Nanny

Keeping his voice as calm as possible, Tom said: “I want this one fixed. I’m not getting another.”

“I’ll do what I can. But it won’t be the same as it was. The damage goes pretty deep. I’d advise you to trade it in—you can get damn near what you paid. With the new models coming out in a month or so, the salesmen are eager as hell to—”

“Let me get this straight.” Shakily, Tom Fields lit up a cigarette. “You people really don’t want to fix these, do you? You want to sell brand-new ones, when these break down.” He eyed the repairman intently. “Break down, or are knocked down.”

The repairman shrugged. “It seems like a waste of time to fix it up. It’s going to get finished off, anyhow, soon.” He kicked the misshapen green hull with his boot. “This model is around three years old. Mister, it’s obsolete.”

“Fix it up,” Tom grated. He was begi

“Sure,” the serviceman said, resigned. He began making out a work-order sheet. “We’ll do our best. But don’t expect miracles.”

While Tom Fields was jerkily signing his name to the sheet, two more damaged Na

“When can I get it back?” he demanded.

“It’ll take a couple of days,” the mechanic said, nodding toward the rows of semi-repaired Na

“I’ll wait,” Tom said tautly. “Even if it takes a month.”

“Let’s go to the park!” Jean cried.

So they went to the park.

It was a lovely day, with the sun shining down hotly and the grass and flowers blowing in the wind. The two children strolled along the gravel path, breathing the warm-scented air, taking deep breaths and holding the presence of roses and hydrangeas and orange blossoms inside them as long as possible. They passed through a swaying grove of dark, rich cedars. The ground was soft with mold underfoot, the velvet, moist fur of a living world beneath their feet. Beyond the cedars, where the sun returned and the blue sky flashed back into being, a great green lawn stretched out.

Behind them Na

“What’s the matter, Na

“Something’s wrong with her,” Jean complained. “She’s been all fu

“She was in the repair shop,” Bobby a

A little sadly they continued on, with Na

“There’s the lake!” Jean shouted, her spirits returning.

The great field of grass sloped gradually down, lower and lower. At the far end, the lowest end, lay a path, a gravel trail, and beyond that, a blue lake. The two children scampered excitedly, filled with anticipation. They hurried faster and faster down the carefully-graded slope, Na

“The lake!”

“Last one there’s a dead Martian stinko-bug!”

Breathlessly, they rushed across the path, onto the tiny strip of green bank against which the water lapped. Bobby threw himself down on his hands and knees, laughing and panting and peering down into the water. Jean settled down beside him, smoothing her dress tidily into place. Deep in the cloudy-blue water some tadpoles and mi

At one end of the lake some children were floating boats with flapping white sails. At a bench a fat man sat laboriously reading a book, a pipe jammed in his mouth. A young man and woman strolled along the edge of the lake together, arm in arm, intent on each other, oblivious of the world around them.

“I wish we had a boat,” Bobby said wistfully.

Grinding and clashing, Na

Jean studied her. Finally she patted the bent green side sympathetically. “Poor Na

“Let’s push Na

Jean said no, because she was too heavy. She would sink to the bottom and they would never see her again.

“Then we won’t push her in,” Bobby agreed.

For a time there was silence. Overhead a few birds fluttered past, plump specks streaking swiftly across the sky. A small boy on a bicycle came riding hesitantly along the gravel path, his front wheel wobbling.

“I wish I had a bicycle,” Bobby murmured.

The boy careened on past. Across the lake the fat man stood up and knocked his pipe against the bench. He closed his book and sauntered off along the path, wiping his perspiring forehead with a vast red handkerchief.

“What happens to Na

“They go to heaven.” Jean lovingly thumped the green dented hull with her hand. “Just like everybody else.”

“Are Na

“Of course there were always Na

Bobby couldn’t answer that. He meditated for a time, but presently he became sleepy … he was really too young to solve such problems. His eyelids became heavy and he yawned. Both he and Jean lay on the warm grass by the edge of the lake, watching the sky and the clouds, listening to the wind moving through the grove of cedar trees. Beside them the battered green Na

A little girl came slowly across the field of grass, a pretty child in a blue dress with a bright ribbon in her long dark hair. She was coming toward the lake.

“Look,” Jean said. “There’s Phyllis Casworthy. She has an orange Na

They watched, interested. “Who ever heard of an orange Na

“Her Na

“That’s true,” Bobby admitted. He thumped the green side loyally. “But ours is nicer. Isn’t she?”

Their Na

“What’s the matter?” Bobby asked uncomfortably.

“Na

The green Na