Я, Робот

           Andwhenitdiedintonothingness,Herbiecollapsedintoahuddledheapofmotionlessmetal.

           Bogert’sfacewasbloodless,"He’sdead!"

           "No!"SusanCalvinburstintobody-rackinggustsofwildlaughter,"notdead–merelyinsane.Iconfrontedhimwiththeinsolubledilemma,andhebrokedown.Youcanscraphimnow-becausehe’llneverspeakagain."

           LanningwasonhiskneesbesidethethingthathadbeenHerbie.Hisfingerstouchedthecold,unresponsivemetalfaceandheshuddered."Youdidthatonpurpose."Heroseandfacedher,facecontorted.

           "WhatifIdid?Youcan’thelpitnow."Andinasuddenaccessofbitterness,"Hedeservedit."

           Thedirectorseizedtheparalysed,motionlessBogertbythewrist,"What’sthedifference.Come,Peter."Hesighed,"Athinkingrobotofthistypeisworthlessanyway."Hiseyeswereoldandtired,andherepeated,"Come,Peter!"

           ItwasminutesafterthetwoscientistsleftthatDr.SusanCalvinregainedpartofhermentalequilibrium.Slowly,hereyesturnedtotheliving-deadHerbieandthetightnessreturnedtoherface.Longshestaredwhilethetriumphfadedandthehelplessfrustrationreturned–andofallherturbulentthoughtsonlyoneinfinitelybitterwordpassedherlips.

           "Liar!"

           Thatfinisheditforthen,naturally.IknewIcouldn’tgetanymoreoutofherafterthat.Shejustsattherebehindherdesk,herwhitefacecoldand–remembering.

           Isaid,"Thankyou,Dr.Calvin!"butshedidn’tanswer.ItwastwodaysbeforeIcouldgettoseeheragain.