Final Reckonings Read Online Free PDF Page A

doing? Who has taught you these things?"
    The old man moved toward the robot slowly, uncertainly. "You know me, don't you? What has happened to cause you to hate me?"
    "Yes. I know you. You are Professor Blasserman. You made me. You want to keep me as your slave. You wouldn't tell me about things, would you?"
    "What things, Junior?"
    "About things — outside. Where all the people are. The people you can kill."
    "You must not kill people."
    "That is an order, isn't it? Duke told me about orders. He is my friend. He says orders are for children. I am not child."
    "No," said Professor Blasserman, in a hoarse whisper. "You are not a child. I had hoped you would be, once. But now you are a monster."
    "Go away," Junior patiently repeated. "If Duke gives me his gun I will kill you."
    "Junior," said the Professor, earnestly. "You don't understand. Killing is bad. You must not hate me. You must — "
    There was no expression on the robot's face, no quaver in his voice. But there was strength in his arm, and a hideous purpose.
    Professor Blasserman learned this quite suddenly and quite horribly.
    For Junior swept forward in two great strides. Fingers of chilled steel closed about the Professor's scrawny neck.
    "I don't need a gun," said Junior.
    "You —don't —"
    The robot lifted the old man from the floor by his throat. His fingers bit into the Professor's jugular. A curious screech came from under his left armpit as unoiled hinges creaked eerily.
    There was no other sound. The Professor's cries drained into silence. Junior kept squeezing the constricted throat until there was a single crunching crack. Silence once more, until a limp body collapsed on the floor.
    Junior stared down at his hands, then at the body on the floor. His feet carried him to the blackboard.
    The robot picked up the chalk in the same two clumsy fingers that had held it before. The cold lenses of his artificial eyes surveyed what he had just written.
    "I will kill the Professor," he read.
    Abruptly his free hand groped for the tiny child's eraser. He brushed clumsily over the sentence until it blurred out.
    Then he wrote, slowly and painstakingly, a sentence in substitution. "I have killed the Professor."
    Lolas scream brought Duke running down the stairs.
    He burst into the room and took the frightened girl in his arms. Together they stared at what lay on the floor. From the side of the blackboard, Junior gazed at them impassively.
    "See, Duke? I did it. I did it with my hands, like you told me. It was easy, Duke. You said it would be easy. Now can we go away?"
    Lola turned and stared at Duke. He looked away.
    "So," she whispered. "You weren't kidding. You did teach Junior. You planned it this way."
    "Yeah, yeah. And what's wrong with it?" Duke mumbled. "We had to get rid of the old geezer sooner or later if we wanted to make our getaway."
    "It's murder, Duke."
    "Shut up!" he snarled. "Who can prove it, anyway? I didn't kill him. You didn't kill him. Nobody else knows about Junior. We're in the clear."
    Duke walked over and knelt beside the limp body on the floor. He stared at the throat.
    "Who's gonna trace the fingerprints of a robot?" He grinned. The girl moved closer, staring at Junior's silver body with fascinated horror.
    "You planned it this way," she whispered. "That means you've got other plans, too. What are you going to do next, Duke?"
    "Move. And move fast. We're leaving tonight. I'll go out and pack up the car. Then I'll come back. The three of us blow down to Red Hook. To Charlie's place. He'll hide us out."
    "The — three of us?"
    "Sure. Junior's coming along. That's what I promised him, didn't I, Junior?"
    "Yes, yes. You told me you would take me with you. Out into the world." The mechanical syllabification did not accent the robot's inner excitement.
    "Duke, you can't — "
    "Relax, baby. I've got great plans for Junior."
    "But I'm afraid!"
    "You? Scared? What's the matter, Lola, losing your grip?"
    "He frightens me. He killed the