The Complete Stories (Page 43)

part of the experiment. With your new position as Associate Engineer, you’ll be able to keep it up, I think."

"That’s not what I’m worried about. With Washington agreeing to the tests, we’ll be able to get a TN model of our own by next year, I think." He turned hesitantly, as though to go, and as hesitantly turned back again.

"Well, Mr. Belmont?" asked Dr. Calvin, after a pause.

"I wonder-" began Larry. "I wonder what really happened there. She- Claire, I mean-seems so different. It’s not just her looks-though, frankly, I’m amazed." He laughed nervously. "It’s her! She’s not my wife, really-I can’t explain it."

"Why try? Are you disappointed with any part of the change?"

"On the contrary. But it’s a little frightening, too, you see-"

"I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Belmont. Your wife has handled herself very well. Frankly, I never expected to have the experiment yield such a thorough and complete test. We know exactly what corrections must be made in the TN model, and the credit belongs entirely to Mrs. Belmont. If you want me to be very honest, I think your wife deserves your promotion more than you do."

Larry flinched visibly at that. "As long as it’s in the family," he murmured unconvincingly and left.

Susan Calvin looked after him, "I think that hurt-I hope. . . . Have you read Tony’s report, Peter?"

"Thoroughly," said Bogert. "And won’t the TN-3 model need changes?"

"Oh, you think so, too?" questioned Calvin sharply. "What’s your reasoning?"

Bogert frowned. "I don’t need any. It’s obvious on the face of it that we can’t have a robot loose which makes love to his mistress, if you don’t mind the pun."

"Love! Peter, you sicken me. You really don’t understand? That machine had to obey the First Law. He couldn’t allow harm to come to a human being, and harm was coming to Claire Belmont through her own sense of inadequacy. So he made love to her, since what woman would fail to appreciate the compliment of being able to stir passion in a machine-in a cold, soulless machine. And he opened the curtains that night deliberately, that the others might see and envy-without any risk possible to Claire’s marriage. I think it was clever of Tony-"

"Do you? What’s the difference whether it was pretense or not, Susan? It still has its horrifying effect. Read the report again. She avoided him. She screamed when he held her. She didn’t sleep that last night-in hysterics. We can’t have that."

"Peter, you’re blind. You’re as blind as I was. The TN model will be rebuilt entirely, but not for your reason. Quite otherwise; quite otherwise.

Strange that I overlooked it in the first place," her eyes were opaquely thoughtful, "but perhaps it reflects a shortcoming in myself. You see, Peter, machines can’t fall in love, but-even when it’s hopeless and horrifying- women can!"

Hell-Fire

There was a stir as of a very polite first-night audience. Only a handful of scientists were present, a sprinkling of high brass, some Congressmen, a few newsmen.

Alvin Homer of the Washington Bureau of the Continental Press found himself next to Joseph Vincenzo of Los Alamos, and said, "Now we ought to leam something."

Vincenzo stared at him through bifocals and said, "Not the important thing."

Homer frowned. This was to be the first super-slow-motion films of an atomic explosion. With trick lenses changing directional polarization in flickers, the moment of explosion would be divided into billionth-second snaps. Yesterday, an A-bomb had exploded. Today, those snaps would show the explosion in incredible detail.

Horner said, "You think this won’t work?"

Vincenzo looked tormented. "It will work. We’ve run pilot tests. But the important thing-"

"Which is?"

"That these bombs are man’s death sentence. We don’t seem to be able to learn that." Vincenzo nodded. "Look at them here. They’re excited and thrilled, but not afraid."

The newsman said, "They know the danger. They’re afraid, too."

"Not enough," said the scientist. "I’ve seen men watch an H-bomb blow an island into a hole and then go home and sleep. That’s the way men are.

For thousands of years, hell-fire has been preached to them, and it’s made no real impression."

"Hell-fire: Are you religious, sir?"

"What you saw yesterday was hell-fire. An exploding atom bomb is hell-fire. Literally."

That was enough for Homer. He got up and changed his seat, but watched the audience uneasily. Were any afraid? Did any worry about hell-fire? It didn’t seem so to him.

The lights went out, the projector started. On the screen, the firing tower stood gaunt. The audience grew tensely quiet.

Then a dot of light appeared at the apex of the tower, a brilliant, burning point, slowly budding in a lazy, outward elbowing, this way and that, taking on uneven shapes of light and shadow, growing oval.

A man cried out chokingly, then others. A hoarse babble of noise, followed by thick silence. Horner could smell fear, taste terror in his own mouth, feel his blood freeze.

The oval fireball had sprouted projections, then paused a moment in stasis, before expanding rapidly into a bright and featureless sphere.

That moment of stasis-the fireball had shown dark spots for eyes, with dark lines for thin, flaring eyebrows, a hairline coming down V-shaped, a mouth twisted upward, laughing wildly in the hell-fire-and horns.

The Last Trump

The Archangel Gabriel was quite casual about the whole thing. Idly, he let the tip of one wing graze the planet Mars, which, being of mere matter, was unaffected by the contact.

He said, "It’s a settled matter, Etheriel. There’s nothing to be done about it now. The Day of Resurrection is due."