The order blank was stamped with a number and Alice was told to wait.
Sitting there, waiting, she felt as though something steel-edged had
smashed into her chest. She felt cold, and adjusted her thermostat
slightly. The steely sensation increased. Her hands were clenched. She
felt something inside of her pounding and pounding.
I can tell you all my thoughts at last now, Master Kelsey, darling
darling Kelsey. I can tell you all the hopes without achievement, all
about the endless dark hours alone--
Her number was called and she went in through a door that seemed to
lead into an endlessly narrowing white funnel lined with shiny doors.
* * * * *
The room of hope was a square white box filled with shiny chrome
cabinets. In the center was a table on little silent rubber wheels,
with a lamp looking down upon it like a gigantic unblinking eye.
A slight willowy man gushed at her and gripped her arms with
exuberance, and covered her over with the moist film of his bright and
eager eyes.
His voice was high and shrill. "So you want to be beautiful, lovely to
look at?"
"Yes."
"You shall be, my dear. Lie down please, lie down and trust me. You
will have to trust me, of course. Simply have to trust me just the
same."
"Will I be really beautiful--like the receptionist in the outer office?"
"Ha, ha, my dear!" He was pushing and pulling and finally she was lying
down and staring at the whirling lines of the white ceiling and seeing
Kelsey's smiling waiting yearning face in it. "That is a joke, a very
funny joke. The receptionist out there is a human being. At least she
would lead the unsuspecting to believe that she is. However, I must
confess, my dear, that I have learned the sad truth that she is human
in name only, that her heart is ice, and she is bitter with ambition."
"But she is so beautiful."
"Ah, but beauty is as beauty does, my dear. Or as beauty thinks.
And sweet little ambitious Della in the outer office does not think
lovely thoughts. Not at all, believe me. I have learned that from sad
experience."
His hands hovered over her eagerly, fluidly, as though there were no
bones in them.
"I want to be as beautiful as possible."
"You are fortunate in having been sent to Julian. I promise that under
my touch you shall blossom into radiant beauty, the essence of feminine
loveliness. You will be simply devastating."
He placed the tips of his long white fingers together and studied her
with his head angled like a bird's. "A brunette, I think--"
"I'd rather be a blonde."
"Oh, you would, would you, my dear! You seem extraordinarily concerned
for a robot." He stepped back and studied her curiously and the black
eyes sharpened like narrowing beams of black searching light.
"You know," he said softly, "I studied in the greatest Salons of the
continent to beautify women. Now I specialize in beautifying robots.
Why? Simple but paradoxical, but not as paradoxical as it might seem. I
can make a robot lovelier than a human."
"Lovelier than a human being!"
"Exactly. Much lovelier. Beauty comes from within as the sages say.
It comes from the heart and the soul, my dear. And so few humans any
longer have either heart or soul. Of course, that would imply that
robots do have hearts and souls, so please, my dear, do not repeat what
I have said. Already I am thought to be excessively eccentric for this
sad conformistic age of orthodoxy and stupid unimaginative dependency.
Beauty comes from individuality and strength, my dear. It comes from
sadness and the ability to admit a sense of tragedy. Ah--but it is
sad for me, for Julian, my dear. That my fulfillment comes only from
adding a sense of life to humanoids. And looking at you--the likes of
you--sometimes I wonder if you--"
His voice trailed off like smoke and he shrugged and waved his hands in
the air. "So you want to be a blonde. Why a blonde?"
"A tall blonde," she said, "with lots and lots of sex appeal."
He kissed the tips of his fingers and rolled his eyes. "Your wish shall
be granted. I, Julian, will outdo myself." He leaned over her. His
voice was low. "Why is it that a robot can be made more beautiful than
a human? Tell me, my dear, tell me and I shall never tell anyone else.
Do you have a soul? Do you have a heart? Do you know what it is to be
sad and alone and can you find some pleasure in it? Do you perhaps even
find pleasure in yourself, and sometimes find it unnecessary to swim in
a sea of humanity like a brainless protozoon?"
"But will I feel real, the way a human feels?"
He straightened up slowly. He touched his forehead, where beads of
sweat were forming, and slowly he licked his thin red lips.
"My, my, but you are an inquisitive robot! Why does it mean so much?"
"Tell me, will I feel like the real thing? Flesh--when you touch
flesh--"
His hands moved over her. He bent above her. A cabinet slid open.
She caught the glint of many different colors of eyeballs looking
startlingly real and liquidly alive, and rows of variously sized
breasts, and lips, and muscle paddings, and eyelashes and eyebrows and
ears and noses and fingers. There were gleaming instruments and jars
and plastic tapes.
His face was close above hers and his lips worked nervously. He
whispered, "I can see how it will be, my dear. You will feel so real to
the touch of a hungry love that I shall be broken-hearted to let you
go from my Pygmalion Palace of dreams come true. My dear, believe me.
Believe Julian when he tells you this--there is no lonelier being in
the world than a man who has not forgotten what beauty is in a world
that has turned ugly from having lost its soul."
Then she knew that Julian had turned off her thermostat. Suddenly there
was no feeling, no sound, no sight except that of the general blackout
rushing in out of the night, down the halls, into the rooms, into her
eyes.
How quickly and painlessly a robot could die, she thought. How easy it
was to live and die and come back to life. You could be born suddenly
full-grown and efficient. You could be blotted out again, just as
suddenly. You could be born in any shape or size, born to do any one
or combination of so many different things, and when your job was done
you could so quickly be put to rest again. You could be born ugly, or
round, or square, or like a pyramid, or something almost all arms, or
legs, or eyes, or ears.
You could be born beautiful, hardly distinguishable from a beautiful
human being who could receive love.
You could be born ugly and then be killed and brought back again as
beautiful as a human being.
But you could not live without love.
Could something be returned that no one knew was there?
* * * * *
She stood before the mirror, hardly daring to breathe.
"Oh God," Julian whispered. He stood in a corner of the room, and his
eyes were narrowed and his hands were gripped together. "I knew I was
a genius. But this--this is something else! What have I done? Statues
turned to living beauty. What in the name of God is this?"
"I'm beautiful," she said.
"Yes, yes," he said thickly. "Yes--"
"As beautiful as Gloria."
"Whoever she is, yes, yes--"
"He will love me."
"I love you, my dear, I love you," he whispered again and again.
A great calm came over her. A great calm and a great chill. She felt
uneasy because she felt so wonderful, too wonderful, too uneasy, as if
she might feel too deeply and something inside would break.
She felt Julian's hand on her and he was turning her around. "I must
kiss you," he said. "I must kiss you. I love you."
"Yes," she smiled. "You may kiss me."
She imagined it was Kelsey kissing her. Kelsey's arms were around her
neck, and she was longing for the face of Kelsey. She moved her lips
over his forehead and his cheeks until she felt the moistness of his
mouth. She saw the unsettled look in Julian's face and the sweat on his
upper lip. It was her first kiss, and it was Kelsey she kissed.
Julian stepped back and touched his lips. He shook his head and jerked
his face nervously toward the door.
He stared into her eyes. His fingers ran over her face. "Now I see
it," he whispered hoarsely. "Now I see it. It was there before, before
I ever touched you. It was in your eyes. I've always known that. I've
known that no one creates beauty out of pastes and tape and foam rubber
and false hair."
"I must go now," she said. "I must hurry."
"That's right, that's very right. You've got to go out of here, out of
my sight and out of my mind!"
"Do I feel real?"
"My God! There's this light--that is what you feel--the light! Listen,
listen to me whoever, whatever, you are. Listen. What's happening?
You're more real than the woman who invites me to her apartment and
assures me with insipid smiles and phony gestures that she is real.
What's real? You're real--but you can't be real!"
He turned away from her and leaned against the wall. There was a catch
in his voice, and she could see the throbbing in the side of his neck.
"You had better go now. And tomorrow I won't remember you. I'm probably
going crazy. Beginning to believe in my own pitiful wishes. Everyone
I know--all of them--shells of phony beauty, something painted on,
something stuck on the outside. Nothing real, nothing real at all. And
what do I do--dream? Dream of somehow bringing real beauty back. But it
never comes back! Beauty comes from inside. I cannot paste it onto the
outside of a hollow shell and make beauty come alive!"
"Julian--"
He blinked at her, as though startled and afraid. "What has happened
with you? How many like you are there? No, I can't start believing such
an incredible thing. I'd be lost. Get out! Get out!"
She touched his shoulder. "Goodbye," she said softly. "I know what
loneliness is."
When he turned to her again there were tears in his eyes. He whispered,
"I believe you do--you really do. But how could it be? How could you
have inside of you what we humans are losing?"
She sat in the Commutor Jet, returning to Master Kelsey. She knew that
looking like a beautiful woman was not quite enough. She had to know
the right things to say. She felt that she did know all the correct
retorts, quips, the polite gestures and nuances and intonations that
made one innocuously acceptable. She had watched the Tevee for years
as they explained how to win people and influence the right friends,
and gain the maximum amount of response from the group, from love, from
whoever was joining their smile with yours.
She had learned all the controversial things that must never be talked
about, and all the popular immediate things that should be talked
about incessantly. But she felt an intense need for rehearsal. This
had to be successful. She had committed herself. She could not fail.
Failure meant a return to the factory and the final fatal twist of
the thermostat. It would not be murder, for they were ignorant of the
existence of a robot's soul. And she didn't care about the risk. She
would feel her love for Kelsey returned; she would feel his arms,
his lips, his love. Let them, whoever they were, worry about the
disappearance of a drab domestic named Alice.
Alice was dead. Alice had been reborn. Alice had come out of the lonely
dark of unborn waste into the living light of love.
She carried on this imagined conversation with Kelsey, rehearsing.
No, it was not enough to be filled to overflowing with love. You had
to know how to act, you had to smile all the time, you had to say the
right things and know when not to speak. Beauty is as beauty does.
"Well," the imaginary Kelsey said, smiling, "do you like Arnso's new
hit recording, I'LL ALWAYS WANT YOU, as much as the one he recorded
last week?"
"It's wonderful," she said, smiling. "The sweetest thing since WE'LL
ALWAYS BE TOGETHER, NO MATTER WHAT. Which reminds me, honey. I'm going
to buy one of those new Snap-Grav-Share-The-Fall suits. Don't you think
they would be fun?"
"Lots of fun," the imaginary Kelsey said smiling. "Six people instead
of three can share it. The more the merrier."
* * * * *
In her mind, the imaginary Kelsey hesitated, then said, "What Quik-Pik
book are you reading right now?"
"Which one are _you_ reading, honey?" she evaded.
You never read anything everyone else wasn't reading; she knew that
much.
"Well, I like MY DAY AT THE OFFICE. It shows how a woman gets through
a day with her fellow workers in her office, how she smiles and is
pleasant and well-liked and never loses her temper. It shows all the
little tricks you can pull that help you sell yourself."
"That sounds like a wonderful book, honey. I'll get it at once!"
It sounded right. But there was something wrong. It was the right thing
to talk about, but it wasn't what she would prefer to talk about if she
were alone with Kelsey. Feeling the way she felt, she didn't think she
would want to talk much at all if she were alone with Kelsey.
But she knew that was a real social taboo--not saying anything at all.
Anyway, she gave herself a Gold Star for being so sociable with the
imaginary Kelsey. She was sure, very sure, she could sell herself to
Kelsey.
Only she would have to have another name. Two names. Human names.
Something that sounded beautiful.
Anita. Anita Starre.
She would knock on Master Kelsey's door and ask him for someone's
address. He was so nice and considerate he would surely ask her in for
a drink, or just ask her in, while he gave her directions.
Dry leaves crackled under her as she walked the half-block toward
Kelsey's house. The night was black with a few cold stars in the
endless vault of sky. It was late, but in almost all the houses you
could see the gentle glow of Tevee color through the windows.
There was no sound at all where the houses of the project, all looking
exactly the same, dwindled away into darkness like lines of dots made
by a typewriter.
It was, she thought, as though everyone and everything in the world
were waiting, waiting for the great white hot scream to explode in
the night, the great awakening, the blinding hot flash of awakening
that comes before the end. But Alice didn't feel afraid at all of an
air-raid as she walked up onto Master Kelsey's porch and rang the bell.
There had been so many false alarms, she wondered sometimes if there
was any real threat at all. The war--a vague thing far away, never
here, always somewhere else, but always supposed to be getting nearer.
The war with the Asians--it just went on and on, you heard about it,
and saw it on Tevee if you weren't afraid to look at the newscasts, but
it never seemed to happen here.
His footsteps behind the door. The door opening. His shadow there, the
pink lounge suit, the wavy hair with streaks of brown in the Viking
yellow, the face sleepy from Tevee coming awake as he saw the beautiful
woman standing there smiling. He smiled. Their smiles met.
"Hello," she said. "I'm Anita Starre. I'm looking for 16-03074 Carnegie
Way."
"You're lost?"
"I seem to be lost, yes."
The great hope dawned in her as he smiled at her in a way no robot had
ever been smiled at. A tender calm moved over her. The machinery that
made her go, the sparks that made her live, all seemed to jump and
tremble under the beautiful shell that had been created by the hands of
Julian.
The great joy filled her, surged inside her. She could be near, so near
him, now that she had the right look and the right smile. She could
tell him and show him how she loved to be near him--No, she would not
have to tell him that; he would know. Real love you just knew about.
You didn't have to say it. She would just kiss him and kiss him and
never have to tell him--
"This is Carnegie Way," Kelsey was saying. His eyes were fixed on her
face, then his eyes were brightening as they looked at her height and
her slim rich curves. "But it's five blocks from the address you're
looking for." He pointed to the left and told her how to get to
16-03074. His eyes continued to explore her figure with just the right
degree of polite interest.
She stepped closer until she was almost inside the hallway. She could
feel the warmth of him. "Why," she said suddenly, "you're Mr. Kelsey!"
His smile broadened with some hungry concept of himself that had been
fed. "But how did you know, Miss Starre?"
"A girl friend of mine, Miss Davies, works in your office."
"Oh, Miss Davies! She got a Silver Star--"
"Yes, she admires you so much. She has a picture of you, Mr. Kelsey.
She told me how you won a Golden Star for being so cooperative."
"We all help one another. Miss Davies is such a wonderfully warm and
sympathetic girl. Well, Miss Starre, what a coincidence!"
"Isn't it?"
"Well--maybe you could come in and rest a few minutes. We're watching
Tevee."
She nodded quickly. She felt that magnetic force, the clicking
communion, the way she had always seen it on Tevee. How easy it was,
after all, if you looked right and smiled right and said the correct
things.
"Oh, I'd love to!"
* * * * *
Miss Gloria Tonnencourt stood up, and the three of them seemed subdued
and softened in the Tevee light. Kelsey said, "Gloria, this is a friend
of mine, a really dear friend, Anita Starre."
There was something wrong. It was under the surface, Alice thought,
but it was there. Under the smiles, something tense and wrong and
dangerous. She had never felt it before, but she felt it now. It was
Gloria, the way the smile seemed set on Gloria's face as she said she
was very pleased to meet Miss Starre. It had always been there, that
smile, so it couldn't go away, but Alice knew that if she were Miss
Tonnencourt she would not feel like smiling. No one could smile, she
thought, if they were losing their love. Real love you could die of
losing.
They all smiled at one another. Kelsey got three drinks and they drank
to one another's happiness as though there was no question that there
could be anything else in the world but happiness.
Gloria has to do what's right, Alice thought. No matter how painful,
she has to do what's right. I'm lucky because she has to do what's
right, because she always has to be a good sport about everything.
They chatted together like good sports for a while, talked about the
pop tune of the week, the favorite sports hero of the day, the best
Quik-Pik book of the hour, the Sky-Splitter, the Roaromatic Roadeater,
the Silver and Golden Stars for cooperation, the Blue Stars for
communal feeling. The Carnegie Awards for sociability.
They have to get along, Alice thought gladly. They have to get along.
They can't afford to offend one another.
Gloria finally got up, seeming tired in spite of her smile, and said,
"I'd better be going now. I--I can see that you two have a real thing
for one another already. I--I think it's just--wonderful--so wonderful,
really--"
Kelsey didn't seem to hear Gloria at all, hardly seemed to know she was
there. He kept looking at Alice. "Please don't go, Gloria," he said as
he kept on looking at Alice.
"It's awfully sweet of you to ask me to stay, but I really must go now.
It's--it's getting late."
I know how you really feel, Alice thought. I know, I know, somewhere
deep inside you feel an awful sickness like death, but on the outside
you smile. I know how you feel.
But do you know how you feel anymore, Gloria? Can you feel the way you
really feel? What would happen if--
But no matter how Gloria felt, no Mirror on a wall could have been
critical of her appearance, her poise, her polite good-sport way of
bowing out.
Gloria moved toward the door. Kelsey hurried over there and opened it
for her. "You two be happy," Gloria whispered. "You two seem to be
so--so very right for an anther."
The door shut. It was as though Gloria Tonnencourt had never been there.
How could it be so easy? Alice's hand trembled as Kelsey moved toward
her. With Gloria it had been so quick, happening so fast, over so
easily.
"Regular girl," Kelsey was saying. "What wonderful warmth and
understanding."
"She's sweet," Alice heard herself saying. But that wasn't true.
She only felt that Gloria had been sad. If it had been sweet it was
bitter-sweet sadness. But Alice had to forget about Gloria. Gloria was
gone. It was like she had never been here at all, as though all those
evenings of love had never been. Switch it on, switch it off. It was
like Tevee, she thought, like Tevee--
Kelsey asked her to sit down on the couch, and then he was sitting near
her, nearer to her. Then he was touching her, his face inches from hers.
"It seems I've known you for years and years," he said.
And then she was forgetting everything else but Kelsey. It was easy,
so easy when you looked and felt right. So easy and she didn't want to
think about anything else but Kelsey, dear, sweet, darling Kelsey.
She received him in her arms, with a wild desire, a wild hunger to
cover his face with kisses. She felt the intensity taking hold of her,
gripping her body, quickening the pounding throb of machinery that was
hidden now, hidden away deep and silent and beating now like a human
heart.
She kissed his cheek. Her lips strayed over his skin. Her lips glided
over his face, felt the moist trembling of his lips.
She felt his trembling, his shuddering sigh, the way his arms convulsed
and gripped her, and then she saw the unsettled look, the light in his
eyes as he clung to her and at the same time seemed to push her away.
He was frightened. He was trembling, and he was afraid, and his face
was flushed.
"What's the matter, darling?" she whispered.
* * * * *
He stared at her. His lips were trembling. "I--I don't know. What is
it? It was never like this."
"What was never like this?"
"Love--I mean--you--what is it?"
"Real. It's real, darling Kelsey. That's the difference, isn't it?"
"Real?" His face had an uncomprehending look, the cheek muscles
trembling as he spoke, his voice hollow and frightened. "Something," he
whispered. "What is it? I've never felt anything like it. It--it's too
much, maybe. Too much or something--I don't know--"
His face was white. He was sliding away from her.
Already I am losing him, she thought. He's going away. Somehow he
senses what is wrong, without knowing what it is he knows. In spite of
the beautiful surface, he senses that I am not real, not human, not a
being at all.
"No, please," she whispered.
She moved desperately and clutched at him and held him tightly, shocked
at his stiffness now, his reluctance, his trembling. She felt tears
inside, though they could never show. "Please, please," she whispered.
His voice was shaking. "Listen--it's too much. You scare me. Wait a
minute now, let's talk about this. I want to know--"
"How can you be scared of love?"
"Love? This isn't love. It's--it's like anger. It's--I've never known
anything like this!"
"Let yourself know. Please."
He closed his eyes. His lips trembled. "I--I felt like I was going to
die," he whispered.
Suddenly he turned and stared at the Tevee.
He knows, she thought dully. He knows I'm what I am underneath. But he
doesn't know that he knows. He can't admit what seems impossible.
He gasped. His body jerked. She looked at the Tevee frame. There was
nothing on it suddenly but a frightening, wavering, milky emptiness.
And a voice; a voice without a face.
"Due to the possibility of an immediate air-raid, Tevee is dead.
All transportation is stopped. Those of you who were thoughtful
and cooperative enough with your sponsor to order our emergency
entertainment projectors will now turn them on. It will greatly
decrease anxiety. Red-out regulations will be in effect for two hours."
Kelsey's face was gray. "Air-raid," he whispered. "It's here. It's
really here!"
"It's all right, darling." She touched his arm. "It's all right--"
The light went out.
Somewhere Alice heard screaming. It seemed to fill the walls, the
floor, the ceiling and the night itself, everywhere, as though the very
air was screaming in some vast agony. The sirens.
She heard a whimpering sound and realized that it was Kelsey. She held
him tightly in her arms. He was shivering.
The Tevee screen seemed like a page on which vital print had died,
something strangely alive but without sound or meaning, like an
exposed brain without thought, like the deadness of an open eye in a
corpse.
"All lights will be extinguished for two hours," the voice said.
"Everyone will go immediately to their air-raid shelters!"
"Two hours," Kelsey whispered.
"I'm here," she said. "We're together, darling. There's nothing--"
He didn't seem to hear her. He leaped out of her arms, and she heard
furniture crashing as he blundered around wildly in the dark.
"The shelter," he yelled hoarsely. "The shelter!"
She followed him unerringly in the dark, to the stairs, without
stumbling. When she found him at the bottom of the stairs in the
tunnel leading to the private air-raid shelter, he was whimpering and
shivering violently.
"Two hours--two hours--two hours--" he whispered, over and over.
She could tell by the way he said it that it meant something else
to him, not two hours, but something infinitely longer, unendurably
longer, some kind of awful forever.
She helped him into the shelter and closed the thick door. She couldn't
understand that kind of loneliness. She had stood in the black lonely
closet for years. She had worked alone. She could understand the
loneliness of being without love. But this fear of his--it had no
meaning for her.
And as she looked at Kelsey cowering in the corner of the shelter, she
realized something else--Kelsey himself had very little meaning. He was
not what he had seemed. He was empty. He was hollow. He wasn't quite
real. That was what his fear was; a fear of discovering he had nothing
inside; a horror of the absence of something you could create inside
yourself only by being alone.
Alice knew that now. Maybe she had always known it, but now she
admitted it to herself.
The shelter was a small square room lined with concrete and lead and
steel. There was a large supply of food, and a method of reprocessing
the air. A person could live in it for a long time. Alice knew she
could. She would have loved being there just with Kelsey, but Kelsey
was empty, and there was no way he could give her back her love,
nothing in him he could use to share loneliness with her.
"Two hours--"
"But I love you," she said weakly. "We have one another. We can talk.
We can tell one another all about--"
"No Tevee," Kelsey whispered. "We can't get out! No one can get in! Two
hours!"
The screaming was in the shelter walls. It quivered in the floor
and ceiling and walls. But there was really no sound. Nothing could
penetrate here; no sound or light. Kelsey looked around the small
enclosure. "It may be longer--"
"It's only a warning," Alice said. "There may not be a real air-raid at
all."
"Talk!" he suddenly screamed at her. "Let's talk! Talk to me--"
But the superficial things slipped away and she couldn't remember
any of them. She wanted to take him in her arms, but she couldn't do
that now because it wasn't real. She couldn't talk about all those
meaningless things. Maybe now nothing would be enough to satisfy
Kelsey's hollow fear.
* * * * *
With Gloria, with all of them, Alice knew that Kelsey had always been
alone. More alone, more horribly alone, than she had ever been. For
Kelsey had nothing inside of him to keep him company, or to sincerely
share with another.
He had no love in him.
She tried to comfort him, but he was on his knees, shivering and
whimpering. Then he tried to beat his way out through the door. She
pulled him back and he fell sobbing on the floor, squirming and rubbing
his hands and his face into the floor as though to get some feeling of
life from it.
The trembling of the walls and floor continued, very gently as though
even that was somehow being polite, as though even that was trying to
make things not so discomforting.
Kelsey was whining and sobbing. "I've got to get out--get out. There's
a shelter--a communal shelter. The project place--people--lots of
people--"
"All right," she said. "Let's take a chance, if you want to. We'll go
to that other shelter--with people in it."
But when they got to the top of the stairs and stepped into the living
room, the lights went on, the Tevee came to color-sound-life again.
The air-raid warning was over.
A smiling face materialized out of the wavery lines.
"The threat of the air-raid is over. Due to our wonderful cooperative
spirit, the enemy's cowardly attack accomplished little except the
minor destruction of a few scattered points. We're sure now that anyone
who has not ordered our Cozy-Corner Air-Raid Shelter will do so without
further delay! It comes equipped, remember, with three-dimensional
Tevee. There is the illusion of real people--"
Over fifty million air-raid shelters were sold within an hour.
But Alice wasn't concerned about that. She gave Kelsey a sedative
and put him to bed, and then she went to her dark closet and stood
in it until Wednesday morning. She had time to think about things,
and a wonderful calm came over her, and she knew she didn't care what
happened to her now. She was strong enough to live alone, and take
whatever was coming to her without fear.
When she shook Kelsey awake Wednesday morning and told him she was
Alice, he laughed, shocked and incredulous, trying to appear amused.
But she told him about the order blank, and convinced him she really
was Alice and Anita Starre did not exist.
He ran and called a robot repair clinic. He was almost incoherent,
trying to tell the clinic what had happened, but they finally
understood and said they would be right out to take the domestic away.
He seemed frightened as he looked at her.
"I don't understand," he said several times. "No one told you to do
such a thing. How could a robot just up and do such a thing?"
She started to answer, but didn't. There was nothing to say.
"Robots can become inefficient," Kelsey said. "They can wear down a
little and have to be repaired. But how could a robot just up and do a
thing like this?"
Because of loneliness and the need for love? She smiled. She could
smile now. It would have been funny for her to have said such a thing
as that.
She didn't care. She heard the jet-truck drop down by the curb outside
Kelsey's house. She heard the footsteps coming up the walk, onto the
porch. But she didn't care. She was strong enough not to care at all.
She cared not at all for any of them, Master Kelsey included. She
cared a little for Julian, for he had understood a little. But she
didn't care about any of the others now. They hardly existed! They had
nothing! In them, everything had been frozen forever and nothing really
moved inside.
They were empty, they were nothing, they didn't exist!
You saw the bright surfaces and the smiles as they walked and talked on
the street, and for a while you wanted to believe they existed, that
they were there. But they weren't really there at all.
She smiled and stood still and waited for them to move toward her. They
seemed afraid of her.
There's nothing to be afraid of, not here, not in me, she wanted to
say. It's in you that the fear is, for what is more frightening than
emptiness and the feel of hollow time going by?
At least she had the joy of knowing she had been alive.
The hand turned off her thermostat.