Wings of the Magpie: Space Operettas by Loch Erinheart Read Free Book Online Page A

offered it extra fuel, I’ve even tried ignoring it. No, nothing does the trick. It either sits in the middle of my floor, or wanders around in circles, gurgling and moping along as it goes. Sure, occasionally it picks up its tools, its broom and dustpan, but then it just shrugs and sets them back down again. It’s getting in my way and it’s wasting my precious research time.
    What’s that, Cogswell? Sounds like a case for an applied technology solution? What’s that supposed to mean? Oh, you want me to try kicking it. Kicking it? That’s preposterous, how in the name of the galaxy is kicking the confounded thing going to make a lick of difference? Besides, shouldn’t interacting with this thing be your job? Don’t you have specialized tools, behavior modification programs, ways of dealing with these units when they grow recalcitrant?
    Oh, I see, that long? That many? Oh, my. Nothing sooner than two cycles? I see. Sigh. All right. I’ll try kicking it. Does it matter which foot I use?
    That’s no reason to get hostile. Yes, of course, my choice of foot doesn’t matter. I’ll do it, but I’ll have you know that I abhor physical violence. Violence solves nothing. No, I’m not saying that it’s sentient; it’s the principle of the thing. All right, no reason to lecture, I’ll kick it. Hold on.
    Well, I did it. I kicked it. Yes, right in its backside. No, it’s not sweeping. Of course not, I told you that wouldn’t work. What’s it doing? It’s cowering in a corner, quivering, that’s what it’s doing. It’s making a horrible noise, yes, worse than before, and it appears that its visual sensors have sprung a leak. No, not oil, it’s something clear. Disgusting.
    Yes, it is one of the smaller units. Oh, I don’t know, about half-sized. I don’t see why that should make any difference. I specially requested one of the smaller ones so that it could better reach under my worktables. Why, are the small ones more prone to malfunction or something? Ah, I understand; the small ones are newer models with a less developed sense of politesse. I could see where that could lead to all sorts of problems. Why haven’t we worked out all the bugs?
    Oh, that’s Rossum’s department. Well, that makes perfect sense, then. Rossum couldn’t solve a quadratic equation if he had the answers sitting in front of him. You’d think, in the amount of time we’ve been holding this planet, someone would have come up with a better solution than these biologicals for day to day drudgery. Yes, I know they’re native to the place, I know they’re cheap to maintain, and that they breed quickly, but still. Disgusting creatures, inferior all the way.
    So, you’ll send over a replacement? That soon? Wonderful. Yes, a mature one would be fine, anything so long as this clutter gets cleaned up. What, pray tell, am I supposed to do with the broken one? You’ll send over a disposal crew? That’s fine, I was afraid I was going to have to take care of it myself. It’s getting so an android can’t get any work done around here at all.
     

About the Author
     
     
    Loch Erinheart came from outer space, ostensibly to save the human race, but gave up quickly and has been stranded on this planet since 1993.