Evan Hunter

Robert

The salesman was a most presentable young man, with a grey tweed suit, and a neat brown mustache. Eddie listened to what he said, and he glanced occasionally at Mary to see if she shared interest.

“You’ve got to understand,” the salesman was saying, “that you aren’t the first childless couple to make use of our service. As a matter of fact, I could name people in your own neighborhood who have done just what you’re about to do and are—”

“We didn’t say we were going to do it,” Eddie reminded him.

“Of course, Mr. Stevens, I understand that. I think, however, and you’ll forgive my frankness, you would be foolish not to do it.”

Mary nodded in agreement, her brows puckered together. “You said we could choose the color of hair and eyes, is that right?”

“Exactly,” the salesman smiled ingratiatingly. “A nice combination, considering your own coloring, would be blond hair and brown eyes. That’s entirely up to you, of course.”

“And the complexion?” Eddie asked.

“We will match your own complexion, or give you whatever skin pigmentation you prefer. You’ve got to remember that we’re only trying to please you. This is one of the advantages over the... uh ... normal procedure. You get a choice here.”

“It does sound good,” Mary said.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said dubiously.

“It really does grow?” Mary asked the salesman. “Just like a real one?”

“That’s an exclusive feature with our firm, Mrs. Stevens. That’s one of the reasons our model is so popular. We give it to you in a state of development comparable to the first week of life. It grows automatically, the metal treated to expand so many inches over so many years. Of course, the plastic is pliable and it stretches to accommodate the metal. The facial features change too, over the years.”

“And this is all included in the initial purchase price?” Eddie asked.

“Precisely.”

“How... how tall does it get?” Mary asked.

“That again is up to you: Most people choose six feet or so for a boy, and about five-six for a girl.”

“We’d want a boy;” Eddie said quickly.

“Yes,” Mary agreed.

The salesman chuckled a little and said, “Well, there’s no guess work involved here. You can have a boy this time, and a girl next time, if you like.”

“We want a boy,” Eddie said.

“Then a boy it will be. Shall we take down the other specifications?”

“Well...” Mary said.

“What about... about his character?” Eddie asked. “I mean...”

“That’s the beautiful part of it. You get the machine with a clean mind. There are banks upon banks of memory tapes inside, all tied in with the delicate mechanism of the brain. In other words, it learns only what you want it to learn. It’s a beautiful instrument, believe me. You couldn’t tell it from the real thing.”

“You’re sure?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“About... about telling it from the real thing? I mean — will our neighbors know it’s a robot, and not a real baby?”

The salesman laughed out loud. “Mr. Stevens, if I told you how many of your neighbors had robots instead of babies, you wouldn’t believe me. It’s the coming thing, take my word. Why even couples who can have children are buying our model instead. Rather than go through the mess and the uncertainty, you understand. Believe me, you won’t be alone.”

Eddie glanced uncertainly at Mary. She took her full lower lip between her teeth and nibbled at it. Then she nodded her head.

“All right,” said Eddie.

“Fine, fine.”

The salesman took a contract from his pocket and began unscrewing the lid of his fountain pen. “Now, let’s see. Color of hair...!”

The baby was delivered as promised in less than two weeks.

It looked quite lifelike, and Eddie and Mary were very happy to have it. It didn’t cry at first, but Eddie quickly corrected this, by feeding the proper information to the memory tapes. The baby learned instantly, setting up a most human howl whenever it was disturbed by anything.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Mary said.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, about the things we give to the memory tapes. It would look funny for the baby to be talking at six months old, don’t you think?”

Eddie grinned and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Do you think the neighbors suspect?”

“Nope.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, they just didn’t seem surprised, that’s all,”

“But I... I didn’t look very... pregnant.”

“I know. They still didn’t seem surprised. Don’t ask me. Let’s let well enough alone.”

Mary looked down at the still form of the baby in the crib. “Will... will it be all right, Eddie?”

“Oh, sure.”

“I mean... will we get to love it? It’s... it’s just a machine, you know.”

“We’ll get to love it,” Eddie said solemnly.

“You really think so?”

“I really think so.”

Mr. Jeffries next door was a hell of a nice guy. At least, he was tops in Eddie’s book. When he heard about the baby, he invited Eddie in and offered him a glass of port.

“There’s nothing like it, Eddie,” he said. “Nothing like it. You’ll see. You’ll love it.”

“I love it already,” Eddie said.

“Yes, but wait until it becomes a real person.”

For a moment, Eddie’s lip began to tremble. “Wh... what?”

“You know, when he begins to walk and talk and laugh. That’s when you really begin enjoying ’em. Up to then, heck, they’re just cute little packages, that’s all.”

“I guess so,” Eddie said, immensely relieved.

Mr. Jeffries smiled knowingly. “What are you going to name the little rascal?” he asked.

“Robert,” Eddie replied quickly.

“Robert,” Mr. Jeffries repeated. “That’s a nice name. Robert.”

“My father’s name,” Eddie said, “Lord rest his soul.”

“A very nice name,” Mr. Jeffries repeated.

Eddie finished the port. “Well, I’ve got to get back. Mary’s holding the fort all by herself.”

Mr. Jeffries smiled. “It’ll be easier when he grows up, Eddie. You’ll see what I mean.”

He hurried home to Mary.

Eddie learned one thing that worried him for a little while.

He could tell that Robert was a robot.

He didn’t discover it until Robert was almost five years old. Up until that time, he thought it was an ordinary twinkle in the boy’s eyes. But one day, he was sitting on the sofa reading a book when he glanced up and saw his son watching him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing, Dad. I was just thinking, that’s all.”

The voice coming from Robert’s lips had been perfectly adjusted so that it corresponded to the chronological age of the machine. Eddie never thought of it as a machine anymore, of course. This was his son, an intelligent, warm, good-looking boy who, Eddie felt, rather favored his father.

“Thinking about what, son?”

“Oh, lots of things.”

Eddie shrugged. And then he saw the flicker of light behind Robert’s right eye. He stared at the boy for a moment.

“Come here, son,” he said.

Robert got to his feet obediently and moved closer to his father. Eddie studied him closely. The flicker was nothing more than that: an occasional twinkle of light far behind the boy’s right eye. Undoubtedly a tube, Eddie thought, and he surprised himself with the knowledge that he still knew the boy was a robot.

“What is it, Dad?” the boy asked.

Eddie didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. He didn’t want to put anything on his son’s memory tapes which might upset him. “Nothing at all, my boy. Thought you had a scratch near your eye.” He clapped him on the shoulder, the plastic as smooth and resilient as any living flesh. “You’re as sound as a dollar. Now beat it and let me read a while.”

Of course they taught the boy to do only good. Recorded on Robert’s memory tapes were the careful teachings of a mother and father who believed faithfully in honesty, truth, love. Nor were they worried about outside influences corrupting their son. They knew that he would only record their own teachings until they had his mechanism adjusted to accept outside offerings. They would do that when he started school. And by that time, they felt the boy’s personality would be thoroughly shaped. They were quite proud of themselves, Eddie and Mary. They had raised a fine boy thus far, and they looked back on their purchase as the real beginning of their lives.

They shared their love for the boy with the entire neighborhood, boasting about him, showing him off, wearing their pride in him like a warm cloak. Mr, Jeffries, Mr. Anderson, the young Clark couple, the D’Allessio’s, McCarthy the cop, the tailor, the baker, everyone knew of Robert, and everyone smiled amiably whenever Robert and Eddie walked down the street.

Eddie forgot all about the twinkle behind Robert’s right eye, because it was hardly noticeable anyway. He told it to Mary, but she accepted it and then forgot it, and they continued to educate the boy through his memory tapes, making him into the upright person they wanted their only son to be.

They were surprised to discover their boy had learned to do evil.

It was Eddie who made the discovery.

He was coming home from work, walking up the street to his small home. He nodded at Josie D’Allessio hanging out her wash, said hello to McCarthy as he swung by on his beat, waved to Mr. Jeffries next door. He came into his own front yard, closing the gate gently behind him.

“Mary?” he called. There was no answer. He shrugged and tucked his newspaper under his arm. “Robert?” This time, when he got no answer, he was slightly alarmed. Until he heard the noises coming from behind the garage. A smile expanded over his face as he recognized Robert’s voice. Quietly, he put his paper down on the front stoop and tiptoed around the house.

He could hear Robert’s voice more clearly now. He could hardly keep from laughing as he moved closer. And then he heard what Robert was saying.

“Kill it! Kill it! Kill the living thing!”

A shock ran up his spine, and he froze motionless, blinking his eyes. Robert was holding a frog on the ground, blood spilling from its punctured body. With a knife he’d taken from the kitchen drawer, he kept stabbing at the green and crimson mass beneath his spread fingers, intoning his hateful chant.

“Kill it! Kill the living thing!”

Eddie turned away, revulsion crawling through him like a horde of slimy insects.

He went to the bathroom and washed his hands, and then he sat down to wait for Mary. When she came home from the beauty parlor, he told her about it.

“I... I don’t know what to do,” he said. “He... where did he pick that up?”

“Did... did you scold him?”

“Scold him? No, no — of course not.”

“Someone’s been tampering with him,” Mary said. “They’ve fixed his insides so that he can record outside impressions. Someone taught him that.”

“Someone taught him to kill,” Eddie said in a dead voice. “To kill... living things.”

“Who?” Mary asked.

“Who?” Eddie echoed.

When Robert came in to supper that night, his hands were clean, and he bore an angelic smile on his face.

“Hello, son,” Eddie said. “Where have you been hiding all day?”

Robert smiled and took his place at the table. “Down to the ball park,” he said. “Few of the fellows got a game going.”

Eddie’s eyes opened in horror, and he looked at Mary. Mary’s face almost crumpled. This was her twelve-year old son speaking. This was her son lying.

That night, they decided to do something about it.

But the questioning had to be very tactful.

They didn’t want anyone to know that Robert was a robot, and; yet they wanted to find out just who had fed his memory tapes such poison.

They took different sections of the neighborhood, dividing all the houses and shops between them.

Everyone was most co-operative. They answered all the questions that were put to them. No, they hadn’t seen any of the neighbors behaving strangely with Robert. No, they hadn’t even seen any of them alone with Robert. Why, what was it all about?

Eddie moved from house to house, from store to store. Something was troubling him. Something about the way they’d looked at him, with pity was it? Or what? Just what? He didn’t pinpoint it until he spoke to Mr. Jeffries next door.

“So you’re worried about the boy, eh?” Mr. Jeffries asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I feel... I think someone has been... been corrupting him.”

Mr. Jeffries chuckled. “Now, now, Eddie, that’s silly.”

“No,” Eddie insisted. “Someone has been twisting his mind. Someone is teaching him to... to kill.”

Mr. Jeffries opened his eyes wide, and Eddie looked deep into their pupils.

“Y-yes,” Eddie stammered.

“To kill, you say?”

Eddie kept looking into Mr. Jeffries’ eyes. “To... to kill living things,” he said.

Mr. Jeffries laughed loudly. “Well, now, we’re all living things.” He paused. “Aren’t we?”

Eddie turned and ran. He had seen it there, deep in Mr. Jeffries’ eyes; he had seen it and he knew what it was now. He threw open the front door.

“Mary,” he shouted. “Mary! Oh my God, Mary!”

His wife was sitting on the couch, her head buried in her hands. She had just returned from covering her half of the neighborhood, and she was still wearing her coat. She looked up when Eddie came into the room.

“Mary,” he said, “we’ve got to get out of here. Mr. Jeffries, the D’Allessio’s, the Clarks—”

“And McCarthy the cop, and the Steins, and the grocer, and—” She buried her face in her hands. “It’s no use, Eddie. It’s no use. We can’t run away.”

“The flicker,” he said. “Behind the right eye. The flicker.”

“Yes... yes.” Mary’s voice was broken and toneless.

“Robots,” Eddie said flatly. “All robots. Every last one of them. Robots.”

He fell to his knees at Mary’s feet, burying his head in her lap.

Neither of them heard Robert as he came into the room with the pair of shears clutched tightly in his fist, his eyes flickering.

Content

Evan Hunter
Robert