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The cars and the kids were of another race. Groups of them formed, broke up and re-formed. Radios brought in a dozen stations. They drank Cokes and perched in dense flocks on open convertibles. They wandered from car to car. It had a strange carnival flavor, yet more ceremonial. From time to time somebody would start one of the car engines, rev it up to a bursting roar, and let it die away. Got to go, Ma, he thought quickly, that corporal fellers yellin’ again. You take care, Ma.” 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. ... 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