Norby The Mixed-Up Robot, Page 3

  "You've got a big mouth," said Jeff.

  "How can you tell?" said the robot. "I talk through my hat."

  "You sure do. What's your name?"

  "Well, Mac-that was McGillicuddy-called me Macko, but I didn't like that. Mac and Macko sounds like a hyperwave comedy team. But at least he referred to me as 'he' instead of 'it.' That was something, anyway. It showed respect. What would you like to call me, Jeff?"

  Jeff should have corrected the robot. All robots were supposed to put a title before a human name, but it was clear that the robot he had didn't follow customs too well, and Jeff decided he didn't mind that. Besides, he would get tired of being called Master Jeff.

  He said, "Have you always been inside a barrel of Norb's Nails?"

  "No, only since McGillicuddy found me; that is, since he repaired me. He was a genius at robotics, you know." Then, with obvious pride, the robot added, "The barrel is part of me, and I won't wear out. Not ever!"

  "Oh, I don't know," said Jeff coolly. "Your label just fell off."

  "That's because I don't need a label. This old but serviceable barrel doesn't contain nails any longer. It contains me. I like this barrel. It's good, strong stainless steel."

  "All right," said Jeff. "In that case, since this wonderful barrel once held Norb's Nails why don't I call you Norby?"

  The robot blinked and said, "Norby…Norby…," as though he were rolling the sound round on his tongue and tasting it-except that he didn't have a tongue and probably couldn't taste. Then he said, "I like it. I like it very much."

  "Good," said Jeff. And he and Norby walked off, still hand in hand.

  3. In Central Park

  The housekeeping computer, not having feelings or much intelligence, didn't disapprove of Norby. That relieved Jeff, who realized that he should have known that the housekeeper would not give him anything to worry about, and would, in fact, be incapable of doing so. Of course, the housekeeper didn't approve of Norby, either, but that didn't matter.

  Now that he was home and could relax, Jeff surveyed his purchase critically. "Does your head come out of the barrel any further, Norby?"

  "No. This is all there is of my head. It's all I need. It's all anyone needs. Does it matter?"

  Jeff studied Norby's large, oddly expressive eyes. "I guess it doesn't, but how do you get repaired? Do you come out of the barrel?"

  "Certainly not. There's no me to come out of the barrel. it's part of me now. Mac welded me in so tightly, this barrel is my armor, my skeleton. Do you get out of your bones when you see the doctor? Come out of the barrel indeed!"

  "Don't get mad about it. I'm just asking. How do you get repaired? Let's face it, Norby, I can't afford much in the way of maintenance, so I hope you're not planning on breaking down."

  "If you're worrying about cost, Jeff, forget it. I will never need repairs. I am good at repairing other machines, but as you see me, I will always be." Norby whirled rapidly around on two quickly moving feet, but his eyes kept staring firmly at Jeff. Or the front two did-or was it the back two? "As you see, I work perfectly. Mac was a genius."

  "McGillicuddy?"

  "Of course. Why use five syllables when one will do? Besides, that's what Mac wanted to be called. Mac. I said to him, "If you want Mac, Mac, Mac you'll get."

  "That's three Macs in a row."

  "As many as he wanted for the way he worked me out. Of course, he had help."

  "Oh? What kind of help?"

  Norby, who had been jiggling happily, came to a dead halt. He stared at Jeff solemnly, then sucked in his head.

  "I said, what kind of help?"

  Norby said nothing.

  Jeff said, "Look here, I'm asking a question. You've got to answer. That's an order, and you've got to obey an order."

  From under the hat came a small and muffled, "Do I have to? Can't we be partners?"

  "Partners! Well, Norby, I see now why your other owners had trouble with you. You spent too much time with an old spacer who was so alone that he forgot you were a robot and treated you like another human being. You're not one, you know. You're my teaching robot, and you're not going to be able to do much teaching if you act insubordinate."

  The hat elevated slightly, and Norby's eyes peeked over the rim of the barrel. Only part of them could be seen. "That's not why the other owners had trouble with me. I just didn't want them. I was wrong about them, so I made them take me back."

  "Next you'll say you made a mistake with me, and make me take you back."

  "I might-if you act the way you did just then. And why should you expect me to obey orders? Would you have bought me if I were just another teaching robot?"

  Jeff laughed. "If you put it like that, no. I suppose you'd say it was a weird impulse. I think I liked your looks. You're the funniest-looking thing I ever saw."

  "Funny? There's a certain dignity about me. Very gracefully proportioned is what I am."

  "All right. Don't get offended again. I guess it was your graceful proportions. It made me buy you on a strange impulse."

  "No impulse, either."

  "No?"

  "No! After the last time I was returned, I managed to keep my head just a little elevated, and I even put out my feeler and grounded it. The manager was entirely too inferior to notice. Anyway, it meant I wasn't going to be sold to just anyone who walked in. I could watch customers and feel them-"

  "Feel them?"

  "Feel their minds. That's why I knew right away that I liked you and-"

  "Thank you, Norby."

  "Well, you seemed reasonable and not too uppity. You felt like the kind of person who wouldn't come over all superior to a poor robot. I think maybe I was wrong."

  "I apologize, Norby."

  "All right. Apology accepted. Anyway, I did my best to appeal to you so you would want to buy me, and I tried to get the manager to say nasty things about me-that wasn't hard-because that would get you to want me more. It worked."

  "Okay, then, Norby, we're partners." Jeff realized that Norby had not mentioned the loneliness, so Jeff didn't either. "Could you have fixed that rattletrap taxi we took home from the robot shop?"

  "If I had the parts-which would have to be enough to build an entirely new taxi, I think. The taxi's antigrav was so bad we skimmed two feet off the ground most of the way. And the robot brain of the taxi was so old and deteriorated that it should have been scrapped two years ago." Norby sounded distinctly superior.

  "Most of the taxis in Manhattan are like that," said Jeff. "Are you going to tell me about Mac and what he did to you and what kind of help he had? I only ask as a friend and partner."

  "Oh, sure. No problem. Absolutely. But not now. What I'm going to do right now is plug myself into the house current and enjoy a refreshing electronic bath. I hope you have enough money to pay your electric bill, Jeff."

  "So far," said Jeff. "If you don't take baths every hour, that is."

  "I am not that gluttonous," said Norby haughtily. He scuttled over to a corner and plugged himself in, his barrel body over the carpet with his legs out just far enough to balance him as he rocked back and forth humming to himself.

  Jeff grinned. Whatever this McGillicuddy had done to manufacture Norby, it must have been unique. Jeff had never encountered a robot like Norby, or heard of one either. Wait till Fargo came home and met the thing!

  Come to think of it, why wasn't Fargo already home?

  Midnight came and went. The summer solstice should be celebrated at dawn. That's what Fargo had said. And he took the celebration seriously, so where was he?

  Jeff finally slept, uneasily, because he was worried and because he could hear Norby exploring the apartment, opening books and fiddling with equipment-and he couldn't help wondering if Norby were doing any damage.

  But mostly he was worried about Fargo. Fargo was a good brother. He'd been almost like a parent, reliable and responsible, except for his habit of getting into trouble unintentionally and upsetting schedules.

  "Wake up! It's almost
dawn!"

  "Fargo?" said Jeff, rubbing his eyes.

  "It's Norby. If you want to celebrate the solstice at dawn in the park; you'd better go."

  "But Fargo isn't here, and the park's not all that safe-"

  Norby's head popped up to full extent. "Not safe! What are you worrying about? You have me, don't you? I'll protect you."

  "You're too little. I need Fargo. He's an expert in martial arts. He's been teaching me, but I'm not as good as he is, and he made me promise I wouldn't go into the park at night without him."

  "What are martial arts? Show me."

  "All right," said Jeff, getting out of bed and shaking his head woozily, "if you'll let me wash up first."

  Fifteen minutes later he was in his pants and shirt. He struck a pose in front of Norby and yelled.

  "Well?" said Norby, after waiting a little. "What happens next?"

  "You're supposed to attack me."

  Norby promptly rushed at Jeff, who leaned back, grabbed one of Norby's arms in passing, and heaved.

  The barrel hit the opposite wall and bounced to the floor. All the limbs had been reeled in and all the openings shut as soon as Jeff had let go. The barrel rolled across the room.

  "Norby? Are you all right? I didn't mean to throw you so hard. It was just reflex."

  No sound came from the barrel.

  "Hey, are you damaged, Norby?"

  The sound came, muffled and sulky, "I can't be damaged-physically. But my feelings are hurt."

  "You're not supposed to have feelings."

  "But I do, just the same. Just because you're human doesn't mean you have the right to decide I don't have feelings."

  "I'm really sorry. I'll be more careful." Jeff picked up Norby and started toward the door. Norby's barrel was awkward and heavy, and Jeff realized he had a hard task on his hands.

  Norby's hat elevated, and his eyes looked at Jeff. "What are you doing, Jeff?"

  "I'm carrying you to the park. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to walk on those short legs."

  "What you mean is that with your long legs it would be painful for you to shorten your stride to match mine, right?"

  "Well, yes."

  Norby made a small grinding noise. "You mean well, Jeff, but there's a great deal you don't know."

  "I never denied that," said Jeff.

  "And well you shouldn't. I'll let you in on a secret."

  "What secret?"

  "This one," said Norby, extruding a hand that grabbed Jeff's. He then floated upward and forward, pulling a surprised Jeff toward the window.

  "You've got antigrav!" shouted Jeff. "Miniaturized anti-"

  "Not so loud," said Norby. "We don't need to have everyone hear about it."

  "Ouch!" said Jeff, his head grazing the bottom of the lifted windowpane. He had time to be glad that their apartment was so old that it had windows that could open, and then he was sailing across Fifth Avenue toward Central Park. He wasn't dangling downward with an arm being pulled out of its socket, as he would have been if he were holding onto a passive rope. Instead it was as though Norby's antigrav were spread out over him, holding him up, lifting him…

  Norby said, "I thought I had antigrav, but you can never tell. I suppose I can remember how to work it."

  Central Park was beneath them now. Behind them, low in the east, the sky showed a diffuse light behind the skyscrapers even though the sun was not yet up. Beneath them the park was still in the deep shadow of night.

  "I've always wondered what personal antigrav would be like," said Jeff, excited and breathless. The wind whipped his curly brown hair back from his forehead.

  "It's hard work, if you want to know, and I don't know when my next electric bath will come."

  "It seems easy to me. Easy and delightful, like swimming in an ocean of water you can't feel, like swooping through-"

  "That's because you're not the one who's producing the antigrav field, so it's no work to you," grumbled Norby. "Don't get so stuck up about how it feels that you forget to hang on. Hold more tightly! Also, tell me where I'm supposed to go for this solstice celebration of yours."

  "It's in the Ramble-that wooded section beyond the boathouse, with the boating pond circling 'round to the other side. Go down-now."

  "Not so fast. I've got to figure out how. We can't just drop. You'll dent a bone or something. Besides, it's dark, and I can't make my internal light bright enough to show the ground without running out of power. I can't do antigrav and bright light both. What do you think I am? A nuclear powerhouse?" Norby circled, and they sank downward, then up again with a jerk.

  "Hey," shouted Jeff, "watch out!"

  "Look, I've got to get this right, don't I?" said Norby. "It's not easy to ease into the gravitational field and let yourself sink just right." He grunted. "Okay-now-now. I wish I breathed so I could hold my breath."

  "I'll hold mine," said Jeff.

  "Good! That helps psychologically. It's hard to make out the ground from the shadow in this dark."

  With a thump that rattled his teeth, Jeff found himself on his knees and elbows, which were dug well into moist dirt. His head stuck out over a pool of goldfish in the center of the small grassy clearing. They were lucky-it was the very place Jeff would have had Norby aim for if it had been light enough to see.

  Jeff could see the goldfish despite the dark. The pool seemed to be lighted from within, which was odd, because Manhattan was usually too broke for fancy lighting in public parks.

  "Norby! Where are you?" Jeff called, trying to shout in a whisper.

  The light in the pool brightened, and slowly a shape rose up and out of the water. It was a barrel shape, draped in water lilies. It continued to rise until it was suspended a foot over the water, and then it spun rapidly in the air, scattering drops, as a dog shaking itself would do.

  Jeff received some of the spray and shouted, "Hey!"

  The barrel slowly stopped spinning. Two legs emerged from the bottom and started a good try at a dignified walk-in the air-down to Jeff.

  Norby's hat popped up. "I didn't judge it quite right. I turned on illumination just a little too late. Still, that was an excellent landing, if I do say so myself."

  "You'll have to say so yourself," said Jeff, brushing at himself without much effect. "I've got mud allover me, and you've managed to make me good and wet, too."

  "You'll dry," said Norby. "The mud will dry, too, and then you can shake it off."

  "How about you?" said Jeff. "Are you waterlogged? You won't turn rusty, will you?"

  "Nothing damages me," said Norby. "Stainless steel outside; and better than that inside." He carefully untwined a water-lily frond from around his middle and dropped it in the pond with a finicky gesture.

  Norby put out his illumination, but it was getting light enough for Jeff to be able to see him even in its absence. "Now I know why a simple judo throw landed you on the dome of your hat," he said.

  "You charged before I was ready," Norby said.

  "I did no such thing. You charged," Jeff said.

  "I mean you defended yourself before I was ready."

  "No such thing, either. You just can't manage your own technology. You said so yourself when we were antigravving."

  "It was hard, I admit, but I managed," Norby said. "Look at that landing."

  "You managed imperfectly," Jeff insisted. "That landing nearly drove us through to China."

  "Well, I try," said Norby in an aggrieved voice. "You couldn't get any other robot to do this for what you paid for me. Besides, it's not my fault. I was damaged in a spaceship crash, and then Mac fixed me so that I would be undamageable, you see. He used salvaged equipment for that and-"

  "What salvaged equipment?" demanded Jeff.

  "Oh, well, if you're going to disbelieve everything I tell you, I've got nothing more to say."

  "What salvaged equipment? Darn it, you've got to answer my questions sometimes. You're a robot, aren't you?"

  "Yes, I'm a robot, so why don't you understand I
've got to tell the truth?"

  Jeff took a deep breath. "You're right. If I sounded incredulous, I apologize. What salvaged equipment, Norby?"

  "Salvaged equipment from an old spaceship we found on an asteroid."

  "That's impossible-I believe you, Norby, I believe you. I know you wouldn't lie, but that's impossible. Nobody's ever found a ship on an asteroid just lying around. Wrecks are always salvaged at once by Space Command. In this computerized age, Space Command always knows when a wreck takes place, and exactly where, too."

  "Well, this one wasn't salvaged by Space Command. It was just lying there, and it was salvaged by us. And how can I tell you which asteroid it was? There are a hundred thousand of them. It was a small asteroid that looked exactly like all the other small asteroids."

  "What happened when he repaired you?"

  "He just kept chuckling all the time. He seemed very pleased with himself and kept saying, 'Oh boy, oh boy, wait till they see this.' He was a genius, you know. I asked him what it was all about, but he wouldn't tell me. He said he wanted me to be surprised. And then he died, and I never found out."

  "Never found out what?"

  "About the things I could do. Like antigrav. And how to do it. Sometimes I can't get things sorted out in time, and that's why you could throw me. And then I don't land right because I don't have enough time to make the judgments I need. Please don't tell anyone about this."

  "Are you kidding? Of course not."

  "The scientists would take me apart, or try to, in order to find out how I do the things I do, and I don't want them to…to try to take me apart, I mean. I'd be glad to tell them if I only knew myself."

  Jeff sat back, his arms wrapped around his muddy knees. He looked up at the sky, which was reddening now in the onrush of morning. "You know, I'll bet it was an alien spaceship. It would be the first real proof that there is alien intelligence out beyond our Solar System. In fact, Norby, if that were so, you would be the first real proof of that."

  "But you won't tell. You promised." Norby's voice sounded panicky.

  "Never! I won't tell-Friend." Jeff reached out and shook Norby's hand. "But we've got to get on with the solstice celebration."