"I'm a stranger here too. But I'd guess it was some sort of gambling
place."
Alan jingled the few coins he had in his pocket. "If we had time I'd
like to stop off. But----"
"Go ahead, friend, go ahead," the robot crooned, his metallic tones
somehow managing to sound almost human in their urgent pleading. "Go on
in. One credit can win you ten. Five can get you a hundred."
"Some other time," Alan said.
"But, friend--one credit can win you----"
"I know."
"--ten," the robot continued, undismayed. "Five can get you a hundred."
By this time the robot had edged out into the street, blocking Alan's
path.
"Are we going to have trouble with you too? It looks like everybody in
this city is trying to sell something."
The robot pointed invitingly toward the door. "Why not try it?" it
cooed. "Simplest game ever devised. Everybody wins! Go on in, friend."
Alan frowned impatiently. He was getting angrier and angrier at the
robot's unceasing sales pitch. Aboard ship, no one coaxed you to do
anything; if it was an assigned job, you did it without arguing, and if
you were on free time you were your own master.
"I don't want to play your stupid game!"
The robot's blank stainless vanadium face showed no display of feeling
whatsoever. "That's not the right attitude, friend. _Everyone_ plays the
game."
Ignoring him, Alan started to walk ahead, but the robot skipped lithely
around to block him. "Won't you go in just once?"
"Look," Alan said. "I'm a free citizen and I don't want to be subjected
to this sort of stuff. Now get out of my way and leave me alone before I
take a can opener to you."
"That's not the right attitude. I'm just asking you as a friend----"
"And I'm answering you as one. Let me go!"
"Calm down," Rat whispered.
"They've got no business putting a machine out here to bother people
like this," Alan said hotly. He took a few more steps and the robot
plucked at his sleeve.
"Is that a final refusal?" A trace of incredulity crept into the robot's
voice. "Everyone plays the game, you know. It's unconsumerlike to
refuse. It's uncitylike. It's bad business. It's unrotational. It's----"
Exasperated, Alan pushed the robot out of the way--hard. The metal
creature went over surprisingly easily, and thudded to the pavement with
a dull clanking sound.
"Are you sure----" the robot began, and then the voice was replaced by
the humming sound of an internal clashing of unaligned gears.
"I guess I broke it." Alan looked down at the supine robot. "But it
wasn't my fault. It wouldn't let me pass."
"We'd better move on," Rat said. But it was too late. A burly man in a
black cloak threw open the door of the gambling parlor and confronted
Alan.
"What sort of stuff is this, fellow? What have you done to our servo?"
"That thing wouldn't let me pass. It caught hold of me and tried to drag
me inside your place."
"So what? That's what he's for. Robohucksters are perfectly legal."
Disbelief stood out on the man's face. "You mean you don't want to go
in?"
"That has nothing to do with it. Even if I _did_ want to go in, I
wouldn't--not after the way your robot tried to push me."
"Watch out, kid. Don't make trouble. That's unrotational talk. You can
get in trouble. Come on inside and have a game or two, and I'll forget
the whole thing. I won't even bill you for repairs on my servo."
"Bill me? I ought to sue you for obstructing the streets! And I just got
through telling your robot that I didn't plan to waste any time gambling
at your place."