Я, Робот
Runaround
"Evenwhentherobotishalfcra-Well,he’sdrunk.Youknowheis."
"It’sthechancesyoutake."
"Cutit.Whatareyougoingtodo?"
"I’mgoingouttherenowandseewhatRule1willdo.Ifitwon’tbreakthebalance,thenwhatthedevil–it’seithernoworthree-fourdaysfromnow."
"Holdon,Greg.Therearehumanrulesofbehavior,too.Youdon’tgoouttherejustlikethat.Figureoutalottery,andgivememychance."
"Allright.Firsttogetthecubeoffourteengoes."Andalmostimmediately,"Twenty-sevenforty-four!"
DonovanfelthisrobotstaggeratasuddenpushbyPowell’smountandthenPowellwasoffintothesunlight.Donovanopenedhismouthtoshout,andthenclickeditshut.Ofcourse,thedamnfoolhadworkedoutthecubeoffourteeninadvance,andonpurpose.Justlikehim.
ThesunwashotterthaneverandPowellfeltamaddeningitchinthesmallofhisback.Imagination,probably,orperhapshardradiationbeginningtotelleventhroughtheinsosuit.
Speedywaswatchinghim,withoutawordofGilbertandSullivangibberishasgreeting.ThankGodforthat!Buthedaren’tgettooclose.
HewasthreehundredyardsawaywhenSpeedybeganbacking,astepatatime,cautiously–andPowellstopped.Hejumpedfromhisrobot’sshouldersandlandedonthecrystallinegroundwithalightthumpandaflyingofjaggedfragments.
