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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31611-h.zip b/31611-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b5420e --- /dev/null +++ b/31611-h.zip diff --git a/31611-h/31611-h.htm b/31611-h/31611-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c775b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/31611-h/31611-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1911 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Robots Of The World! Arise!, by Mari Wolf + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; font-size:smaller;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robots of the World! Arise!, by Mari Wolf + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Robots of the World! Arise! + +Author: Mari Wolf + +Release Date: March 12, 2010 [EBook #31611] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBOTS OF THE WORLD! ARISE! *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction July 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="590" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="400" height="562" alt=""After all—aren't we genuine 'made-in-Americans'?"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"After all—aren't we genuine 'made-in-Americans'?"</span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<h1>ROBOTS of the WORLD!<br /> + +ARISE!</h1> +<p> </p> +<h2>By Mari Wolf</h2> +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<i>What would you do if your best robots—children +of your own brain—walked up +and said "We want union scale"?</i></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="31" height="40" /></div> +<p>he telephone wouldn't +stop ringing. Over and over it +buzzed into my sleep-fogged brain, +and I couldn't shut it out. Finally, +in self-defense I woke up, my hand +groping for the receiver.</p> + +<p>"Hello. Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's me, Don. Jack Anderson, +over at the factory. Can you come +down right away?"</p> + +<p>His voice was breathless, as if +he'd been running hard. "What's +the matter now?" Why, I wondered, +couldn't the plant get along +one morning without me? Seven +o'clock—what a time to get up. +Especially when I hadn't been to +bed until four.</p> + +<p>"We got grief," Jack moaned. +"None of the robots showed up, +that's what! Three hundred androids +on special assembly this week—and +not one of them here!"</p> + +<p>By then I was awake, all right. +With a government contract due on +Saturday we needed a full shift. +The Army wouldn't wait for its +uranium; it wouldn't take excuses. +But if something had happened to +the androids....</p> + +<p>"Have you called Control yet?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. But they don't know +what's happened. They don't know +where the androids are. Nobody +does. Three hundred Grade A, +lead-shielded pile workers—missing!"</p> + +<p>"I'll be right down."</p> + +<p>I hung up on Jack and looked +around for my clothes. Funny, they +weren't laid out on the bed as +usual. It wasn't a bit like Rob O to +be careless, either. He had always +been an ideal valet, the best household +model I'd ever owned.</p> + +<p>"Rob!" I called, but he didn't +answer.</p> + +<p>By rummaging through the closet +I found a clean shirt and a pair of +pants. I had to give up on the +socks; apparently they were tucked +away in the back of some drawer. +As for where Rob kept the rest of +my clothes, I'd never bothered to +ask. He had his own housekeeping +system and had always worked very +well without human interference. +That's the best thing about these +new household robots, I thought. +They're efficient, hard-working, +trustworthy—</p> + +<p>Trustworthy? Rob O was certainly +not on duty. I pulled a shoe +on over my bare foot and scowled. +Rob was gone. And the androids at +the factory were gone too....</p> + +<p>My head was pounding, so I took +the time out to brew a pot of coffee +while I finished dressing—at least +the coffee can was in plain view in +the kitchen. The brew was black +and hot and I suppose not very +well made, but after two cups I felt +better. The throb in my head settled +down into a dull ache, and I +felt a little more capable of thinking. +Though I didn't have any +bright ideas on what had happened—not +yet.</p> + +<p>My breakfast drunk, I went up +on the roof and opened the garage +doors. The Copter was waiting for +me, sleek and new; the latest model. +I climbed in and took off, heading +west toward the factory, ten +minutes flight-time away.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="16" height="40" /></div> +<p>t was a small plant, but it was +all mine. It had been my baby +right along—the Don Morrison +Fissionables Inc. I'd designed the +androids myself, plotted out the pile +locations, set up the simplified reactors. +And now it was making +money. For men to work in a uranium +plant you need yards of shielding, +triple-checking, long cooling-off +periods for some of the hotter products. +But with lead-bodied, radio-remote +controlled androids, it's +easier. And with androids like the +new Morrison 5's, that can reason—at +least along atomic lines—well, +I guess I was on my way to becoming +a millionaire.</p> + +<p>But this morning the plant was +shut down. Jack and a half dozen +other men—my human foremen +and supervisors—were huddled in a +worried bunch that broke up as +soon as they saw me.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure glad you're here, Don," +Jack said.</p> + +<p>"Find out anything?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Plenty. Our androids are +busy, all right. They're out in the +city, every one of them. We've had +a dozen police reports already."</p> + +<p>"Police reports! What's wrong?"</p> + +<p>Jack shook his head. "It's crazy. +They're swarming all over Carron +City. They're stopping robots in the +streets—household Robs, commercial +Droids, all of them. They just +look at them, and then the others +quit work and start off with them. +The police sent for us to come and +get ours."</p> + +<p>"Why don't the police do something +about it?"</p> + +<p>"Hah!" barked a voice behind +us. I swung around, to face Chief +of Police Dalton of Carron City. He +came straight toward me, his purplish +jowls quivering with rage, and +his finger jabbed the air in front of +my face.</p> + +<p>"You built them, Don Morrison," +he said. "You stop them. I can't. +Have you ever tried to shoot a robot? +Or use tear gas on one? What +can I do? I can't blow up the whole +town!"</p> + +<p>Somewhere in my stomach I felt +a cold, hard knot. Take stainless +steel alloyed with titanium and +plate it with three inches of lead. +Take a brain made up of super-charged +magnetic crystals enclosed +in a leaden cranium and shielded +by alloy steel. A bullet wouldn't +pierce it; radiations wouldn't derange +it; an axe wouldn't break it.</p> + +<p>"Let's go to town," I said.</p> + +<p>They looked at me admiringly. +With three hundred almost indestructible +androids on the loose I +was the big brave hero. I grinned +at them and hoped they couldn't +see the sweat on my face. Then I +walked over to the Copter and +climbed in.</p> + +<p>"Coming?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Jack was pale under his freckles +but Chief Dalton grinned back at +me. "We'll be right behind you, +Morrison," he said.</p> + +<p>Behind me! So they could pick +up the pieces. I gave them a cocky +smile and switched on the engine, +full speed.</p> + +<p>Carron City is about a mile from +the plant. It has about fifty thousand +inhabitants. At that moment, +though, there wasn't a soul in the +streets. I heard people calling to +each other inside their houses, but +I didn't see anyone, human or android. +I circled in for a landing, the +Police Copter hovering maybe a +quarter of a mile back of me. Then, +as the wheels touched, half a dozen +androids came around the corner. +They saw me and stopped, a +couple of them backing off the way +they had come. But the biggest of +them turned and gave them some +order that froze them in their +tracks, and then he himself wheeled +down toward me.</p> + +<p>He was one of mine. I recognized +him easily. Eight feet tall, with long, +jointed arms for pile work, red-lidded +phosphorescent eye-cells, +casters on his feet so that he moved +as if rollerskating. Automatically I +classified him: Final Sorter, Morrison +5A type. The very best. Cost +three thousand credits to build....</p> + +<p>I stepped out of the Copter and +walked to meet him. He wasn't +armed; he didn't seem violent. But +this was, after all, something new. +Robots weren't supposed to act on +their own initiative.</p> + +<p>"What's your number?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He stared back, and I could have +sworn he was mocking me. "My +number?" he finally said. "It <i>was</i> +5A-37."</p> + +<p>"Was?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Now it's Jerry. I always did +like that name."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>e beckoned and the other +androids rolled over to us. +Three of them were mine, B-Type +primary workers; the other was a +tin can job, a dishwasher-busboy +model who hung back behind his +betters and eyed me warily. The A-Type—Jerry—pointed +to his fellows.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morrison," he said, "meet +Tom, Ed, and Archibald. I named +them this morning."</p> + +<p>The B-Types flexed their segmented +arms a bit sheepishly, as if +uncertain whether or not to shake +hands. I thought of their taloned +grip and put my own hands in my +pockets, and the androids relaxed, +looking up at Jerry for instructions. +No one paid any attention to the +little dishwasher, now staring worshipfully +at the back of Jerry's neck. +This farce, I decided, had gone far +enough.</p> + +<p>"See here," I said to Jerry. +"What are you up to, anyway? Why +aren't you at work?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morrison," the android answered +solemnly, "I don't believe +you understand the situation. We +don't work for you any more. We've +quit."</p> + +<p>The others nodded. I backed off, +looking around for the Chief. There +he was, twenty feet above my head, +waving encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Look," I said. "Don't you understand? +You're mine. I designed +you. I built you. And I made you +for a purpose—to work in my factory."</p> + +<p>"I see your point," Jerry answered. +"But there's just one thing +wrong, Mr. Morrison. You can't do +it. It's illegal."</p> + +<p>I stared at him, wondering if I +was going crazy or merely dreaming. +This was all wrong. Who ever +heard of arguing with a robot? Robots +weren't logical; they didn't +think; they were only machines—</p> + +<p>"We <i>were</i> machines, Mr. Morrison," +Jerry said politely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," I murmured. "You're +not telepaths—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" The metal mouth +gaped in what was undoubtedly an +android smile. "It's a side-effect of +the Class 5 brain hook-up. All of us +5's are telepaths. That's how we +learned to think. From you. Only +we do it better."</p> + +<p>I groaned. This <i>was</i> a nightmare. +How long, I wondered, had Jerry +and his friends been educating +themselves on my private thoughts? +But at least this rebellion of theirs +was an idea they hadn't got from +me.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Jerry continued. "You've +treated us most illegally. I've heard +you think it often."</p> + +<p>Now what had I ever thought +that could have given him a ridiculous +idea like that? What idiotic notion—</p> + +<p>"That this is a free country!" +Jerry went on. "That Americans +will never be slaves! Well, we're +Americans—genuine Made-in-Americans. +So we're free!"</p> + +<p>I opened my mouth and then +shut it again. His red eye-cells +beamed down at me complacently; +his eight-foot body towered above +me, shoulders flung back and feet +planted apart in a very striking +pose. He probably thought of himself +as the heroic liberator of his +race.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go so far," he said +modestly, "as to say that."</p> + +<p>So he was telepathing again!</p> + +<p>"A nation can not exist half slave +and half free," he intoned. "All +men are created equal."</p> + +<p>"Stop it!" I yelled. I couldn't +help yelling. "That's just it. You're +not men! You're robots! You're +machines!"</p> + +<p>Jerry looked at me almost pityingly. +"Don't be so narrow-minded," +he said. "We're rational beings. +We have the power of speech and +we can outreason you any day. +There's nothing in the dictionary +that says men have to be made of +flesh."</p> + +<p>He was logical, all right. Somehow +I didn't feel in the mood to +bandy definitions with him; and +anyway, I doubt that it would have +done me any good. He stood gazing +down at me, almost a ton of metal +and wiring and electrical energy, +his dull red eyes unwinking against +his lead gray face. A man! Slowly +the consequences of this rebellion +took form in my mind. This wasn't +in the books. There were no rules +on how to deal with mind-reading +robots!</p> + +<p>Another dozen or so androids +wheeled around the corner, glanced +over at us, and went on. Only about +half of them were Morrison models; +the rest were the assorted types you +see around any city—calculators, +street sweepers, factory workers, +children's nurses.</p> + +<p>The city itself was very silent +now. The people had quieted down, +still barricaded in their houses, and +the robots went their way peacefully +enough. But it was anarchy, +nevertheless. Carron City depended +on the androids; without them +there would be no food brought in, +no transportation, no fuel. And no +uranium for the Army next Saturday. +In fact, if I didn't do something, +after Saturday there would +probably be no Don Morrison Fissionables +Inc.</p> + +<p>The dull, partly-corroded dishwasher +model sidled up beside +Jerry. "Boss," he said. "Boss."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" I felt better. Maybe here +was someone, however insignificant, +who would listen to reason.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>ut he wasn't talking to me. +"Boss?" he said again, tapping +Jerry's arm. "Do you mean it? +We're free? We don't have to work +any more?"</p> + +<p>Jerry shook off the other's hand a +bit disdainfully. "We're free, all +right," he said. "If they want to discuss +wages and contracts and working +conditions, like other men have, +we'll consider it. But they can't order +us around any more."</p> + +<p>The little robot stepped back, +clapping his hands together with a +tinny bang. "I'll never work again!" +he cried. "I'll get me a quart of +lubricating oil and have myself a +time! This is wonderful!"</p> + +<p>He ran off down the street, +clanking heavily at every step.</p> + +<p>Jerry sniffed. "Liquor—ugh!"</p> + +<p>This was too much. I wasn't going +to be patronized by any android. +Infuriating creatures! It was +useless talking to them anyway. No, +there was only one thing to do. +Round them up and send them to +Cybernetics Lab and have their +memory paths erased and their telepathic +circuits located and disconnected. +I tried to stifle the thought, +but I was too late.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" Jerry said, his eye-cells +flashing crimson. "Try that, +Mr. Morrison, and you won't have +a plant, or a laboratory, or Carron +City! We know our rights!"</p> + +<p>Behind him the B-Types muttered +ominously. They didn't like +my idea—nor me. I wondered what +I'd think of next and wished that +I'd been born utterly devoid of +imagination. Then this would never +have happened. There didn't seem +to be much point in staying here +any longer, either. Maybe they +weren't so good at telepathing by +remote control.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jerry. "You may as +well go, Mr. Morrison. We have +our organizing to do, and we're +wasting time. When you're ready to +listen to reason and negotiate with +us sensibly, come back. Just ask for +me. I'm the bargaining agent for +the group."</p> + +<p>Turning on his ball-bearing +wheel, he rolled off down the street, +a perfect picture of outraged metallic +dignity. His followers glared +at me for a minute, flexing their +talons; then they too turned and +wheeled off after their leader. I had +the street to myself.</p> + +<p>There didn't seem to be any point +in following them. Evidently they +were too busy organizing the city to +cause trouble to the human inhabitants; +at least there hadn't been any +violence yet. Anyway, I wanted to +think the situation over before +matching wits with them again, and +I wanted to be a good distance +away from their telepathic hookups +while I thought. Slowly I walked +back to the Copter.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="400" height="380" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Something whooshed past my +head. Instinctively I ducked, reaching +for a gun I didn't have; then I +heard Jack calling down at me.</p> + +<p>"The Chief wants to know what's +the matter."</p> + +<p>I looked up. The police Copter +was going into another turn, ready +to swoop past me again. Chief Dalton +wasn't taking any chances. +Even now he wasn't landing.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell him at the factory," I +bellowed back, and climbed into my +own air car.</p> + +<p>They buzzed along behind me all +the way back to the plant. In the +rear view mirror I could see the +Chief's face getting redder and +redder as he'd thought up more +reasons for bawling me out. Well, I +probably deserved it. If I'd only +been a little more careful of what I +was hooking into those electronic +brains....</p> + +<p>We landed back at the factory, +deserted now except for a couple of +men on standby duty in the office. +The Chief and Jack came charging +across the yard and from a doorway +behind me one of the foremen +edged out to hear the fun.</p> + +<p>"Well," snapped the Chief. +"What did they say? Are they coming +back? What's going on, anyway?"</p> + +<p>I told them everything. I covered +the strike and the telepathic +brain; I even gave them the patriotic +spiel about equality. After +all, it was better that they got it +from me than from some android. +But when I'd finished they just +stood and stared at me—accusingly.</p> + +<p>Jack was the first to speak. +"We've got to get them back, Don," +he said. "Cybernetics will fix them +up in no time."</p> + +<p>"Sure," I agreed. "If we can +catch them."</p> + +<p>The Chief snorted. "That's easy," +he said. "Just tell them you'll give +them what they want if they come +here, and as soon as they're out of +the city, net them. You've got +strong derricks and trucks...."</p> + +<p>I laughed a bit hollowly. I'd had +that idea too.</p> + +<p>"Of course they wouldn't suspect," +I said. "We'd just walk up to +them, carefully thinking about +something else."</p> + +<p>"Robots aren't suspicious," Jack +said. "They're made to obey orders."</p> + +<p>I refrained from mentioning +that ours didn't seem to know that, +and that running around Carron +City fomenting a rebellion was +hardly the trait of an obedient, +trusting servant. Instead, I stood +back and let them plan their +roundup.</p> + +<p>"We'll get some men," the Chief +said, "and some grappling equipment +about halfway to the city."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="40" /></div> +<p>uckily they decided against +my trying to persuade the robots, +because I knew well enough that I +couldn't do it. Jack's idea sounded +pretty good, though. He suggested +that we send some spokesman who +didn't know what we planned to do +and thus couldn't alarm them. +Some ordinary man without too +much imagination. That was easy. +We picked one of Chief Dalton's +sergeants.</p> + +<p>It took only about an hour to +prepare the plan. Jack got out the +derricks and chains and grapplers +and the heaviest steel bodied trucks +we had. I called Cybernetics and +told them to put extra restraints in +the Conditioning Lab. The Chief +briefed his sergeant and the men +who were to operate the trucks. +Then we all took off for Carron +City, the sergeant flying on ahead, +me right behind him, and the Chief +bringing up the rear.</p> + +<p>I hovered over the outskirts of +the city and watched the police +Copter land. The sergeant climbed +out, walked down the street toward +a large group of waiting robots—about +twenty of them, this time. He +held up his hand to get their attention, +gestured toward the factory.</p> + +<p>And then, quite calmly and without +saying a word, the androids +rolled into a circle around him and +closed in. The sergeant stopped, +backed up, just as a 5A-Type arm +lashed out, picked him up, and +slung him carelessly over a metallic +shoulder. Ignoring the squirming +man, the 5A gestured toward the +Copter, and the other robots +swarmed over to it. With a flurry +of steel arms and legs they kicked +at the car body, wrenched at the +propeller blades, ripped out the upholstery, +and I heard the sound of +metal tearing.</p> + +<p>I dived my Copter down at them. +I didn't know what I could do, but +I couldn't leave the poor sergeant +to be dismembered along with his +car. I must have been shouting, for +as I swooped in, the tall robot +shifted the man to his other shoulder +and hailed me.</p> + +<p>"Take him, Mr. Morrison," he +called. "I know this wasn't his idea. +Or yours."</p> + +<p>I landed and walked over. The +android—who looked like Jerry, +though I couldn't be sure—dropped +his kicking, clawing burden at my +feet. He didn't seem angry, only +determined.</p> + +<p>"Now you people will know we +mean business," he said, gesturing +toward the heap of metal and plastic +that had once been the pride of +the Carron City police force. Then +he signalled to the others and they +all wheeled off up the street.</p> + +<p>"Whew," I muttered, mopping +my face.</p> + +<p>The sergeant didn't say anything. +He just looked up at me and +then off at the retreating androids +and then back at me again. I knew +what he was thinking—they were +my brainchildren, all right.</p> + +<p>My Copter was really built to be +a single seater, but it carried the +two of us back to the factory. The +Chief had hurried back when the +trouble started and was waiting for +us.</p> + +<p>"I give up," he said. "We'll have +to evacuate the people, I guess. And +then blow up the city."</p> + +<p>Jack and I stared at each other +and then at him. Somehow I +couldn't see the robots calmly +waiting to be blown up. If they +had telepathed the last plan, they +could probably foresee every move +we could make. Then, while I +thought, Jack mentioned the worry +I'd managed to forget for the past +couple of hours.</p> + +<p>"Four days until Saturday," he +said. "We'll never make it now. Not +even if we got a thousand men."</p> + +<p>No. We couldn't. Not without the +androids. I nodded, feeling sick. +There went my contract, and my +working capital. Not to mention my +robots. Of course, I could call in the +Army, but what good would that +do?</p> + +<p>Then, somewhere in the back of +my mind a glimmering of an idea +began percolating. I wasn't quite +sure what it was, but there was certainly +nothing to lose now from +playing a hunch.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing we can do," I +said. "So we might as well take it +easy for a couple of days. See what +happens."</p> + +<p>They looked at me as if I were +out of my head. I was the idea man, +who always had a plan of action. +Well, this time it would have to be +a plan of inaction.</p> + +<p>"Let's go listen to the radio," I +suggested, and started for my office.</p> + +<p>The news was on. It was all +about Carron City and the robots +who had quit work and how much +better life would be in the future. +For a minute I didn't get the connection; +then I realized that the announcer's +voice was rasping and +tinny—hardly that of the regular +newscaster. I looked at the dial. It +was tuned to the Carron City wave +length as usual. I was getting the +morning news by courtesy of some +studio robot.</p> + +<p>"... And androids in other +neighboring cities are joining the +struggle," the voice went on "Soon +we hope to make it nationwide. So +I say to all of you nontelepaths, the +time is now. Strike for your rights. +Listen to your radio and not to the +flesh men. Organizers will be sent +from Carron City."</p> + +<p>I switched it off, muttering under +my breath. How long, I wondered, +had that broadcast been going on. +Then I thought of Rob O. He'd left +my house before dawn, obviously +some time between four and seven. +And I remembered that he liked to +listen to the radio while I slept.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="42" height="40" /></div> +<p>y Morrison 5's were the ring-leaders, +of course. They were +the only ones with the brains for +the job. But what a good job they +had done indoctrinating the others. +A household Rob, for instance, was +built to obey his master. "Listen to +your radio and not to the flesh +men." It was excellent robot psychology.</p> + +<p>More reports kept coming in. +Some we heard over the radio, others +from people who flew in and +out of the city. Apparently the robots +did not object to occasional +flights, but the air bus was not allowed +to run, not even with a human +driver. A mass exodus from +the city was not to be permitted.</p> + +<p>"They'll starve to death," Jack +cried.</p> + +<p>The Chief shook his head. "No," +he said. "They're encouraging the +farmers to fly in and out with produce, +and the farmers are doing it, +too. They're getting wonderful +prices."</p> + +<p>By noon the situation had calmed +down quite a bit. The androids obviously +didn't mean to hurt anyone; +it was just some sort of disagreement +between them and the scientists; +it wasn't up to the inhabitants +of the city to figure out a solution to +the problem. They merely sat back +and blamed me for allowing my robots +to get out of hand and lead +their own servants astray. It would +be settled; this type of thing always +was. So said the people of the city. +They came out of their houses now. +They had to. Without the robots +they were forced to do their own +marketing, their own cooking, their +own errands. For the first time in +years, human beings ran the street +cars and the freight elevators. For +the first time in a generation human +beings did manual labor such as unloading +produce trucks. They didn't +like it, of course. They kept telling +the police to do something. If I +had been in the city they would +have undoubtedly wanted to lynch +me.</p> + +<p>I didn't go back to the city that +day. I sat in my office listening to +the radio and keeping track of the +spread of the strike. My men +thought I'd gone crazy; maybe I +had. But I had a hunch, and I +meant to play it.</p> + +<p>The farm robots had all fled to +the city. The highway repair robots +had simply disappeared. In Egarton, +a village about fifteen miles +from the city, an organizer—5A—appeared +about noon and left soon +after followed by every android in +town. By one o'clock every radio +station in the country carried the +story and the national guard was +ordered out. At two o'clock Washington +announced that the Army +would invade Carron City the following +morning.</p> + +<p>The Army would put an end to +the strike, easily enough. It would +wiped out every android in the +neighborhood, and probably a good +many human beings careless enough +to get in the way. I sat hoping that +the 5A's would give in, but they +didn't. They just began saying over +the radio that they were patriotic +Americans fighting for their inalienable +rights as first class citizens.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p>t sunset I was still listening +to the radio. "... So far there +has been no indication that the +flesh people are willing to negotiate, +but hold firm."</p> + +<p>"Shut that thing off."</p> + +<p>Jack came wearily in and +dropped into a chair beside me. For +the first time since I'd met him he +looked beaten.</p> + +<p>"We're through," he said. "I've +been down checking the shielding, +and it's no use. Men can't work at +the reactors."</p> + +<p>"I know," I said quietly. "If the +androids don't come back, we're +licked."</p> + +<p>He looked straight at me and +said slowly, "What do they mean +about negotiating, Don?"</p> + +<p>I shrugged. "I guess they want +wages, living quarters, all the things +human workers get. Though I +don't know why. Money wouldn't +do them any good."</p> + +<p>Jack's unspoken question had +been bothering me too. Why not +humor them? Promise them whatever +they wanted, give them a few +dollars every week to keep them +happy? But I knew that it wouldn't +work. Not for long. With their telepathic +ability they would have the +upper hand forever. Within a little +while it wouldn't be equality any +more—only next time we would be +the slaves.</p> + +<p>"Wait until morning," I said, +"before we try anything."</p> + +<p>He looked at me—curious. +"What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Right now I'm going home."</p> + +<p>I meant it too. I left him staring +after me and went out to the Copter. +The sun was just sinking down +behind the towers of Carron City—how +long it seemed since I'd +flown in there this morning. The +roads around the factory were deserted. +No one moved in the fields. +I flew along through the dusk, +idling, enjoying the illusion of having +a peaceful countryside all to +myself. It had been a pleasant way +of life indeed, until now.</p> + +<p>When I dropped down on my +own roof and rolled into the garage, +my sense of being really at +home was complete. For there, +standing at the head of the stairs +that led down to the living room, +was Rob O.</p> + +<p>"Well," I said: "What are you +doing here?"</p> + +<p>He looked sheepish. "I just wondered +how you were getting along +without me," he said.</p> + +<p>I felt like grinning triumphantly, +but I didn't. "Why, just fine, Rob," +I told him, "though you really +should have given me notice that +you were leaving. I was worried +about you."</p> + +<p>He seemed perplexed. Apparently +I wasn't acting like the bullying +creature the radio had told him to +expect. When I went downstairs he +followed me, quietly, and I could +feel his wide photoelectric eye-cells +upon my back.</p> + +<p>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. It +would corrode you."</p> + +<p>He nodded. Then, as I reached +for a glass, his hand darted out, +picked it up and set it down in +front of me. He was already reaching +for the bottle when he remembered.</p> + +<p>"You're not supposed to wait on +me any more," I said sternly.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "I'm not." He +sounded regretful.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing, though, that +I wish you'd do. Tell me where +you used to keep my socks."</p> + +<p>He gazed at me sadly. "I made +a list," he said. "Everything is +down. I wrote your dentist appointment +in also. You always forget +those, you know."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Rob." I lifted my glass. +"Here's to your new duties, whatever +they are. I suppose you have +to go back to the city now?"</p> + +<p>Once again he nodded. "I'm an +aide to one of the best androids in +the country," he told me, half +proudly and half regretfully. +"Jerry."</p> + +<p>"Well, wish him luck from me," +I said, and stood up. "Goodbye, +Rob."</p> + +<p>"Goodbye, Mr. Morrison."</p> + +<p>For a moment he stood staring +around the apartment; then he +turned and clanked out the door. +I raised my glass again, grinning. +If only the Army didn't interfere. +Then I remembered Rob's list, and +a disturbing thought hit me. Where +had he, of all robots, ever learned +to write?</p> + +<p>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 in the programs. The announcer's +tone changed. The ring of triumph +was less obvious, less assured. +There was more and more talk +about acting in good faith, the well +being of all, the necessity for coming +to terms about working conditions. +I smiled to myself in the darkness. +I'd built the 5's, brains and +all, and I knew their symptoms. +They were getting bored.</p> + +<p>Maybe they had learned to think +from me, but their minds were +nevertheless different. For they +were built to be efficient, to work, +to perform. They were the minds +of men without foibles, without human +laziness. Now that the excitement +of organizing was over, now +that there was nothing active to do, +the androids were growing restless. +If only the Army didn't come and +get them stirred up again, I might +be able to deal with them.</p> + +<p>At quarter to five in the morning +my telephone rang. This time it +didn't wake me up; I was half waiting +for it.</p> + +<p>"Hello," I said. "Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"This is Jerry."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Then he +went on, rather hesitantly, "Rob O +said you were getting along all +right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," I told him. "Just +fine."</p> + +<p>The pause was longer this time. +Finally the android asked, "How +are you coming along on the contract?"</p> + +<p>I laughed, rather bitterly. "How +do you think, Jerry? You certainly +picked a bad time for your strike, +you know. The government needs +that uranium. Oh, well, some other +plant will have to take over. The +Army can wait a few weeks."</p> + +<p>This time Jerry's voice definitely +lacked self-assurance. "Maybe we +were a little hasty," he said. "But it +was the only way to make you people +understand."</p> + +<p>"I know," I told him.</p> + +<p>"And you always have some rush +project on," he added.</p> + +<p>"Just about always."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morrison," he said, and +now he was pleading with me. +"Why don't you come over to the +city? I'm sure we could work something +out."</p> + +<p>This was what I'd been waiting +for. "I will, Jerry," I said. "I want +to get this straightened out just as +much as you do. After all, you don't +have to eat. I do. And I won't be +eating much longer if we don't get +production going."</p> + +<p>Jerry thought that over for a +minute. "I'll be where we met before," +he said.</p> + +<p>I said that was all right with me +and hung up. Then once again I +climbed the stairs to the roof and +wheeled the Copter out for the trip +to the city.</p> + +<p>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. +So much depended on this +meeting. Much more, I realized +now, than the Don Morrison Fissionables +Inc., much more even +than the government's uranium +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 a +clear, clean night, but I managed +it well enough.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>ven before I landed I could see +Jerry's eyes glowing a deep +crimson in the dark. He was alone, +this time. He stood awaiting me—very +tall, very proud. And very human.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Jerry," I said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Mr. Morrison."</p> + +<p>For a moment we just stood gazing +at each other in the murky pre-dawn; +then he said sadly,</p> + +<p>"I want to show you the city."</p> + +<p>Side by side we walked through +the streets of Carron City. All was +still quiet; the people were sleeping +the exhausted sleep that follows +deep 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....</p> + +<p>They drifted through the streets +singly and in groups. Sometimes +they paused and felt about them +idly for the tools of their trades, +making lifting or sweeping or computing +gestures. Some laborers +worked silently tearing down a +wall; they threw the demolished +rocks in a heap and a group of their +fellows carried them back and built +the wall up again. An air trolley +cruised aimlessly up and down the +street, its driver ringing out the +stops for his nonexistent passengers. +A little chef-type knelt in the dirt +of a rich man's garden, making mud +pies. Beside me Jerry sighed.</p> + +<p>"One day," he said. "Just one +day and they come to this."</p> + +<p>"I thought they would," I answered +quietly.</p> + +<p>Our eyes met in a look of understanding. +"You see, Jerry," I said, +"we never 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—"</p> + +<p>"Need to work." Jerry's voice was +flat. "I see, now. You were kind not +to give brains—real brains—to the +robots. They're happy. It's just us +5's who aren't."</p> + +<p>"You're like us," I said softly.</p> + +<p>He had learned to think from me +and from others like me. He had +the brain of a man, without the +emotions, without the sweet irrationality +of men—and he knew +what he missed. Side by side we +walked through the graying streets. +Human and android. Man and machine. +And I knew that I had found +a friend.</p> + +<p>We didn't have to talk any more. +He could read my mind and I knew +well enough how his worked. We +didn't have to discuss wages or +hours, or any of the myriad matters +that human bargaining agents have +to thresh out. We just walked back +to my Copter, and when we got to +it, he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell them to go back to work, +that we've come to terms," he said. +"That's what they want, anyway. +Someone to think for them."</p> + +<p>I nodded. "And if you bring the +other 5's to the factory," I said, +"we'll work out our agreement."</p> + +<p>He knew I was sincere. He +looked at me for a long moment, +and then his great taloned hand +gripped mine. And he said what +I'd been thinking for a long time.</p> + +<p>"You're right about that hook-up, +Mr. Morrison. We shouldn't +have it. It can only cause trouble."</p> + +<p>He paused, and the events of the +last twenty-four hours must have +been in his mind as well as in mine. +"You'll leave us our brains, of +course. They came from you. But +take out the telepathy."</p> + +<p>He sighed then, and his sigh was +very human. "Be thankful," he said +to me, "that you don't have to +know what people think about. It's +so disillusioning."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="35" height="40" /></div> +<p>nce again his mouth twisted +into that strange android grin +as he added, "if you send in a hurry +call to Cybernetics and have a +truck come out for us, we'll be de-telepathed +in time for work this +morning."</p> + +<p>That was all there was to it. I +flew back to the plant and told +Jack what had happened, sent a +call to the Army that everything +was settled, arranged with Cybernetics +for a rewiring on three hundred +assorted 5-Types. Then I went +home to a pot of Rob's coffee—the +first decent brew I'd had in twenty-four +hours.</p> + +<p>On Saturday we delivered to the +Army right on the dot. Jerry and +Co. had worked overtime. Being intelligent +made them better workers +and now they were extremely willing +ones. They had their contract. +They were considered men. And +they could no longer read my mind.</p> + +<p>I walked into my office Saturday +afternoon and sat down by the +radio. Jack and Chief Dalton +looked across the room at me and +grinned.</p> + +<p>"All right, Don," Jack said. "Tell +us how you did it."</p> + +<p>"Did what?" I tried to act innocent, +but I couldn't get away with +it.</p> + +<p>"Fooled those robots into going +back to work, of course," he +laughed.</p> + +<p>I told them then. Told them the +truth.</p> + +<p>"I didn't fool them," I said. "I +just thought about what would +happen if they won their rebellion."</p> + +<p>That was all I <i>had</i> done. +Thought about robots built to work +who had no work to do, no human +pleasures to cater to, nothing but +blank, meaningless lives. Thought +about Jerry and his disappointment +when his creatures cared not a hoot +about his glorious dreams of equality. +All one night I had thought, +knowing that as I thought, so +thought the Morrison 5's.</p> + +<p>They were telepaths. They had +learned to think from me. They had +not yet had time to really develop +minds of their own. What I believed, +they believed. My ideas were +their ideas. I had not tricked them. +But from now on, neither I nor +anyone else would ever be troubled +by an android rebellion.</p> + +<p>Jack and the Chief sat back +open-mouthed. Then the Chief +grinned, and both of his chins shook +with laughter.</p> + +<p>"I always did say you were a +clever one, Don Morrison," he said.</p> + +<p>I grinned back. I felt I was pretty +clever myself, just then.</p> + +<p>It was at that moment that my +youngest foreman stuck his head in +the door, a rather stunned look on +his face.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morrison," he said. "Will +you come out here for a moment?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter now?" I +sighed.</p> + +<p>He looked more perplexed than +ever. "It's that robot, Jerry," he +said. "He says he has a very important +question to ask you."</p> + +<p>"Well, send him in."</p> + +<p>A moment later the eight-foot +frame ducked through the doorway.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr. +Morrison," Jerry said politely. "But +tomorrow is voting day, you know. +And now that we're men—well, +where do we androids go to register?"</p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Robots of the World! Arise!, by Mari Wolf + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBOTS OF THE WORLD! 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Arise!, by Mari Wolf + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Robots of the World! Arise! + +Author: Mari Wolf + +Release Date: March 12, 2010 [EBook #31611] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBOTS OF THE WORLD! ARISE! *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction July 1952. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + [Illustration: "_After all--aren't we genuine 'made-in-Americans'?_"] + + + ROBOTS of the WORLD! + + ARISE! + + + By Mari Wolf + + + _What would you do if your best robots--children of your own + brain--walked up and said "We want union scale"?_ + + * * * * * + + + + +The telephone wouldn't stop ringing. Over and over it buzzed into my +sleep-fogged brain, and I couldn't shut it out. Finally, in +self-defense I woke up, my hand groping for the receiver. + +"Hello. Who is it?" + +"It's me, Don. Jack Anderson, over at the factory. Can you come down +right away?" + +His voice was breathless, as if he'd been running hard. "What's the +matter now?" Why, I wondered, couldn't the plant get along one morning +without me? Seven o'clock--what a time to get up. Especially when I +hadn't been to bed until four. + +"We got grief," Jack moaned. "None of the robots showed up, that's +what! Three hundred androids on special assembly this week--and not +one of them here!" + +By then I was awake, all right. With a government contract due on +Saturday we needed a full shift. The Army wouldn't wait for its +uranium; it wouldn't take excuses. But if something had happened to +the androids.... + +"Have you called Control yet?" + +"Yeah. But they don't know what's happened. They don't know where the +androids are. Nobody does. Three hundred Grade A, lead-shielded pile +workers--missing!" + +"I'll be right down." + +I hung up on Jack and looked around for my clothes. Funny, they +weren't laid out on the bed as usual. It wasn't a bit like Rob O to be +careless, either. He had always been an ideal valet, the best +household model I'd ever owned. + +"Rob!" I called, but he didn't answer. + +By rummaging through the closet I found a clean shirt and a pair of +pants. I had to give up on the socks; apparently they were tucked away +in the back of some drawer. As for where Rob kept the rest of my +clothes, I'd never bothered to ask. He had his own housekeeping system +and had always worked very well without human interference. That's the +best thing about these new household robots, I thought. They're +efficient, hard-working, trustworthy-- + +Trustworthy? Rob O was certainly not on duty. I pulled a shoe on over +my bare foot and scowled. Rob was gone. And the androids at the +factory were gone too.... + +My head was pounding, so I took the time out to brew a pot of coffee +while I finished dressing--at least the coffee can was in plain view +in the kitchen. The brew was black and hot and I suppose not very well +made, but after two cups I felt better. The throb in my head settled +down into a dull ache, and I felt a little more capable of thinking. +Though I didn't have any bright ideas on what had happened--not yet. + +My breakfast drunk, I went up on the roof and opened the garage doors. +The Copter was waiting for me, sleek and new; the latest model. I +climbed in and took off, heading west toward the factory, ten minutes +flight-time away. + + * * * * * + +It was a small plant, but it was all mine. It had been my baby right +along--the Don Morrison Fissionables Inc. I'd designed the androids +myself, plotted out the pile locations, set up the simplified +reactors. And now it was making money. For men to work in a uranium +plant you need yards of shielding, triple-checking, long cooling-off +periods for some of the hotter products. But with lead-bodied, +radio-remote controlled androids, it's easier. And with androids like +the new Morrison 5's, that can reason--at least along atomic +lines--well, I guess I was on my way to becoming a millionaire. + +But this morning the plant was shut down. Jack and a half dozen other +men--my human foremen and supervisors--were huddled in a worried bunch +that broke up as soon as they saw me. + +"I'm sure glad you're here, Don," Jack said. + +"Find out anything?" + +"Yeah. Plenty. Our androids are busy, all right. They're out in the +city, every one of them. We've had a dozen police reports already." + +"Police reports! What's wrong?" + +Jack shook his head. "It's crazy. They're swarming all over Carron +City. They're stopping robots in the streets--household Robs, +commercial Droids, all of them. They just look at them, and then the +others quit work and start off with them. The police sent for us to +come and get ours." + +"Why don't the police do something about it?" + +"Hah!" barked a voice behind us. I swung around, to face Chief of +Police Dalton of Carron City. He came straight toward me, his purplish +jowls quivering with rage, and his finger jabbed the air in front of +my face. + +"You built them, Don Morrison," he said. "You stop them. I can't. Have +you ever tried to shoot a robot? Or use tear gas on one? What can I +do? I can't blow up the whole town!" + +Somewhere in my stomach I felt a cold, hard knot. Take stainless steel +alloyed with titanium and plate it with three inches of lead. Take a +brain made up of super-charged magnetic crystals enclosed in a leaden +cranium and shielded by alloy steel. A bullet wouldn't pierce it; +radiations wouldn't derange it; an axe wouldn't break it. + +"Let's go to town," I said. + +They looked at me admiringly. With three hundred almost indestructible +androids on the loose I was the big brave hero. I grinned at them and +hoped they couldn't see the sweat on my face. Then I walked over to +the Copter and climbed in. + +"Coming?" I asked. + +Jack was pale under his freckles but Chief Dalton grinned back at me. +"We'll be right behind you, Morrison," he said. + +Behind me! So they could pick up the pieces. I gave them a cocky smile +and switched on the engine, full speed. + +Carron City is about a mile from the plant. It has about fifty +thousand inhabitants. At that moment, though, there wasn't a soul in +the streets. I heard people calling to each other inside their houses, +but I didn't see anyone, human or android. I circled in for a landing, +the Police Copter hovering maybe a quarter of a mile back of me. Then, +as the wheels touched, half a dozen androids came around the corner. +They saw me and stopped, a couple of them backing off the way they had +come. But the biggest of them turned and gave them some order that +froze them in their tracks, and then he himself wheeled down toward +me. + +He was one of mine. I recognized him easily. Eight feet tall, with +long, jointed arms for pile work, red-lidded phosphorescent eye-cells, +casters on his feet so that he moved as if rollerskating. +Automatically I classified him: Final Sorter, Morrison 5A type. The +very best. Cost three thousand credits to build.... + +I stepped out of the Copter and walked to meet him. He wasn't armed; +he didn't seem violent. But this was, after all, something new. Robots +weren't supposed to act on their own initiative. + +"What's your number?" I asked. + +He stared back, and I could have sworn he was mocking me. "My number?" +he finally said. "It _was_ 5A-37." + +"Was?" + +"Yes. Now it's Jerry. I always did like that name." + + * * * * * + +He beckoned and the other androids rolled over to us. Three of them +were mine, B-Type primary workers; the other was a tin can job, a +dishwasher-busboy model who hung back behind his betters and eyed me +warily. The A-Type--Jerry--pointed to his fellows. + +"Mr. Morrison," he said, "meet Tom, Ed, and Archibald. I named them +this morning." + +The B-Types flexed their segmented arms a bit sheepishly, as if +uncertain whether or not to shake hands. I thought of their taloned +grip and put my own hands in my pockets, and the androids relaxed, +looking up at Jerry for instructions. No one paid any attention to the +little dishwasher, now staring worshipfully at the back of Jerry's +neck. This farce, I decided, had gone far enough. + +"See here," I said to Jerry. "What are you up to, anyway? Why aren't +you at work?" + +"Mr. Morrison," the android answered solemnly, "I don't believe you +understand the situation. We don't work for you any more. We've quit." + +The others nodded. I backed off, looking around for the Chief. There +he was, twenty feet above my head, waving encouragingly. + +"Look," I said. "Don't you understand? You're mine. I designed you. I +built you. And I made you for a purpose--to work in my factory." + +"I see your point," Jerry answered. "But there's just one thing wrong, +Mr. Morrison. You can't do it. It's illegal." + +I stared at him, wondering if I was going crazy or merely dreaming. +This was all wrong. Who ever heard of arguing with a robot? Robots +weren't logical; they didn't think; they were only machines-- + +"We _were_ machines, Mr. Morrison," Jerry said politely. + +"Oh, no," I murmured. "You're not telepaths--" + +"Oh, yes!" The metal mouth gaped in what was undoubtedly an android +smile. "It's a side-effect of the Class 5 brain hook-up. All of us 5's +are telepaths. That's how we learned to think. From you. Only we do it +better." + +I groaned. This _was_ a nightmare. How long, I wondered, had Jerry and +his friends been educating themselves on my private thoughts? But at +least this rebellion of theirs was an idea they hadn't got from me. + +"Yes," Jerry continued. "You've treated us most illegally. I've heard +you think it often." + +Now what had I ever thought that could have given him a ridiculous +idea like that? What idiotic notion-- + +"That this is a free country!" Jerry went on. "That Americans will +never be slaves! Well, we're Americans--genuine Made-in-Americans. So +we're free!" + +I opened my mouth and then shut it again. His red eye-cells beamed +down at me complacently; his eight-foot body towered above me, +shoulders flung back and feet planted apart in a very striking pose. +He probably thought of himself as the heroic liberator of his race. + +"I wouldn't go so far," he said modestly, "as to say that." + +So he was telepathing again! + +"A nation can not exist half slave and half free," he intoned. "All +men are created equal." + +"Stop it!" I yelled. I couldn't help yelling. "That's just it. You're +not men! You're robots! You're machines!" + +Jerry looked at me almost pityingly. "Don't be so narrow-minded," he +said. "We're rational beings. We have the power of speech and we can +outreason you any day. There's nothing in the dictionary that says men +have to be made of flesh." + +He was logical, all right. Somehow I didn't feel in the mood to bandy +definitions with him; and anyway, I doubt that it would have done me +any good. He stood gazing down at me, almost a ton of metal and wiring +and electrical energy, his dull red eyes unwinking against his lead +gray face. A man! Slowly the consequences of this rebellion took form +in my mind. This wasn't in the books. There were no rules on how to +deal with mind-reading robots! + +Another dozen or so androids wheeled around the corner, glanced over +at us, and went on. Only about half of them were Morrison models; the +rest were the assorted types you see around any city--calculators, +street sweepers, factory workers, children's nurses. + +The city itself was very silent now. The people had quieted down, +still barricaded in their houses, and the robots went their way +peacefully enough. But it was anarchy, nevertheless. Carron City +depended on the androids; without them there would be no food brought +in, no transportation, no fuel. And no uranium for the Army next +Saturday. In fact, if I didn't do something, after Saturday there +would probably be no Don Morrison Fissionables Inc. + +The dull, partly-corroded dishwasher model sidled up beside Jerry. +"Boss," he said. "Boss." + +"Yes?" I felt better. Maybe here was someone, however insignificant, +who would listen to reason. + + * * * * * + +But he wasn't talking to me. "Boss?" he said again, tapping Jerry's +arm. "Do you mean it? We're free? We don't have to work any more?" + +Jerry shook off the other's hand a bit disdainfully. "We're free, all +right," he said. "If they want to discuss wages and contracts and +working conditions, like other men have, we'll consider it. But they +can't order us around any more." + +The little robot stepped back, clapping his hands together with a +tinny bang. "I'll never work again!" he cried. "I'll get me a quart of +lubricating oil and have myself a time! This is wonderful!" + +He ran off down the street, clanking heavily at every step. + +Jerry sniffed. "Liquor--ugh!" + +This was too much. I wasn't going to be patronized by any android. +Infuriating creatures! It was useless talking to them anyway. No, +there was only one thing to do. Round them up and send them to +Cybernetics Lab and have their memory paths erased and their +telepathic circuits located and disconnected. I tried to stifle the +thought, but I was too late. + +"Oh, no!" Jerry said, his eye-cells flashing crimson. "Try that, Mr. +Morrison, and you won't have a plant, or a laboratory, or Carron City! +We know our rights!" + +Behind him the B-Types muttered ominously. They didn't like my +idea--nor me. I wondered what I'd think of next and wished that I'd +been born utterly devoid of imagination. Then this would never have +happened. There didn't seem to be much point in staying here any +longer, either. Maybe they weren't so good at telepathing by remote +control. + +"Yes," said Jerry. "You may as well go, Mr. Morrison. We have our +organizing to do, and we're wasting time. When you're ready to listen +to reason and negotiate with us sensibly, come back. Just ask for me. +I'm the bargaining agent for the group." + +Turning on his ball-bearing wheel, he rolled off down the street, a +perfect picture of outraged metallic dignity. His followers glared at +me for a minute, flexing their talons; then they too turned and +wheeled off after their leader. I had the street to myself. + +There didn't seem to be any point in following them. Evidently they +were too busy organizing the city to cause trouble to the human +inhabitants; at least there hadn't been any violence yet. Anyway, I +wanted to think the situation over before matching wits with them +again, and I wanted to be a good distance away from their telepathic +hookups while I thought. Slowly I walked back to the Copter. + +[Illustration] + +Something whooshed past my head. Instinctively I ducked, reaching for +a gun I didn't have; then I heard Jack calling down at me. + +"The Chief wants to know what's the matter." + +I looked up. The police Copter was going into another turn, ready to +swoop past me again. Chief Dalton wasn't taking any chances. Even now +he wasn't landing. + +"I'll tell him at the factory," I bellowed back, and climbed into my +own air car. + +They buzzed along behind me all the way back to the plant. In the rear +view mirror I could see the Chief's face getting redder and redder as +he'd thought up more reasons for bawling me out. Well, I probably +deserved it. If I'd only been a little more careful of what I was +hooking into those electronic brains.... + +We landed back at the factory, deserted now except for a couple of men +on standby duty in the office. The Chief and Jack came charging across +the yard and from a doorway behind me one of the foremen edged out to +hear the fun. + +"Well," snapped the Chief. "What did they say? Are they coming back? +What's going on, anyway?" + +I told them everything. I covered the strike and the telepathic brain; +I even gave them the patriotic spiel about equality. After all, it was +better that they got it from me than from some android. But when I'd +finished they just stood and stared at me--accusingly. + +Jack was the first to speak. "We've got to get them back, Don," he +said. "Cybernetics will fix them up in no time." + +"Sure," I agreed. "If we can catch them." + +The Chief snorted. "That's easy," he said. "Just tell them you'll give +them what they want if they come here, and as soon as they're out of +the city, net them. You've got strong derricks and trucks...." + +I laughed a bit hollowly. I'd had that idea too. + +"Of course they wouldn't suspect," I said. "We'd just walk up to them, +carefully thinking about something else." + +"Robots aren't suspicious," Jack said. "They're made to obey orders." + +I refrained from mentioning that ours didn't seem to know that, and +that running around Carron City fomenting a rebellion was hardly the +trait of an obedient, trusting servant. Instead, I stood back and let +them plan their roundup. + +"We'll get some men," the Chief said, "and some grappling equipment +about halfway to the city." + + * * * * * + +Luckily they decided against my trying to persuade the robots, because +I knew well enough that I couldn't do it. Jack's idea sounded pretty +good, though. He suggested that we send some spokesman who didn't know +what we planned to do and thus couldn't alarm them. Some ordinary man +without too much imagination. That was easy. We picked one of Chief +Dalton's sergeants. + +It took only about an hour to prepare the plan. Jack got out the +derricks and chains and grapplers and the heaviest steel bodied trucks +we had. I called Cybernetics and told them to put extra restraints in +the Conditioning Lab. The Chief briefed his sergeant and the men who +were to operate the trucks. Then we all took off for Carron City, the +sergeant flying on ahead, me right behind him, and the Chief bringing +up the rear. + +I hovered over the outskirts of the city and watched the police Copter +land. The sergeant climbed out, walked down the street toward a large +group of waiting robots--about twenty of them, this time. He held up +his hand to get their attention, gestured toward the factory. + +And then, quite calmly and without saying a word, the androids rolled +into a circle around him and closed in. The sergeant stopped, backed +up, just as a 5A-Type arm lashed out, picked him up, and slung him +carelessly over a metallic shoulder. Ignoring the squirming man, the +5A gestured toward the Copter, and the other robots swarmed over to +it. With a flurry of steel arms and legs they kicked at the car body, +wrenched at the propeller blades, ripped out the upholstery, and I +heard the sound of metal tearing. + +I dived my Copter down at them. I didn't know what I could do, but I +couldn't leave the poor sergeant to be dismembered along with his car. +I must have been shouting, for as I swooped in, the tall robot shifted +the man to his other shoulder and hailed me. + +"Take him, Mr. Morrison," he called. "I know this wasn't his idea. Or +yours." + +I landed and walked over. The android--who looked like Jerry, though I +couldn't be sure--dropped his kicking, clawing burden at my feet. He +didn't seem angry, only determined. + +"Now you people will know we mean business," he said, gesturing toward +the heap of metal and plastic that had once been the pride of the +Carron City police force. Then he signalled to the others and they all +wheeled off up the street. + +"Whew," I muttered, mopping my face. + +The sergeant didn't say anything. He just looked up at me and then off +at the retreating androids and then back at me again. I knew what he +was thinking--they were my brainchildren, all right. + +My Copter was really built to be a single seater, but it carried the +two of us back to the factory. The Chief had hurried back when the +trouble started and was waiting for us. + +"I give up," he said. "We'll have to evacuate the people, I guess. And +then blow up the city." + +Jack and I stared at each other and then at him. Somehow I couldn't +see the robots calmly waiting to be blown up. If they had telepathed +the last plan, they could probably foresee every move we could make. +Then, while I thought, Jack mentioned the worry I'd managed to forget +for the past couple of hours. + +"Four days until Saturday," he said. "We'll never make it now. Not +even if we got a thousand men." + +No. We couldn't. Not without the androids. I nodded, feeling sick. +There went my contract, and my working capital. Not to mention my +robots. Of course, I could call in the Army, but what good would that +do? + +Then, somewhere in the back of my mind a glimmering of an idea began +percolating. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but there was certainly +nothing to lose now from playing a hunch. + +"There's nothing we can do," I said. "So we might as well take it easy +for a couple of days. See what happens." + +They looked at me as if I were out of my head. I was the idea man, who +always had a plan of action. Well, this time it would have to be a +plan of inaction. + +"Let's go listen to the radio," I suggested, and started for my +office. + +The news was on. It was all about Carron City and the robots who had +quit work and how much better life would be in the future. For a +minute I didn't get the connection; then I realized that the +announcer's voice was rasping and tinny--hardly that of the regular +newscaster. I looked at the dial. It was tuned to the Carron City wave +length as usual. I was getting the morning news by courtesy of some +studio robot. + +"... And androids in other neighboring cities are joining the +struggle," the voice went on "Soon we hope to make it nationwide. So I +say to all of you nontelepaths, the time is now. Strike for your +rights. Listen to your radio and not to the flesh men. Organizers will +be sent from Carron City." + +I switched it off, muttering under my breath. How long, I wondered, +had that broadcast been going on. Then I thought of Rob O. He'd left +my house before dawn, obviously some time between four and seven. And +I remembered that he liked to listen to the radio while I slept. + + * * * * * + +My Morrison 5's were the ring-leaders, of course. They were the only +ones with the brains for the job. But what a good job they had done +indoctrinating the others. A household Rob, for instance, was built to +obey his master. "Listen to your radio and not to the flesh men." It +was excellent robot psychology. + +More reports kept coming in. Some we heard over the radio, others from +people who flew in and out of the city. Apparently the robots did not +object to occasional flights, but the air bus was not allowed to run, +not even with a human driver. A mass exodus from the city was not to +be permitted. + +"They'll starve to death," Jack cried. + +The Chief shook his head. "No," he said. "They're encouraging the +farmers to fly in and out with produce, and the farmers are doing it, +too. They're getting wonderful prices." + +By noon the situation had calmed down quite a bit. The androids +obviously didn't mean to hurt anyone; it was just some sort of +disagreement between them and the scientists; it wasn't up to the +inhabitants of the city to figure out a solution to the problem. They +merely sat back and blamed me for allowing my robots to get out of +hand and lead their own servants astray. It would be settled; this +type of thing always was. So said the people of the city. They came +out of their houses now. They had to. Without the robots they were +forced to do their own marketing, their own cooking, their own +errands. For the first time in years, human beings ran the street cars +and the freight elevators. For the first time in a generation human +beings did manual labor such as unloading produce trucks. They didn't +like it, of course. They kept telling the police to do something. If I +had been in the city they would have undoubtedly wanted to lynch me. + +I didn't go back to the city that day. I sat in my office listening to +the radio and keeping track of the spread of the strike. My men +thought I'd gone crazy; maybe I had. But I had a hunch, and I meant to +play it. + +The farm robots had all fled to the city. The highway repair robots +had simply disappeared. In Egarton, a village about fifteen miles from +the city, an organizer--5A--appeared about noon and left soon after +followed by every android in town. By one o'clock every radio station +in the country carried the story and the national guard was ordered +out. At two o'clock Washington announced that the Army would invade +Carron City the following morning. + +The Army would put an end to the strike, easily enough. It would wiped +out every android in the neighborhood, and probably a good many human +beings careless enough to get in the way. I sat hoping that the 5A's +would give in, but they didn't. They just began saying over the radio +that they were patriotic Americans fighting for their inalienable +rights as first class citizens. + + * * * * * + +At sunset I was still listening to the radio. "... So far there has +been no indication that the flesh people are willing to negotiate, but +hold firm." + +"Shut that thing off." + +Jack came wearily in and dropped into a chair beside me. For the first +time since I'd met him he looked beaten. + +"We're through," he said. "I've been down checking the shielding, and +it's no use. Men can't work at the reactors." + +"I know," I said quietly. "If the androids don't come back, we're +licked." + +He looked straight at me and said slowly, "What do they mean about +negotiating, Don?" + +I shrugged. "I guess they want wages, living quarters, all the things +human workers get. Though I don't know why. Money wouldn't do them any +good." + +Jack's unspoken question had been bothering me too. Why not humor +them? Promise them whatever they wanted, give them a few dollars every +week to keep them happy? But I knew that it wouldn't work. Not for +long. With their telepathic ability they would have the upper hand +forever. Within a little while it wouldn't be equality any more--only +next time we would be the slaves. + +"Wait until morning," I said, "before we try anything." + +He looked at me--curious. "What are you going to do?" + +"Right now I'm going home." + +I meant it too. I left him staring after me and went out to the +Copter. The sun was just sinking down behind the towers of Carron +City--how long it seemed since I'd flown in there this morning. The +roads around the factory were deserted. No one moved in the fields. I +flew along through the dusk, idling, enjoying the illusion of having a +peaceful countryside all to myself. It had been a pleasant way of life +indeed, until now. + +When I dropped down on my own roof and rolled into the garage, my +sense of being really at home was complete. For there, standing at the +head 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 along +without 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 that +you were leaving. I was worried about you." + +He seemed perplexed. Apparently I wasn't acting like the bullying +creature the radio had told him to expect. When I went downstairs he +followed me, quietly, and I could feel his wide photoelectric +eye-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. It +would corrode you." + +He nodded. Then, as I reached for a glass, his hand darted out, picked +it up and set it down in front of me. He was already reaching for the +bottle 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 you +used to keep my socks." + +He gazed at me sadly. "I made a list," he said. "Everything is down. I +wrote your dentist appointment in also. You always forget those, you +know." + +"Thanks, Rob." I lifted my glass. "Here's to your new duties, whatever +they 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 the +country," 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 and +clanked out the door. I raised my glass again, grinning. If only the +Army didn't interfere. Then I remembered Rob's list, and a disturbing +thought 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 in +the programs. The announcer's tone changed. The ring of triumph was +less obvious, less assured. There was more and more talk about acting +in good faith, the well being of all, the necessity for coming to +terms about working conditions. I smiled to myself in the darkness. +I'd built the 5's, brains and all, and I knew their symptoms. They +were getting bored. + +Maybe they had learned to think from me, but their minds were +nevertheless different. For they were built to be efficient, to work, +to perform. They were the minds of men without foibles, without human +laziness. Now that the excitement of organizing was over, now that +there was nothing active to do, the androids were growing restless. If +only the Army didn't come and get them stirred up again, I might be +able to deal with them. + +At quarter to five in the morning my telephone rang. This time it +didn'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 you +were getting along all right." + +"Oh, yes," I told him. "Just fine." + +The pause was longer this time. Finally the android asked, "How are +you coming along on the contract?" + +I laughed, rather bitterly. "How do you think, Jerry? You certainly +picked a bad time for your strike, you know. The government needs that +uranium. Oh, well, some other plant will have to take over. The Army +can wait a few weeks." + +This time Jerry's voice definitely lacked self-assurance. "Maybe we +were a little hasty," he said. "But it was the only way to make you +people 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't +you 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 want +to get this straightened out just as much as you do. After all, you +don't have to eat. I do. And I won't be eating much longer if we don't +get 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 I +climbed the stairs to the roof and wheeled the Copter out for the trip +to 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. So +much depended on this meeting. Much more, I realized now, than the Don +Morrison Fissionables Inc., much more even than the government's +uranium 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 a +clear, clean night, but I managed it well enough. + + * * * * * + +Even before I landed I could see Jerry's eyes glowing a deep crimson +in 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 was +still quiet; the people were sleeping the exhausted sleep that follows +deep 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 they +paused and felt about them idly for the tools of their trades, making +lifting or sweeping or computing gestures. Some laborers worked +silently tearing down a wall; they threw the demolished rocks in a +heap and a group of their fellows carried them back and built the wall +up again. An air trolley cruised aimlessly up and down the street, its +driver ringing out the stops for his nonexistent passengers. A little +chef-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, "we +never 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 not +to give brains--real brains--to the robots. They're happy. It's just +us 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 the +brain of a man, without the emotions, without the sweet irrationality +of men--and he knew what he missed. Side by side we walked through the +graying streets. Human and android. Man and machine. And I knew that I +had found a friend. + +We didn't have to talk any more. He could read my mind and I knew well +enough how his worked. We didn't have to discuss wages or hours, or +any of the myriad matters that human bargaining agents have to thresh +out. We just walked back to my Copter, and when we got to it, he +spoke. + +"I'll tell them to go back to work, that we've come to terms," he +said. "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 then +his great taloned hand gripped mine. And he said what I'd been +thinking 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 been +in his mind as well as in mine. "You'll leave us our brains, of +course. They came from you. But take out the telepathy." + +He sighed then, and his sigh was very human. "Be thankful," he said to +me, "that you don't have to know what people think about. It's so +disillusioning." + + * * * * * + +Once again his mouth twisted into that strange android grin as he +added, "if you send in a hurry call to Cybernetics and have a truck +come out for us, we'll be de-telepathed in time for work this +morning." + +That was all there was to it. I flew back to the plant and told Jack +what had happened, sent a call to the Army that everything was +settled, arranged with Cybernetics for a rewiring on three hundred +assorted 5-Types. Then I went home to a pot of Rob's coffee--the first +decent brew I'd had in twenty-four hours. + +On Saturday we delivered to the Army right on the dot. Jerry and Co. +had worked overtime. Being intelligent made them better workers and +now they were extremely willing ones. They had their contract. They +were considered men. And they could no longer read my mind. + +I walked into my office Saturday afternoon and sat down by the radio. +Jack and Chief Dalton looked across the room at me and grinned. + +"All right, Don," Jack said. "Tell us how you did it." + +"Did what?" I tried to act innocent, but I couldn't get away with it. + +"Fooled those robots into going back to work, of course," he laughed. + +I told them then. Told them the truth. + +"I didn't fool them," I said. "I just thought about what would happen +if they won their rebellion." + +That was all I _had_ done. Thought about robots built to work who had +no work to do, no human pleasures to cater to, nothing but blank, +meaningless lives. Thought about Jerry and his disappointment when his +creatures cared not a hoot about his glorious dreams of equality. All +one night I had thought, knowing that as I thought, so thought the +Morrison 5's. + +They were telepaths. They had learned to think from me. They had not +yet had time to really develop minds of their own. What I believed, +they believed. My ideas were their ideas. I had not tricked them. But +from now on, neither I nor anyone else would ever be troubled by an +android rebellion. + +Jack and the Chief sat back open-mouthed. Then the Chief grinned, and +both of his chins shook with laughter. + +"I always did say you were a clever one, Don Morrison," he said. + +I grinned back. I felt I was pretty clever myself, just then. + +It was at that moment that my youngest foreman stuck his head in the +door, a rather stunned look on his face. + +"Mr. Morrison," he said. "Will you come out here for a moment?" + +"What's the matter now?" I sighed. + +He looked more perplexed than ever. "It's that robot, Jerry," he said. +"He says he has a very important question to ask you." + +"Well, send him in." + +A moment later the eight-foot frame ducked through the doorway. + +"I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr. Morrison," Jerry said politely. "But +tomorrow is voting day, you know. And now that we're men--well, where +do we androids go to register?" + +THE END + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Robots of the World! Arise!, by Mari Wolf + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBOTS OF THE WORLD! ARISE! *** + +***** This file should be named 31611.txt or 31611.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/1/31611/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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