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diff --git a/31611.txt b/31611.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b94338 --- /dev/null +++ b/31611.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1281 @@ +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: 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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