“Why—why sure,” Sidney said hoarsely. “Why gosh yes, right away, thank you ma’am. I mean, you’re welcome please.” With a great deal more confusion he wheeled and ducked out of the room.
“Oh, he’s darling,” Nancy cried, as Sidney plowed up the steps with her grips. “I wish I had one just like him.”
“No, you don’t,” I said.
In response to her surprised look, Dave and I explained the circumstances to her.
“Then,” Nancy said thoughtfully, when we paused, “you’ve lost the equipment, and the lab goes next unless a miracle occurs.”
“Right,” I said. “We’ll be back where we were ten years ago. Except, of course, we’ll have Sidney. He’ll be a big help I know.”
NANCY bit her lip and we were silent until Sidney came charging back into the room with all the grace of an animated box car.
“Anything else, Miss Nancy?” he gulped.
Nancy looked thoughtfully at him and then suddenly she smiled and crossed to the sofa and seated herself gracefully.
“Come here Sidney,” she patted the pillow next to her invitingly. “I want to talk to you.” She crossed her pretty legs and smiled charmingly at him.
“Well, gosh,” Sidney bleated. “I don’t know, I mean gosh.”
I caught Nancy’s wink and knew she was up to something.
“Go ahead, old man,” I said. “Sit down and have a nice chat with Nancy. Dave and I’ll get supper ready.” I shoved him toward the sofa and grabbed Dave by the arm and pulled him out of the room.
“What’s the idea?” Dave demanded, when we reached the kitchen.
“I don’t know,” I answered, “but Nancy’s got something up her sleeve. Maybe she’s going to appeal to his better nature.”
Dave shook his head doubtfully.
“She can sing ‘lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine,’ but I doubt if it’ll help. Sidney’s beyond hope. He’s incurable.”
Which went to prove how little he knew about Sidney.
You wouldn’t believe the change that came over him that night. When Nancy got through with him and brought him out to the kitchen he even looked different. As if he were shining with some new inner light.
He set the table. He passed the plates during supper. He dried the dishes. After supper he mowed the lawn, cleaned the basement, and cut about a cord of wood. To top off the entire amazing performance he went to bed sober for the first time in days.
Sidney had hit the sawdust trail and no fooling!
Dave and I were jubilant for the first time in months and we gave all credit to Nancy.
“You must have given him a powerful pep talk,” I said, “because he’s certainly a new man.”
“You boys just didn’t know how to handle him,” she said smiling. “I told him if he was a real good boy today and tomorrow at the convention, I’d let him take me for a walk the next day. And he thought that was just fine.”
“Well,” I said, “I hope he stays on the wagon until after the convention. After that he can take up quarters in an oil refinery for all I care.”
The next day started fine and I kept my fingers crossed. When I got up Sidney was down in the basement polishing himself on the buffing wheel. He helped Nancy pick up the breakfast dishes and then we all got in the car and started for the convention.
This was the day. This was the all-important day that Sidney would meet his all important test. I looked at him, riding in the back seat with Dave.
He was sniffing a violet.
I kept my fingers crossed.
FLASHLIGHT bulbs popped, reporters snapped questions and the throngs that gathered about the entrance to Convention Hall stared in wonder as Sidney made his entrance.
If I hadn’t grabbed his arm and hustled him through the doors he would probably have spent the day there, bowing and scraping to the multitude like a politician.
Inside, I hurried Dave, Nancy, and Sidney down the hall to a room which had been assigned to us for the duration of the convention.
“The judges,” I said to Sidney, “will want to examine you in a little while. Don’t be alarmed at anything they do. They’ll inspect you and probably ask you questions the rest of the day.”
“Will they come down here?” Nancy asked.
“Nope,” I said. “Sidney will have to display himself in the exhibition gallery. A page will let us know when they’re ready for him.”
I had some people to see then so I left them and spent the rest of the time praying silently that Sidney would behave.
A half hour later I was sitting in the exhibit arena, clenching and unclenching my hands when Dave and Nancy found me.
“He’s all set,” Dave said. “He’ll make his appearance any minute now.”
“Fine,” I said and hoped it would be. The stands were crowded with people and up in the special boxes I could see several of the judges leaning forward eagerly. Everyone was anxious to see the man of metal, as the papers had dubbed him. To see whether he was just a clever mechanical toy or whether he was what we claimed: a rational, thinking robot.
I swallowed nervously as the murmuring of the audience settled to an expectant hush. There was an electric tension in the air, as the judges, the assembled scientists, and the crowd waited expectantly for our brain child to appear.
I was so nervous and excited that I didn’t feel the tap on my shoulder immediately. Not until it was repeated sharply, insistently, did I turn around.
An angry, dark little man in overalls was standing behind me.
“I’ma da janitor,” the little man said heatedly. “I’ma—”
“Some other time,” I cut in hurriedly. “I’m busy now. Please, see me later.”
“I’ma wanta see you righta now,” the janitor said emphatically. “Data beeg tin guy you make, he’sa steal my oil can. I’ma wanta know whosa gon pay me for my oil can?”
I heard a thunderous roar of applause. Sidney was being announced.
“Listen, Bud,” I implored, “can’t you see me tomorrow about this oil. I—” I stopped suddenly, a cold fist closing over my stomach.
I grabbed the; janitor by the throat.
“What did you say about oil?” I yelled.
“I’ma walk down the hall,” the little man said angrily, “minda my own business, when dees beeg tin guy jumpa out and grab my oil can. ‘Gotta hava bracer, gotta have a bracer’ he yell and den he run like hell. Now whosa gon pay for my oil can?”
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead and trickled down my face. Sidney was off the wagon!
MY first wild thought was to somehow get to him, stop his appearance, but the next instant I knew I was too late.
To the wild roars of acclaim of the entire auditorium, Sidney walked onto the stage.
Staggered would be a better word.
My first despairing look convinced me that he was hopelessly oiled up. There was a strange belligerent roll to his walk and his mouth was parted slightly as if he were hoping to catch flies with it. From one corner of his stainless steel mouth a thin stream of oil had dribbled and spattered onto his aluminum chest.
“Oh,” I groaned to Dave. “He ought to be at the Keeley Institute instead of up there.”
Dave and Nancy looked helplessly at me and then back at Sidney, who by this time was weaving his way to the front of the stage. The audience craned their necks curiously as he stopped and peered foolishly about at the judges and scientists.
Then he hiccoughed and staggered back a few paces.
I groaned as I listened to the incredulous murmur that arose from the spectators. The jig, I knew, was up.
I had a horrible vision of our fellowship and scientific standing vanishing forever into the mists of scorn and derision.
And then, if such a thing was possible, my horror increased.
Sidney was going to make a speech.
I closed my eyes and prayed as his metallic voice boomed clear through the hall.
“Ish jush a lota nonshense,”
he shouted. “Jush a lota damn nonshense. Jush to make a spectacle outa me, thash all it is.” He wobbled around a few steps and seemed to calm down a trifle.
“Of coursh,” he paused to hiccough, “of coursh if you jush want to look me over thash all right. But nobody’s poking around in my stomach and that’s final. Thash not scientific curiosity, thash jush damn noseynass.”
The shocked gasp of the audience acted as a tonic to Sidney’s ham-like instincts. His metal lips parted in a pleased smile and he bestowed a grateful glance upon the crowded arena.
“I’ll buy a drink,” he announced suddenly. “Thash what I’ll do, buy a drink for the house. He staggered back from the edge of the stage. “Bar-teeendeerrr,” he bawled at the top of his voice, “set ’em up for everybody.”
THE audience was laughing now and I felt tears of humiliation stinging my eyes. Dave and I would be branded as charlatans and quacks from now on, no matter what we might accomplish.
As a man might watch his own execution, so I watched Sidney.
The laughter of the audience had evidently convinced him that he had a mission in life as an entertainer. With a coy smile he raised one clumsy foot in the air and began the first movement of something that looked like a hideous cross between the black bottom and an Old World gavotte.
With an absurd smile spreading his lips he pranced and leaped about the stage, his three hundred pounds threatening to shatter the floor boards with every step. Finally the inevitable happened. He fell. Not just an ordinary fall, but a high arching dive that dumped his metallic carcass to the floor with a splintering, jangling crash.
The audience were standing in their seats as Sidney rolled over and straightened to a sitting position. He peered dazedly, but happily, at their amazed faces and then his mouth opened wide and his voice, thickened with liquor, soared over their heads.
For I’m a jolly good fellooooooooow—
Which nobody can deenyyy.
He ended the song with a noisy hiccough and then collapsed on his back, out cold. Sidney had passed out cold and as I listened to the shouts and laughter of my scientific brethren I realized that with him had passed my own dreams.
“I’ll get him,” I said wearily to Dave, “and meet you later.” I added “Don’t be so gloomy. After all Sidney’s happy so why shouldn’t we be?”
It took me a few minutes to edge my way through the milling crowd and by the time I clambered onto the stage I saw that several of the judges were standing over Sidney’s recumbent figure.
It was a humiliating moment for me, but I was beyond caring very much. I elbowed them aside and grabbed one of Sidney’s arms.
“Get up,” I snapped, shaking him roughly. “On your feet, the show’s over.”
I felt a hand grip my arm then and I turned to meet the stern, piercing eyes of old Professor Norton, head of the New York research foundation. His first words were as shocking as a lead pipe on the skull.
“Congratulations, my boy,” he boomed. “You’ve done it; captured the human element. Your robot has a sense of humor and humor is the element that separates man from beast. Funniest imitation of a drunk I’ve seen in years.” He winked broadly at me. “If my vote will help, that fellowship’s as good as yours this minute.”
My mouth opened and closed foolishly. I struggled to make some sort of reply. But it was no use. The words just weren’t there.
“Tell me,” a white haired judge addressed me, “does this remarkable robot of yours think up his own imitations or do you help him. I swear his imitation seemed almost too realistic.” It was at that moment that Sidney chose to hiccough noisily. I whipped out a handkerchief and snorted into it.
“A little cold,” I said feebly. “Must’ve picked it up at the hall.”
A DOZEN terrible thoughts were chasing around in my head like frightened rabbits. The judges thought Sidney had been acting. If they found out differently, they certainly wouldn’t grant me a fellowship to continue robot research. Imagine anyone in their right mind wanting more steel sots like Sidney roaming around loose!
Sidney was stirring restlessly and the judges watched him anxiously.
“Is everything all right?” Professor Norton asked suspiciously.
“Fine,” I lied. “Just fine.”
I had to get Sidney out of the way until he sobered up.
My heart hammered against my ribs with painful bangs. A wild idea had just occurred to me.
“I think,” said Professor Norton, “we should question your robot now.”
“No, no,” I stammered breathlessly. “He’s all tuckered out. Almost in a state of collapse. Might bring on a nervous breakdown. He needs a week to recuperate, at least.”
“From what?” Norton asked bluntly. “Just last night,” I replied desperately. “Sidney had to take out his own appendix. Have any of you gentlemen ever gone through that experience? I can assure you if you haven’t that it’s quite trying.”
Professor Norton coughed embarrassedly.
“Of course old man,” he said brusquely. “I didn’t know.”
“Then a week from now,” I said quickly, “at my laboratory. You can examine Sidney thoroughly at that time.”
Professor Norton frowned.
“That is satisfactory,” he said slowly, “but your robot acts just as if he’s passed out completely. Why doesn’t he show some life?”
“He’ll show some life,” I promised. If my wild idea worked he’d show plenty of life. I stooped over and shook Sidney.
“Quick,” I hissed in his ear, “run for your life, they’re coming after you. The pink can openers are coming. Thousands of them. Hurry!”
Sidney’s eyes opened. He peered foggily at me for an instant and then with a wild cry he clambered to his feet. He glared hysterically about him.
“My God,” he yelled, “they’re everywhere.” With another tinny scream, he charged off the stage and disappeared down the corridor with a tremendous clatter.
“Well!” gasped Professor Norton. “He’s like that,” I said weakly. “Abrupt.”
I tried to get away but they plied me with questions about Sidney and it was several minutes before I could tear myself away. Then I looked for Sidney. In the halls, in our room, and with increasing worry, through the exhibit room, through the entire building. But it was no use.
Sidney had vanished.
IF you follow the papers at all you probably remember the rest of the story. Sidney had disappeared and the tabloids made quite a fuss about it. Dave and I hunted high and low for him and in our spare time, built another robot.
With Sidney as a lesson in what to avoid, we constructed a robot that was useful, efficient, productive and, in my opinion, about the most boring and uninteresting creature that ever existed.
But the judges liked him and, with many speeches and huzzahs, Dave and I were awarded the muchly coveted fellowship.
In spite of the acclaim of our scientific brethren everything seemed kind of flat. Nancy went back to college and a week or so later Dave looked across the room at our new robot—we called him number one—and said disgustedly:
“He’s perfect, but who the hell wants to be surrounded by dull perfection. I wouldn’t swap Sidney for a thousand like that. He was screwy and silly and unpredictable—and human. I miss the big lug.”
So did I. A week dragged by and then one day I was driving across town and a tire blew out. Cursing under my breath I climbed out of the car and looked around for a service station.
Luck was against me. There was nothing but a junk yard in the block and that was on the other side of the street. I started to walk when suddenly I saw something that knocked the air out of my lungs with a whoosh and started my heart pounding with dizzy excitement.
I should have said I saw someone because it was Sidney.
He was lounged comfortably in the driver seat of an old model T that was parked in front of the junk yard. A battered top hat was set at a rakish angle on his metal dome and one leg was draped loosely ov
er the side of the car. He was so crusted with rust that he probably couldn’t move if he wanted.
“Sidney,” I yelled excitedly. “Sidney!” I dodged through the traffic and raced to the side of the car. “Sidney,” I yelled again, “it’s me.”
Sidney’s eyelids were closed and I couldn’t tell whether he heard me or not.
“What d’ya Want, bud?” a thick, suspicious voice sounded behind me.
I LOOKED around. A heavy set man in overalls was standing in front of a shack built on the edge of the junkyard. He wiped his hands on a piece of cheesecloth and walked toward me. I noticed he was watching me rather curiously.
“I just paused to look at this—this,” I paused and waved a hand at the car, “at this advertising stunt. Very clever.”
The proprietor’s lips parted in a pleased grin.
“Do you think so?” he asked contentedly. “Some kids brought dat tin dummy in here a few days ago. Dey found it in an alley. I buys it for a half a buck and stick it out here. Kinda gives a tony air to the joint. Gets a lotta attention.”
I looked at Sidney closely for the first time. There was an almost beatific look of contentment on his rusty face. Sprawled on the cushions, uselessly idle, he was in his glory.
“It’s gettin’ kinda rusty,” the junk dealer said, “so I’m going to oil it up this aftanoon.”
I smiled.
“Do that,” I said, “and remember—use nice thin oil.”
I knew then that I was not going to disturb Sidney. He had found the never-never land his simple soul had yearned for. Nothing to do but rest, someone to keep him pleasantly oiled up and enough attention from passersby to gratify his exhibitionist nature.
It was Valhalla for him and it would take someone far more heartless than yours truly to destroy his paradise.
“So long,” I murmured and as I turned I noticed something that brought a quick smile to my lips.
Walking away I thought of it.
It might have been an optical illusion—but I preferred to think it wasn’t.
For Sidney had winked at me. As I had turned to leave one of his metal eyelids had fluttered slyly. A gesture, I knew, that bade me a happy, comradely farewell.
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 27
