"S-o-t, sot. An alcoholic. A drunkard. One who imbibes intoxicating
liquors."
Raymond jumped out of the chair and threw his glass and cigar on the
carpet violently. The cigar sizzled in the midst of the foaming liquid.
He glared at the android. "You go to hell!"
"As I have repeatedly attempted to impress upon your happy, pickled
brain, sir," the android said, "It is impossible for me to go there."
"That isn't exactly what I meant."
"In that case, sir, I would suggest that hereafter you say what you
mean."
Raymond swore. He swayed uncertainly, and then dropped back into the
chair. He reached out to the floating table for a fresh cigar, jammed
it in his mouth, and chewed it nervously. He was a short, chubby man,
with brown, thinning hair, a double chin, and lines around his mouth,
where a friendly smile had recently met an untimely death.
Raymond pulled his cigar out of his mouth and stared at the wet soggy
end. He moved his head from side to side, turned his gaze on the
android, and muttered through his teeth, "You and your impeccable
androidal exterior have got to go."
The decision immediately had a relaxing effect. Raymond's moist brow
unwrinkled itself momentarily, and he almost smiled at the thought.
"Allow me to point out, sir," the android said. "That you have, to
date, invested approximately three thousand dollars in my interior and
exterior, as well."
Raymond nodded sadly. "Not to mention fifteen more easy, cardiovascular
producing payments." He placed his hand over the spot, where, deep
down, his heart was located. Satisfied that it was still there, he
said, "I've got a lot of expensive money tied up in you, but if I have
to choose between mechanical misery and matrimonial bliss, I'll settle
for Paula's brand of inhuman torture."
"That, sir, is extremely faulty, illogical, and irrational reasoning.
Typical, however, of most humans."
Raymond smiled grimly and stood up. "If you will watch closely, oh,
loyal servant, you will note that I am about to do something not so
typical of my assorted human friends."
Walking unsteadily over to the bar, he reached into a small drawer, and
withdrew a small plastic container labeled: SOBERUPPER.
"In fact," Raymond said, as he removed two pills and tossed them into
his mouth, "I must be out of my mind."
He swallowed hard, blinked, and gasped. For a moment he leaned heavily
on the bar. Then suddenly, clarity. The room was brighter. The drab
grays resolved into blue and yellow pastel panelling along the walls.
The carpeting was a rich deep blue. The polished floating ebony slab
glittered in the room.
"Come on, Android. We're heading for the big city."
* * * * *
The city, as they flew over it, was a blazing ocean of roof-top
advertisements, designed to attract the attention of the overhead
traffic.
Raymond threw a switch and a private radar beacon blipped brightly
on his jetcopter's screen. He touched a button and the controls
automatically guided the craft towards a gigantic flashing sign, which
proclaimed: GENERAL ANDROIDS.
The jetcopter dropped onto the roof-top parking lot with a thud. The
android and Raymond climbed out and took the nearest escalator down to
the mezzanine. They entered the Sales Manager's office, where Raymond
cornered Mr. Krutchamer, the Assistant Sales Manager, and quickly
explained the difficulties with the android.
Mr. Krutchamer was a small wiry man with a surprisingly deep,
impressive voice. He shrugged his slight shoulders, after listening
patiently, and said, "Doesn't sound like a mechanical manifestation to
me, sir."
"Mechanical or electronical," Raymond demanded perplexed, "what's the
difference?"
"Well, sir," Mr. Krutchamer began with a flashing white-toothed smile,
"you've had your android for three months, and while our guarantee is
for one year, it specifically spells out an unconditional warranty
against mechanical defects."
"No guarantee against any electronic defects?"
The little man shook his head emphatically. "No, sir. All electrical
parts are guaranteed, of course, for thirty days, but you've had the
android for ninety days."
Mr. Krutchamer's face was sad, his eyebrows crept down over his eyes,
and his voice dropped to a confidential decibel level. "I'm sorry,
sir, but your problem sounds more like a chronic psycho-electronic
condition. I would recommend that you see a PRD."
"What's that?" Raymond was annoyed. His face was flushed and he
squinted at the little man.
"Doctor of Psychiatric Robotory."
"This android doesn't need Psycho-therapy, damn it," Raymond said
hotly. "Maybe some minor adjustment with a heavy monkey wrench. But
that's all."
"Perhaps." The little man turned on the smile. "The important thing
in an android is that it function properly and efficiently. We are
prepared in every way to keep your android in perfect operating
condition, but we do not feel that it is at all necessary to concern
ourselves with an android's alleged thoughts or vocal expressions.
After all, it is only an android. A machine. A clever machine, but a
machine."
"This clever machine has driven my wife out of our home, and is edging
me into a cybernetic psychoneurosis."
Raymond walked stiffly out of the Sales Manager's office on to the
balcony that overlooked the various androids that were on display in
the showroom below and stared at the section designated MANSERVANT.
There was an astonishing variety of tall, short, slim, fat, young,
middle-aged, and old looking androids.
Mr. Krutchamer approached him slowly. Raymond fought back his annoyance
and asked in desperation, "What kind of deal can you give me on a trade
in?"
The Assistant Sales Manager smiled and said thoughtfully, "Let me
see." He turned and examined the android. He looked it up and down,
walked around in back of it, and looked it up and down some more. Then
he circled it slowly three times, and concluded the ritual by making
clucking noises with his teeth.
Finally Mr. Krutchamer said, "Can't give you too much, you realize. It
isn't equipped with radar, or any navagational instruments, or even the
built-in computer. About as high as I can go would be one thousand."
"One thousand!" exclaimed Raymond. "That would leave a balance of
almost four thousand, plus the balance I've already got on this one."
The android stared at Raymond and said, "I could have told you that
before you came down here, sir."