“You need a name,” Bryce told her. “Let it be Lilith. Yes…Lilith.”
“Lilith,” she murmured. “Lilith.”
Bryce supervised Lilith’s education carefully. He chose from his stock of special microfilms, from television broadcasts, from books. He took great pains to see that everything which went into her memory cells was of such nature as to result in a personality that would be typically feminine.
Lilith, by virtue of the electronic brain, learned rapidly. In a matter of a few weeks, she knew everything that Nadine had ever known—and some things that Nadine didn’t. But where Bryce’s expectations were concerned, Lilith as a finished product was as different from Nadine as are black from white and hot from cold. Where Nadine was cool and calculating, Lilith was warm and impulsive. Where Nadine would have smiled, Lilith laughed, and where Nadine would have compressed her lips against an inward sorrow, Lilith wept unrestrainedly. Lilith, of course, possessed tear ducts, having been built to resemble a woman in every detail. She never hesitated to use these, however slight the provocation. She wept over the tribulations of lovers in television plays and death scenes in books. It irritated Bryce at times, yet he could not bear the thought of making the necessary adjustments in her mechanical glands which would change her.
Lilith’s feminine sense of possessiveness was developed to a high degree. She regarded the house as hers and fussed over it continually, dusting and polishing with a pride and conscientiousness that no human bride in a new home could have equaled. She even insisted on rearranging the furniture to her personal satisfaction, and when Bryce protested vigorously, she took refuge in tears. Bryce gave in. Lilith spent many happy hours hauling and shoving at the furniture in each and every room.
The next thing Lilith insisted on doing was to cook Bryce’s meals. He pointed out patiently that this was Jones’ task. Lilith promptly demanded Jones’ removal. Bryce refused indignantly. Lilith pleaded tearfully. Bryce gave in. He turned off Jones’ motor, and left him in a storeroom adjoining the laboratory. Nor was he sorry later, for Lilith put emotion into her cooking, whereas Jones had merely cooked.
Household affairs under Lilith’s management progressed smoothly. She kept each room spic and span, and her meals were always something to look forward to. For Bryce the house took on an air of cheerful hominess it had lacked before. He found himself becoming more and more at peace.
Lilith proved to be a gay and charming companion. Bryce taught her to play chess, and she quickly learned to share his love for the game. They spent long hours over the pieces in the living room, and Bryce found Lilith increasingly hard to beat. She also developed an interest in Bryce’s work at the laboratory, spending such spare time there as she could find away from her work. Bryce explained the principles of robotics and the functions of various mechanisms used in robot manufacture. Lilith, with her quick mental grasp of any and all subjects, was soon able to discuss intelligently any phase of robotics with Bryce. Far from tolerating her presence in the laboratory, he came to look forward to her daily visits with eagerness.
It was inevitable that something should arise to disturb the even tenor of the relationship. They were listening to a television play one evening, which ended in a quarrel between two lovers. Tears filled Lilith’s eyes.
“Curt, I wonder if something like that will ever happen to us.”
Bryce was puzzled. “What do you mean, Lilith?”
“I wonder if we’ll ever quarrel like that.”
“But, good Lord, Lilith, why should we?”
Lilith looked away, twisting at her small hands. “That’s the trouble with us, Curt. We’re really not close enough to each other to have reason to quarrel.”
“Maybe we’re better off that way,” Bryce said.
“Are we, Curt? Are we?” Lilith stood up abruptly. Her face worked against a sudden flood of tears. Turning, she ran from the room.
Bryce stared after her in bewilderment. Then he shrugged philosophically. Lilith was essentially a woman, he reminded himself, and women are often inexplicable.
In the days that followed, Lilith no longer came to the laboratory. She spent most of the time in her room, and her meals lost something of their excellence. At last Bryce could stand it no longer. He caught her in the kitchen one morning, demanded to know what was wrong.
Lilith forced a smile. “Why, nothing’s wrong, Curt.”
“Yes, there is,” Bryce insisted. “I want you to tell me.”
Lilith bit her lip, hesitating. “All right, Curt, but remember you asked for this. Curt…I know I’m only a robot, but I’m built to resemble a woman in every way. I have a woman’s feelings. I love you, Curt. I want to make you happy in the way that only a woman can make a man happy. But…well, you don’t seem to care.”
“I didn’t know…I hadn’t thought—” Bryce was confused.
Lilith watched him, hope dying in her face. She turned away, her green eyes welling. Her slim shoulders shook with muffled sobs.
Thoughts whirling chaotically, Bryce left the kitchen. Awareness lay heavy upon him that far from making Lilith almost human, he had made her a bit too much so. Compassion for her filled him, yet sifting his feelings objectively, he could find no reciprocating emotions of love. Though Lilith looked like a glorious young woman—and in fact resembled a glorious young woman in every respect—he could not evade the knowledge that she was, after all, only a robot.
And quite suddenly, Bryce found himself yearning for Nadine. Nadine was human—his kind. The old loneliness returned with abrupt force.
The winter drew to a close. Bryce and Lilith exchanged only a few words together, and then only when occasion demanded. Lilith continued to remain away from the laboratory. She and Bryce no longer played chess together, nor did they listen to television plays. Bryce absorbed himself in his work, and Lilith developed a passion for reading, spending most of the time in her room. Bryce saw her but seldom, yet always he thought he could detect the traces of tears on her cheeks. His eyes grew haunted. He began to wonder how much longer it would keep up.
Spring came, and grass mantled the cliffs. The sun shone warmer each day, the skies cleared, and the bitter wind from the ocean became a mild breeze.
Bryce, turning on the television set by chance one afternoon, learned that Sidney Arthington had died in a crash of his sporting gyro. The newscaster added that Arthington’s immense fortune had been left to Nadine. A short time later, Nadine appeared at the house.
Bryce was overjoyed to see her. It was the answer to his wildest hopes.
“Why, Nadine, I can hardly believe it’s you!”
Nadine smiled. “It’s me, all right, Curt. How are you?”
“Just fine,” Bryce lied. He could not bring himself to admit that the last few months had been pure hell.
Nadine glanced around the living room, frowning slightly. “Curt, the place looks…different. What on earth have you been doing?”
“Oh, that’s Lilith’s work.”
“Lilith?” The name burst out of Nadine. Her eyes widened on Bryce.
“Lilith’s a robot,” Bryce explained quickly. “Just wait until you see her. The Bryce electronic brain is a success, Nadine, and Lilith is the result.” Nadine looked strangely relieved. She became demure. “Curt, do you know why I’m back?” she asked softly.
“No, Nadine,” Bryce answered. But he thought he knew, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Curt, I’ve decided to come back. That is, if…if you still want me.”
“Still want you? Why, Nadine—”
Bryce reached for her gropingly, and suddenly she was in his arms.
Later, Nadine patted her hair back into place and smoothed her dress. She said, “We’ll have to wait a while, Curt. Appearances, you know. Then we’ll be married again. I’m a wealthy woman now, and you can leave your old work, and we can travel and have friends and fun
without worrying about money. It’ll be wonderful, won’t it?”
Bryce shook his head slowly. “No, Nadine.”
“But why not?”
“I wouldn’t touch your money, Nadine.”
“What difference does it make whose money it is, Curt? It’s money, isn’t it?”
“I don’t care,” Bryce insisted. “I won’t touch it.”
Nadine’s face flamed with sudden fury. “Curt, why do you have to be so stiff-necked? I take the risk of killing Sid—”
She broke off abruptly, her cheeks paling. Her hand crept to her mouth.
Bryce stared at her as though she had abruptly become something deadly and alien. “What did you say? Nadine—what did you say?”
She returned his gaze mutely, her hand trembling against her lips. Bryce grasped her shoulders hard, shook her urgently.
“Nadine…you killed Arthington? But it was an accident! The newscasters said so!”
“Curt! You’re hurting me!”
Bryce released her, and Nadine sank into a chair. Her face set in lines of defiance. “It would have slipped out sooner or later. Now you know—and I don’t care!”
Her features softened with sudden pleading. She became all tearful, desirable woman. “But, Curt, I did it for you! I never really care for Sid. I married him because he had money. I loved you all along. I kept remembering what you said about working for wealth, influence. I thought, since I was to inherit Sid’s fortune, and if he were out of the way, that you could stop working. I decided to get rid of him. I know how gyro’s work. I fixed Sid’s sportster so that it would go out of control soon after taking off. The crash destroyed every trace of what I had done. They don’t know, Curt. They think it’s an accident.”
Bryce was stunned at the confession. “Good Lord!” he muttered.
Nadine searched his face anxiously. “Curt…you don’t hate me?”
“Hate you? No…no. Somehow, I can’t.”
Then Nadine gasped. “Curt, who…who’s that?” she cried, pointing.
Bryce looked around. Lilith, her hands at her throat, stood in the entrance to the living room, staring incredulously at Nadine.
The two gazed at each other as though in a trance of hypnosis, identical green eyes wide, identical red lips parted. Except for the dresses they wore, it was hard to tell them apart.
“This is Lilith,” Bryce told Nadine. “Lilith, I want you to meet Nadine.”
“How do you do?” Lilith murmured coolly. “Pardon me for having intruded.” Without another word, she turned and left.
“Why, Curt, she looked just like me!” Nadine exclaimed.
Bryce grinned. “I had her made that way.”
Nadine’s face abruptly grew hard. “Curt, she must have overheard what I was saying about…about Sid. Curt, she knows!”
Bryce felt a sudden apprehension, whether for Nadine or for Lilith, he could not be sure. He knew that each resented their similarity to the other. He’d seen their mutual surprise turn into an instinctive dislike.
Nadine leaned toward Bryce, her green eyes narrowed with insistence. “Curt, she knows what I did! We’ll have to get rid of her. I’d never feel safe while she was alive.”
“Kill Lilith? Good Lord, no!” Bryce gasped.
“You love me, don’t you, Curt?” Nadine demanded softly. “You can’t possibly care for her. She’s only a robot. She couldn’t give you my kind of love.”
“But I couldn’t kill her!” Bryce said. A thought suddenly struck him. “Nadine—I know what to do. I’ll shut off her motor.”
“It’s no good, Curt,” Nadine answered flatly. “Somebody might turn her on again, later. She’d always be a sword hanging over my head. No, Curt, she has to be destroyed.”
Bryce could see the logic in Nadine’s words. He realized that Lilith, womanlike, would be jealous of Nadine, would do everything in her power to remove her rival. He was chilled by the terrible problem facing him.
Nadine’s arms slid around his neck. Her exquisite body pressed close. “Curt, you’ll do it, won’t you?” she pleaded.
Bryce hesitated achingly. Nadine’s lips were turned up to his, soft and red, parted with promise. The perfume of her was a heady fragrance in his nostrils. A refusal struggled to his lips—died unuttered. He pulled Nadine to him, kissed her hungrily. “Yes,” Bryce whispered against her cheek. “Yes, I’ll do it…”
After a while, Nadine stood up. “I’ll have to be going, Curt. I still have many affairs to settle. Take care of the robot as quickly as you can. She mustn’t have a chance to inform the police. I’ll be back again—soon.”
Bryce saw Nadine off at the landing field. Then he returned to the house, numbed by thought of the grim task which lay before him. Somehow, he had to destroy Lilith. His mind quested for some means which would be as painless to her as it would be to himself. Several methods occurred to him—but he revolted at each and every one.
Bryce mentally lashed himself for being a sentimental fool. Lilith was only a robot, powered by a motor, made intelligent by an electronic brain. He could make other electronic brains. He could make other robots like Lilith.
Determination came to him. He formed a plan. He’d take Lilith by surprise, turn off her motor. Then he’d remove her brain, hammer it into fragments. As simple as that.
Yet—each time an opportunity arrived, he found himself unable to go through with it. A spring wound to screaming tightness within Bryce as the days passed one by one and the deed remained still unaccomplished. Nadine would be returning soon, he remembered. What would she say when she found Lilith still in existence?
* * * *
In an effort to escape the increasing strain, Bryce went for a long walk over the cliffs one afternoon. It was a warm spring day, and the ocean stretched blue and placid to the horizon.
Returning to the house, Bryce saw Lilith standing at the edge of the cliffs, gazing with a hand shading her eyes, in a direction opposite to his approach. Her back was toward him. Suddenly Bryce knew what he must do. He would sneak up behind her, and then—a swift push, and Lilith would go hurtling over the cliff to her doom on the rocks far below.
Bryce crept from rock to rock, closer and closer. A lump filled his throat. His eyes were blurred. Talons of agony tore at him. And then—he was behind her, and his hands were swinging up for the fatal shove.
Something made her abruptly aware of him. She whirled. For an awful moment, her startled eyes were wide on his. With a sob, Bryce pushed. Her scream of horror as she went over the cliff sent cold chills up his spine. A dull thud reached him as her body struck the rocks.
It was over. Finished. Reaction set in, leaving Bryce sick and weak. Remorse at what he had done filled him. Lilith was gone—sweet, gentle Lilith who would never have dreamed of hurting anyone, who could not bear the thought of anyone being hurt. Lilith, who had spent long hours with him, playing chess. Lilith, who had been genuinely interested in his work, discussing robotics with him like a veteran technician.
Lilith was gone. Bryce knew he could make other electronic brains, but he knew there would never be another Lilith. The multitude of factors which had gone to make up her personality could never be duplicated.
And suddenly Bryce found himself hating Nadine. He saw her for what she was—selfish, ruthless, addicted to frivolity, a woman who did not hesitate to kill in order to gain her ends. The bitter realization came to Bryce that he had been an utter fool to have killed Lilith for Nadine.
Bryce walked leadenly to the house. He stopped short as he saw a gyro parked on the landing field. He recognized it as Nadine’s.
Nadine herself came out of the house as Bryce stood there. She regarded him solemnly, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks. She spoke.
“That woman you called Nadine was here to see you. You were not in, and she went to look for you.”
; Bryce’s mind reeled crazily. Lilith! This was Lilith! Then the other—the one he had pushed over the cliff—had been…Nadine!
And suddenly Bryce was glad with a gladness that caught at his throat and filled him with music. Lilith was safe, Nadine’s death was justice, in a fashion. It could easily be explained. Nadine had simply wandered too close to the edge of the cliff, slipped, fallen off.
“What is Nadine to you, Curt?” Lilith asked falteringly. “Why…why does she look like me?”
Bryce merely smiled. “Forget about her, Lilith. I’ve been a fool, and I’m going to try hard to make it up to you. From now on let’s think only of us.” He held out his arms, and for a moment she stared as though she could not believe their invitation, and then she ran into them blindly. He held her close, and she was as warm and soft as any human girl, sobbing out her happiness against his chest.
DISAPPEARANCE
Originally published in Astounding Science Fiction, July 1945.
He climbed out of the car and waved a farewell to the man behind the wheel. “Good night, Fred. See you at work tomorrow.”
Fred grimaced. “Don’t remind me, Doug. After all the fun we had on our fishing trip, it’s going to be hard to get back to the old routine. Well, good night.”
Doug Crandall waved again, and the car pulled away from the curb, purring off into the summer night. Gathering up his fishing tackle and the string of bass, Doug started toward the door of the two-story apartment house in which he lived. Eagerness flowed into him at the thought of how delighted Vickie would be when she saw his catch.
As Doug approached the house, he glanced up at the windows on the second floor. They were dark. The windows of the first floor apartment, in which the Masons lived, were dark, too. It was just a little after nine—too early for either Vickie or the Masons to have gone to bed. Doug decided most likely Vickie had gone to a movie with the Masons.
Doug found his apartment dark. He switched on the lights and looked into the bedroom. Vickie was not there. He went into the kitchen, thinking she might have left a note. But he did not find one, and he consoled himself with the thought that Vickie had probably expected to be home before him.
The 38th Golden Age of Science Fiction MEGAPACK Page 18