Galactic Pot-Healer by Philip K. Dick

Author:Philip K. Dick [Dick, Philip K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 978-0-307-49561-7
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 1969-04-21T08:00:00+00:00

Inside the geodesic dome they were met by a herd of robots. Joe stared in disbelief. Robots!

“They’re not illegal here,” Mali pointed out. “You must get it into your mind: you’re not on Earth anymore.”

Joe said, “But Edgar Mahan proved that a synthetic life-form can’t come into existence. ‘Life has to come from life, and therefore, in the construction of self-programming mechanisms—’”

“Well, you’re looking at twenty of them,” Mali said.

“Why were we told they couldn’t be made?” Joe asked her.

“Because there’re too many unemployed people on Earth as it is. The government faked scientific evidence and documentation to say robots couldn’t be done. They are rare, however. They are hard to build and costly. I’m surprised to see this many. It is all he has, I’m sure. This is a—” She searched for the word. “For our benefit. A display. To impress us.”

One of the robots, catching sight of Joe, coasted directly toward him. “Mr. Fernwright?”

“Yes,” Joe said. He looked around him at the corridors and massive doors and the recessed overhead lighting. Efficient, extensive, and labyrinthine. And without defect. Obviously it had just been built—and not yet put to use.

“I’m amazingly glad to see you,” the robot declared. “In the center of my chest you will probably see the word ‘Willis’ stenciled. I am programmed to respond to any instruction beginning with that word. For example, if you would like to see your work-area, merely say, ‘Willis, I would like to be taken to my work-area,’ and I would then happily lead you there, giving pleasure to myself and hopefully to you as well.”

“Willis,” Joe said, “are there living quarters here for us? For example is there a private room for Miss Yojez? She’s tired; she should be asleep.”

“A three-room apartment is ready for you and Miss Yojez,” Willis said. “Your personal living quarters.”

“What?” Joe said.

“A three-room apartment—”

“You mean we have an actual apartment? Not just a room?”

“A three-room apartment,” Willis repeated, with robotic patience.

“Take us there,” Joe said.

“No,” Willis said, “you have to say, ‘Willis, take us there.’”

“Willis, take us there.”

“Yes, Mr. Fernwright.” The robot led them across the foyer to the elevators.

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