Read Online Is That What People Do? by Robert Sheckley - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Sheckley
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eyebrow. “And the other nights?”
She took a deep breath. “Charles, I can no longer deceive you. I really had wanted an old-fashioned courtship. But when the time came, I couldn’t seem to fit it into my schedule. You see, it was finals time in my Aztec pottery class, and I had just been elected chairwoman of the Aleutian Assistance League, and my new boutique needed special attention—”
“So what did you do?”
“Well—I simply couldn’t say to you, ‘Look, let’s drop the courtship and just get married.’ After all, I hardly knew you.”
“What did you do?”
She sighed. “I knew several girls who had gotten themselves into this kind of a spot. They went to this really clever robot-maker named Snaithe...Why are you laughing?”
I said, “I too have a confession to make. I have used Mr. Snaithe, too.”
“Charles! You actually sent a robot here to court me? How could you! Suppose I had really been me?”
“I don’t think either of us is in a position to express much indignation. Did your robot come home last night?”
“No. I thought that Elaine II and you—”
I shook my head. “I have never met Elaine II, and you have never met Charles II. What happened, apparently, is that our robots met, courted and now have run away together.”
“But robots can’t do that!”
“Ours did. I suppose they managed to reprogram each other.”
“Or maybe they just fell in love,” Elaine said wistfully.
I said, “I will find out what happened. But now, Elaine, let us think of ourselves. I propose that at our earliest possible convenience we get married.”
“Yes, Charles,” she murmured. We kissed. And then, gently, lovingly, we began to coordinate our schedules.
I was able to trace the runaway robots to Kennedy Spaceport. They had taken the shuttle to Space Platform 5, and changed there for the Centauri Express. I didn’t bother trying to investigate any further. They could be on any one of a dozen worlds.
Elaine and I were deeply affected by the experience. We realized that we had become overspecialized, too intent upon productivity, too neglectful of the simple, ancient pleasures. We acted upon this insight, taking an additional hour out of every day—seven hours a week—in which simply to be with each other. Our friends consider us romantic fools, but we don’t care. We know that Charles II and Elaine II, our alter egos, would approve.
There is only this to add. One night Elaine woke up in a state of hysteria. She had had a nightmare. In it she had become aware that Charles II and Elaine II were the real people who had escaped the inhumanity of Earth to some simpler and more rewarding world. And we were the robots they had left in their places, programmed to believe that we were human.
I told Elaine how ridiculous that was. It took me a long time to convince her, but at last I did. We are happy now and we lead good, productive, loving lives. Now I must stop writing this and get back to work.
THE MNEMONE
It was a great day for our village when the Mnemone arrived. But we did not know him at first, because he concealed his identity from us. He said that his name was Edgar Smith, and that he was a repairer of furniture. We accepted both statements at face value, as we receive all statements. Until then, we had never known anyone who had anything to conceal.
He came into our village on foot, carrying a knapsack and a battered suitcase. He looked at our stores and houses. He walked up to me and asked, “Where is the police station?”
“We have none,” I told him.
“Indeed? Then where is the local constable or sheriff?”
“Luke Johnson was constable here for nineteen years,” I told him. “But Luke died two years ago. We reported this to the county seat as the law requires. But no one has been sent yet to take his place.”
“So you police yourselves?”
“We live quietly,” I said. “There’s no crime in this village. Why do you ask?”
“Because I wanted to
She took a deep breath. “Charles, I can no longer deceive you. I really had wanted an old-fashioned courtship. But when the time came, I couldn’t seem to fit it into my schedule. You see, it was finals time in my Aztec pottery class, and I had just been elected chairwoman of the Aleutian Assistance League, and my new boutique needed special attention—”
“So what did you do?”
“Well—I simply couldn’t say to you, ‘Look, let’s drop the courtship and just get married.’ After all, I hardly knew you.”
“What did you do?”
She sighed. “I knew several girls who had gotten themselves into this kind of a spot. They went to this really clever robot-maker named Snaithe...Why are you laughing?”
I said, “I too have a confession to make. I have used Mr. Snaithe, too.”
“Charles! You actually sent a robot here to court me? How could you! Suppose I had really been me?”
“I don’t think either of us is in a position to express much indignation. Did your robot come home last night?”
“No. I thought that Elaine II and you—”
I shook my head. “I have never met Elaine II, and you have never met Charles II. What happened, apparently, is that our robots met, courted and now have run away together.”
“But robots can’t do that!”
“Ours did. I suppose they managed to reprogram each other.”
“Or maybe they just fell in love,” Elaine said wistfully.
I said, “I will find out what happened. But now, Elaine, let us think of ourselves. I propose that at our earliest possible convenience we get married.”
“Yes, Charles,” she murmured. We kissed. And then, gently, lovingly, we began to coordinate our schedules.
I was able to trace the runaway robots to Kennedy Spaceport. They had taken the shuttle to Space Platform 5, and changed there for the Centauri Express. I didn’t bother trying to investigate any further. They could be on any one of a dozen worlds.
Elaine and I were deeply affected by the experience. We realized that we had become overspecialized, too intent upon productivity, too neglectful of the simple, ancient pleasures. We acted upon this insight, taking an additional hour out of every day—seven hours a week—in which simply to be with each other. Our friends consider us romantic fools, but we don’t care. We know that Charles II and Elaine II, our alter egos, would approve.
There is only this to add. One night Elaine woke up in a state of hysteria. She had had a nightmare. In it she had become aware that Charles II and Elaine II were the real people who had escaped the inhumanity of Earth to some simpler and more rewarding world. And we were the robots they had left in their places, programmed to believe that we were human.
I told Elaine how ridiculous that was. It took me a long time to convince her, but at last I did. We are happy now and we lead good, productive, loving lives. Now I must stop writing this and get back to work.
THE MNEMONE
It was a great day for our village when the Mnemone arrived. But we did not know him at first, because he concealed his identity from us. He said that his name was Edgar Smith, and that he was a repairer of furniture. We accepted both statements at face value, as we receive all statements. Until then, we had never known anyone who had anything to conceal.
He came into our village on foot, carrying a knapsack and a battered suitcase. He looked at our stores and houses. He walked up to me and asked, “Where is the police station?”
“We have none,” I told him.
“Indeed? Then where is the local constable or sheriff?”
“Luke Johnson was constable here for nineteen years,” I told him. “But Luke died two years ago. We reported this to the county seat as the law requires. But no one has been sent yet to take his place.”
“So you police yourselves?”
“We live quietly,” I said. “There’s no crime in this village. Why do you ask?”
“Because I wanted to
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