This surely was the blackest of
crimes--to be newly built, and
lead the blind, and be a friend
beyond all human understanding.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Universe September 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
_Ray Cummings has delighted two generations of science fantasy
readers with his unforgettable tales of the infinitely small and
the infinitely large. We are all atom conscious today, but Ray was
the first to discern the realms of gold spinning in miraculous
splendor far below the threshold of the visible. He has explored
newer realms here, in a story so human and heart-warming you won't
be ashamed to shed a tear on completing it._
2 RY could remember the quick bright warmth of the afternoon sun on his
burnished copper and silvery plating. He could remember every prideful
moment of his early training in the big yard of the James Erg factory.
Every afternoon, at first only in good weather, he and others of the
newly-built had been taken into the yard from the quiet dimness of
the storeroom indoors. Not only was he the largest, the finest robot
of them all, but he was the most intricately constructed and the most
adept at complicated tasks. And he had been the first of the newer
models to be trained.
There were only twenty-five others of Model 2 RY under
construction--the supreme achievement of the genius of James Erg,
the culmination of a lifetime of work. For a quarter of a century no
other robot-builder had been able to compete with the world famous Erg
product.
The big Erg factory in the suburbs of New York dominated the world
market, its products ranging from modest one-task models up to the
most elaborate. Model 2 RY was now the most elaborate, costing two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It was guaranteed slow-trained over
a full two year period. The training included, of course, additional
instruction for any specialized tasks desired by its purchaser; and
association with the members of his family so that the timbre of their
human voices would produce no untoward reactions.
2 RY was big, just under seven feet. His frozen countenance, with its
square-cut contours, and faceted eyes, and his sturdy body-box gave him
the aspect of a rough-hewn statue, but was in no way grotesque. His
voice, hollow yet with several emotional gradations to it, was soft and
pleasing. He could remember that the human voice of the Instructor was
very much like his own--gentle and quiet, and beguiling in its infinite
patience.
2 RY had been taught just simple things at first. "Toory, come here."
He had learned to balance upright the first day. "Come, Toory. Stand
here by me." With his great jointed legs swinging, and sometimes
clanking because of his untrained awkwardness, Toory would obey.
"Very good, Toory. Now--sit down. Flat--all the way down. That's it,
Toory."
How patient the man had remained! "Now--raise your right hand. No, not
that one. The _right_ hand, Toory. That's splendid!"
And when he failed to realize he had made a mistake, the question would
come again. "You're using your left hand. Do you understand, Toory?"
"Yes," Toory would say.
He could remember every glorious moment of those two years. Outdoors
in rainy weather, with the rain dimming his eye-lenses so that he
had to learn to polish them with a bit of fabric. And more often in
cold weather when all his motions seemed to require more effort. His
reactions then would be slower if he did not automatically quicken
them. Quite as varied were the many tasks indoors in the training
rooms. They were mostly domestic tasks, because Toory had been designed
essentially, not for factory or business work, but for the home.
At last he realized that his training was over, and one day soon after
that, his prospective purchaser came. His name was Robert Doret. He
was a wealthy man and an important one. The faint, red-glowing beams
from Toory's eyes, deep-set under his ridged brows, gazed down in
apprehension at the man who perhaps might buy him.
"So you're trained to be called 'Toory'?" Robert Doret asked. "Is that
correct?"
"Yes," Toory replied, striving to remain calm.
"You're right," Doret said to James Erg, who stood beside him. "Quite a
pleasant, well-modulated voice. Certainly far more human-sounding than
the other models."
"Try him on emotion," Erg suggested.
Doret thought a moment. "I'm not sure I'm entirely pleased with you,
Toory," he said.
"I do not understand why," Toory murmured, contritely. "But I am sorry."
"You will find several emotion-gradations like that," Erg said.
"I see. Yes, it's a very impressive model, Erg--far in advance of your
others." Doret smiled thoughtfully. He was a small man, bulging about
the middle, with a rosy, pleasant face. "I guess he's worth the price,
Erg."
The skin around the blue eyes crinkled with tiny traceries of white
lines and Toory suddenly felt glad that Robert Doret might purchase
him. It was like the glow he experienced when he understood a task, and
accomplished it perfectly.
The next day Toory learned that the sale had been made. He was to serve
in Doret's country home, up in the hills north of the city. Toory
needed no specialized training for that. But he learned that there
was to be intensive, new-task instruction for a month to prepare him
for his duties as a domestic helper for Babs Doret, the purchaser's
daughter, for whom he had been bought.
She came with her father the next day--a small, brown-haired girl in a
trim blue suit. Toory learned afterward that she was eighteen years old.
"This is Miss Babs, Toory," Erg explained. "You'll have to learn her
voice well, and be quick to obey. Speak to her now."
"Yes, Miss Babs," Toory said.
"Talk to him, Babs," Doret urged.
"Hello, Toory," Babs said. "Give me your hand. I want to grasp it."
Toory's mailed hand was sheathed in a soft black glove. He was careful
to keep his work-pincer retracted as he had been taught. He held out
his hand, keeping it well lowered because the girl was quite small, two
feet shorter than himself. Her own hand fumbled around for an instant.
Fumbled because--Babs Doret was blind.
"It will be comforting," she said, when her fingers at last closed over
the glove. "Father, you've made me very happy."
"The new training should not take more than a month," Erg said. "You
must work with him an hour or two each day. You'd better practice
walking with him in the city traffic, if you plan to go into the city."
"Not much," Babs said. "Certainly for this summer, anyway, I'll be
staying close to home."
"One of my Operatives will report tomorrow," Erg told her. "I'll
deliver Toory to you this afternoon.... You will learn the new tasks,
Toory?"
"Yes," Toory promised.
Then in the big Erg truck he was taken up into the hills to the Doret
summer home where he remained under wait-command in the foyer until
the Instructor arrived the next day. How warmly he remembered him from
the training periods in the factory. Immediately the new-task training
began. It was simple, letting Babs Doret hold his dangling gloved hand,
leading her where she directed him to go.
For only a short while was the Erg man really needed. The three of them
took long walks together so that Toory would become familiar with the
neighborhood.
With the Instructor intently watching, Toory soon learned to lead the
girl safely through the traffic of the village streets. Quickly he
developed a sixth-sense alertness to the dangers to Babs that must be
seen, and avoided. That was the important thing--avoiding danger to
this blind girl whose hand he held, avoiding it so that instantly with
permanent order for automatic action instilled in him, his response
would come with split-second timing.
The voice of the Instructor remained everlastingly patient when for
the hundredth time he repeated the permanent-order so that it would be
impressed on Toory beyond the possibility of error.
"Danger to Miss Babs must be avoided, Toory. _Danger to Miss Babs. Any
danger._ Do you understand, Toory?"
"Yes," Toory replied.
He learned all the traffic signals quickly. He was pleased with a
warmth inside him that kept getting brighter. "He's all right," the
Erg man said at last. "We've certainly given him plenty of tests, Miss
Doret. His reactions are all that could be desired."
"Yes," Babs agreed. "You've no idea how comforting it is, how safe I
feel."
It was nice that she was pleased. She asked, "You're not mixed up about
anything, Toory?"
"No," Toory replied.
Then the Erg man went away, and Toory's independent service began. It
caused him no confusion. There were the daily walks with Miss Babs,
sometimes shopping trips to the village, and visits to the homes of her
friends. Everywhere Toory was admired, so large and shining a model he
seemed, so comprehensive and smooth of response. Toory glowed inwardly.
His brain-tapes received the warmth, and his memory etched it down.
There was really little for Toory to do but assist and watch over Babs.
The Doret home was a many-roomed, spacious house set in a grove of
trees on a heavily wooded hillside a mile from the village. There were
several human servants, and on the day of his arrival they had come in
a little group to gaze at him curiously.
Babs told him their names and their general duties. There was Annie,
the maid, and Higgins and his wife who served as steward and cook.
There were also Tom, the chauffeur, Nerina, who was Miss Babs' personal
maid, and old Jacques, the gardener.
Mrs. Higgins, that first day, had seemed alarmed. Her whisper to her
husband had been very faint, but Toory's electronic hearing-grids had
picked it up clearly. "Sure gives you the creeps, that thing lookin' at
you with them red eye-beams."
All the other human servants had warmed to Toory, but Mrs. Higgins
had remained hostile. "It's because we ain't never worked in a house
with one of those _machines_, Miss Babs," her husband had murmured,
apologetically. "Not even a little one."
"She'll get used to it," Miss Babs assured him. "None of you will
ever have to give him an order. He'll stand here in the foyer under
wait-command when I don't need him."
There was little confusion in Toory's new life. During the nights the
foyer and the rooms adjoining it were dim and silent, so that Toory's
eye-beams remained motionless while he waited. But by day his gaze
roamed a bit, because there was more sound and movement.
Annie the parlour maid would be cleaning and dusting, or the thin,
sharp-faced Gil Higgins would be moving about, swiftly, deftly at his
duties. And there also was Nerina--she who was Miss Babs' personal
maid--who quite often darted to and fro. Of them all, only Nerina ever
spoke to him. She would say "Morning, Toory." And Miss Babs had taught
him to respond with a cheery "Hello!"
It was all very comfortable to Toory as his memory-tapes etched down
the many little incidents of the passing days. There was never any
bewilderment. He made no mistakes, and he rejoiced in the warmth of
his memories. All the things going on around him here in a house that
had been new at first, but that now seemed completely homelike. Mostly
Toory liked going out with Babs, which they did nearly every afternoon
when the weather was right.
Generally they stayed out quite a long time. But there was one
afternoon when they started, and came quickly back. Feeling unusually
tired, Miss Babs went at once upstairs to her room and Toory resumed
his silent, motionless wait-command in the foyer recess.
For a while there was nothing for his eye-beams to follow. Then he
heard the soft tread of Higgins moving about in the library. In the
quiet, somber dimness, Toory's eye-beams shifted. Through the foyer
archway he could see Higgins clearly.
The steward was sliding back a wall panel, disclosing a big square
metal box which was built solidly into the space behind it. As Toory
watched, Higgins turned a knob on the box. It opened, and Higgins took
something out and dropped it into his right coat pocket--something
which for an instant as Higgins held it, sparkled in the faint light.
Toory had seen the sparkling object before. He had seen it on Miss
Babs' neck, and he recognized it instantly.
It was a new incident. Never before had he seen anyone open the big
metal box except Babs and her father. Higgins closed the box at once,
wiping it off carefully with his handkerchief. It was like watching
Annie dusting furniture. Then he slid the panel closed, wiped that off
also, and came quickly out into the foyer. His tread was almost silent
on the heavy rugs as he went back toward the pantry.
In the foyer suddenly he noticed Toory. It seemed to frighten him.
"Gawd! It saw me!" he muttered to himself. "The blarsted machine--"
All the rest of that afternoon Toory could feel confusion faintly
stirring in him, because what Higgins had done had been something
_new_. He was vaguely relieved when Nerina passed him, going upstairs
with Miss Babs' supper.
"Hello, Toory," she said as she went past.
"Hello," he responded.
There were no visitors that evening. Mr. Doret had gone away for about
a week, and in his absence the house was much quieter. Still under
wait-command, Toory stood in the hall with almost nothing to see, and
little to hear.
At midnight he automatically shifted to be on guard-command. It had
been part of his training, and after a little while he had never failed
to respond properly to the surprise tests the Instructor had devised
for him.
Now Toory's sight-beams were intensified, compensating the dimmer
light; and the audio-circuits were at the highest magnification. He
could hear many faint and distant tiny sounds, sounds which no human
ear could distinguish. Already he was familiar with the accustomed
sounds of the night. There was always the faint whir of the many
electronic appliances in the house, blending with the ponderous ticking
of the big hall clock. And often the stir of the breeze under the
eaves. Especially on windy nights.
Distant murmurs of voices inside the house always came distinctly to
Toory when he was on guard-command. A few floated to him now.
"Yeah, his name's Peter and he's a nice boy, too. Got plenty of money.
Soon as I met him he started spending it on me." Toory knew that was
Annie the parlour maid, who roomed high upstairs with Nerina.
Presently there were other, very faint murmurs, faint because they came
from the top of the most distant wing of the big house.
"Sure I hid it. You don't think I'd be such a fool, keeping it here
in the house? It's hid down in the woods, in that place I showed you.
Thirty thousand pounds sterling we'll get for the diamond-string. It's
worth easy that."
"Gil, is it really?"
"If it's worth a farthing."
* * * * *
The murmurs came from Higgins and his wife. The barking of the dog down
the hill swelled louder, so that Toory listened to the animal as it
bayed at the moon. It often did that, mostly all night. Then there was
Higgins' murmur again.
"I say, don't lose your nerve, old girl. It'll be a mess. We'll be
suspected, of course, but so will all the staff, which makes it quite
all right. See what I mean? Miss Babs being blind, anybody could have
sneaked up on her to watch her open that strongbox. It's a simple lock,
like I said. Anybody could have done it."
"Or even a visitor, Gil."
"Of course. Lots of people knew she had that necklace. There'll be a
lot of stink when Miss Babs finds out it's been stolen. But they'll
never pin it on us. I'm not a fool, wiped everything off. Not a chance
I left any fingerprints."
"But Gil, the police! they'll--"
"Sure. They'll question us all. So what? We'll just sit tight, and
leave the necklace down there in the woods while we wait a good two
years. Then all we do is say we'll have a go at service in England
again. I'll sell the diamonds over there one by one. Who'll ever be the
wiser?"
It was nice to hear the drone of the voices for a while, and then
Toory's attention drifted away. The weathercock on the roof gable began
squeaking again. It was always loud on windy nights. It blended with
the human-voice murmurs.
* * * * *
"I didn't know the blarsted thing was in the house, I tell you. I
thought it had taken Miss Babs out for a walk."
"Gil, it saw you take the necklace!"
"It did. But I tell you I didn't know it had come back with Miss Babs.
I never thought about it at all."
"You could have waited until some other day. You could have--"
"Stop jawin' at me, Mary. It's done now."
"But it will tell what it saw."
"Don't be a fool! That blarsted machine's not smart enough to talk--not
unless somebody questions it."
"But they _will_ question it. Miss Babs will ask it if it saw anyone
at the safe."
"Not until she finds out the necklace is gone, and she won't find out
until she goes to that party Friday night. Gives me three days to shut
up that damn machine. You'll see."
"Gil, I'm scared. It could even be listening to us now! It's down
there in the foyer, and I heard Miss Babs say once that when it's on
guard-command it can hear better than any dog."
The voices softened a little. Toory's eye-beams swung idly around the
foyer as he listened to the human voices, and the baying dog down
the hill and the creaking weathercock. It was very simple being on
guard-command. There was no danger here. Miss Babs was safe. He could
remember how the Instructor had given him the permanent-order to guard
Miss Babs. The human voices went on droning.
"So it's listenin' to us now? So what? A machine can't say, or do
anything on its own. You have to give it an order. And I tell you I got
everything figured out. Nobody's going to question a machine to find
out what's on its memory-tapes. I'm not that much of a fool."
"Gil! What you going to do?"
"Smash it, that's what. I'm going to take it out tomorrow night and
smash it to smithereens."
"Gil! You're crazy. You wouldn't dare go near it. It's got the
strength of fifty men--"
"That's how much you know. I'll take it outdoors, in the night. You
know that little catwalk swing-bridge over the gorge? It's only about a
mile from here. Well, it's been condemned. A sign on it says you don't
dare cross it now, it ain't safe, and might collapse."
"I know. I saw the sign. But Gil--"
"So I take that blarsted machine out there and I order it to walk
across the bridge. A machine that weighs a couple of tons will crash,
won't it? Two hundred feet down to the rocks! Smash, Mary--the
memory-tape of what it saw and heard gone forever. See what I mean?
Simple, eh?"
"But Gil, how can you take it out for a walk? It won't take orders from
you. It won't, will it?"
"No, maybe it wouldn't, right now. But I'll fix that tomorrow
afternoon. And tomorrow night I'll take it out. What difference
what anybody suspects if they can't prove anything? A piece of damn
machinery goes wrong, wanders out in the middle of the night and gets
itself smashed, ruined. Who can prove different?"
"But Gil--suppose it turned on you? Suppose, while you're orderin' it
out--"
"Don't you see I have no choice? If that thing blabbed it saw me take
the diamond-string I'd be done for. A machine can't lie, Mary. It's
got a memory-record nobody could get away from. Go to sleep now. Let me
do the worrying."
The human voices went silent.
The big foyer clock was sonorously chiming. Toory could remember that
Erg's reception room at the factory had a chiming clock too. Now as
the hours passed, and the new day began, Toory stood in his hall niche
with his eye-beams fixed on their usual resting place across the foyer.
Soon it would be time to shift automatically from guard-command to
wait-command. It was nice to know that he never made any mistakes. Most
of all, that was what he prided himself on.
The next afternoon Miss Babs took him for a walk again. It was a day of
dancing summer sunlight, and very happily he led her down the little
path through the garden, and out the side gate where the road passed
that led to the village.
"Take the path to the stream, Toory. Then we can come back the other
way--around the hill."
"Yes, Miss Babs," Toory said.
They had walked here many times, and it was easy not to do it wrong.
Toory followed the road until they reached the rocky hill that lay
beyond it. The stream roared as it tumbled through the ravine where
the swaying catwalk swing-bridge dangled from a dizzy height across
the cliff-tops. Here in the open it was placidly babbling over
moss-covered stones.
He remembered how Miss Babs had told him that the little brook was
always happy here, because it laughed all the time. At the stream edge
she sat down in the sunlight, and motionless under wait-command Toory
stood pridefully at her side.
A big flyer was faintly roaring as it passed high overhead. The red
eye-beams of Toory's gaze streamed up to it, but he didn't have to be
alert, because it wasn't dangerous to Miss Babs. Presently he heard
footsteps approaching and recognized the tread of Higgins. He had been
aware of the sound very faintly behind him almost all the way from the
house.
Then Higgins came in sight. He walked straight past Toory toward Miss
Babs. "Nice afternoon, Miss Babs," he said.
"Oh--is that you, Higgins," the blind girl asked.
"That it is, Ma'am. My day off, you know. A chap can do with a bit of
walking outdoors now and then."
"Yes, it's a beautiful day, Higgins," Miss Babs agreed.
The steward's slim, wiry body was clad in a white-striped blue suit,
and he wore a high stiff collar, and a red necktie. He had no hat, so
that the summer breeze was ruffling his thin, sandy hair. He lingered,
standing beside Babs with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Toory waited motionless nearby, and presently he knew from the
unheeded blur of their words that they were talking of Model 2 RY.
"And I never once spoke to it, Miss Babs. Not all this time."