Sense of Wonder: A Century of Science Fiction (32 page)

HELENA: Yes.

DOMIN: That’s good. But a working machine must not play the piano, must not feel happy, must not do a whole lot of other things. A gasoline motor must not have tassels or ornaments, Miss Glory. And to manufacture artificial workers is the same thing as to manufacture gasoline motors. The process must be of the simplest, and the product of the best from a practical point of view. What sort of worker do you think is the best from a practical point of view?

HELENA: What?

DOMIN: What sort of worker do you think is the best from a practical point of view?

HELENA: Perhaps the one who is most honest and hardworking.

DOMIN: No; the one that is the cheapest. The one whose requirements are the smallest. Young Rossum invented a worker with the minimum amount of requirements. He had to simplify him. He rejected everything that did not contribute directly to the progress of work—everything that makes man more expensive. In fact, he rejected man and made the Robot. My dear Miss Glory, the Robots are not people. Mechanically they are more perfect than we are, they have an enormously developed intelligence, but they have no soul.

HELENA: How do you know they’ve no soul?

DOMIN: Have you ever seen what a Robot looks like inside?

HELENA: No.

DOMIN: Very neat, very simple. Really, a beautiful piece of work. Not much in it, but everything in flawless order. The product of an engineer is technically at a higher pitch of perfection than a product of nature.

HELENA: But man is supposed to be the product of God.

DOMIN: All the worse. God hasn’t the least notion of modern engineering. Would you believe that young Rossum then proceeded to play at being God?

HELENA: How do you mean?

DOMIN: He began to manufacture Super-Robots. Regular giants they were. He tried to make them twelve feet tall. But you wouldn’t believe what a failure they were.

HELENA: A failure?

DOMIN: Yes. For no reason at all their limbs used to keep snapping off. Evidently our planet is too small for giants. Now we only make Robots of normal size and of very high class human finish.

HELENA: I saw the first Robots at home. The town counsel bought them for—I mean engaged them for work.

DOMIN: Bought them, dear Miss Glory. Robots are bought and sold.

HELENA: These were employed as street sweepers. I saw them sweeping. They were so strange and quiet.

DOMIN: Rossum’s Universal Robot factory doesn’t produce a uniform brand of Robots. We have Robots of finer and coarser grades. The best will live about twenty years.

(He rings for MARIUS.)

HELENA: Then they die?

DOMIN: Yes, they get used up.

(Enter MARIUS)

Marius, bring in samples of the Manual Labor Robot.

(Exit MARIUS)

I’ll show you specimens of the two extremes. This first grade is comparatively inexpensive and is made in vast quantities.

(MARIUS reenters with two Manual Labor ROBOTS)

There you are; as powerful as a small tractor. Guaranteed to have average intelligence. That will do, Marius.

MARIUS exits with ROBOTS.

HELENA: They make me feel so strange.

DOMIN:
(rings)

Did you see my new typist?

He rings for SULLA.

HELENA: I didn’t notice her.

Enter SULLA.

DOMIN: Sulla, let Miss Glory see you.

HELENA: So pleased to meet you. You must find it terribly dull in this out-of-the-way spot, don’t you?

SULLA: I don’t know, Miss Glory.

HELENA: Where do you come from?

SULLA: From the factory.

HELENA: Oh, you were born there?

SULLA: I was made there.

HELENA: What?

DOMIN: (laughing)

Sulla is a Robot, best grade.

HELENA: Oh, I beg your pardon.

DOMIN: Sulla isn’t angry. See, Miss Glory, the kind of skin we make.

(Feels the skin on Sulla’s face)

Feel her face.

HELENA: Oh, no, no.

DOMIN: You wouldn’t know that she’s made of different material from us, would you? Turn round, Sulla.

HELENA: Oh, stop, stop.

DOMIN: Talk to Miss Glory, Sulla.

SULLA: Please sit down.

(HELENA sits)

Did you have a pleasant crossing?

HELENA: Oh, yes, certainly.

SULLA: Don’t go back on the Amelia, Miss Glory. The barometer is falling steadily. Wait for the Pennsylvania. That’s a good, powerful vessel.

DOMIN: What’s its speed?

SULLA: Twenty knots. Fifty thousand tons. One of the latest vessels, Miss Glory.

HELENA: Thank you.

SULLA: A crew of fifteen hundred, Captain Harpy, eight boilers—

DOMIN: That’ll do, Sulla. Now show us your knowledge of French.

HELENA: You know French?

SULLA: I know four languages. I can write: Dear Sir, Monsieur, Geehrter Herr, Cteny pane.

HELENA: (jumping up)

Oh, that’s absurd! Sulla isn’t a Robot. Sulla is a girl like me. Sulla, this is outrageous! Why do you take part in such a hoax?

SULLA: I am a Robot.

HELENA: No, no, you are not telling the truth. I know they’ve forced you to do it for an advertisement. Sulla, you are a girl like me, aren’t you?

DOMIN: I’m sorry, Miss Glory. Sulla is a Robot.

HELENA: It’s a lie!

DOMIN: What?

(Rings)

Excuse me, Miss Glory, then I must convince you.

Enter MARIUS.

DOMIN: Marius, take Sulla into the dissecting room, and tell them to open her up at once.

HELENA: Where?

DOMIN: Into the dissecting room. When they’ve cut her open, you can go and have a look.

HELENA: No, no!

DOMIN: Excuse me, you spoke of lies.

HELENA: You wouldn’t have her killed?

DOMIN: You can’t kill machines.

HELENA: Don’t be afraid, Sulla, I won’t let you go. Tell me, my dear, are they always so cruel to you? You mustn’t put up with it, Sulla. You mustn’t.

SULLA: I am a Robot.

HELENA: That doesn’t matter. Robots are just as good as we are. Sulla, you wouldn’t let yourself be cut to pieces?

SULLA: Yes.

HELENA: Oh, you’re not afraid of death, then?

SULLA: I cannot tell, Miss Glory.

HELENA: Do you know what would happen to you in there?

SULLA: Yes, I should cease to move.

HELENA: How dreadful!

DOMIN: Marius, tell Miss Glory what you are.

MARIUS: Marius, the Robot.

DOMIN: Would you take Sulla into the dissecting room?

MARIUS: Yes.

DOMIN: Would you be sorry for her?

MARIUS: I cannot tell.

DOMIN: What would happen to her?

MARIUS: She would cease to move. They would put her into the stamping mill.

DOMIN: That is death, Marius. Aren’t you afraid of death?

MARIUS: No.

DOMIN: You see, Miss Glory, the Robots have no interest in life. They have no enjoyments. They are less than so much grass.

HELENA: Oh, stop. Send them away.

DOMIN: Marius, Sulla, you may go.

Exeunt SULLA and MARIUS.

HELENA: How terrible! It’s outrageous what you are doing.

DOMIN: Why outrageous?

HELENA: I don’t know, but it is. Why do you call her Sulla?

DOMIN: Isn’t it a nice name?

HELENA: It’s a man’s name. Sulla was a Roman general.

DOMIN: Oh, we thought that Marius and Sulla were lovers.

HELENA: Marius and Sulla were generals and fought against each other in the year—I’ve forgotten now.

DOMIN: Come here to the window.

HELENA: What?

DOMIN: Come here. What do you see?

HELENA: Bricklayers.

DOMIN: Robots. All our work people are Robots. And down there, can you see anything?

HELENA: Some sort of office.

DOMIN: A counting house. And in it—

HELENA: A lot of officials.

DOMIN: Robots. All our officials are Robots. And when you see the factory—

(Factory whistle blows)

Noon. We have to blow the whistle because the Robots don’t know when to stop work. In two hours I will show you the kneading trough.

HELENA: Kneading trough?

DOMIN: The pestle for beating up the paste. In each one we mix the ingredients for a thousand Robots at one operation. Then there are the vats for the preparation of liver, brains, and so on. Then you will see the bone factory. After that I’ll show you the spinning mill.

HELENA: Spinning mill?

DOMIN: Yes. For weaving nerves and veins. Miles and miles of digestive tubes pass through it at a time.

HELENA: Mayn’t we talk about something else?

DOMIN: Perhaps it would be better. There’s only a handful of us among a hundred thousand Robots, and not one woman. We talk about nothing but the factory all day, every day. It’s just as if we were under a curse, Miss Glory.

HELENA: I’m sorry I said that you were lying.

(A knock at the door.)

DOMIN

Come in.

From the right enter MR. FABRY, DR. GALL, DR. HALLEMEIER, MR. ALQUIST.

DR. GALL: I beg your pardon, I hope we don’t intrude.

DOMIN: Come in. Miss Glory, here are Alquist, Fabry, Gall, Hallemeier. This is President Glory’s daughter.

HELENA: How do you do.

FABRY: We had no idea—

DR. GALL: Highly honored, I’m sure—

ALQUIST: Welcome, Miss Glory.

BUSMAN rushes in from the right.

BUSMAN: Hello, what’s up?

DOMIN: Come in, Busman. This is Busman, Miss Glory. This is President Glory’s daughter.

BUSMAN: By Jove, that’s fine! Miss Glory, may we send a cablegram to the papers about your arrival?

HELENA: No, no, please don’t.

DOMIN: Sit down please, Miss Glory.

BUSMAN: Allow me—

(Dragging up armchairs)

DR. GALL: Please—

FABRY: Excuse me—

ALQUIST: What sort of a crossing did you have?

DR. GALL: Are you going to stay long?

FABRY: What do you think of the factory, Miss Glory?

HALLEMEIER: Did you come over on the Amelia?

DOMIN: Be quiet and let Miss Glory speak.

HELENA:
(to DOMIN)

What am I to speak to them about?

DOMIN: Anything you like.

HELENA: Shall…may I speak quite frankly?

DOMIN: Why, of course.

HELENA: (wavering, then in desperate resolution)

Tell me, doesn’t it ever distress you the way you are treated?

FABRY: By whom, may I ask?

HELENA: Why, everybody.

ALQUIST: Treated?

DR. GALL: What makes you think—?

HELENA: Don’t you feel that you might be living a better life?

DR. GALL: Well, that depends on what you mean, Miss Glory.

HELENA: I mean that it’s perfectly outrageous. It’s terrible.

(Standing up)

The whole of Europe is talking about the way you’re being treated. That’s why I came here, to see for myself, and it’s a thousand times worse than could have been imagined. How can you put up with it?

ALQUIST: Put up with what?

HELENA: Good heavens, you are living creatures, just like us, like the whole of Europe, like the whole world. It’s disgraceful that you must live like this.

BUSMAN: Good gracious, Miss Glory.

FABRY: Well, she’s not far wrong. We live here just like red Indians.

HELENA: Worse than red Indians. May I, oh, may I call you brothers?

BUSMAN: Why not?