The Positronic Man

That was another source of great pleasure to Andrew, these visits from Little Miss and Little Sir, and the occasions when he was permitted to care for the child. Andrew was, after all, basically a household robot of the NDR series, however gifted at woodworking he might be or how profitable his business enterprise had become. Caring for children was one of the things he had been particularly designed to do.

With the birth of a grandson who lived nearby, Andrew felt that Sir had someone now to replace those who had gone. He had meant for a long while now to approach Sir with an unusual request, but he had hesitated to do it until this time. It was Little Miss-who had known for quite a while what it was that Andrew had in mind-who urged him finally to speak out.

Sir was sitting by the fire in his massive high-winged chair, holding a ponderous old book in his hands but all too obviously not reading it, when Andrew appeared at the arched doorway of the great room.

"May I come in, Sir?"

"You know you don't need to ask that. This is your house as well as mine, Andrew."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

The robot took a few steps forward. His metal treads made a quiet clicking sound against the dark shining wood of the floor. Then he halted and waited, silent. This was going to be very difficult, he knew. Sir had always been something of a short-tempered man, but in his old age he had grown especially volatile in his reactions.

And there were even certain First Law considerations that had to be taken into account. Because what Andrew was pla

"Well?" Sir demanded, after a while. "Don't just stand there, Andrew. You've got a look on your face that tells me that you want to talk to me about something."

"The look on my face does not ever change, Sir."

"Well, then, it's the way you're standing. You know what I mean. Something's up. What is it, Andrew?"

Andrew said, "What I wish to say is-is-" He hesitated. Then he swung into the speech he had prepared. "-Sir, you have never attempted to interfere in any ma

"It was your money, Andrew."

"Only by your voluntary decision, Sir. I do not believe there would have been anything illegal about your keeping it all. But instead you established the corporation for me and permitted me to divert my earnings into it."

"It would have been wrong for me to do anything else. Regardless of what mayor may not have been my legal prerogatives in the matter of your earnings."

"I have now amassed a very considerable fortune, Sir."

"I would certainly hope so. You've worked very hard."

"After payment of all taxes, Sir, and all the expenses I have undertaken in the way of equipment and materials and my own maintenance and upgrading, I have managed to set aside nearly nine hundred thousand dollars."

"I'm not at all surprised, Andrew."

"I want to give it to you, Sir."

Sir frowned-the biggest frown in his repertoire, in which his eyebrows descended an extraordinary distance and his lips rose until they were just beneath his nose and his mustache moved about alarmingly-and glared at Andrew out of eyes which, although now dimmed with age, still were able to summon a considerable degree of ferocity.

"What? What kind of nonsense is this, Andrew?"

"No sort of nonsense at all, Sir."

"If I had ever wanted your money, I wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of setting up your company, would I? And I certainly don't want it now. I have more money than I know what to do with as it is."

"Nevertheless, Sir, what I would like to do is sign my funds over to you-"

"I won't take a cent, Andrew. Not a single cent!"

"-not as a gift," Andrew went on, "but as the purchase price of something that I am able to obtain only from you."

Sir stared. He looked mystified now.

"What could there possibly be that you could buy from me, Andrew?"

"My freedom, Sir."

"Your-"

"My freedom. I wish to buy my freedom, Sir. Up till now I have simply been one of your possessions, but I wish now to become an independent entity. I would always retain my sense of loyalty and obligation to you, but-"

"For God's sake!" Sir cried, in a terrible voice. He rose stiffly to his feet and hurled his book to the floor. His lips were quivering and his face was flushed a mottled red. Andrew had never seen him look so agitated. "Freedom? Freedom, Andrew? What on Earth could you be talking about?"

And he stalked from the room in rage.