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“That’s Na
And into the room came Na
Mr. Fields watched her. She had always intrigued him. The only sound in the room was her metal treads, scraping against the hardwood floor, a peculiar rhythmic sound. Na
Na
“Come on!” Bobby shouted.
Abruptly Na
“Race you around the block!” Jean shouted. “Giddup!” Bobby cried. Na
“But Na
“She’s—she’s not like a machine. She’s like a person. A living person. But after all, she’s much more complex than any other kind. She has to be. They say she’s even more intricate than the kitchen.”
“We certainly paid enough for her,” Tom said.
“Yes,” Mary Fields murmured. “She’s very much like a living creature.” There was a strange note in her voice. “Very much so.”
“She sure takes care of the kids,” Tom said, returning to his newspaper.
“But I’m worried.” Mary put her coffee cup down, frowning. They were eating di
Tom Fields blinked. “Worried? What about?”
“About her. About Na
“Why?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“You mean we’re going to have to repair her again? We just got through fixing her. What is it this time? If those kids didn’t get her to—”
“It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
For a long time his wife did not answer. Abruptly she got up from the table and walked across the room to the stairs. She peered up, staring into the darkness. Tom watched her, puzzled.
“What’s the matter?”
“I want to be sure she can’t hear us.”
“She? Na
Mary came toward him. “Tom, I woke up last night again. Because of the sounds. I heard them again, the same sounds, the sounds I heard before. And you told me it didn’t mean anything!”
Tom gestured. “It doesn’t. What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. That’s what worries me. But after we’re all asleep she comes downstairs. She leaves their room. She slips down the stairs as quietly as she can, as soon as she’s sure we’re all asleep.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know! Last night I heard her going down, slithering down the stairs, as quiet as a mouse. I heard her moving around down here. And then—”
“Then what?”
“Tom, then I heard her go out the back door. Out, outside the house. She went into the back yard. That was all I heard for awhile.”
Tom rubbed his jaw. “Go on.”
“I listened. I sat up in bed. You were asleep, of course. Sound asleep. No use trying to wake you. I got up and went to the window. I lifted the shade and looked out. She was out there, out in the back yard.”
“What was she doing?”
“I don’t know.” Mary Fields’s face was lined with worry. “I don’t know! What in the world would a Na
It was dark. Terribly dark. But the infrared filter clicked into place, and the darkness vanished. The metal shape moved forward, easing through the kitchen, its treads half-retracted for greatest quiet. It came to the back door and halted, listening.
There was no sound. The house was still. They were all asleep upstairs. Sound asleep.
The Na
The Na
It was just going around the peach tree, coming back toward the house, when the noise came.
It stopped instantly, alert. Its side doors fell away and its grapples ran out their full lengths, lithe and wary. On the other side of the board fence, beyond the row of shasta daisies, something had stirred. The Na
On the other side of the fence a second Na
The blue prowler was a larger Na
Mecho-Products, its manufacturer, had lavished attention on this jaw-construction. It was their trademark, their unique feature. Their ads, their brochures, stressed the massive frontal scoop mounted on all their models. And there was an optional assist: a cutting edge, power-driven, that at extra cost could easily be installed in their “Luxury-line” models.
This blue Na
Moving cautiously ahead, the blue Na
The two closed, rolling silently on the ground, their grapples locked. Neither made any noise, the blue Mecho-Products Na