enough where he was. Once Jimmy had lain still and pretended he was hurt and Robutt had sounded the radio alarm and people from Lunar City got there in a hurry. Jimmy’s father had let him hear about that little trick, and Jimmy never tried it again.
Just as he was remembering that,
he heard his father’s voice on his private wavelength. “Jimmy, come back. I have something to tell you.”
Jimmy was out of his spacesuit now and washed up. You always had to wash up after coming in from outside. Even Robutt had to be sprayed, but he loved it. He stood there on all fours, his little foot-long body quivering and glowing just a tiny bit, and his small head, with no mouth, with two large glassed-in eyes, and with a bump where the brain was. He squeaked until Mr. Anderson said, “Quiet, Robutt.”
Mr. Anderson was smiling. “We have something for you, Jimmy. It’s at the rocket station now, but we’ll have it tomorrow after all the tests are over. I thought I’d tell you now.”
“From Earth, Dad?” “A dog from Earth, son. A real dog. A Scotch terrier puppy. The first dog on the Moon. You won’t need Robutt any more. We can’t keep them both, you know, and some other boy or girl will have Robutt.” He seemed to be waiting for Jimmy to say something, then he said, “You know what a dog is, Jimmy. It’s the real thing. Robutt’s only a mechanical imitation, a robot-mutt. That’s how he got his name.”
Jimmy frowned. “Robutt isn’t an imitation, Dad. He’s my dog.” “Not a real one, Jimmy. Robutt’s just steel and wiring and a simple positronic brain. It’s not alive.”
“He does everything I want him to do, Dad. He understands me. Sure, he’s alive.”
“No, son. Robutt is just a machine. It’s just programmed to act the way it does. A dog is alive. You won’t want Robutt after you have the dog.”
“The dog will need a spacesuit, won’t he?” “Yes, of course. But it will be worth the money and he’ll get used to it. And he won’t need one in the City. You’ll see the difference once he gets here.”
Jimmy looked at Robutt, who was squeaking again, a very low, slow squeak, that seemed frightened. Jimmy held out his arms and Robutt was in them in one bound. Jimmy said, “What will the difference be between Robutt and the dog?”
“It’s hard to explain,” said Mr. Anderson, “but it will be easy to see. The dog will really love you. Robutt is just adjusted to act as though it loves you.”
“But, Dad, we don’t know what’s inside the dog, or what his feelings are. Maybe it’s just acting, too.”
Mr. Anderson frowned. “Jimmy, you’ll know the difference when you experience the love of a living thing.”
Jimmy held Robutt tightly. He was frowning, too, and the desperate look on his face meant that he wouldn’t change his mind. He said, “But what’s the difference how they act? How about how I feel? I love Robutt and that’s what counts.”
And the little robot-mutt, which had never been held so tightly in all its existence, squeaked high and rapid squeaks – happy squeaks.
Robbie
1998 A.D.
“NINETY-EIGHT-NINETY-nine-one hundred.” Gloria withdrew her chubby little forearm from before her eyes and stood for a moment, wrinkling her nose and blinking in the sunlight. Then, trying to watch in all directions at once, she withdrew a few cautious steps from the tree against which she had been leaning.
She craned her neck to investigate the possibilities of a clump of bushes to the right and then withdrew farther to obtain a better angle for viewing its dark recesses. The quiet was profound except for the incessant buzzing of insects and the occasional chirrup of some hardy bird, braving the midday sun.
Gloria pouted, “I bet he went inside the house, and I’ve told him a million times that that’s not fair.”
With tiny lips pressed together tightly and a severe frown crinkling her forehead, she moved determinedly toward the two-story building up past the driveway.
Too late she heard the rustling sound behind her, followed by the distinctive and rhythmic clump-clump of Robbie’s metal feet. She whirled about to see her triumphing companion emerge from hiding and make for the home-tree at full speed.
Gloria shrieked in dismay. “Wait, Robbie! That wasn’t fair, Robbie! You promised you wouldn’t run until I found you.” Her little feet could make no headway at all against Robbie’s giant strides. Then, within ten feet of the goal, Robbie’s pace slowed suddenly to the merest of crawls, and Gloria, with one final burst of wild speed, dashed pantingly past him to touch the welcome bark of home-tree first.
Gleefully, she turned on the faithful Robbie, and with the basest of ingratitude, rewarded him for his sacrifice by taunting him cruelly for a lack of running ability.
“Robbie can’t run,” she shouted at the top of her eight-year-old voice. “I can beat him any day. I can beat him any day.” She chanted the words in a shrill rhythm.
Robbie didn’t answer, of course – not in words. He pantomimed running instead, inching away until Gloria found herself running after him as he dodged her narrowly, forcing her to veer in helpless circles, little arms outstretched and fanning at the air.
“Robbie,” she squealed, “stand still!” – And the laughter was forced out of her in breathless jerks.
Until he turned suddenly and caught her up, whirling her round, so that for her the world fell away for a moment with a blue emptiness beneath, and green trees stretching hungrily downward toward the void. Then she was down in the grass again, leaning against Robbie’s leg and still holding a hard, metal finger.
After a while, her breath returned. She pushed uselessly at her disheveled hair in vague imitation of one of her mother’s gestures and twisted to see if her dress were torn.
She slapped her hand against Robbie’s torso, “Bad boy! I’ll spank you!”
And Robbie cowered, holding his hands over his face so that she had to add, “No, I won’t, Robbie. I won’t spank you. But anyway, it’s my turn to hide now because you’ve got longer legs and you promised not to run till I found you.”
Robbie nodded his head – a small parallelepiped with rounded edges and corners attached to a similar but much larger parallelepiped that served as torso by means of a short, flexible stalk – and obediently faced the tree. A thin, metal film descended over his glowing eyes and from within his body came a steady, resonant ticking.
“Don’t peek now – and don’t skip any numbers,” warned Gloria, and scurried for cover.
With unvarying regularity, seconds were ticked off, and at the hundredth, up went the eyelids, and the glowing red of Robbie’s eyes swept the prospect. They rested for a moment on a bit of colorful gingham that protruded from behind a boulder. He advanced a few steps and convinced himself that it was Gloria who squatted behind it.
Slowly, remaining always between Gloria and home-tree, he advanced on the hiding place, and when Gloria was plainly in sight and could no longer even theorize to herself that she was not seen, he extended one arm toward her, slapping the other against his leg so that it rang again. Gloria emerged sulkily.
“You peeked!” she exclaimed, with gross unfairness. “Besides I’m tired of playing hide-and-seek. I want a ride.”
But Robbie was hurt at the unjust accusation, so he seated himself carefully and shook his head ponderously from side to side.
Gloria changed her tone to one of gentle coaxing immediately, “Come on, Robbie. I didn’t mean it about the peeking. Give me a ride.”
Robbie was not to be won over so easily, though. He gazed stubbornly at the sky, and shook his head even more emphatically.
“Please, Robbie, please give me a ride.” She encircled his neck with rosy arms and hugged tightly. Then, changing moods in a moment, she moved away. “If you don’t, I’m going to cry,” and her face twisted appallingly in preparation.
Hard-hearted Robbie paid scant attention to this dreadful possibility, and shook his head a third time. Gloria found it necessary to play her trump card.
“If you don’t,” she exclaimed warmly, “I won’t tell you any more stories, that’s all. Not one-”
Robbie gave in immediately and unconditionally before this ultimatum, nodding his head vigorously until the metal of his neck hummed. Carefully, he raised the little girl and placed her on his broad, flat shoulders.
Gloria
’s threatened tears vanished immediately and she crowed with delight. Robbie’s metal skin, kept at a constant temperature of seventy by the high resistance coils within, felt nice and comfortable, while the beautifully loud sound her heels made as they bumped rhythmically against his chest was enchanting.
“You’re an air-coaster, Robbie, you’re a big, silver aircoaster. Hold out your arms straight. – You got to, Robbie, if you’re going to be an aircoaster.”
The logic was irrefutable. Robbie’s arms were wings catching the air currents and he was a silver ‘coaster.
Gloria twisted the robot’s head and leaned to the right. He banked sharply. Gloria equipped the ‘coaster with a motor that went “Br-r-r” and then with weapons that went “Powie” and “Sh-sh-shshsh.” Pirates were giving chase and the ship’s blasters were coming into play. The pirates dropped in a steady rain.
“Got another one. Two more,” she cried.
Then “Faster, men,” Gloria said pompously, “we’re running out of ammunition.” She aimed over her shoulder with undaunted courage and Robbie was a blunt-nosed spaceship zooming through the void at maximum acceleration.
Clear across the field he sped, to the patch of tall grass on the other side, where he stopped with a suddenness that evoked a shriek from his flushed rider, and then tumbled her onto the soft, green carpet.
Gloria gasped and panted, and gave voice to intermittent whispered exclamations of “That was nice!”
Robbie waited until she had caught her breath and then pulled gently at a lock of hair.
“You want something?” said Gloria, eyes wide in an apparently artless complexity that fooled her huge “nursemaid” not at all. He pulled the curl harder.
“Oh, I know. You want a story.”
Robbie nodded rapidly.
“Which one?”
Robbie made a semi-circle in the air with one finger.
The little girl protested, “Again? I’ve told you Cinderella a million times. Aren’t you tired of it?-It’s for babies.”
