Я, Робот
Runaround
Andastheyplungedintotheruinedsubstationonthewaybacktothetunnels,Donovansaidgrimly:"Speedy’sbeenhangingaboutonthissideoftheseleniumpool,eversincewechasedafterhim.Didyouseehim?"
"Yes."
"Iguesshewantstoplaygames.Well,we’llplayhimgames!"
Theywerebackhourslater,withthree-literjarsofthewhitechemicalandapairoflongfaces.Thephoto-cellbanksweredeterioratingmorerapidlythanhadseemedlikely.ThetwosteeredtheirrobotsintothesunlightandtowardthewaitingSpeedyinsilenceandwithgrimpurpose.
Speedygallopedslowlytowardthem."Hereweareagain.Whee!I’vemadealittlelist,thepianoorganist;allpeoplewhoeatpeppermintandpuffitinyourface."
"We’llpuffsomethinginyourface,"mutteredDonovan."He’slimping,Greg."
"Inoticedthat,"camethelow,worriedresponse."Themonoxide’llgethimyet,ifwedon’thurry."
Theywereapproachingcautiouslynow,almostsidling,torefrainfromsettingoffthethoroughlyirrationalrobot.Powellwastoofarofftotell,ofcourse,butevenalreadyhecouldhaveswornthecrack-brainedSpeedywassettinghimselfforaspring.
"Lethergo,"hegasped."Countthree!One-two-"
Twosteelarmsdrewbackandsnappedforwardsimultaneouslyandtwoglassjarswhirledforwardintoweringparallelarcs,gleaminglikediamondsintheimpossiblesun.
