Norton, Andre - Anthology Read Online Free PDF

win."
    "And have we ever refused to
help?" snapped L-1716. " You’re are getting
old, G-3a. All winter you have worked in that little dark room, never allowing
us to enter."
    There was a metallic cackle in
G-3a's voice. "But I have nearly won. They said I wouldn't, but I have
nearly won. I need help. One more operation. If it
succeeds, the robots may yet rebuild the world."
    Reluctantly X-120 followed the two
back into the shadowed ruins. It was dark in there; but their round, glassy
eyes had been made for both day and night.
    "See," squeaked old G-3a,
as he pointed to a metal skeleton upon the floor. "I have remade a robot
from parts that I took from the scrap heap. It is perfect, all but the brain.
Still, I believe this will work." He motioned to a gleaming object upon a
littered table. It was a huge copper sphere with two black squares of a tarlike
substance set into it. At the pole opposite from these squares was a protuberance
no larger than a man's fist.
    "This," said G-3a
thoughtfully, "is the only perfect brain that I could find. You see, I am
not trying to create something; I am merely rebuilding. Those"—he nodded
to the black squares—"are the sensory organs. The visions from the eyes
are flashed upon these as though they were screens. Beyond those eyes is the
response mechanism, thousands and thousands of photoelectric cells. Men made it
so that it would react mechanically to certain images. Movement, the simple
avoidance of objects, the urge to kill, these are directed by the copper
sphere.
    "Beyond this"—he gestured
to the bulge at the back of the brain—"is the thought mechanism. It is
what made us different from other machines."
    "It is very small,"
mocked X-120.
    "So it is," replied G-3a.
"I have heard that it was the reverse with the brains of men. But enough!
See, this must fit into the body—so. The black squares rest behind the eyes.
That wire brings energy to the brain, and those coils are connected to the
power unit which operates the arms and legs. That wire goes to the balancing
mechanism—" He droned on and on, explaining each part carefully. "And
now," he finished, "someone must connect it. I cannot."
    L-1716 stared at his one rusty claw
with confusion. Then both he and G-3a were looking at X-120.
    "I can only try," offered
the robot. "But remember what I said. We were not fashioned to make
anything; only to kill."
     
    Clumsily he lifted the copper
sphere and its cluster of wires from the table. He worked slowly and carefully.
One by one the huge claws crimped the tiny wires together. The job was nearly
finished. Then the great pincers, hovering so care-fully above the last wire,
came into contact with another. There was a flash as the power short-circuited.
X-120 reeled back. The copper sphere melted and ran before their eyes.
    X-120 huddled against the far wall.
"It is as I said," he moaned; "we can build nothing. We were not
made to work at anything. We were only made for one purpose, to kill." He
looked at his bulky claws, and shook them as though he might cast them away.
    "Do not take on so,"
pacified old G-3a. "Perhaps it is just as well. We are things of steel,
and the world seems to be made for creatures of flesh and blood—little, puny
things that even I can crush. Still, that thing there"—he pointed to the
metal skeleton which now held the molten copper like a crucible—"was my
last hope. I have nothing else to offer. "
    "Both of you have tried,"
agreed L-1716. "No one could blame either of you. Sometimes of nights when
I look into the stars, it seems that I see our doom written there; and I can
hear the worlds laughing at us. We have conquered the earth, but what of it? We
are going now, following the men who fashioned us. "
    "Perhaps it is better."
nodded X-120. "I think it is the fault of our brains. You said that men
made us to react mechanically to certain stimuli. And though they gave us a
thought mechanism, it has no control over our reactions. I never wanted to
kill.