Я, Робот

           Inhighgood-humorthefamilytookataxi-gyrototheairport(Westonwouldhavepreferredusinghisownprivate’gyro,butitwasonlyatwo-seaterwithnoroomforbaggage)andenteredthewaitingliner.

           "Come,Gloria,"calledMrs.Weston."I’vesavedyouaseatnearthewindowsoyoucanwatchthescenery."

           Gloriatrotteddowntheaislecheerily,flattenedhernoseintoawhiteovalagainstthethickclearglass,andwatchedwithanintentnessthatincreasedasthesuddencoughingofthemotordriftedbackwardintotheinterior.Shewastooyoungtobefrightenedwhenthegrounddroppedawayasifletthroughatrap-doorandsheherselfsuddenlybecametwiceherusualweight,butnottooyoungtobemightilyinterested.Itwasn’tuntilthegroundhadchangedintoatinypatch-workquiltthatshewithdrewhernose,andfacedhermotheragain.

           "Willwesoonbeinthecity,Mamma?"sheasked,rubbingherchillednose,andwatchingwithinterestasthepatchofmoisturewhichherbreathhadformedonthepaneshrankslowlyandvanished.

           "Inabouthalfanhour,dear."Then,withjustthefaintesttraceofanxiety,"Aren’tyougladwe’regoing?Don’tyouthinkyou’llbeveryhappyinthecitywithallthebuildingsandpeopleandthingstosee?We’llgotothevisivoxeverydayandseeshowsandgotothecircusandthebeachand-"

           "Yes,Mamma,"wasGloria’sunenthusiasticrejoinder.Thelinerpassedoverabankofcloudsatthemoment,andGloriawasinstantlyabsorbedintheusualspectacleofcloudsunderneathone.Thentheywereoverclearskyagain,andsheturnedtohermotherwithasuddenmysteriousairofsecretknowledge.