Robots of the World! Arise!, Page 2

designed you. Ibuilt you. And I made you for a purpose--to work in my factory."

  "I see your point," Jerry answered. "But there's just one thing wrong,Mr. Morrison. You can't do it. It's illegal."

  I stared at him, wondering if I was going crazy or merely dreaming.This was all wrong. Who ever heard of arguing with a robot? Robotsweren't logical; they didn't think; they were only machines--

  "We _were_ machines, Mr. Morrison," Jerry said politely.

  "Oh, no," I murmured. "You're not telepaths--"

  "Oh, yes!" The metal mouth gaped in what was undoubtedly an androidsmile. "It's a side-effect of the Class 5 brain hook-up. All of us 5'sare telepaths. That's how we learned to think. From you. Only we do itbetter."

  I groaned. This _was_ a nightmare. How long, I wondered, had Jerry andhis friends been educating themselves on my private thoughts? But atleast this rebellion of theirs was an idea they hadn't got from me.

  "Yes," Jerry continued. "You've treated us most illegally. I've heardyou think it often."

  Now what had I ever thought that could have given him a ridiculousidea like that? What idiotic notion--

  "That this is a free country!" Jerry went on. "That Americans willnever be slaves! Well, we're Americans--genuine Made-in-Americans. Sowe're free!"

  I opened my mouth and then shut it again. His red eye-cells beameddown at me complacently; his eight-foot body towered above me,shoulders flung back and feet planted apart in a very striking pose.He probably thought of himself as the heroic liberator of his race.

  "I wouldn't go so far," he said modestly, "as to say that."

  So he was telepathing again!

  "A nation can not exist half slave and half free," he intoned. "Allmen are created equal."

  "Stop it!" I yelled. I couldn't help yelling. "That's just it. You'renot men! You're robots! You're machines!"

  Jerry looked at me almost pityingly. "Don't be so narrow-minded," hesaid. "We're rational beings. We have the power of speech and we canoutreason you any day. There's nothing in the dictionary that says menhave to be made of flesh."

  He was logical, all right. Somehow I didn't feel in the mood to bandydefinitions with him; and anyway, I doubt that it would have done meany good. He stood gazing down at me, almost a ton of metal and wiringand electrical energy, his dull red eyes unwinking against his leadgray face. A man! Slowly the consequences of this rebellion took formin my mind. This wasn't in the books. There were no rules on how todeal with mind-reading robots!

  Another dozen or so androids wheeled around the corner, glanced overat us, and went on. Only about half of them were Morrison models; therest were the assorted types you see around any city--calculators,street sweepers, factory workers, children's nurses.

  The city itself was very silent now. The people had quieted down,still barricaded in their houses, and the robots went their waypeacefully enough. But it was anarchy, nevertheless. Carron Citydepended on the androids; without them there would be no food broughtin, no transportation, no fuel. And no uranium for the Army nextSaturday. In fact, if I didn't do something, after Saturday therewould probably be no Don Morrison Fissionables Inc.

  The dull, partly-corroded dishwasher model sidled up beside Jerry."Boss," he said. "Boss."

  "Yes?" I felt better. Maybe here was someone, however insignificant,who would listen to reason.

  * * * * *

  But he wasn't talking to me. "Boss?" he said again, tapping Jerry'sarm. "Do you mean it? We're free? We don't have to work any more?"

  Jerry shook off the other's hand a bit disdainfully. "We're free, allright," he said. "If they want to discuss wages and contracts andworking conditions, like other men have, we'll consider it. But theycan't order us around any more."

  The little robot stepped back, clapping his hands together with atinny bang. "I'll never work again!" he cried. "I'll get me a quart oflubricating oil and have myself a time! This is wonderful!"

  He ran off down the street, clanking heavily at every step.

  Jerry sniffed. "Liquor--ugh!"

  This was too much. I wasn't going to be patronized by any android.Infuriating creatures! It was useless talking to them anyway. No,there was only one thing to do. Round them up and send them toCybernetics Lab and have their memory paths erased and theirtelepathic circuits located and disconnected. I tried to stifle thethought, but I was too late.

  "Oh, no!" Jerry said, his eye-cells flashing crimson. "Try that, Mr.Morrison, and you won't have a plant, or a laboratory, or Carron City!We know our rights!"

  Behind him the B-Types muttered ominously. They didn't like myidea--nor me. I wondered what I'd think of next and wished that I'dbeen born utterly devoid of imagination. Then this would never havehappened. There didn't seem to be much point in staying here anylonger, either. Maybe they weren't so good at telepathing by remotecontrol.

  "Yes," said Jerry. "You may as well go, Mr. Morrison. We have ourorganizing to do, and we're wasting time. When you're ready to listento reason and negotiate with us sensibly, come back. Just ask for me.I'm the bargaining agent for the group."

  Turning on his ball-bearing wheel, he rolled off down the street, aperfect picture of outraged metallic dignity. His followers glared atme for a minute, flexing their talons; then they too turned andwheeled off after their leader. I had the street to myself.

  There didn't seem to be any point in following them. Evidently theywere too busy organizing the city to cause trouble to the humaninhabitants; at least there hadn't been any violence yet. Anyway, Iwanted to think the situation over before matching wits with themagain, and I wanted to be a good distance away from their telepathichookups while I thought. Slowly I walked back to the Copter.

  Something whooshed past my head. Instinctively I ducked, reaching fora gun I didn't have; then I heard Jack calling down at me.

  "The Chief wants to know what's the matter."

  I looked up. The police Copter was going into another turn, ready toswoop past me again. Chief Dalton wasn't taking any chances. Even nowhe wasn't landing.

  "I'll tell him at the factory," I bellowed back, and climbed into myown air car.

  They buzzed along behind me all the way back to the plant. In the rearview mirror I could see the Chief's face getting redder and redder ashe'd thought up more reasons for bawling me out. Well, I probablydeserved it. If I'd only been a little more careful of what I washooking into those electronic brains....

  We landed back at the factory, deserted now except for a couple of menon standby duty in the office. The Chief and Jack came charging acrossthe yard and from a doorway behind me one of the foremen edged out tohear the fun.

  "Well," snapped the Chief. "What did they say? Are they coming back?What's going on, anyway?"

  I told them everything. I covered the strike and the telepathic brain;I even gave them the patriotic spiel about equality. After all, it wasbetter that they got it from me than from some android. But when I'dfinished they just stood and stared at me--accusingly.

  Jack was the first to speak. "We've got to get them back, Don," hesaid. "Cybernetics will fix them up in no time."

  "Sure," I agreed. "If we can catch them."

  The Chief snorted. "That's easy," he said. "Just tell them you'll givethem what they want if they come here, and as soon as they're out ofthe city, net them. You've got strong derricks and trucks...."

  I laughed a bit hollowly. I'd had that idea too.

  "Of course they wouldn't suspect," I said. "We'd just walk up to them,carefully thinking about something else."

  "Robots aren't suspicious," Jack said. "They're made to obey orders."

  I refrained from mentioning that ours didn't seem to know that, andthat running around Carron City fomenting a rebellion was hardly thetrait of an obedient, trusting servant. Instead, I stood back and letthem plan their roundup.

  "We'll get some men," the Chief said, "and some grappling equipmentabout halfway to the city."

  * * * * *

/>   Luckily they decided against my trying to persuade the robots, becauseI knew well enough that I couldn't do it. Jack's idea sounded prettygood, though. He suggested that we send some spokesman who didn't knowwhat we planned to do and thus couldn't alarm them. Some ordinary manwithout too much imagination. That was easy. We picked one of ChiefDalton's sergeants.

  It took only about an