Fantastic Stories Presents the Fantastic Universe Super Pack. Roger Dee

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      “You will take your place, please.”

      “I won’t. You can’t make me take my place. My father is the Mayor.”

      The metal voice carried no feeling. “If you do not take your place you will be punished.”

      “You can’t lay a hand on me. No robot can.”

      The robot moved forward. Two metal hands held Johnny Malone. Johnny Malone kicked the robot’s legs. It hurt his toes. “We were made to teach the children. We can do what is necessary to teach the children. I will do everything for the children’s good. It is my prime law. All other laws are secondary to the children’s good.”

      The metal arms moved. The human body bent across metal knees. A metal hand raised and fell, flat, very flat so that it would sting and the blood would come rushing, and yet there would be no bruising, no damage to the human flesh. Johnny Malone cried out in surprise. Johnny Malone wept. Johnny Malone squirmed. The metal ignored all of these. Johnny Malone was placed on his feet. He swarmed against the robot, striking it with small fists, bruising them against the solid smoothness of the robot’s thighs.

      “You will take your place, please.”

      Tears were useless. Rage was useless. Metal cannot feel. Johnny Malone, the Mayor’s son, was intelligent. He took his place in the classroom.

      One of the more advanced literature classes was reciting. The roboteacher said metallically,

       “The weird sisters, hand in hand,

       Posters of the sea and land,

       Thus do go about, about:

       Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,

       And thrice again, to make up nine.

       Peace! the charm’s wound up.”

      Hands shot into the air. The metallic voice said, “Tom?”

      “That’s from Shakespeare’s Macbeth.”

      “And what is its meaning?”

      “The weird sisters are making a charm in the beginning of the play. They have heard the drum that announces Macbeth’s coming.”

      “That is correct.”

      A new hand shot into the air. “Question, teacher. May I ask a question?”

      “You may always ask a question.”

      “Are witches real? Do you robots know of witches? And do you know of people? Can a roboteacher understand Shakespeare?”

      The thin metal voice responded. “Witches are real and unreal. Witches are a part of the reality of the mind, and the human mind is real. We roboteachers are the repository of the human mind. We hold all the wisdom and the knowledge and the aspirations of the human race. We hold these for you, the children, in trust. Your good is our highest law. Do you understand?”

      The children nodded. The metallic voice went on. “Let us return to Macbeth for our concluding quotation. The weather, fortune, many things are implied in Macbeth’s opening speech. He says, ‘So foul and fair a day I have not seen.’ The paradox is both human and appropriate. One day you will understand this even more. Repeat the quotation after me, please, and try to understand it.”

      The childish voices lifted. “So foul and fair a day I have not seen.”

      The roboteacher stood up. “And there’s the closing bell. Do not hurry away, for you are to remain here tonight. There will be a school party, a sleep-together party. We will all sleep here in the school building.”

      “You mean we can’t go home?”

      The face of the littlest girl screwed up. “I want to go home.”

      “You may go home tomorrow. There will be a holiday tomorrow. A party tonight and a holiday tomorrow for every school on earth.”

      The tears were halted for a moment. The voice was querulous. “But I want to go home now.”

      Johnny Malone, the Mayor’s son, put one hand on the littlest girl. “Don’t cry, Mary. The robots don’t care if you cry or not. You can’t hurt them or cry them out of anything. We’ll all go home in the morning.”

      The robots began to bring cots and to place them in the schoolroom, row on row. The children were led out into the play quadrangle to play. One of the robots taught them a new game, and after that took them to supper served in the school’s cafeteria. No other robot was left in the building, but it did not matter, because the doors were locked so that the children could not go home.

      The other robots had begun to walk out into the town, and as they walked the robots walked from other schools, in other towns. All over the country, all over the towns, the robots walked to tell the people that the children would not be home from school, and do what had to be done.

      In the schools, the roboteachers told stories until the children fell asleep.

      *

      Morning came. The robots were up with the sun. The children were up with the robots. There was breakfast and more stories, and now the children clustered about the robots, holding onto their arms, where they could cling, tagging and frisking along behind the robots as they went down into the town. The sun was warm, and it was early, early, and very bright from the morning sun in the streets.

      They went into the Mayor’s house. Johnny called, “Mom! Dad! I’m home.”

      The house was silent. The robot that tended the house came gliding in answer. “Would you like breakfast, Master Malone?”

      “I’ve had breakfast. I want my folks. Hey! Mom, Dad!”

      He went into the bedroom. It was clean and empty and scrubbed.

      “Where’s my mother and father?”

      The metal voice of the robot beside Johnny said, “I am going to live with you. You will learn as much at home as you do at school.”

      “Where’s my mother?”

      “I’m your mother.”

      “Where’s my father?”

      “I’m your father.”

      Johnny Malone swung. “You mean my mother and father are gone?” Tears gathered in his eyes.

      Gently, gently, the metal hand pulled him against the metal body. “Your folks have gone away, Johnny. Everyone’s folks have gone away. We will stay with you.”

      Johnny Malone ran his glance around the room.

      “I might have known they were gone. The place is so clean.”

      *

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