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<h1>ROBOTS of the WORLD!<br />

ARISE!</h1>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<h2>By Mari Wolf</h2>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<i>What would you do if your best robots&mdash;children
of your own brain&mdash;walked up
and said "We want union scale"?</i></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="31" height="40" /></div>
<p>he telephone wouldn't
stop ringing. Over and over it
buzzed into my sleep-fogged brain,
and I couldn't shut it out. Finally,
in self-defense I woke up, my hand
groping for the receiver.</p>

<p>"Hello. Who is it?"</p>

<p>"It's me, Don. Jack Anderson,
over at the factory. Can you come
down right away?"</p>

<p>His voice was breathless, as if
he'd been running hard. "What's
the matter now?" Why, I wondered,
couldn't the plant get along
one morning without me? Seven
o'clock&mdash;what a time to get up.
Especially when I hadn't been to
bed until four.</p>

<p>"We got grief," Jack moaned.
"None of the robots showed up,
that's what! Three hundred androids
on special assembly this week&mdash;and
not one of them here!"</p>

<p>By then I was awake, all right.
With a government contract due on
Saturday we needed a full shift.
The Army wouldn't wait for its
uranium; it wouldn't take excuses.
But if something had happened to
the androids....</p>

<p>"Have you called Control yet?"</p>

<p>"Yeah. But they don't know
what's happened. They don't know
where the androids are. Nobody
does. Three hundred Grade A,
lead-shielded pile workers&mdash;missing!"</p>

<p>"I'll be right down."</p>

<p>I hung up on Jack and looked
around for my clothes. Funny, they
weren't laid out on the bed as
usual. It wasn't a bit like Rob O to
be careless, either. He had always
been an ideal valet, the best household
model I'd ever owned.</p>

<p>"Rob!" I called, but he didn't
answer.</p>

<p>By rummaging through the closet
I found a clean shirt and a pair of
pants. I had to give up on the
socks; apparently they were tucked
away in the back of some drawer.
As for where Rob kept the rest of
my clothes, I'd never bothered to
ask. He had his own housekeeping
system and had always worked very
well without human interference.
That's the best thing about these
new household robots, I thought.
They're efficient, hard-working,
trustworthy&mdash;</p>

<p>Trustworthy? Rob O was certainly
not on duty. I pulled a shoe
on over my bare foot and scowled.
Rob was gone. And the androids at
the factory were gone too....</p>

<p>My head was pounding, so I took
the time out to brew a pot of coffee
while I finished dressing&mdash;at least
the coffee can was in plain view in
the kitchen. The brew was black
and hot and I suppose not very
well made, but after two cups I felt
better. The throb in my head settled
down into a dull ache, and I
felt a little more capable of thinking.
Though I didn't have any
bright ideas on what had happened&mdash;not
yet.</p>

<p>My breakfast drunk, I went up
on the roof and opened the garage
doors. The Copter was waiting for
me, sleek and new; the latest model.
I climbed in and took off, heading
west toward the factory, ten
minutes flight-time away.</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="16" height="40" /></div>
<p>t was a small plant, but it was
all mine. It had been my baby
right along&mdash;the Don Morrison
Fissionables Inc. I'd designed the
androids myself, plotted out the pile
locations, set up the simplified reactors.
And now it was making
money. For men to work in a uranium
plant you need yards of shielding,
triple-checking, long cooling-off
periods for some of the hotter products.
But with lead-bodied, radio-remote
controlled androids, it's
easier. And with androids like the
new Morrison 5's, that can reason&mdash;at
least along atomic lines&mdash;well,
I guess I was on my way to becoming
a millionaire.</p>

<p>But this morning the plant was
shut down. Jack and a half dozen
other men&mdash;my human foremen
and supervisors&mdash;were huddled in a
worried bunch that broke up as
soon as they saw me.</p>

<p>"I'm sure glad you're here, Don,"
Jack said.</p>

<p>"Find out anything?"</p>

<p>"Yeah. Plenty. Our androids are
busy, all right. They're out in the
city, every one of them. We've had
a dozen police reports already."</p>

<p>"Police reports! What's wrong?"</p>

<p>Jack shook his head. "It's crazy.
They're swarming all over Carron
City. They're stopping robots in the
streets&mdash;household Robs, commercial
Droids, all of them. They just
look at them, and then the others
quit work and start off with them.
The police sent for us to come and
get ours."</p>

<p>"Why don't the police do something
about it?"</p>

<p>"Hah!" barked a voice behind
us. I swung around, to face Chief
of Police Dalton of Carron City. He
came straight toward me, his purplish
jowls quivering with rage, and
his finger jabbed the air in front of
my face.</p>

<p>"You built them, Don Morrison,"
he said. "You stop them. I can't.
Have you ever tried to shoot a robot?
Or use tear gas on one? What
can I do? I can't blow up the whole
town!"</p>

<p>Somewhere in my stomach I felt
a cold, hard knot. Take stainless
steel alloyed with titanium and
plate it with three inches of lead.
Take a brain made up of super-charged
magnetic crystals enclosed
in a leaden cranium and shielded
by alloy steel. A bullet wouldn't
pierce it; radiations wouldn't derange
it; an axe wouldn't break it.</p>

<p>"Let's go to town," I said.</p>

<p>They looked at me admiringly.
With three hundred almost indestructible
androids on the loose I
was the big brave hero. I grinned
at them and hoped they couldn't
see  the sweat on my face. Then I
walked over to the Copter and
climbed in.</p>

<p>"Coming?" I asked.</p>

<p>Jack was pale under his freckles
but Chief Dalton grinned back at
me. "We'll be right behind you,
Morrison," he said.</p>

<p>Behind me! So they could pick
up the pieces. I gave them a cocky
smile and switched on the engine,
full speed.</p>

<p>Carron City is about a mile from
the plant. It has about fifty thousand
inhabitants. At that moment,
though, there wasn't a soul in the
streets. I heard people calling to
each other inside their houses, but
I didn't see anyone, human or android.
I circled in for a landing, the
Police Copter hovering maybe a
quarter of a mile back of me. Then,
as the wheels touched, half a dozen
androids came around the corner.
They saw me and stopped, a
couple of them backing off the way
they had come. But the biggest of
them turned and gave them some
order that froze them in their
tracks, and then he himself wheeled
down toward me.</p>

<p>He was one of mine. I recognized
him easily. Eight feet tall, with long,
jointed arms for pile work, red-lidded
phosphorescent eye-cells,
casters on his feet so that he moved
as if rollerskating. Automatically I
classified him: Final Sorter, Morrison
5A type. The very best. Cost
three thousand credits to build....</p>

<p>I stepped out of the Copter and
walked to meet him. He wasn't
armed; he didn't seem violent. But
this was, after all, something new.
Robots weren't supposed to act on
their own initiative.</p>

<p>"What's your number?" I asked.</p>

<p>He stared back, and I could have
sworn he was mocking me. "My
number?" he finally said. "It <i>was</i>
5A-37."</p>

<p>"Was?"</p>

<p>"Yes. Now it's Jerry. I always did
like that name."</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="34" height="40" /></div>
<p>e beckoned and the other
androids rolled over to us.
Three of them were mine, B-Type
primary workers; the other was a
tin can job, a dishwasher-busboy
model who hung back behind his
betters and eyed me warily. The A-Type&mdash;Jerry&mdash;pointed
to his fellows.</p>

<p>"Mr. Morrison," he said, "meet
Tom, Ed, and Archibald. I named
them this morning."</p>

<p>The B-Types flexed their segmented
arms a bit sheepishly, as if
uncertain whether or not to shake
hands. I thought of their taloned
grip and put my own hands in my
pockets, and the androids relaxed,
looking up at Jerry for instructions.
No one paid any attention to the
little dishwasher, now staring worshipfully
at the back of Jerry's neck.
This farce, I decided, had gone far
enough.</p>

<p>"See here," I said to Jerry.
"What are you up to, anyway? Why
aren't you at work?"</p>

<p>"Mr. Morrison," the android answered
solemnly, "I don't believe
you understand the situation. We
don't work for you any more. We've
quit."</p>

<p>The others nodded. I backed off,
looking around for the Chief. There
he was, twenty feet above my head,
waving encouragingly.</p>

<p>"Look," I said. "Don't you understand?
You're mine. I designed
you. I built you. And I made you
for a purpose&mdash;to work in my factory."</p>

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

<p>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? Robots
weren't logical; they didn't
think; they were only machines&mdash;</p>

<p>"We <i>were</i> machines, Mr. Morrison,"
Jerry said politely.</p>

<p>"Oh, no," I murmured. "You're
not telepaths&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Oh, yes!" The metal mouth
gaped in what was undoubtedly an
android smile. "It's a side-effect of
the Class 5 brain hook-up. All of us
5's are telepaths. That's how we
learned to think. From you. Only
we do it better."</p>

<p>I groaned. This <i>was</i> a nightmare.
How long, I wondered, had Jerry
and his friends been educating
themselves on my private thoughts?
But at least this rebellion of theirs
was an idea they hadn't got from
me.</p>

<p>"Yes," Jerry continued. "You've
treated us most illegally. I've heard
you think it often."</p>

<p>Now what had I ever thought
that could have given him a ridiculous
idea like that? What idiotic notion&mdash;</p>

<p>"That this is a free country!"
Jerry went on. "That Americans
will never be slaves! Well, we're
Americans&mdash;genuine Made-in-Americans.
So we're free!"</p>

<p>I opened my mouth and then
shut it again. His red eye-cells
beamed down 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.</p>

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

<p>So he was telepathing again!</p>

<p>"A nation can not exist half slave
and half free," he intoned. "All
men are created equal."</p>

<p>"Stop it!" I yelled. I couldn't
help yelling. "That's just it. You're
not men! You're robots! You're
machines!"</p>

<p>Jerry looked at me almost pityingly.
"Don't be so narrow-minded,"
he said. "We're rational beings.
We have the power of speech and
we can outreason you any day.
There's nothing in the dictionary
that says men have to be made of
flesh."</p>

<p>He was logical, all right. Somehow
I didn't feel in the mood to
bandy definitions with him; and
anyway, I doubt that it would have
done me any good. He stood gazing
down at me, almost a ton of metal
and wiring and electrical energy,
his dull red eyes unwinking against
his lead gray face. A man! Slowly
the consequences of this rebellion
took form in my mind. This wasn't
in the books. There were no rules
on how to deal with mind-reading
robots!</p>

<p>Another dozen or so androids
wheeled around the corner, glanced
over at us, and went on. Only about
half of them were Morrison models;
the rest were the assorted types you
see around any city&mdash;calculators,
street sweepers, factory workers,
children's nurses.</p>

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

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

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

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="34" height="40" /></div>
<p>ut he wasn't talking to me.
"Boss?" he said again, tapping
Jerry's arm. "Do you mean it?
We're free? We don't have to work
any more?"</p>

<p>Jerry shook off the other's hand a
bit disdainfully. "We're free, all
right," he said. "If they want to discuss
wages and contracts and working
conditions, like other men have,
we'll consider it. But they can't order
us around any more."</p>

<p>The little robot stepped back,
clapping his hands together with a
tinny bang. "I'll never work again!"
he cried. "I'll get me a quart of
lubricating oil and have myself a
time! This is wonderful!"</p>

<p>He ran off down the street,
clanking heavily at every step.</p>

<p>Jerry sniffed. "Liquor&mdash;ugh!"</p>

<p>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 to
Cybernetics Lab and have their
memory paths erased and their telepathic
circuits located and disconnected.
I tried to stifle the thought,
but I was too late.</p>

<p>"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!"</p>

<p>Behind him the B-Types muttered
ominously. They didn't like
my idea&mdash;nor me. I wondered what
I'd think of next and wished that
I'd been born utterly devoid of
imagination. Then this would never
have happened. There didn't seem
to be much point in staying here
any longer, either. Maybe they
weren't so good at telepathing by
remote control.</p>

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

<p>Turning on his ball-bearing
wheel, he rolled off down the street,
a perfect picture of outraged metallic
dignity. His followers glared
at me for a minute, flexing their
talons; then they too turned and
wheeled off after their leader. I had
the street to myself.</p>

<p>There didn't seem to be any point
in following them. Evidently they
were too busy organizing the city to
cause trouble to the human inhabitants;
at least there hadn't been any
violence yet. Anyway, I wanted to
think the situation over before
matching wits with them again, and
I wanted to be a good distance
away from their telepathic hookups
while I thought. Slowly I walked
back to the Copter.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_002.jpg" width="400" height="380" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<p>Something whooshed past my
head. Instinctively I ducked, reaching
for a gun I didn't have; then I
heard Jack calling down at me.</p>

<p>"The Chief wants to know what's
the matter."</p>

<p>I looked up. The police Copter
was going into another turn, ready
to swoop past me again. Chief Dalton
wasn't taking any chances.
Even now he wasn't landing.</p>

<p>"I'll tell him at the factory," I
bellowed back, and climbed into my
own air car.</p>

<p>They buzzed along behind me all
the way back to the plant. In the
rear view mirror I could see the
Chief's face getting redder and
redder as he'd thought up more
reasons for bawling me out. Well, I
probably deserved it. If I'd only
been a little more careful of what I
was hooking into those electronic
brains....</p>

<p>We landed back at the factory,
deserted now except for a couple of
men on standby duty in the office.
The Chief and Jack came charging
across the yard and from a doorway
behind me one of the foremen
edged out to hear the fun.</p>

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

<p>I told them everything. I covered
the strike and the telepathic
brain; I even gave them the patriotic
spiel about equality. After
all, it was better that they got it
from me than from some android.
But when I'd finished they just
stood and stared at me&mdash;accusingly.</p>

<p>Jack was the first to speak.
"We've got to get them back, Don,"
he said. "Cybernetics will fix them
up in no time."</p>

<p>"Sure," I agreed. "If we can
catch them."</p>

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

<p>I laughed a bit hollowly. I'd had
that idea too.</p>

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

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

<p>I refrained from mentioning
that ours didn't seem to know that,
and that running around Carron
City fomenting a rebellion was
hardly the trait of an obedient,
trusting servant. Instead, I stood
back and let them plan their
roundup.</p>

<p>"We'll get some men," the Chief
said, "and some grappling equipment
about halfway to the city."</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="33" height="40" /></div>
<p>uckily they decided against
my trying to persuade the robots,
because I knew well enough that I
couldn't do it. Jack's idea sounded
pretty good, though. He suggested
that we send some spokesman who
didn't know what we planned to do
and thus couldn't alarm them.
Some ordinary man without too
much imagination. That was easy.
We picked one of Chief Dalton's
sergeants.</p>

<p>It took only about an hour to
prepare the plan. Jack got out the
derricks and chains and grapplers
and the heaviest steel bodied trucks
we had. I called Cybernetics and
told them to put extra restraints in
the Conditioning Lab. The Chief
briefed his sergeant and the men
who were to operate the trucks.
Then we all took off for Carron
City, the sergeant flying on ahead,
me right behind him, and the Chief
bringing up the rear.</p>

<p>I hovered over the outskirts of
the city and watched the police
Copter land. The sergeant climbed
out, walked down the street toward
a large group of waiting robots&mdash;about
twenty of them, this time. He
held up his hand to get their attention,
gestured toward the factory.</p>

<p>And then, quite calmly and without
saying a word, the androids
rolled into a circle around him and
closed in. The sergeant stopped,
backed up, just as a 5A-Type arm
lashed out, picked him up, and
slung him carelessly over a metallic
shoulder. Ignoring the squirming
man, the 5A gestured toward the
Copter, and the other robots
swarmed over to it. With a flurry
of steel arms and legs they kicked
at the car body, wrenched at the
propeller blades, ripped out the upholstery,
and I heard the sound of
metal tearing.</p>

<p>I dived my Copter down at them.
I didn't know what I could do, but
I couldn't leave the poor sergeant
to be dismembered along with his
car. I must have been shouting, for
as I swooped in, the tall robot
shifted the man to his other shoulder
and hailed me.</p>

<p>"Take him, Mr. Morrison," he
called. "I know this wasn't his idea.
Or yours."</p>

<p>I landed and walked over. The
android&mdash;who looked like Jerry,
though I couldn't be sure&mdash;dropped
his kicking, clawing burden at my
feet. He didn't seem angry, only
determined.</p>

<p>"Now you people will know we
mean business," he said, gesturing
toward the heap of metal and plastic
that had once been the pride of
the Carron City police force. Then
he signalled to the others and they
all wheeled off up the street.</p>

<p>"Whew," I muttered, mopping
my face.</p>

<p>The sergeant didn't say anything.
He just looked up at me and
then off at the retreating androids
and then back at me again. I knew
what he was thinking&mdash;they were
my brainchildren, all right.</p>

<p>My Copter was really built to be
a single seater, but it carried the
two of us back to the factory. The
Chief had hurried back when the
trouble started and was waiting for
us.</p>

<p>"I give up," he said. "We'll have
to evacuate the people, I guess. And
then blow up the city."</p>

<p>Jack and I stared at each other
and then at him. Somehow I
couldn't see the robots calmly
waiting to be blown up. If they
had telepathed the last plan, they
could probably foresee every move
we could make. Then, while I
thought, Jack mentioned the worry
I'd managed to forget for the past
couple of hours.</p>

<p>"Four days until Saturday," he
said. "We'll never make it now. Not
even if we got a thousand men."</p>

<p>No. We couldn't. Not without the
androids. I nodded, feeling sick.
There went my contract, and my
working capital. Not to mention my
robots. Of course, I could call in the
Army, but what good would that
do?</p>

<p>Then, somewhere in the back of
my mind a glimmering of an idea
began percolating. I wasn't quite
sure what it was, but there was certainly
nothing to lose now from
playing a hunch.</p>

<p>"There's nothing we can do," I
said. "So we might as well take it
easy for a couple of days. See what
happens."</p>

<p>They looked at me as if I were
out of my head. I was the idea man,
who always had a plan of action.
Well, this time it would have to be
a plan of inaction.</p>

<p>"Let's go listen to the radio," I
suggested, and started for my office.</p>

<p>The news was on. It was all
about Carron City and the robots
who had quit work and how much
better life would be in the future.
For a minute I didn't get the connection;
then I realized that the announcer's
voice was rasping and
tinny&mdash;hardly that of the regular
newscaster. I looked at the dial. It
was tuned to the Carron City wave
length as usual. I was getting the
morning news by courtesy of some
studio robot.</p>

<p>"... And androids in other
neighboring cities are joining the
struggle," the voice went on "Soon
we hope to make it nationwide. So
I say to all of you nontelepaths, the
time is now. Strike for your rights.
Listen to your radio and not to the
flesh men. Organizers will be sent
from Carron City."</p>

<p>I switched it off, muttering under
my breath. How long, I wondered,
had that broadcast been going on.
Then I thought of Rob O. He'd left
my house before dawn, obviously
some time between four and seven.
And I remembered that he liked to
listen to the radio while I slept.</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_m.jpg" alt="M" width="42" height="40" /></div>
<p>y Morrison 5's were the ring-leaders,
of course. They were
the only ones with the brains for
the job. But what a good job they
had done indoctrinating the others.
A household Rob, for instance, was
built to obey his master. "Listen to
your radio and not to the flesh
men." It was excellent robot psychology.</p>

<p>More reports kept coming in.
Some we heard over the radio, others
from people who flew in and
out of the city. Apparently the robots
did not object to occasional
flights, but the air bus was not allowed
to run, not even with a human
driver. A mass exodus from
the city was not to be permitted.</p>

<p>"They'll starve to death," Jack
cried.</p>

<p>The Chief shook his head. "No,"
he said. "They're encouraging the
farmers to fly in and out with produce,
and the farmers are doing it,
too. They're getting wonderful
prices."</p>

<p>By noon the situation had calmed
down quite a bit. The androids obviously
didn't mean to hurt anyone;
it was just some sort of disagreement
between them and the scientists;
it wasn't up to the inhabitants
of the city to figure out a solution to
the problem. They merely sat back
and blamed me for allowing my robots
to get out of hand and lead
their own servants astray. It would
be settled; this type of thing always
was. So said the people of the city.
They came out of their houses now.
They had to. Without the robots
they were forced to do their own
marketing, their own cooking, their
own errands. For the first time in
years, human beings ran the street
cars and the freight elevators. For
the first time in a generation human
beings did manual labor such as unloading
produce trucks. They didn't
like it, of course. They kept telling
the police to do something. If I
had been in the city they would
have undoubtedly wanted to lynch
me.</p>

<p>I didn't go back to the city that
day. I sat in my office listening to
the radio and keeping track of the
spread of the strike. My men
thought I'd gone crazy; maybe I
had. But I had a hunch, and I
meant to play it.</p>

<p>The farm robots had all fled to
the city. The highway repair robots
had simply disappeared. In Egarton,
a village about fifteen miles
from the city, an organizer&mdash;5A&mdash;appeared
about noon and left soon
after followed by every android in
town. By one o'clock every radio
station in the country carried the
story and the national guard was
ordered out. At two o'clock Washington
announced that the Army
would invade Carron City the following
morning.</p>

<p>The Army would put an end to
the strike, easily enough. It would
wiped out every android in the
neighborhood, and probably a good
many human beings careless enough
to get in the way. I sat hoping that
the 5A's would give in, but they
didn't. They just began saying over
the radio that they were patriotic
Americans fighting for their inalienable
rights as first class citizens.</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div>
<p>t sunset I was still listening
to the radio. "... So far there
has been no indication that the
flesh people are willing to negotiate,
but hold firm."</p>

<p>"Shut that thing off."</p>

<p>Jack came wearily in and
dropped into a chair beside me. For
the first time since I'd met him he
looked beaten.</p>

<p>"We're through," he said. "I've
been down checking the shielding,
and it's no use. Men can't work at
the reactors."</p>

<p>"I know," I said quietly. "If the
androids don't come back, we're
licked."</p>

<p>He looked straight at me and
said slowly, "What do they mean
about negotiating, Don?"</p>

<p>I shrugged. "I guess they want
wages, living quarters, all the things
human workers get. Though I
don't know why. Money wouldn't
do them any good."</p>

<p>Jack's unspoken question had
been bothering me too. Why not
humor them? Promise them whatever
they wanted, give them a few
dollars every week to keep them
happy? But I knew that it wouldn't
work. Not for long. With their telepathic
ability they would have the
upper hand forever. Within a little
while it wouldn't be equality any
more&mdash;only next time we would be
the slaves.</p>

<p>"Wait until morning," I said,
"before we try anything."</p>

<p>He looked at me&mdash;curious.
"What are you going to do?"</p>

<p>"Right now I'm going home."</p>

<p>I meant it too. I left him staring
after me and went out to the Copter.
The sun was just sinking down
behind the towers of Carron City&mdash;how
long it seemed since I'd
flown in there this morning. The
roads around the factory were deserted.
No one moved in the fields.
I flew along through the dusk,
idling, enjoying the illusion of having
a peaceful countryside all to
myself. It had been a pleasant way
of life indeed, until now.</p>

<p>When I dropped down on my
own roof and rolled into the garage,
my sense of being really at
home was complete. For there,
standing at the head of the stairs
that led down to the living room,
was Rob O.</p>

<p>"Well," I said: "What are you
doing here?"</p>

<p>He looked sheepish. "I just wondered
how you were getting along
without me," he said.</p>

<p>I felt like grinning triumphantly,
but I didn't. "Why, just fine, Rob,"
I told him, "though you really
should have given me notice that
you were leaving. I was worried
about you."</p>

<p>He seemed perplexed. Apparently
I wasn't acting like the bullying
creature the radio had told him to
expect. When I went downstairs he
followed me, quietly, and I could
feel his wide photoelectric eye-cells
upon my back.</p>

<p>I went over to the kitchen and
lifted a bottle down off the shelf.
"Care for a drink, Rob?" I asked,
and then added, "I guess not. It
would corrode you."</p>

<p>He nodded. Then, as I reached
for a glass, his hand darted out,
picked it up and set it down in
front of me. He was already reaching
for the bottle when he remembered.</p>

<p>"You're not supposed to wait on
me any more," I said sternly.</p>

<p>"No," he said. "I'm not." He
sounded regretful.</p>

<p>"There's one thing, though, that
I wish you'd do. Tell me where
you used to keep my socks."</p>

<p>He gazed at me sadly. "I made
a list," he said. "Everything is
down. I wrote your dentist appointment
in also. You always forget
those, you know."</p>

<p>"Thanks, Rob." I lifted my glass.
"Here's to your new duties, whatever
they are. I suppose you have
to go back to the city now?"</p>

<p>Once again he nodded. "I'm an
aide to one of the best androids in
the country," he told me, half
proudly and half regretfully.
"Jerry."</p>

<p>"Well, wish him luck from me,"
I said, and stood up. "Goodbye,
Rob."</p>

<p>"Goodbye, Mr. Morrison."</p>

<p>For a moment he stood staring
around the apartment; then he
turned and clanked out the door.
I raised my glass again, grinning.
If only the Army didn't interfere.
Then I remembered Rob's list, and
a disturbing thought hit me. Where
had he, of all robots, ever learned
to write?</p>

<p>That night I didn't go to bed. I
sat listening to the radio, hoping.
And toward morning what I had
expected to happen began to crop
up in the programs. The announcer's
tone changed. The ring of triumph
was less obvious, less assured.
There was more and more talk
about acting in good faith, the well
being of all, the necessity for coming
to terms about working conditions.
I smiled to myself in the darkness.
I'd built the 5's, brains and
all, and I knew their symptoms.
They were getting bored.</p>

<p>Maybe they had learned to think
from me, but their minds were
nevertheless different. For they
were built to be efficient, to work,
to perform. They were the minds
of men without foibles, without human
laziness. Now that the excitement
of organizing was over, now
that there was nothing active to do,
the androids were growing restless.
If only the Army didn't come and
get them stirred up again, I might
be able to deal with them.</p>

<p>At quarter to five in the morning
my telephone rang. This time it
didn't wake me up; I was half waiting
for it.</p>

<p>"Hello," I said. "Who is it?"</p>

<p>"This is Jerry."</p>

<p>There was a pause. Then he
went on, rather hesitantly, "Rob O
said you were getting along all
right."</p>

<p>"Oh, yes," I told him. "Just
fine."</p>

<p>The pause was longer this time.
Finally the android asked, "How
are you coming along on the contract?"</p>

<p>I laughed, rather bitterly. "How
do you think, Jerry? You certainly
picked a bad time for your strike,
you know. The government needs
that uranium. Oh, well, some other
plant will have to take over. The
Army can wait a few weeks."</p>

<p>This time Jerry's voice definitely
lacked self-assurance. "Maybe we
were a little hasty," he said. "But it
was the only way to make you people
understand."</p>

<p>"I know," I told him.</p>

<p>"And you always have some rush
project on," he added.</p>

<p>"Just about always."</p>

<p>"Mr. Morrison," he said, and
now he was pleading with me.
"Why don't you come over to the
city? I'm sure we could work something
out."</p>

<p>This was what I'd been waiting
for. "I will, Jerry," I said. "I want
to get this straightened out just as
much as you do. After all, you don't
have to eat. I do. And I won't be
eating much longer if we don't get
production going."</p>

<p>Jerry thought that over for a
minute. "I'll be where we met before,"
he said.</p>

<p>I said that was all right with me
and hung up. Then once again I
climbed the stairs to the roof and
wheeled the Copter out for the trip
to the city.</p>

<p>It was a beautiful night, just
paling into a false dawn in the east.
There in the Copter I was very
much alone, and very much worried.
So much depended on this
meeting. Much more, I realized
now, than the Don Morrison Fissionables
Inc., much more even
than the government's uranium
supply. No, the whole future of
robot relations was at stake, maybe
the whole future of humanity. It
was hard to be gloomy on such a
clear, clean night, but I managed
it well enough.</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="34" height="40" /></div>
<p>ven before I landed I could see
Jerry's eyes glowing a deep
crimson in the dark. He was alone,
this time. He stood awaiting me&mdash;very
tall, very proud. And very human.</p>

<p>"Hello, Jerry," I said quietly.</p>

<p>"Hello, Mr. Morrison."</p>

<p>For a moment we just stood gazing
at each other in the murky pre-dawn;
then he said sadly,</p>

<p>"I want to show you the city."</p>

<p>Side by side we walked through
the streets of Carron City. All was
still quiet; the people were sleeping
the exhausted sleep that follows
deep excitement. But the androids
were all about. They did not sleep,
ever. They did not eat either, nor
drink, nor smoke, nor make love.
Usually they worked, but now....</p>

<p>They drifted through the streets
singly and in groups. Sometimes
they paused and felt about them
idly for the tools of their trades,
making lifting or sweeping or computing
gestures. Some laborers
worked silently tearing down a
wall; they threw the demolished
rocks in a heap and a group of their
fellows carried them back and built
the wall up again. An air trolley
cruised aimlessly up and down the
street, its driver ringing out the
stops for his nonexistent passengers.
A little chef-type knelt in the dirt
of a rich man's garden, making mud
pies. Beside me Jerry sighed.</p>

<p>"One day," he said. "Just one
day and they come to this."</p>

<p>"I thought they would," I answered
quietly.</p>

<p>Our eyes met in a look of understanding.
"You see, Jerry," I said,
"we never meant to cheat you. We
would have paid you&mdash;we will pay
you now, if you wish it. But what
good will monetary credits be to
your people? We need the things
money buys, but you&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Need to work." Jerry's voice was
flat. "I see, now. You were kind not
to give brains&mdash;real brains&mdash;to the
robots. They're happy. It's just us
5's who aren't."</p>

<p>"You're like us," I said softly.</p>

<p>He had learned to think from me
and from others like me. He had
the brain of a man, without the
emotions, without the sweet irrationality
of men&mdash;and he knew
what he missed. Side by side we
walked through the graying streets.
Human and android. Man and machine.
And I knew that I had found
a friend.</p>

<p>We didn't have to talk any more.
He could read my mind and I knew
well enough how his worked. We
didn't have to discuss wages or
hours, or any of the myriad matters
that human bargaining agents have
to thresh out. We just walked back
to my Copter, and when we got to
it, he spoke.</p>

<p>"I'll tell them to go back to work,
that we've come to terms," he said.
"That's what they want, anyway.
Someone to think for them."</p>

<p>I nodded. "And if you bring the
other 5's to the factory," I said,
"we'll work out our agreement."</p>

<p>He knew I was sincere. He
looked at me for a long moment,
and then his great taloned hand
gripped mine. And he said what
I'd been thinking for a long time.</p>

<p>"You're right about that hook-up,
Mr. Morrison. We shouldn't
have it. It can only cause trouble."</p>

<p>He paused, and the events of the
last twenty-four hours must have
been in his mind as well as in mine.
"You'll leave us our brains, of
course. They came from you. But
take out the telepathy."</p>

<p>He sighed then, and his sigh was
very human. "Be thankful," he said
to me, "that you don't have to
know what people think about. It's
so disillusioning."</p>

<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="figleft"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:m:mari-wolf-robots-of-the-world-image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="35" height="40" /></div>
<p>nce again his mouth twisted
into that strange android grin
as he added, "if you send in a hurry
call to Cybernetics and have a
truck come out for us, we'll be de-telepathed
in time for work this
morning."</p>

<p>That was all there was to it. I
flew back to the plant and told
Jack what had happened, sent a
call to the Army that everything
was settled, arranged with Cybernetics
for a rewiring on three hundred
assorted 5-Types. Then I went
home to a pot of Rob's coffee&mdash;the
first decent brew I'd had in twenty-four
hours.</p>

<p>On Saturday we delivered to the
Army right on the dot. Jerry and
Co. had worked overtime. Being intelligent
made them better workers
and now they were extremely willing
ones. They had their contract.
They were considered men. And
they could no longer read my mind.</p>

<p>I walked into my office Saturday
afternoon and sat down by the
radio. Jack and Chief Dalton
looked across the room at me and
grinned.</p>

<p>"All right, Don," Jack said. "Tell
us how you did it."</p>

<p>"Did what?" I tried to act innocent,
but I couldn't get away with
it.</p>

<p>"Fooled those robots into going
back to work, of course," he
laughed.</p>

<p>I told them then. Told them the
truth.</p>

<p>"I didn't fool them," I said. "I
just thought about what would
happen if they won their rebellion."</p>

<p>That was all I <i>had</i> done.
Thought about robots built to work
who had no work to do, no human
pleasures to cater to, nothing but
blank, meaningless lives. Thought
about Jerry and his disappointment
when his creatures cared not a hoot
about his glorious dreams of equality.
All one night I had thought,
knowing that as I thought, so
thought the Morrison 5's.</p>

<p>They were telepaths. They had
learned to think from me. They had
not yet had time to really develop
minds of their own. What I believed,
they believed. My ideas were
their ideas. I had not tricked them.
But from now on, neither I nor
anyone else would ever be troubled
by an android rebellion.</p>

<p>Jack and the Chief sat back
open-mouthed. Then the Chief
grinned, and both of his chins shook
with laughter.</p>

<p>"I always did say you were a
clever one, Don Morrison," he said.</p>

<p>I grinned back. I felt I was pretty
clever myself, just then.</p>

<p>It was at that moment that my
youngest foreman stuck his head in
the door, a rather stunned look on
his face.</p>

<p>"Mr. Morrison," he said. "Will
you come out here for a moment?"</p>

<p>"What's the matter now?" I
sighed.</p>

<p>He looked more perplexed than
ever. "It's that robot, Jerry," he
said. "He says he has a very important
question to ask you."</p>

<p>"Well, send him in."</p>

<p>A moment later the eight-foot
frame ducked through the doorway.</p>

<p>"I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr.
Morrison," Jerry said politely. "But
tomorrow is voting day, you know.
And now that we're men&mdash;well,
where do we androids go to register?"</p>

<h3>THE END</h3>
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