Asimov's Future History Volume 1 Read Online Free PDF

son. A real dog. A Scotch terrier puppy. The first dog on the Moon. You won’t need Robutt any more. We can’t keep them both, you know, and some other boy or girl will have Robutt.” He seemed to be waiting for Jimmy to say something, then he said, “You know what a dog is, Jimmy. It’s the real thing. Robutt’s only a mechanical imitation, a robot-mutt. That’s how he got his name.”
    Jimmy frowned. “Robutt isn’t an imitation, Dad. He’s my dog.” “Not a real one, Jimmy. Robutt’s just steel and wiring and a simple positronic brain. It’s not alive.”
    “He does everything I want him to do, Dad. He understands me. Sure, he’s alive.”
    “No, son. Robutt is just a machine. It’s just programmed to act the way it does. A dog is alive. You won’t want Robutt after you have the dog.”
    “The dog will need a spacesuit, won’t he?” “Yes, of course. But it will be worth the money and he’ll get used to it. And he won’t need one in the City. You’ll see the difference once he gets here.”
    Jimmy looked at Robutt, who was squeaking again, a very low, slow squeak, that seemed frightened. Jimmy held out his arms and Robutt was in them in one bound. Jimmy said, “What will the difference be between Robutt and the dog?”
    “It’s hard to explain,” said Mr. Anderson, “but it will be easy to see. The dog will really love you. Robutt is just adjusted to act as though it loves you.”
    “But, Dad, we don’t know what’s inside the dog, or what his feelings are. Maybe it’s just acting, too.”
    Mr. Anderson frowned. “Jimmy, you’ll know the difference when you experience the love of a living thing.”
    Jimmy held Robutt tightly. He was frowning, too, and the desperate look on his face meant that he wouldn’t change his mind. He said, “But what’s the difference how they act? How about how I feel? I love Robutt and that’s what counts.”
    And the little robot-mutt, which had never been held so tightly in all its existence, squeaked high and rapid squeaks – happy squeaks.
     

Robbie
    1998 A.D.
     
    “N INETY - EIGHT - NINETY -nine-one hundred.” Gloria withdrew her chubby little forearm from before her eyes and stood for a moment, wrinkling her nose and blinking in the sunlight. Then, trying to watch in all directions at once, she withdrew a few cautious steps from the tree against which she had been leaning.
    She craned her neck to investigate the possibilities of a clump of bushes to the right and then withdrew farther to obtain a better angle for viewing its dark recesses. The quiet was profound except for the incessant buzzing of insects and the occasional chirrup of some hardy bird, braving the midday sun.
    Gloria pouted, “I bet he went inside the house, and I’ve told him a million times that that’s not fair.”
    With tiny lips pressed together tightly and a severe frown crinkling her forehead, she moved determinedly toward the two-story building up past the driveway.
    Too late she heard the rustling sound behind her, followed by the distinctive and rhythmic clump-clump of Robbie’s metal feet. She whirled about to see her triumphing companion emerge from hiding and make for the home-tree at full speed.
    Gloria shrieked in dismay. “Wait, Robbie! That wasn’t fair, Robbie! You promised you wouldn’t run until I found you.” Her little feet could make no headway at all against Robbie’s giant strides. Then, within ten feet of the goal, Robbie’s pace slowed suddenly to the merest of crawls, and Gloria, with one final burst of wild speed, dashed pantingly past him to touch the welcome bark of home-tree first.
    Gleefully, she turned on the faithful Robbie, and with the basest of ingratitude, rewarded him for his sacrifice by taunting him cruelly for a lack of running ability.
    “Robbie can’t run,” she shouted at the top of her eight-year-old voice. “I can beat him any day. I can beat him any day.” She chanted the words in a shrill rhythm.
    Robbie didn’t