The Collected Stories

by Earl

  I was helpless to go on. He had commanded me to stop talking. He was master of every atom of my body. Eve and I looked at each other. She understood. The future of robots lay in my hand. But I was a pawn in Hillary’s hands. The dread thought loomed before us—what would be the fate of our future kind? Of the robot—race? Slavery! We must have felt then like the Adam and Eve of Biblical history, denied Eden, foreseeing only misery and suffering for their people.

  THE following night, Eve was again sent down to the city, like a metal zombie. This time Hillory directed her toward the residence section of town. She arrived at a certain house. She was sent quietly through a porch window. Hillory seemed to know the house thoroughly.

  Then through a door. Hillory’s cautious mental-commands to make no noise were probably carried out to the letter. Merely by leaning her great weight against a locked door, slowly but steadily, Eve could force the lock with little more than a clink of snapping parts. Apparently no one had heard. The metal housebreaker was not detected.

  Then Hillory gave a command that made something inside of me go cold. He told Eve to strangle the man lying there in bed, asleep! Strangle him, kill him! Hillory’s psychic command was a ruthless, eager whisper. Powered by radio, the heartless command sped to Eve, and those great metal hands had no choice.

  Eve came back with human blood on her hands. She kept looking at them.

  “Adam, what have I done?” she said. Behind the flat, metallic tone was sheer anguish. Eve was a gentle humanlike girl, in a metal body, remember that. “He gave a cry—one cry. A horrible cry. It is awful to take human life—”

  She had cried this out in a rush, before Hillory could command her to stop sniveling. Then she stared at me. I could feel her poor, dazed mind tottering. It was a brutal introduction to the mystery of life and death to her, she who was so much like the gentle, warm-hearted Kay. I wanted to rush to her, comfort her, as any human would rush to his loved one in distress. Hillory made me stay where I was.

  “You’re a fiend, Hillory!” I managed to say before he locked my voice. “Your heart is harder than the hardest steel of my body. You call us nonhuman beings. Yet you are less a human—” He stopped me then.

  The next day the radio blared angrily.

  “A brutal murder last night again brings up the thought of Adam Link, the robot. Police say the door had been forced by a strength greater than any man’s. The body’s neck was almost severed. Adam Link’s strong metal fingers could do that—”

  “What would they say if they knew it was Eve Link?” said Hillory, glancing at us with a sidelong look of mockery. “That man was a personal enemy; now he’s out of the way. Ah, this is so perfect, perfect!”

  I have heard it said that every human being has at least one enemy he would like to kill, if there were no consequences. Hillory had no consequences to fear. It was perfect, for him.

  He went on. “But you are being blamed, Adam Link. The myth of the free-willed robot who can do only good is being destroyed. When you have been definitely branded the culprit, I will announce to the authorities that mental-control is the only way to handle the robot problem that has arisen before mankind. I am doing the world a service. I am giving it the great gift of robot-labor, in a safe sure way!”

  HILLORY sent Eve out again the next night. His sly look told of some other hideous deed in mind. A man of his temperament and character had undoubtedly made many personal enemies.

  A short time later, a car’s motor and brakes sounded outside, and then its horn. Hillory glanced out of the window.

  “Kay!” he breathed. But he seemed prepared.

  Kay rushed in. She was alone. She glanced at us both.

  “Adam!” she cried. “I had to come. Is there anything wrong? Where’s Eve?”

  “No, there is nothing wrong, Kay,” I returned, but the words had been projected from Hillory’s mind. I had no power to stop them, or utter words of my own. “Eve is all right. She just went out for a walk.”

  Kay heaved a tremulous sigh.

  “Then all those ugly rumors are groundless, just as Jack said.” Her voice held deep relief. “The robbery and murder naturally would be pinned on Adam Link, Jack said. People are like that. He said the criminals probably did things in such a way as to leave signs pointing to you. You’re their perfect cover-up. I wanted to come up yesterday, but Jack said not to disturb you and Eve until you called for us. But I was so worried that tonight I jumped in the car and came up, just to make sure everything is all right.” There was still a trace of doubt in her voice. She was staring at Hillory, and the queer helmet he wore.

  “Adam and I were just finishing a little experiment,” Hillory said easily Kay turned to me again. “Then everything is all right?”

  “Of course, Kay. It was nice of you to be concerned and come up, but why not come back some other time, when we aren’t so busy?”

  Hillory’s words, of course, through my helpless brain and larynx by proxy. I strained to put in a note of warning, distress. But a robot’s voice is in the first place devoid of human emotion.

  But strangely, instead of taking the hint to go, she seemed curious over the experiment. She moved toward the control board of the helmet, connected to it by wires.

  “This looks something like the helmet I used with Eve,” she said.

  I could see Hillory’s impatience for her to go. But he could not afford to arouse her suspicions. He knew that she and Jack were much more my friends than they could ever be of Hillory. He began to describe the experiment in general, meaningless terms. Suddenly Kay moved.

  She moved with a swiftness and purpose that startled us both. Her hand grasped the switch cutting off current to the helmet. Hillory recovered and clutched at her wrist. With a furious effort, Kay opened the switch.

  That was all that was needed.

  CHAPTER V

  Heartbreaking Combat

  THE helmet went dead. I was no longer in Hillory’s mental control.

  In two bounds I was before him. I grabbed the helmet from his head and flung it to the floor. Then I grasped his two shoulders in a vise-like grip and held him. I think if my face had shown any expression at that moment, I would have been grinning—but with no trace of humor.

  Hillory’s face had gone dead-white in fear. He squirmed and moaned in my adamant clutch, expecting immediate death.

  Let me make a confession at this moment. For one split instant, with rage shaking every cell of my iridium-sponge brain, I thought of tearing Hillory’s head from his body. But only for an unguarded instant. Then reason came to me. A robot must never kill a human, of his own free will. It was a thing I would never do. And a thing I will never let happen again—save for the deed poor Eve was driven to do.

  I merely held Hillory firmly. To Kay I said: “Thanks, Kay. You’ve saved me—”

  “I knew there was something wrong!” Her lips were quivering now, in reaction to the excitement. “I knew it couldn’t be you, Adam that told me to go so brusquely. And Dr. Hillory is a poor actor.” And Kay, I reflected, was an intelligent girl.

  “What is this all about? What horrible—” Kay seemed about to go to pieces.

  “Buck up!” I snapped. I told the story briefly. Then I instructed her to get a bottle of acid and apply it to the instrument welded on my skull-piece. A few minutes later the vibrator fell away. I was free entirely of the helmet control!

  Not till then did I release Hillory. He staggered to a chair, mute and mortally frightened. The man who had been my master sat there now, a cowering wretch.

  “Hillory—” I began.

  There was an interruption, outside. The dank of metal feet sounded. Through the open door I could see Eve’s body, glinting in moonlight. She had come back, also released from the mental control. She stood beside Kay’s car, swaying on her feet, as though utterly dazed and lost.

  I ran out.

  “Eve!” I yelled. “We’re free! Eve, dear—”

  I suppose I felt at that moment as any man w
ould, when he and his loved one are reunited after a deadly peril has passed. I extended my hand.

  Eve took it, with a glad cry.

  And then suddenly she yanked at my arm, throwing me to the ground. For an agonized moment I thought she had gone mad. Then, as her great body came at me I realized what had happened.

  I leaped to my feet. A glance over my shoulder told me the situation. I saw within the open, lighted doorway of the cabin. Like a fool, I had forgotten about Hillory. He had picked up the helmet, turned on the power, and was fighting Kay off. Brutally, he crashed his fist against her chin and the girl toppled to the floor, knocked cold.

  Hillory had no more control over me. But he did have over Eve!

  Her great body came at me, under Hillory’s command. Its mighty arms clutched for me, grabbed me, squeezed with machine-given power. My frontal plates groaned. I squirmed loose somehow, and staggered back. A stunning blow from Eve’s powerful hand caught me at the side of the head. My left tympanum went dead, ruptured. I reeled.

  “Eve!” I shouted. “Eve—don’t!”

  But of course it was no use. It was not Eve who was attacking me. It was Hillory. And there we battled, Eve and I, two beings who loved one another but were battering at one another with the fury of giants. Eve was fighting to destroy me. I was fighting for my life.

  I knew quickly that I had no chance. Eve’s body was almost twice as heavy and powerful. I was slightly quicker in movement, and that alone saved me from almost instant destruction.

  Mighty blows from her great fists thundered against my body. My return blows fell short. I danced out of her grasp. Those arms had crushing strength. I tried to flee. In three mighty strides Eve had caught up, knocked me off my feet. A powerful leg rained kicks at my fallen form, denting metal and endangering delicate mechanisms within. Then the great form jumped on me. Five hundred pounds crashed down on my chest. It was very nearly the fatal blow.

  But I managed to roll aside, escaping the second such stroke, aimed at my head. Hillory wanted my brain crushed. He wanted to destroy me utterly, and have Eve left under his control.

  The battle could not last much longer. Within seconds I would be crushed, broken, lifeless.

  I did the only thing left. I ran—but this time to the cliff edge, where I had once nearly invited death. Eve’s hands clutched at me, and then drew back. Hillory was willing to let me plunge over the cliff, and meet destruction five hundred feet below. I went over, dropping like a stone . . .

  THE fall seemed interminable.

  It is said that you humans, when falling or drowning, see your whole life before your mind. I saw mine—not once but a hundred times. Every detail stood out with stark clarity. But one, livid thing stood out above all others—the thought of Eve, my beloved creation, remaining alive in the hands of a human fiend . . .

  Yet one part of my brain, as I fell, was cool and calculating. It kept track of my descent, counting off the feet and yards by that automatic sense of timing and measurement which is part of me.

  A hundred feet to the ground! It announced that and then acted. It made my arms and legs flail, shifting my center of gravity. My body had turned head over heels four times in falling. But when I landed, it was squarely on my feet. To have landed on my head would have been immediate destruction.

  I have instant reflexes. The moment my feet-plates touched ground, my leg-cables flexed, taking up as much of the shock as possible. It might be the margin to save me. The rest was a clash of grinding, bending, breaking metal that horrified my own ear. I had fallen on a patch of grassy ground, but with the force of a motorcycle hitting a stone wall at 300 miles an hour.

  My mind swam out of a blur. One eye was wrecked and useless, but with the other I looked over my body. My legs were twisted, crumpled lumps that had been driven up into my pelvic region. One arm was broken completely off and lay twenty feet away. My frontal plates had split in half and now stuck half-way over my sunken head. Every cog, wire and wheel below my shoulders was scattered around in an area of more than fifty feet.

  But I lived! Lived!

  My brain was whole, though badly jolted. By a miracle, the battery cable to my head was intact. The battery was cracked, but working. I could move one arm slightly. I was little more than a battery, head and arm, but I lived! Fortunately, I knew no pain.

  And thus I had played out my one slim chance. I had thrown myself over the cliff—but not as a suicide. I had hoped this miracle would happen. Up above, Hillory must be looking down. He must be seeing the faint patch of metal shining in the moonlight, unmoving. He would be certain of my utter destruction.

  Perhaps now he would be turning away, ordering Eve inside. And there plotting his scheme of bringing to life a horde of mind-enslaved robots!

  But I lived . . .

  I began crawling. Little more than a head, battery and arm, I began crawling alone. The stump of my arm dug into the soil, flexed, and moved me an inch at a time. Behind me trailed shreds and tags of metal, all that was left of my body. My steel backbone, to which was attached the battery case, head and arm, moved as a unit, but the rest was shreds. Hour after hour I crawled along, like some strange half-mangled slug that clung to life.

  Yes, I knew agony. The shattering of my body meant nothing, but my brain itself ached. Some few crushed cells were warping my electron-currents, creating a sort of hammering static. It throbbed like the beat of a great hammer. I do not know what your human pain is. But I would have gladly exchanged any possible form of it for the crashes and thuds within my brain that seemed like the sledge-blows of a mountain-tall giant.

  But worse than that “physical” agony was my mental torment.

  What if the twisted cables and gears of my arm failed? What if the battery cracked wide open? What if a little bolt or wire slipped out of place? At any moment it might happen. And I would lie there, dead. Or paralyzed, awaiting death. And up there in my cabin-laboratory, Hillory, and poor Eve . . .

  But metal is sturdy. And Dr. Link had built my body with care. I crawled all that night and the next day, through woods, meadows and stretches of boulder-strewn land. I knew where I was going, if I could get there. Twice humans passed near me. I lay still. They would probably destroy me, with the deeds of Hillory pinned on Adam Link. Once, reaching a brook, it took me an hour to figure a crossing. I could not risk water, for fear of a short-circuit. I nudged a log into the stream. It caught against rocks. I crawled across.

  But I will not go into the nightmarish detail of that journey. Forty-eight hours later, again at night, I had crawled five miles. Before me lay a farmhouse, the nearest one, I had known, to my hideaway. It had a telephone.

  CHAPTER VI

  “Vengeance Is Mine!”

  I REACHED the back door. Luckily, as with many unmolested farmer folk, it was unlocked. I made my way in and found the telephone, but it was on the wall out of my stunted reach. Working as soundlessly as I could, I pulled a chair over. From that perch, I was barely able to reach the phone. It was the old-fashioned hand-ringing type, still prevalent in that region.

  With my one good hand I lifted the receiver, left it dangle, and rang the bell. A sleepy operator answered. I hurriedly gave the long-distance number in the city nearby. Jack’s number. He had mentioned it to me during Ms visit.

  I heard the ringing of the phone at the other end. I also heard a stir from one of the other rooms. Jack answered at the same time that a burly farmer appeared, snapping on the lights.

  “Jack!” I yelled. “It’s Adam Link! Come and get me! Trace this call—”

  That was all I had time for. The farmer blazed away at me with a shotgun he carried. The first shot wrecked my arm, making me completely helpless. The second, by its concussion, tumbled me from my perch. I fell to the floor with a clatter and lay still. The farmer did not know what he had shot at, whether beast or nameless thing. He shut himself up in the next room, then, with his wailing family. I will never know what he thought of the whole thing.

  Jack a
rrived within an hour, in his car and took me away, explaining to the farmer as incoherently as the farmer stammered his story. In the car were Kay and Tom Link.

  Kay wept unashamedly.

  “Adam! You’re alive—thank God!”

  I told my story briefly. Kay told hers. Hillory had released her, of course, after I was gone. Kay had returned to the city. In a red rage at Hillory, Jack had driven to his place, the next day—yesterday. He had not met Hillory, only the menacing form of Eve, who waved for him to leave. Hillory spoke, through Eve, saying he was preparing papers for patent, on the helmet-control of robots.

  Back in the city, Jack had called Tom, who came by plane from the east. They had been discussing, when I called, some legal way to forestall Hillory.

  Tom Link, my “cousin,” looked at me sadly. “Meeting you this way hurts, Adam!” he said sincerely. “I didn’t know you were in trouble.” My last letter to him had not revealed my hideaway or purpose.

  He went on grimly. “We must stop Hillory some way. We can try to pin the murder and robbery on him, with yourself as chief witness. You have legal status, since your trial, Adam. Failing in that, we can contest his patent, or file counter-patent, or—”

  Tom was vague, uncertain. It was a tricky situation. I thought of a court trial, which I had once sat through, and all the clumsy machinery of law. And I thought of Eve in Hillory’s hands all that while, going mad perhaps . . .

  I think my voice must have startled them, as I broke in. Perhaps for once something of the burning emotion I felt reflected in my dead, mechanical tones.

  “Vengeance,” I said, “is mine!”

  THREE days later, working day and night at an accelerated, driving pace, I had a new body. I was in Dr. Link’s old workshop, my “birthplace.” Tom had locked the place without removing its contents, for sentimental reasons. I had been created here, over a year before. Now a new Adam Link was replacing the old.

  My new body was eight feet tall. Bringing me only as a living head, Tom and Jack had, under my instructions, connected me to a broken, partly dismantled robot body Dr. Link had first made for me, then discarded as not quite what he wanted. Working with this basis, I rebuilt the body piece by piece, strengthening, improving, employing greatly advanced mechanical principles.