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FIRST YEAR COURSE: I said what happened to the spaceship. He said its still hidden in the swamp and when he gets the chance he’s getting out of here and going home. Apr .14—FinishedRobinson Crusoe.I want to find out more about what happens to him but Miss Kinnian says thats all there is.Why? I went on drinking soup, but I wondered. Perhaps the story was true. Still, I didnt need to put Godfrey on to her— I could tell her myself. The first robots were pretty shoddyBack in the Seventies.They were uncoordinated and clumsyAnd they thought too slowlyAnd they didnt understand more than a few simple wordsAnd they would wash a dish to a powderIf you didn’t stop them in time.So in August of 1978Arthur Chumley called in the Product Development GroupOf Chumley RobotAnd in they cameWith the latest model.It clanked over to Arthur ChumleyAnd saidHello (klik) Mister (klik) Chumley (klik).And put out its hand.But before Arthur Chumley could shake the handIt had knocked over a gilded bust of himBadly denting the halo.“This is not good,”Said Arthur Chumley.“We must think, we must draw, we must work“To build the More Perfect Robot.“Build me a robot“That does everything our present model does“But has none of its clumsy, uncoordinated movements.“And while you’re at it“Knock its weight down to two hundred kilos.”And he chased them all out of his officeAnd he looked at the sales graphAnd he poured himself a bourbon-and-water.Easy on the water.A year and two months laterIn October of 1979The Product Development Group marched in proudlyWith their robot.It walked smoothly and gracefully over to Arthur ChumleyAnd said“Hello (klik) Mister (klik) Chumley (klik),”And held out its handWhich Arthur Chumley shook.“Make me a Chumley Martini,”Said Arthur Chumley.But the robot did not make him a Chumley Martini.Instead, it said“(Whir) (buzz) (klik) (whir) (klik) (buzz) (paf!)”And blew a $4.79 pentode tubeSignifying Arthur Chumley had said something beyond its grasp.Whereupon Arthur Chumley leaned backAnd folded his pudgy hands over the convenient ledgeMade by his stomachAnd said“This is not good.“We must think, we must draw, we must work“To build the More Perfect Robot.“Build me a robot“That does everything our present model does“And has a complete working vocabulary“To fit its particular function.“And while you’re at it“Get rid of that damn (klik) it makes switching tapes.”And he chased them all out of his officeAnd he looked at the sales graphAnd he made himself a Chumley Martini:Three ounces of gin in a cocktail glassAnd smiled at the portrait of Martini& Rossi.Six years and six months laterIn April of 1986The Product Development Group trooped inWith their robot.It walked over to Arthur ChumleyAnd said“Good morning, Mister Chumley.”And Arthur Chumley turned to the Product Development GroupAnd said“Do you know what’s going to happen if we market this thing?”And the Group members all quiveredAnd shook their headsAnd the robot said it did not.“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen if we market this thing,”Said Arthur Chumley.“The entire American public is going to laugh at us“If we market this thing.“And do you know why?”And the Group members all quiveredAnd shook their headsAnd the robot said it did not.“I’ll tell you why.“Because they have a right to laugh at a company“That markets a robot“That says Good morning’ at four-thirty in the afternoon.”Said Arthur Chumley.And he sat down at his deskAnd put his head in his handsAnd said“This is not good.“We must think, we must draw, we must work“To build the More Perfect Robot.“Build me a robot“That does everything our present model does“And can see“And smell“And hear“And taste“And feel.“And while you’re at it“Cover it with a soft, fleshlike substance“So it looks like a human being.“And just for the hell of it“Give it the ability to perceive a person’s emotional state“From his actions“And know how to act accordingly.”And he had a vice-president throw them all out of his officeAnd he looked at the sales graphAnd he went to the liver bank.Twenty-two years and eleven months laterIn March of 1999The Product Development Group snivelled inWith their robot.It seated the Group ChairmanRemarking about how cold it had been last night.Then it walked over to Arthur ChumleyAnd held out its soft, fleshlike handWhich Arthur Chumley ignored.Somewhat disconcertedThe robot said“How are you, Mister Chumley?”Whereupon Arthur Chumley replied“Miserable. My wife had an affair with my best friendAnd my servants have run off with my planeAnd all my clothes.”And the robot smiledAnd said“You’re joking, Mister Chumley.”And Arthur Chumley leaned forwardAnd said“You’re right. I’m joking.”And Arthur Chumley turned to the Product Development GroupAnd said“I am proud of you.“I gave you a very difficult task:“To build the More Perfect Robot.“But you did it.“And now I will give you an even more difficult task:“To buildThe Perfect Robot.“Build me a robot that is a companion.“Build me a robot that is a friend.“Build me a robot that can feel emotion“And can pass for human“And that, gentlemen, will be The Perfect Robot.”And he dismissed them from his officeAnd he looked at the sales graphAnd he smiledFor he knew that in a few yearsThe Group would present him with The Perfect Robot.And they didEarly in the May of 2039.Seven years and six months after thatIn December of 2046The people from Beta Centaurus IV came.They didn’t invadeThey just cameAnd they’re our very best friends now.They were interested in our technologyAnd one dayArthur Chumley was talking to one of them in his office.They picked up the language rather quickly.He was telling itAbout the timeAnd moneyAnd effort they had expendedTo build a robotThat had smooth, agile movementsAnd weighed only two hundred kilosAnd had a complete working vocabularyTo fit its particular functionAnd made no damn (klik) switching tapesAnd could seeAnd smellAnd hearAnd tasteAnd feelAnd was covered with a soft, fleshlike substanceAnd could perceive a person’s emotional stateAnd act accordinglyAnd was a companion and a friendAnd could feel emotionAnd could pass for human.Whereupon the Centurian said“He can’t do much of anything you can’t do.“Why not just hire people to do the same things?”And Arthur Chumley chuckledAnd leaned back And opened his mouthTo tell the Centurian why not.And then he closed his mouthAnd excused himselfAnd went downstairsAnd hailed a cabAnd went homeAnd dashed off a few notes to his wife and brokerAnd packed four suitcases with stocks and bonds and moneyAnd closed out all his bank accountsAnd went to the spaceportAnd chartered a small shipAnd disappeared. ... Casey said,TheStar, Professor. Editor sent me to get a few shots. Perhaps it would be even more valid to say that Zelazny— and Ballard, who follows here—are the kind of writers working in and out of SF, who are making the idea of a separate field disappear. I have a slight suspicion that the basic difficulty is that we cant get anything even approximating a workable concept of Justice so long as we consider equality a necessary, inherent part of it. The Law of Gravity applies equally to all bodies in the Universe—but that doesn’t mean that the force of gravity is the same for all! Hartford laughed. "We want to repatriate her— know where she is?" . . . Weknow how you feel about England; we feel that way about the States—well, the 0.0001% ofit we saw. Well be back. And we do thank you for the time we spent with you, and the lick of American myth we saw through your eyes. . . . Possibly. What can you tell me about the man who founded the Solidarity Party, Nathaniel Dobbs? "The kid. I dont want the kid to see me like this." Eggs! Two! Surprised wrung the exclamation from me. Her hand hesitated over the crumpled brown bag on the table. No, no!” I corrected her thought hastily. “One. One is plenty.” And sat on the edge of a chair watching as she broke an egg into the sizzling frying pan. When the search party came for him, Traven hid in the only logical place. Fortunately the search was perfunctory, and was called off after a few hours. The sailors had brought a supply of beer with them and the search soon turned into a drunken excursion. ART BUCHWALD As we approached the house through a neat cobbled yard a tall middle-aged man in ash-coloured tweeds arose and waved to us. He had been sitting on the low rubble wall which bounded the yard, smoking a pipe and staring towards the house. At the front window of the cottage a young woman in a tangerine dress stood with a small boy in her arms, but she turned uninterestedly and moved out of sight as we drew near. I have a worry, Diosdado said. It seems to me there is something illegal about this magic penny.” Biev didnt look up. Gargarin knew the other to be a man of the sole thought, meaning he didn’t hear him. Then Gargarin saw it too. What is this? And he picked it up. It was a small flaxen bag of peasant manufacture, easily fitting into the palm of the man’s hand. He took a sampling from the bag. “Seeds of some sort.” He gave her a long, curious look.Do you mean to say you dont know?.
