_We all know that every android has
its little idiosyncrasies. But what can
a civilized human being do about it when
his perfect servant drives him crazy?_
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The chubby woman glared at the android and dropped her suitcase on the
floor. She turned to her husband and said in an angry, unsteady voice,
"I'm leaving." Her double chin trembled. "I can't stand the sight of
that thing another second."
Raymond Golden gripped his empty glass with both hands, leaned forward
tensely in the chair, and tried to find the right words.
"Paula," he began helplessly. "Please wait. I'll get it fixed, or sell
it, or trade it in. I'll do something."
Mrs. Golden pointed a shaky, pudgy finger. "I'll never come back as
long as _that_ is here."
She bent to pick up her suitcase. The android approached silently and
stared at her posterior.
"Madam," the android said, "you are getting quite fat."
Paula's back snapped upward. Her face was red and there were dark
shadows under her eyes. "I can't stand it!" she shrieked. "I can't! I
can't!"
* * * * *
The words pierced Raymond's skull, exploded and splattered within. He
winced under the barrage. Paula ignored the automatic door button, and
flung the plastic slab open with her hand.
The android followed her with its cold stare and spoke in its perfect
voice. "Madam, that dress is atrocious. I would suggest that you change
at once to your gray, princess silk, which will, at least, create the
impression of slenderness."
Paula screamed hysterically and ran out of the apartment. The android
moved swiftly to the door and called after her, "Farewell, Madam. Watch
your weight. Take care."
It pushed the button on the wall and the door swung shut.
The dreaded ultimatum had at last been carried out, and Raymond felt
helpless, numbed. Indecision settled upon him like a leaden cloak and
pulled him back against the foam-air-rest, where his head wobbled
uncomfortably. He closed his burning, blood-shot eyes, and found no
peace. He rubbed them with his free hand, and opened his vision to the
staring android.
Without any conscious thought, his arm extended in a slow, habitual
motion. The android responded automatically, plucked the empty glass
out of his hand, and said, "You drink too much, sir."
Raymond nodded irritably. "I know. You've reiterated that profound
spiritual message with monotonous irregularity."
"But you do, you know."