I scratched my head.
“That’s kind of hard to say. We know of course that he has an adult brain. We’ll have to explain a lot of things to him, but I’m not anticipating any trouble on that score. Our big job is to make him appreciate his responsibility and obligation to mankind. We’ve got to teach him to work.
“And we’ve got to prove to the judges at the convention that he can and will work or we won’t have a chance at that fellowship.”
“It sounds like a big order,” Dave said dubiously.
I drained my glass.
“It is,” I said. “So let’s get back and hook him up. The sooner he gets to work the better.”
IN the lab, Dave made the necessary adjustments under Sidney’s metal scalp and then slid it back into place. In a few seconds we heard the faint humming noise that emanated from the brain coils and then Sidney opened his eyes and sat up.
We had introduced ourselves in the first experiment, so there was a gleam of recognition in his eye as he regarded us.
“Well here we are again,” I said rather inanely. “How do you feel?”
“Oh fine,” Sidney answered vaguely. “How do you feel?”
Dave nudged me.
“Hear that? Smart as a whip.”
Sidney apparently heard this, for his metal mouth slit parted in a wide smile. He stared with new friendliness at Dave.
“Now Sidney,” I said hurriedly. “We have several important things to tell you. First of all you are a robot. You must always remember that. You must be industrious, you must be efficient, you must be useful. These are the three laws that are to govern your behavior. In short you must make up your mind to work.”
“What was that last word?” Sidney asked, and I thought I detected a note of apprehension in his voice. “It’s got a kind of a nasty ring to it. What is it?”
“Work,” I repeated. “Work.”
“It doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Sidney said, and then I was sure there was apprehension in his voice. “Tell me about it.”
“Well,” I said, “the best illustration I can give you—”
I stopped. Sidney was stretching himself out on the table.
He looked up in embarrassment as my voice trailed off. “I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “I just feel a little better when I lay flat. You don’t mind do you?”
“Maybe he’s just like a growing boy,” Dave said rather weakly. “You know,” his voice faltered as he looked at me, “tired all the time.”
“Sure,” I said. I looked back at Sidney. He had thrown one metal arm across his eyes. “Light bothering you?” I asked and I’m afraid there was a distinctly cold edge to my voice.
“It’s all right,” Sidney’s voice sounded muffled. “I can stand it. Tell me some more about this work business.”
Dave smiled at me triumphantly. “See,” he whispered. “You’ve got him interested.”
“Well,” I started again, “by work we mean, well, for instance, just what we’re doing now.”
Sidney removed his arm from his eyes.
“Oh,” he said relievedly, “is that all? You had me worried for a while.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said grimly. “You’re not working now. We are. When you start to work it will be much different. You’ll carry bundles, mow the lawn, scrub the floors, things like that to start with. Then when you get a little experience we’ll get you a job in a factory. Then you’ll learn how to operate machinery, handle tools, make yourself generally useful.”
Sidney raised himself on one elbow and stared at me.
“For Heaven’s sake,” he gasped. “Why?”
“Why?” I sputtered. “Because that’s what you’ve been created for. Don’t you want to become a productive member of society. Don’t you want to work?”
“Do you?” Sidney asked incredulously.
Well, I tell you it almost floored me. I looked helplessly at Dave and he wiped the smile from his face.
“Go on,” he said innocently “tell him how much you love to work.”
Sidney was shaking his head bewilderedly as he lay down again.
IT BEGAN to get a little uneasy.
Somehow I’d got off on the wrong foot but I intended to erase any false impressions I’d created. I explained the whole set up to Sidney again, but this time I was really eloquent.
I pictured to him the inspiring prospect of a world of robots lifting the burden of drudgery from the shoulders of mankind, leaving man free to devote his leisure to the arts and sciences. I was pretty terrific and I noticed that Sidney’s restlessness seemed to be disappearing. He seemed to be lost in thought.
Encouraged, I soared on.
“It is the golden age again,” I proclaimed, “and it is to be your glorious privilege to be the first of man’s metallic brethren to lift from his aching shoulders the burden that—”
Ssssssh,” it was Dave’s voice hissing warningly behind me.
“Eh?” I broke off and looked at him blankly. “What’s up?”
“Sidney’s asleep,” he whispered. “Tone down or you’ll wake him up.”
“What!” I shouted. I wheeled back to Sidney. It was true. Not sleep as we know it, but a passive state resulting from total inactivity of brain cells that duplicates the symptoms of human sleep.
“Let’s leave him alone,” Dave said softly. “He’s all tuckered out. We can try again tomorrow.”
“I hope we do better than we did today,” I said wearily. “We’ve got to get him working right or we won’t have a chance at that fellowship.” I turned to leave then and I noticed a tiny object glittering at my feet. I picked it up and saw that it was a small screw.
“Where’d this come from?” I asked Dave.
Dave peered at it for an instant and then a horrified look spread over his face.
“I just remembered,” he cried wildly. “I lost it when I was assemblying Sidney’s brain this morning. I intended to look for it later but everything fitted all right,” he spread his hands helplessly, “so I forgot it. Can’t we take him apart and see—”
“Not a chance,” I cut in. “We might never get him ready in time for the convention. We’ll have to take a chance on teaching him as is.” I looked down at the screw in my hand and then at Sidney’s peacefully recumbent figure. “A sweet set up,” I muttered bitterly. “All our hopes pinned on him—and he’s got a screw loose.”
THE next morning I didn’t waste any time. I routed Sidney out of the lab and led him down to the basement. I introduced him to a pile of logs and an axe and told him what I wanted. I left him gazing moodily at the wood and I returned a half hour later to see how he was progressing. Sidney was asleep in the coal bin!
I jerked him to his feet and put him to carrying out ashes. He dropped the first basket in the middle of the living room, stumbled over it and fell into a chair that collapsed under his weight. I found him there, ten minutes later, still sprawled on the floor gazing sorrowfully at the chaos he had created.
No one could possibly have guessed from my expressionless face that something inside of me was slowly withering away. It was my cherished dream of productive, useful robot life turning up its toes.
“That’ll be all, Sidney,” I said heavily, “for today.”
He brightened up.
“Fine,” he said. “I think I’ll catch forty winks down in the basement where it’s cool.” He clanked out of the room just as Dave walked in.
I slumped into a chair and told Dave what had happened.
“And,” I concluded, “what the hell can we do?”
“You expect too much,” Dave said. “We’ll just have to give him a little more time. I feel sure he’ll improve.”
“He’d better,” I said, “or we might just as well start looking for a nice cozy debtor’s prison in which to spend the winter.”
“Don’t worry,” Dave said confidently, “he’ll do better.”
Dave, it turned out, was a poor prophet. As the days raced by Sidney
got steadily worse. Threats, bribery, cajolery all failed. Sidney was a hopeless case. He lay around in the shade with an asinine expression on his metal features, evidently quite pleased with things. Finally I threw up the sponge.
“I’m through,” I stormed at Dave. “We may as well face the facts. Sidney is nothing but a worthless, lazy bum. If I was sure of my moral grounds I’d put him out of his misery with an acetylene torch.”
Dave was shocked.
“You couldn’t do that,” he protested. “Why I may be crazy, but I can’t help liking the big lug. I feel like, well,” he paused and shuffled his feet awkwardly, “almost like he was a son of mine.”
That was the night that Sidney disappeared.
WE missed him just before supper and after a hasty search through the house and garage we sat down to eat. It wasn’t a pleasant meal. After a few mouthfuls I pushed my plate away and stood up.
“Where the devil could he be?” I muttered more to myself than Dave. “It isn’t like him to walk away. He might ride, but he hates walking like poison.”
At eight o’clock I was just crossing to the telephone to call the police when Dave held up his hand.
“What’s that noise?” he asked nervously.
I heard it then, and as I recognized it a cold sweat started trickling down my ribs. Through the window came the sound of a voice, a tinny, bleary voice singing:
For he’s a jolly good felloooooo-oow—which noboooody can deeeee—ny.
Dave beat me to the window and as he jerked aside the curtain my astounded eyes encountered a sight that will be stamped on my memory forever. Sidney was standing in front of the house, weaving crazily about, and as we watched in mingled astonishment and horror, he started up the stone walk that led to the door. And then we could see something was radically wrong with him.
He lurched forward, staggering with every step to keep his balance and then he stopped and stared at the house as if he were seeing it for the first time.
“Helloooooo,” he bawled at the top of his unmusical voice. “Helloooooo, house.” He bowed low and almost fell on his face.
“Ye Gods,” I groaned. “What’s the matter with him?” I wheeled.from the window and opened the door just in time to meet Sidney face to face as he staggered the last few steps up the stone walk.
He blinked owlishly at me and then giggled.
“Hello.” He peered solemnly about and then turned to me and placed one finger over his lips. “Sssssssh,” he whispered, “gotta keep quiet.” He hiccoughed Violently and almost toppled over. “Howsh about a lil’ drink?” he beamed happily. “Noshin’ like a lil’ drink to fiz ya up.”
“Sidney,” I said desperately, “what’s happened to you?”
He giggled coyly.
“Just ha’ a lil’ drink.”
He swayed precariously and then as he raised his arm I saw what he was holding in his hand.
A gallon of penetrating oil!
And as I stared at it in bewilderment he raised it to his lips and took a long swig.
I jerked the can away from him and grabbed him by the arm to prevent him from falling. Dave, who had been watching in open-mouthed astonishment, grabbed his other arm and between the two of us we dragged Sidney into the house.
“To the lab,” I snapped. “I don’t know what he’s been doing but I’ve got an awful suspicion.”
We stretched him out on the lab table and I wiped the grease from his mouth and chest.
“What’s the matter with him?” Dave cried. “He acts like—like he’s drunk.”
“He is,” I said dully. “He’s as drunk as a lord!”
“BUT how,” Dave gasped. “How . . . I mean he’s a robot. He can’t—”
“Sure he’s a robot,” I cut in bitterly. I picked up the can of oil that Sidney had carried away from the lab and handed it to Dave. “See that. It’s penetrating oil. He found it here, started drinking it instead of his usual heavy grease. With the result that all of his gears and wheels began to revolve at about three times their normal speed.”
“Well I’ll be darned,” Dave gasped incredulously. “He’s oiled up.”
“That’s just it,” I said. “He gets the same kick from thin oil that you or I would from alcohol.” I waved my hands helplessly. “On top of being a lazy, good-for-nothing loafer, he’s taken to drink.”
“Now don’t be too hard on him,” Dave said. “There’s nothing wrong with a young guy goin’ on a tear every now and then. He’s just sowing a few wild oats.”
“I suppose he’ll get a bumper crop of rivets,” I said sarcastically.
“Aw, don’t—” Dave’s voice choked in his throat. “Look,” he managed to yell.
Sidney was threshing and twisting around on the bench. Streams of crazed, incoherent words were pouring out of his mouth and a froth of oil bubbled over his metal lips.
“Hold him down,” I yelled. “He’s going crazy.”
We grabbed him by the arms and held him as firmly as we could but his head continued to roll wildly on his neck.
“Thousands and thousands,” he groaned. Thousands and thousands coming after me. On the wall, on the ceiling, on the floor. Thousands of ’em. Points, points, sharp points coming after me.”
“What are you talking about?” Dave shouted at him.
“Pink can openers,” Sidney screamed. “Pink can openers, thousands of pink can openers coming after me. Points, points, pink points coming for me.”
I let go of his arms and staggered back, wiping my forehead with a shaking hand.
“By the great Jehovah,” I gasped, “Sidney’s got the D.T.’s.”
“You mean delirium tremens,” Dave demanded, “from too much liquor?”
I nodded bitterly and stared at Sidney’s moaning, twitching figure. There lay our years of work and sacrifice. We had dreamed of creating a useful addition to mankind in the form of robot life. Instead we had produced a drunken bum who would never do anything worthwhile in his life except boost the stock of Standard Oil.
A WEEK later Dave and I sat in the living room and stared gloomily at one another. The representative of the Finance Company had just left. So had his truck. So had our equipment.
The convention was to open the following day and Sidney—
“Where’s Sidney?” I asked dully.
“In the lab,” Dave answered dispiritedly.
“Is he sober?”
“He was when I left him.”
“That’s fine,” I said bitterly. “If he stays sober another hour he’ll break his own record. Then we can get him a temperance badge and a membership in the W.C.T.U.”
The last week had been hell. After his first binge Sidney had been repentant, but it hadn’t lasted. We couldn’t keep him away from the oil. He’d find it no matter where we hid it and we were afraid to lock it up for fear he might be tempted to wander into the village and steal some.
Gone was any hope of entering him in the convention. We’d be the laughing stock of the scientific world if we took Sidney down there.
Our equipment was gone. More creditors were nipping at our heels with foreclosures and attachments. It looked like Waterloo. And all on account of Sidney.
“I’m going to get a hack saw,” I said grimly, “and commit mayhem on that drunken bum.”
“You couldn’t do that,” Dave said accusingly. “He’s a good egg. You gotta admit he’s kind of funny at times.”
“Funny?” I almost screamed. “So are the Marx brothers. I don’t want a funny man. If I did I’d turn on the Jack Benny program. All I want is a sensible, sober, unobtrusive robot. But what do I get, what do I get—?”
“You got me!”
The metallic voice was followed by a few unmusical clanks and then Sidney clumped into the room.
“You!” I said bitterly. “Baaah!” Sidney hiccoughed gently and sank into a chair. I was just opening my mouth to tell him to wipe the oil from his lips when the doorbell rang.
“Who’s that?” Dave asked.
“I hope it’s the junk man,” I snapped, with a spiteful glance at Sidney. “Maybe we’ll get something from our invention.”
I WALKED to the door, opened it and a slim red-haired girl threw herself into my arms and flung her arms around my neck.
“Surprise,” she cried. “Glad to see me?”
“Sis!” I yelled. “Of course I am.” I held her at arm’s length and took inventory. Slender rounded figure, eager youthful features and flaming red hair.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I said, “except you’re better looking. How come the visit? Did they throw you out of college?”
“Just a little vacation,” she answered. “So I thought I’d blow in and see how the great quest was coming.”
That kind of quieted me. She meant the robot of course.
“Come on in,” I said drily, “and see for yourself.”
She walked into the room and her cry of delight could be heard an even city block.
“Oh you did it,” she cried happily. “I think he’s just wonderful!”
I followed her into the room. She was regarding Sidney as if he were a six-foot pile of gold bullion.
“You know Dave,” I said, “but you haven’t lived till you’ve met Sidney.” I motioned to Sidney. “Stand up, you lug. This is my sister, Nancy, a very nice little girl, so be on your best behavior.”
“Oh I think he’s too cute for words,” Nancy cried. She walked over to Sidney and held out her hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said primly. “I know we’ll be great friends.”
I watched Sidney curiously. He was shuffling his feet awkwardly like a country bumpkin at his first dance. And then it occurred to me that Sidney had never seen a girl at such close range. Especially a girl like Nancy.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Shake hands with her. She won’t bite.”
Sidney wiped his hand on the upholstery of the chair and then held it out as if he were sticking it into a buzz saw.
They shook hands and Nancy smiled up at him.
“I wonder if you’d do me a favor?” she said sweetly. “I left my grips outside on the porch. Would you take them upstairs, please?”
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 26
