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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 place 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 air-coaster. Hold out your arms straight. —You got to, Robbie, if you’re going to be an air-coaster.’
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 on to 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.’
Another semi-circle.
‘Oh, hell,’ Gloria composed herself, ran over the details of the tale in her mind (together with her own elaborations, of which she had several) and began:
‘Are you ready? Well – once upon a time there was a beautiful little girl whose name was Ella. And she had a terribly cruel step-mother and two very ugly and very cruel step-sisters and—’
Gloria was reaching the very climax of the tale – midnight was striking and everything was changing back to the shabby originals lickety-split, while Robbie listened tensely with burning eyes – when the interruption came.
‘Gloria!’
It was the high-pitched sound of a woman who has been calling not once, but several times; and had the nervous tone of one in whom anxiety was beginning to overcome impatience.
‘Mamma’s calling me,’ said Gloria, not quite happily. ‘You’d better carry me back to the house, Robbie.’
Robbie obeyed with alacrity for somehow there was that in him which judged it best to obey Mrs Weston, without as much as a scrap of hesitation. Gloria’s father was rarely home in the daytime except on Sunday – today, for instance – and when he was, he proved a genial and understanding person. Gloria’s mother, however, was a source of uneasiness to Robbie and there was always the impulse to sneak away from her sight.
Mrs Weston caught sight of them the minute they rose above the masking tufts of long grass and retired inside the house to wait.
‘I’ve shouted myself hoarse, Gloria,’ she said, severely. ‘Where were you?’
‘I was with Robbie,’ quavered Gloria. ‘I was telling him Cinderella, and I forgot it was dinner-time.’
‘Well, it’s a pity Robbie forgot, too.’ Then, as if that reminded her of the robot’s presence, she whirled upon him. ‘You may go, Robbie. She doesn’t need you now.’ Then, brutally, ‘And don’t come back till I call you.’
Robbie turned to go, but hesitated as Gloria cried out in his defense, ‘Wait, Mamma, you got to let him stay. I didn’t finish Cinderella for him. I said I would tell him Cinderella and I’m not finished.’
‘Gloria!’
‘Honest and truly, Mamma, he’ll stay so quiet, you won’t even know he’s here. He can sit on the chair in the corner, and he won’t say a word – I mean he won’t do anything. Will you, Robbie?’
Robbie, appealed to, nodded his massive head up and down once.
‘Gloria, if you don’t stop this at once, you shan’t see Robbie for a whole week.’
The girl’s eyes fell, ‘All right! But Cinderella is his favorite story and I didn’t finish it. —And he likes it so much.’
The robot left with a disconsolate step and Gloria choked back a sob.
George Weston was comfortable. It was a habit of his to be comfortable on Sunday afternoons. A good, hearty dinner below the hatches; a nice, soft, dilapidated couch on which to sprawl; a copy of the Times; slippered feet and shirtless chest – how could anyone help but be comfortable?
He wasn’t pleased, therefore, when his wife walked in. After ten years of married life, he still was so unutterably foolish as to love her, and there was no question that he was always glad to see her – still Sunday afternoons just after dinner were sacred to him and his idea of solid comfort was to be left in utter solitude for two or three hours. Consequently, he fixed his eye firmly upon the latest reports of the Lefebre–Yoshida expedition to Mars (this one was to take off from Lunar Base and might actually succeed) and pretended she wasn’t there.
Mrs Weston waited patiently for two minutes, then impatiently for two more, and finally broke the silence.
‘George!’
‘Hmpph?’
‘George, I say! Will you put down that paper and look at me?’
The paper rustled to the floor and Weston turned a weary face toward his wife, ‘What is it, dear?’
‘You know what it is, George. It’s Gloria and that terrible machine.’
‘What terrible machine?’
‘Now don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s that robot Gloria calls Robbie. He doesn’t leave her for a moment.’
‘Well, why should he? He’s not supposed to. And he certainly isn’t a terrible machine. He’s the best darn robot money can buy and I’m damned sure he set me back half a year’s income. He’s worth it, though – darn sight cleverer than half my office staff.’
He made a move to pick up the paper again, but his wife was quicker and snatched it away.
‘You listen to me, George. I won’t have my daughter entrusted to a machine – and I don’t care how clever it is. It has no soul, and no one knows what it may be thinking. A child just isn’t made to be guarded by a thing of metal.’
Weston frowned, ‘When did you decide this? He’s been with Gloria two years now and I haven’t seen you worry till now.’
‘It was different at first. It was a novelty; it took a load off me, and – and it was a fashionable thing to do. But now I don’t know. The neighbors—’
‘Well, what have the neighbors to do with it? Now, look. A robot is infinitely more to be trusted than a human nursemaid. Robbie was constructed for only one purpose really – to be the companion of a little child. His entire “mentality” has been created for the purpose. He just can’t help being faithful and loving and kind. He’s a machine – made so. That’s more than you can say for humans.’
‘But something might go wrong. Some – some—’ Mrs Weston was a bit hazy about the insides of a robot, ‘some little jigger will come loose and the awful thing will go berserk and – and—’ She couldn’t bring herself to complete the quite obvious thought.
‘Nonsense,’ Weston denied, with an involuntary nervous shiver. ‘That’s completely ridiculous. We had a long discussion at the time we bought Robbie about the First Law of Robotics. You know that it is impossible for a robot to harm a human being; that long before enough can go wrong to alter that First Law, a robot would be completely inoperable. It’s a mathematical impossibility. Besides I have an engineer from US Robots here twice a year to give the poor gadget a complete overhaul. Why, there’s no more chance of anything at all going wrong with Robbie than there is of you or I suddenly going looney – considerably less, in fact. Besides, how are you going to take him away from Gloria?’
He made another futile stab at the paper and his wife tossed it angrily into the next room.
‘That’s just it, George! She won’t play with anyone else. There are dozens of little boys and girls that she should make friends with, but she won’t. She won’t go near them unless I make her. That’s no way for a little girl to grow up. You want her to be normal, don’t you? You want her to be able to take her part in society.’
‘You’re jumping at shadows, Grace. Pretend Robbie’s a dog. I’ve seen hundreds of children who would rather have their dog than their father.’
‘A dog is different, George. We must get rid of that horrible thing. You can sell it back to the company. I’ve asked, and you can.’
‘You’ve asked? Now look here, Grace, let’s not go off the deep end. We’re keeping the robot until Gloria is older and I don’t want the subject brought up again.’ And with that he walked out of the room in a huff.
Mrs Weston met her husband at the door two evenings later. ‘You’ll have to listen to this, George. There’s bad feeling in the village.’
‘About what?’ asked Weston. He stepped into the washroom and drowned out any possible answer by the splash of water.
Mrs Weston waited. She said, ‘About Robbie.’
Weston stepped out, towel in hand, face red and angry. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Oh, it’s been building up and building up. I’ve tried to close my eyes to it, but I’m not going to any more. Most of the villagers consider Robbie dangerous. Children aren’t allowed to go near our place in the evenings.’
‘We trust our child with the thing.’
‘Well, people aren’t reasonable about these things.’
‘Then to hell with them.’
‘Saying that doesn’t solve the problem. I’ve got to do my shopping down there. I’ve got to meet them every day. And it’s even worse in the city these days when it comes to robots. New York has just passed an ordinance keeping all robots off the streets between sunset and sunrise.’
‘All right, but they can’t stop us from keeping a robot in our home. —Grace, this is one of your campaigns. I recognize it. But it’s no use. The answer is still, no! We’re keeping Robbie!’
And yet he loved his wife – and what was worse, his wife knew it. George Weston, after all, was only a man – poor thing – and his wife made full use of every device which a clumsier and more scrupulous sex has learned, with reason and futility, to fear.
Ten times in the ensuing week, he cried, ‘Robbie stays – and that’s final!’ and each time it was weaker and accompanied by a louder and more agonized groan.
Came the day at last, when Weston approached his daughter guiltily and suggested a ‘beautiful’ visivox show in the village.
Gloria clapped her hands happily, ‘Can Robbie go?’
‘No, dear,’ he said, and winced at the sound of his voice, ‘they won’t allow robots at the visivox – but you can tell him all about it when you get home.’ He stumbled all over the last few words and looked away.
Gloria came back from town bubbling over with enthusiasm, for the visivox had been a gorgeous spectacle indeed.
She waited for her father to maneuver the jet-car into the sunken garage. ‘Wait till I tell Robbie, Daddy. He would have liked it like anything. —Especially when Francis Fran was backing away so-o-o quietly, and backed right into one of the Leopard-Men and had to run.’ She laughed again. ‘Daddy, are there really Leopard-Men on the Moon?’
‘Probably not,’ said Weston absently. ‘It’s just funny make-believe.’ He couldn’t take much longer with the car. He’d have to face it.
Gloria ran across the lawn. ‘Robbie. —Robbie!’
Then she stopped suddenly at the sight of a beautiful collie which regarded her out of serious brown eyes as it wagged its tail on the porch.
‘Oh, what a nice dog!’ Gloria climbed the steps, approached cautiously and patted it. ‘Is it for me, Daddy?’
Her mother had joined them. ‘Yes, it is, Gloria. Isn’t it nice – soft and furry. It’s very gentle. It likes little girls.’
‘Can he play games?’
‘Surely. He can do any number of tricks. Would you like to see some?’
‘Right away. I want Robbie to see him, too. —Robbie!’ She stopped, uncertainly, and frowned, ‘I’ll bet he’s just staying in his room because he’s mad at me for not taking him to the visivox. You’ll have to explain to him, Daddy. He might not believe me, but he knows if you say it, it’s so.’
Weston’s lips grew tighter. He looked toward his wife but could not catch her eye.
Gloria turned precipitously and ran down the basement steps, shouting as she went, ‘Robbie — Come and see what Daddy and Mamma brought me. They brought me a dog, Robbie.’
In a minute she had returned, a frightened little girl. ‘Mamma, Robbie isn’t in his room. Where is he?’ There was no answer and George Weston coughed and was suddenly extremely interested in an aimlessly drifting cloud. Gloria’s voice quavered on the verge of tears, ‘Where’s Robbie, Mamma?’
Mrs Weston sat down and drew her daughter gently to her, ‘Don’t feel bad, Gloria. Robbie has gone away, I think.’
‘Gone away? Where? Where’s he gone away, Mamma?’
‘No one knows, darling. He just walked away. We’ve looked and we’ve looked and we’ve looked for him, but we can’t find him.’
‘You mean he’ll never come back again?’ Her eyes were round with horror.
‘We may find him soon. We’ll keep looking for him. And meanwhile you can play with your nice new doggie. Look at him! His name is Lightning and he can—’
