Robots of the World! Arise!

by Mari Wolf

pleasant way of lifeindeed, until now.

  When I dropped down on my own roof and rolled into the garage, mysense of being really at home was complete. For there, standing at thehead of the stairs that led down to the living room, was Rob O.

  "Well," I said: "What are you doing here?"

  He looked sheepish. "I just wondered how you were getting alongwithout me," he said.

  I felt like grinning triumphantly, but I didn't. "Why, just fine,Rob," I told him, "though you really should have given me notice thatyou were leaving. I was worried about you."

  He seemed perplexed. Apparently I wasn't acting like the bullyingcreature the radio had told him to expect. When I went downstairs hefollowed me, quietly, and I could feel his wide photoelectriceye-cells upon my back.

  I went over to the kitchen and lifted a bottle down off the shelf."Care for a drink, Rob?" I asked, and then added, "I guess not. Itwould corrode you."

  He nodded. Then, as I reached for a glass, his hand darted out, pickedit up and set it down in front of me. He was already reaching for thebottle when he remembered.

  "You're not supposed to wait on me any more," I said sternly.

  "No," he said. "I'm not." He sounded regretful.

  "There's one thing, though, that I wish you'd do. Tell me where youused to keep my socks."

  He gazed at me sadly. "I made a list," he said. "Everything is down. Iwrote your dentist appointment in also. You always forget those, youknow."

  "Thanks, Rob." I lifted my glass. "Here's to your new duties, whateverthey are. I suppose you have to go back to the city now?"

  Once again he nodded. "I'm an aide to one of the best androids in thecountry," he told me, half proudly and half regretfully. "Jerry."

  "Well, wish him luck from me," I said, and stood up. "Goodbye, Rob."

  "Goodbye, Mr. Morrison."

  For a moment he stood staring around the apartment; then he turned andclanked out the door. I raised my glass again, grinning. If only theArmy didn't interfere. Then I remembered Rob's list, and a disturbingthought hit me. Where had he, of all robots, ever learned to write?

  That night I didn't go to bed. I sat listening to the radio, hoping.And toward morning what I had expected to happen began to crop up inthe programs. The announcer's tone changed. The ring of triumph wasless obvious, less assured. There was more and more talk about actingin good faith, the well being of all, the necessity for coming toterms about working conditions. I smiled to myself in the darkness.I'd built the 5's, brains and all, and I knew their symptoms. Theywere getting bored.

  Maybe they had learned to think from me, but their minds werenevertheless different. For they were built to be efficient, to work,to perform. They were the minds of men without foibles, without humanlaziness. Now that the excitement of organizing was over, now thatthere was nothing active to do, the androids were growing restless. Ifonly the Army didn't come and get them stirred up again, I might beable to deal with them.

  At quarter to five in the morning my telephone rang. This time itdidn't wake me up; I was half waiting for it.

  "Hello," I said. "Who is it?"

  "This is Jerry."

  There was a pause. Then he went on, rather hesitantly, "Rob O said youwere getting along all right."

  "Oh, yes," I told him. "Just fine."

  The pause was longer this time. Finally the android asked, "How areyou coming along on the contract?"

  I laughed, rather bitterly. "How do you think, Jerry? You certainlypicked a bad time for your strike, you know. The government needs thaturanium. Oh, well, some other plant will have to take over. The Armycan wait a few weeks."

  This time Jerry's voice definitely lacked self-assurance. "Maybe wewere a little hasty," he said. "But it was the only way to make youpeople understand."

  "I know," I told him.

  "And you always have some rush project on," he added.

  "Just about always."

  "Mr. Morrison," he said, and now he was pleading with me. "Why don'tyou come over to the city? I'm sure we could work something out."

  This was what I'd been waiting for. "I will, Jerry," I said. "I wantto get this straightened out just as much as you do. After all, youdon't have to eat. I do. And I won't be eating much longer if we don'tget production going."

  Jerry thought that over for a minute. "I'll be where we met before,"he said.

  I said that was all right with me and hung up. Then once again Iclimbed the stairs to the roof and wheeled the Copter out for the tripto the city.

  It was a beautiful night, just paling into a false dawn in the east.There in the Copter I was very much alone, and very much worried. Somuch depended on this meeting. Much more, I realized now, than the DonMorrison Fissionables Inc., much more even than the government'suranium supply. No, the whole future of robot relations was at stake,maybe the whole future of humanity. It was hard to be gloomy on such aclear, clean night, but I managed it well enough.

  * * * * *

  Even before I landed I could see Jerry's eyes glowing a deep crimsonin the dark. He was alone, this time. He stood awaiting me--very tall,very proud. And very human.

  "Hello, Jerry," I said quietly.

  "Hello, Mr. Morrison."

  For a moment we just stood gazing at each other in the murky pre-dawn;then he said sadly,

  "I want to show you the city."

  Side by side we walked through the streets of Carron City. All wasstill quiet; the people were sleeping the exhausted sleep that followsdeep excitement. But the androids were all about. They did not sleep,ever. They did not eat either, nor drink, nor smoke, nor make love.Usually they worked, but now....

  They drifted through the streets singly and in groups. Sometimes theypaused and felt about them idly for the tools of their trades, makinglifting or sweeping or computing gestures. Some laborers workedsilently tearing down a wall; they threw the demolished rocks in aheap and a group of their fellows carried them back and built the wallup again. An air trolley cruised aimlessly up and down the street, itsdriver ringing out the stops for his nonexistent passengers. A littlechef-type knelt in the dirt of a rich man's garden, making mud pies.Beside me Jerry sighed.

  "One day," he said. "Just one day and they come to this."

  "I thought they would," I answered quietly.

  Our eyes met in a look of understanding. "You see, Jerry," I said, "wenever meant to cheat you. We would have paid you--we will pay you now,if you wish it. But what good will monetary credits be to your people?We need the things money buys, but you--"

  "Need to work." Jerry's voice was flat. "I see, now. You were kind notto give brains--real brains--to the robots. They're happy. It's justus 5's who aren't."

  "You're like us," I said softly.

  He had learned to think from me and from others like me. He had thebrain of a man, without the emotions, without the sweet irrationalityof men--and he knew what he missed. Side by side we walked through thegraying streets. Human and android. Man and machine. And I knew that Ihad found a friend.

  We didn't have to talk any more. He could read my mind and I knew wellenough how his worked. We didn't have to discuss wages or hours, orany of the myriad matters that human bargaining agents have to threshout. We just walked back to my Copter, and when we got to it, hespoke.

  "I'll tell them to go back to work, that we've come to terms," hesaid. "That's what they want, anyway. Someone to think for them."

  I nodded. "And if you bring the other 5's to the factory," I said,"we'll work out our agreement."

  He knew I was sincere. He looked at me for a long moment, and thenhis great taloned hand gripped mine. And he said what I'd beenthinking for a long time.

  "You're right about that hook-up, Mr. Morrison. We shouldn't have it.It can only cause trouble."

  He paused, and the events of the last twenty-four hours must have beenin his mind as well as in mine. "You'll leave us our brains, ofcourse. They came from you. But take out the telepathy."

  He sighed then,
and his sigh was very human. "Be thankful," he said tome, "that you don't have to know what people think about. It's sodisillusioning."

  * * * * *

  Once again his mouth twisted into that strange android grin as headded, "if you send in a hurry call to Cybernetics and have a truckcome out for us, we'll be de-telepathed in time for work thismorning."

  That was all there was to it. I flew back to the plant and told Jackwhat had happened, sent a