Danny Dunn and the Homework Machine Read Online Free PDF Page B

still can’t figure why I’d want to jump across a ditch. Why couldn’t I just walk around it?”
    â€œOh, forget it,” Danny groaned. “Come on. Let’s start the problems going.”
    They first set up and fed into the machine the twenty arithmetic problems. Then the five questions that had to be answered on South American countries. And then the ten problems in English grammar. Danny pressed the START key. Lights began twinkling on the control panel. The machine settled down to a steady humming, and the three friends lolled back in their chairs and ate cookies.
    â€œGosh!” said Joe, sipping his Coca-Cola. “This is the life!”
    â€œIt sure is. We ought to put a sign on the door: ‘Happy Homework Hunting Ground,’” said Danny.
    Irene peered over at the typewriter, which had just stopped rattling. The red light was on.
    â€œThere’s your arithmetic, Joe,” she said. “Now I guess it’ll start on social studies.”
    â€œGood old Minny,” Joe chuckled.
    â€œI’ll write a poem in her honor.” Joe was known throughout the school for his poems. “You know, we ought to enter her in one of those TV quiz shows. We could make a fortune.”
    â€œUm. I somehow have a feeling that Professor Bullfinch wouldn’t like that,” Danny said, laughing.
    â€œI’ll bet he wouldn’t,” said Irene. “By the way, what are we going to do when he gets home, Dan?”
    Danny thoughtfully ate a cookie. “I’ll have to ask his permission for us to go on using the machine. But maybe it’ll be all right. Anyway,” he added, “what’s the use of worrying about it now? We may as well enjoy Minny while we have her.”
    The typewriter, which had been working away industriously, stopped, and the red light went on. “That’s the first of the social studies pages,” Danny said. “It can be yours, Irene. I’ll take the next one, and Joe can take the third.”
    He pulled out the paper, and at once the typewriter began again.
    â€œIt’s like magic,” Joe said. “A fairy godmother named Minny, who comes along and gives you a wish. So you wish that all your homework should be done for you. And presto! there it is.”
    Danny snickered. “When you come right down to it, Joe, it isn’t any more magic than a million other things all around us. I mean, in fairy tales the prince is always getting magic sandals that let him fly through the air, or magic eyeglasses that let him look through walls, or a magic servant who can show him what’s happening a hundred miles away… well, we’ve got ’em all, nowadays: X rays, airplanes, television—”
    â€œYes, but this is a different kind of magic. A machine that thinks.”
    â€œThere are thinking machines all over this house—everybody’s house,” Danny replied. “For instance, refrigerators that know how to keep themselves at the right temperature, and defrost themselves when it’s necessary. Or machines that count and add, just like Minny does—the speedometer on your bike, for instance.”
    â€œYes, and ovens that know how to keep themselves hot and turn themselves off when the food’s cooked,” Irene put in. “Or record players that feel the size of a record, put the needle on in the right place, and stop when the record’s over.”
    â€œThey’re all machines that can think in one way or another,” said Danny. “Take a thermostat, for instance, like that one.”
    He pointed to a dial with numbers on it, on the side of the console. Joe reached out to it, saying, “You mean this gadget?”
    â€œHey, don’t touch it!” Danny cried.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Is it poisonous?”
    â€œWorse than that. The Professor’s new switches have to be kept at a certain temperature—98.6°F.—to work