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.It's got air.Therewasn't even enough of an acceleration jar to muss your hair if it were smoothenough to be mussable in the first place.""Yeah? Greg, you must've taken lessons.No one could put Pollyanna that farout of the running without.What do we eat? What do we drink? Where are we?How do we get back? And in case of accident, to what exit and in whatspacesuit do we run, not walk? I haven't even seen a bathroom in the place, orthose little conveniences that go along with bathrooms.Sure, we're beingtaken care of - but good?"The voice that interrupted Donovan's tirade was not Powell's.It was nobody's.It was there, hanging in open air - stentorian and petrifying in its effects."GREGORY POWELL! MICHAEL DONOVAN! GREGORY POWELL! MICHAEL DONOVAN! PLEASEREPORT YOURPRESENT POSITIONS.IF YOUR SHIP ANSWERS CONTROLS, PLEASE RETURN TO BASE.Page 85 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlGREGORY POWELL! MICHAELDONOVAN!-"The message was repetitious, mechanical, broken by regular, untiringintervals.Donovan said, "Where's it coming from?""I don't know." Powell's voice was an intense whisper, "Where do the lightscome from?Where does anything come from?"file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt (67 of 95) [1/14/03 9:37:12 PM]file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt"Well, how are we going to answer?" They had to speak in the intervals betweenthe loudly echoing, repeating message.The walls were bare - as bare and as unbroken as smooth, curving metal can be.Powell said, "Shout an answer."They did.They shouted, in turns, and together, "Position unknown! Ship out ofcontrol!Condition desperate!"Their voices rose and cracked.The short businesslike sentences becameinterlarded and adulterated with screaming and emphatic profanity, but thecold, calling voice repeated and repeated and repeated unwearyingly."They don't hear us," gasped Donovan."There's no sending mechanism.Just areceiver." His eyes focused blindly at a random spot on the wall.Slowly the din of the outside voice softened and receded.They called againwhen it was a whisper, and they called again, hoarsely, when there wassilence.Something like fifteen minutes later, Powell said lifelessly, "Let's gothrough the ship again.There must be something to eat somewheres." He did notsound hopeful.It was almost an admission of defeat.They divided in the corridor to the right and left.They could follow oneanother by the hard footsteps resounding, and they met occasionally in thecorridor, where they would glare at each other and pass on.Powell's search ended suddenly and as it did, he heard Donovan's glad voicerise boomingly."Hey, Greg," it howled, "the ship has got plumbing.How did we miss it?"It was some five minutes later that he found Powell by hit-and-miss.He wassaying, "Still no shower baths, though," but it got choked off in the middle."Food," he gasped.The wall had dropped away, leaving a curved gap with two shelves.The uppershelf was loaded with unlabeled cans of a bewildering variety of sizes andshapes.The enameled cans on the lower shelf were uniform and Donovan felt acold draft about his ankles.The lower half was refrigerated."How.how-""It wasn't there, before," said Powell, curtly."That wall section dropped outof sight asI came in the door."He was eating.The can was the preheating type with enclosed spoon and thewarm odor of baked beans filled the room."Grab a can, Mike!"Donovan hesitated, "What's the menu?""How do I know! Are you finicky?""No, but all I eat on ships are beans.Something else would be first choice."His hand hovered and selected a shining elliptical can whose flatness seemedreminiscent of salmon or similar delicacy.It opened at the proper pressure."Beans!" howled Donovan, and reached for another.Powell hauled at the slackof his pants."Better eat that, sonny boy.Supplies are limited and we may be here a long,long time."Donovan drew back sulkily, "Is that all we have? Beans?""Could be."Page 86 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"What's on the lower shelf?""Milk.""Just milk?" Donovan cried in outrage."Looks it."The meal of beans and milk was carried through in silence, and as they left,the strip of hidden wall rose up and formed an unbroken surface once more.Powell sighed, "Everything automatic.Everything just so.Never felt sohelpless in my life.Where's your plumbing?""Right there.And that wasn't among those present when we first looked,either."Fifteen minutes later they were back in the glassed-in room, staring at eachother from opposing seats.Powell looked gloomily at the one gauge in the room.It still said "parsecs,"the figures still ended in "1,000,000" and the indicating needle was stillpressed hard against the zero mark.In the innermost offices of the U.S.Robot & Mechanical Men Corp.AlfredLanning was saying wearily, "They won't answer.We've tried every wavelength,public, private, coded, straight, even this subether stuff they have now.AndThe Brain still won't say anything?" He shot this at Dr.Calvin."It won't amplify on the matter, Alfred," she said, emphatically."It saysthey can hear file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt (68 of 95) [1/14/039:37:12 PM]file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt us.and when I try to press it,it becomes.well, it becomes sullen.And it's not supposed to-Whoever heard of a sullen robot?""Suppose you tell us what you have, Susan," said Bogert [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.It's got air.Therewasn't even enough of an acceleration jar to muss your hair if it were smoothenough to be mussable in the first place.""Yeah? Greg, you must've taken lessons.No one could put Pollyanna that farout of the running without.What do we eat? What do we drink? Where are we?How do we get back? And in case of accident, to what exit and in whatspacesuit do we run, not walk? I haven't even seen a bathroom in the place, orthose little conveniences that go along with bathrooms.Sure, we're beingtaken care of - but good?"The voice that interrupted Donovan's tirade was not Powell's.It was nobody's.It was there, hanging in open air - stentorian and petrifying in its effects."GREGORY POWELL! MICHAEL DONOVAN! GREGORY POWELL! MICHAEL DONOVAN! PLEASEREPORT YOURPRESENT POSITIONS.IF YOUR SHIP ANSWERS CONTROLS, PLEASE RETURN TO BASE.Page 85 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlGREGORY POWELL! MICHAELDONOVAN!-"The message was repetitious, mechanical, broken by regular, untiringintervals.Donovan said, "Where's it coming from?""I don't know." Powell's voice was an intense whisper, "Where do the lightscome from?Where does anything come from?"file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt (67 of 95) [1/14/03 9:37:12 PM]file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt"Well, how are we going to answer?" They had to speak in the intervals betweenthe loudly echoing, repeating message.The walls were bare - as bare and as unbroken as smooth, curving metal can be.Powell said, "Shout an answer."They did.They shouted, in turns, and together, "Position unknown! Ship out ofcontrol!Condition desperate!"Their voices rose and cracked.The short businesslike sentences becameinterlarded and adulterated with screaming and emphatic profanity, but thecold, calling voice repeated and repeated and repeated unwearyingly."They don't hear us," gasped Donovan."There's no sending mechanism.Just areceiver." His eyes focused blindly at a random spot on the wall.Slowly the din of the outside voice softened and receded.They called againwhen it was a whisper, and they called again, hoarsely, when there wassilence.Something like fifteen minutes later, Powell said lifelessly, "Let's gothrough the ship again.There must be something to eat somewheres." He did notsound hopeful.It was almost an admission of defeat.They divided in the corridor to the right and left.They could follow oneanother by the hard footsteps resounding, and they met occasionally in thecorridor, where they would glare at each other and pass on.Powell's search ended suddenly and as it did, he heard Donovan's glad voicerise boomingly."Hey, Greg," it howled, "the ship has got plumbing.How did we miss it?"It was some five minutes later that he found Powell by hit-and-miss.He wassaying, "Still no shower baths, though," but it got choked off in the middle."Food," he gasped.The wall had dropped away, leaving a curved gap with two shelves.The uppershelf was loaded with unlabeled cans of a bewildering variety of sizes andshapes.The enameled cans on the lower shelf were uniform and Donovan felt acold draft about his ankles.The lower half was refrigerated."How.how-""It wasn't there, before," said Powell, curtly."That wall section dropped outof sight asI came in the door."He was eating.The can was the preheating type with enclosed spoon and thewarm odor of baked beans filled the room."Grab a can, Mike!"Donovan hesitated, "What's the menu?""How do I know! Are you finicky?""No, but all I eat on ships are beans.Something else would be first choice."His hand hovered and selected a shining elliptical can whose flatness seemedreminiscent of salmon or similar delicacy.It opened at the proper pressure."Beans!" howled Donovan, and reached for another.Powell hauled at the slackof his pants."Better eat that, sonny boy.Supplies are limited and we may be here a long,long time."Donovan drew back sulkily, "Is that all we have? Beans?""Could be."Page 86 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"What's on the lower shelf?""Milk.""Just milk?" Donovan cried in outrage."Looks it."The meal of beans and milk was carried through in silence, and as they left,the strip of hidden wall rose up and formed an unbroken surface once more.Powell sighed, "Everything automatic.Everything just so.Never felt sohelpless in my life.Where's your plumbing?""Right there.And that wasn't among those present when we first looked,either."Fifteen minutes later they were back in the glassed-in room, staring at eachother from opposing seats.Powell looked gloomily at the one gauge in the room.It still said "parsecs,"the figures still ended in "1,000,000" and the indicating needle was stillpressed hard against the zero mark.In the innermost offices of the U.S.Robot & Mechanical Men Corp.AlfredLanning was saying wearily, "They won't answer.We've tried every wavelength,public, private, coded, straight, even this subether stuff they have now.AndThe Brain still won't say anything?" He shot this at Dr.Calvin."It won't amplify on the matter, Alfred," she said, emphatically."It saysthey can hear file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt (68 of 95) [1/14/039:37:12 PM]file:///F|/rah/Isaac%20Asimov/I%20Robot.txt us.and when I try to press it,it becomes.well, it becomes sullen.And it's not supposed to-Whoever heard of a sullen robot?""Suppose you tell us what you have, Susan," said Bogert [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]