Chapter 7 Chapter VII

"Aggregator almost complete," he said. "A small nuclear fission engine, the one shielded by lead spheres. Rhodium magnetic transducers, steering coils, variable speed mirrors, fission needles. We're still short of directors." "Director?" "It's just a sighting aid," Sledge explained, "and a telescope observer of any kind is useless, you know—the planet must have shifted quite a bit in the last 100 years, but The rhodium magnetic beam has a very narrow range, it is impossible to keep up with that distance. We have to use rhodium magnetic scanning rays, and an electronic converter to convert what we see into an image. I have cathode ray tubes, and other components sketches."

He climbed off the high stool with stiff hands and feet, and then snapped on the light—it was a cheap fluorescent lamp, and this fluorescent lamp was the only device that a person could turn on and off by himself.He unfolded the sketches under the lamp, explaining the part of what Underhill could do.Underhill promised to come back the next morning. "I can bring some tools from the workshop," he went on. "There's a little lathe that I used to make models with, a portable drill press, and a vise." "We need these tools," said the old man, "but be careful. Remember: you have no immunity. And if they suspect you, my hopes are lost."

Then, with great reluctance, Underhill left the shabby hut where the plaster was peeling off the walls, and this hut also had the familiar floor and the familiar worn carpet on the floor.He closed the door casually—it was an ordinary wooden door, which creaked and creaked as soon as it was opened and closed, so that a simple doorman could open it.Frightened, he descended the outdoor steps and across the courtyard to the new glowing door which he himself could not open. "Happy to be of service to you, Mr. Underhill." Before he raised his hand to knock on the door, the smooth and shiny door was silently opened.Inside the door stood a black robot that had been waiting there carefully. "Your supper is ready, sir."

There was something about the robot that made him shudder.In its naked little graceful body, he could feel the power of the robot tribe radiating everywhere: friendly and forbidding, perfect and invincible.Sledge's attempt to defeat them with the puny weapon he called the Integrator suddenly seemed hopeless.A dark cloud of depression rose within him, but he dared not reveal it. The next morning, Underhill went down the steps leading to the cellar, looking around from time to time, ready to steal the few tools.He found that the basement had been enlarged and remodeled, the black floor was newly laid and elastic, and he walked as silently as a robot.The new walls glow softly, and the doors are neatly marked with illuminated signs: Laundry, Storage, Games, Crafting.

He stopped nervously in front of the studio door.The newly installed door sends a soft green light.But the door was locked, and there was no keyhole in the door, just a small oval piece of white metal, under which there was undoubtedly a rhodium magnetic repeater.He pushed on the door, but it wouldn't open. "Happy to be of your service, Mr. Underhill." He entered the production room criminally, and suddenly his feet were weak and trembling, and he tried his best to restrain himself.He had already figured out that it would take the robot half an hour for Aurora to wash her hair, but he didn't know there was another robot in the house.The robot must have come out of the storage room, because it stood motionless under the storage room sign in an expression of benevolent concern, graceful and terrifying. "What are you going to do?"

"Hey..., don't do anything." Its pair of steel blind eyes were staring at him, and he felt that his secret must have been seen through.He racked his brains to come up with a logical reason. "I just want to walk around and look around." His trembling voice was rough and dry. "You've improved this place a lot!" He nodded vigorously toward the door marked "Game Room." "What's in there?" When he walked there, he didn't see the robot moving, and the hidden repeater didn't turn on, and the bright door opened quietly.The room was empty, and the black walls gave off a soft and elegant light. "We're making the entertainment," it explained cheerfully, "and we'll get the entertainment room up as soon as possible."

To end the awkward silence, Underhill muttered indignantly, "Little Frank has a set of darts, and I think we used to have some old gymnastics clubs too." "We took all of these," the robot told him gently, "these are dangerous, and we must use safe ones." Suicide, he remembered, was also not allowed. "I think some wooden blocks could be used," he said grimly. "Wooden blocks are too hard, and dangerous," it told him softly, "and, wood splinters can scratch people. But we make rubber blocks, and rubber blocks are safe. You want something like this Blocks?"

He stared at its elegant black face, unable to speak a word. "We must also remove those tools from your workshop," it said calmly. "These tools are extremely dangerous, but we can provide you with equipment for processing soft rubber." "Thank you," he muttered uneasily, "you can take your time, don't worry." He started to back away, but the robot blocked him. "Since your company is gone and the business can't be done," it pleaded, "we suggest that you should formally accept our full service. The property transferor can have the right of first choice, and we will be able to fill your family right away. required service personnel."

"This can also be done slowly, don't rush." ​​His tone was cold. He fled the house—although he had to wait for it to open—and climbed the steps leading to the garage suite.Sledge let him in.He sat down on the broken chair, feeling free and comfortable, because the plaster was peeling off the walls here and there was no light, and the door could be opened here. "I can't get the tools out," he said disappointedly, "and they're taking the tools away." Under the gloomy daylight, the old man's face was pale and desolate.His sunken cheeks were elongated, and the hollow eye sockets were deeply shadowed, as if he hadn't slept in a long time.Underhill saw the plates on the floor, the food inside untouched.

"I'll go with you." The old man was haggard and seriously ill, but there was still a glimmer of hope in his eyes that had not been extinguished. "We have to get those tools. I believe my immunity protects both of us." He found an old travel bag, and Underhill followed him down the steps, across the courtyard, towards the main room, and when he reached the back door, the old man took out a small piece of white palladium in the shape of a horseshoe, and put it on the oval metal piece At one touch, the door swung open, and they passed through the kitchen to the basement steps.

A little black robot washes dishes by the sink without splashing or clanging dishes.Underhill glanced at it uneasily—he figured it must be the one he had come across coming out of the storage room, because the other robot was probably still doing Aurora's hair. It is doubtful that Sledge's immunity would be of any use to that supremely intelligent, omniscient robot.Underhill only felt a burst of chill hit him.He hurried forward, relieved that the robots didn't care about them. The corridor leading to the basement is dark.Sledge touched another repeater with the horseshoe-shaped piece of palladium.There was light on the wall.He opened the door of the production room, and the walls in the room began to glow. The equipment in the production room has been dismantled, the stools and boxes have been smashed, and the old concrete walls have been covered with some smooth and shiny material.For a moment, Underhill felt very depressed, thinking that everything had been moved.Suddenly, he found a pile of things ready to be thrown away in the corner of the wall. His tools were in it, piled together with the archery equipment Aurora bought last summer-these archery equipment are for fragile and suicidal humans. It is also dangerous enough. They packed the small lathe, drill press and vise, and a few other gadgets in the travel bag.Underhill picked up his travel bag, and Sledge turned off the light on the wall and closed the door.The robot was still busy at the sink, just as it hadn't seemed to notice them when they came. Sledge's sudden wheezing and wheezing forced him to stop on the outside steps to cough, but eventually they made it back to the small suite, where intruding robots were kept out of the way.Underhill installed the small lathe on the dilapidated desk in front of him and got to work.Day after day, the director slowly took shape. Sometimes Underhill's doubts came back.Sometimes, he watched Sledge's sunken cheeks turn blue and purple, and his hands that were so thin that there were only bones left shook violently. He was afraid that the old man's mind had been taken over by the disease just like his body, and suspected that the old man would prevent the robot from invading. His plans may also be just nonsense, illusory thoughts. At times, as he surveyed the little machine on the table, the long needle on the pivot, and the thick ball of lead, the whole plan seemed the most absurd.The robot's parent star can only be seen as a tiny point with the help of astronomical telescopes. How could it be possible to detonate such a distant sea here? Those robots, however, reassured him. It was always difficult for Underhill to get out of the small suite, because he didn't feel at ease in the shiny new world the robots were creating for them; he didn't like the shiny new bathroom because He can't turn on the faucet himself - some people will try to commit suicide by drowning; he doesn't like windows that only robots can open - some people will accidentally fall, or want to jump to commit suicide; In Gongli's music room, the high-quality, shining golden record player in the music room can only be operated by robots. He began to share the old man's sense of desperate urgency, but Sledge warned him sternly, "You mustn't spend too much time with me to make them suspect we're doing something very important. You Better put on a show—act like you've grown to like them, and you're only here to help me out to pass the time." Underhill tried to do so, but his acting was poor.go home to eat.As if on a mission, he struggled to find something to talk about—anything other than exploding that planet.He tried to look interested and delighted as Aurora dragged him to admire some of the nicely improved room facilities.He applauds Guy for his performance and goes hiking with Frank in the wonderful new parks. He saw the effect these robots had on his family, and that was enough to renew his faith in Sledge's Aggregator, and it greatly strengthened his resolve to destroy the robots. In the beginning, Aurora's lips were full of praise for the omnipotent robots.They did the chores, arranged the meals, brought the food, bathed the children, and sewed her many beautiful nightgowns, which gave her much time to play cards. And now, she felt like there was too much time. Cooking is one of her hobbies—she really enjoys making at least a few special dishes that the family loves, but she's not allowed to go into the kitchen right now.Stoves are hot, kitchen knives are sharp, and all utensils in the kitchen are quite dangerous to the careless and suicidal. Needlework has always been a hobby of hers, but the robot took all her needles.She likes to go for a drive in a car, but that's not allowed.She had no choice but to hide under the bookshelf of novels, but the robot took them all too, because most of the novels were about unhappy and unhappy characters in dangerous situations. One afternoon Underhill caught her weeping secretly. "I can't stand it," she said bitterly. "I hate every single naked robot. At first they all seemed so great, but now they don't even let me touch candy. Can we get rid of them, get rid of them forever, dear?" A blind little robot stood beside him, and all he had to say was that they were inescapable. "Our duty is to serve humanity, and to serve humanity forever," the robot assured them mildly. "We must take your sweets, Mrs. Underhill, because a little obesity shortens a man's lifespan." .” Not even the children could escape this absolute concern.All of Frank's toys of a dangerous nature—soccer balls, boxing gloves, pocketknife, top, slingshot, and roller skates—were taken away and forbidden to be used.And only allow him to play with those rubber toys that can't cause accidents.He tries to escape, but a robot on the way recognizes him and sends him back to school. Guy dreams of being a great musician.Since the robots came, they had replaced her human music teachers.One evening, when Underhill called her to play, she announced calmly: "Dad, I don't want to learn the violin again." "Why, dear?" He gazed at her in complete shock, seeing the pained determination on her face. "You've been improving so fast—especially since the robot is your teacher." "They're the real trouble, Daddy." Her voice sounded too weary and old for a child. "They're so good. No matter how long I study, no matter how hard I try, I can't get to where they are now. No matter how hard I study. Don't you borrow them, Dad?" Her voice trembled. "It's no use trying to study as hard as you can." He understands.Renewed determination led him back to his secret work, the robots must be destroyed.The orientator is almost done.When Sledge's twisted, unsteady fingers fitted a small part made by Underhill and carefully soldered it at the joint, the director was made.The old man said in a hoarse voice: "it is done." Another dark night.Looking out from the windows of this dilapidated small building, you can see that Shuangjiang Town has already presented a strange and magnificent scene that "this scene should only be in the sky"—and the windows of the small building are ordinary windows with The glass is ordinary glass with bubbles, brittle and thin glass, but these windows can be manipulated by people.Gone are the old street lamps, and now the façades of incredible new mansions and villas radiate with all their brilliance, challenging the night to come.Some black robots are still busy silently on the roof of the palace on the other side of the valley. In the shabby apartment of the small human building, the new orientator had been installed at the end of the small dining table which Underhill had bolted to the floor.The metal rods had welded the director and concentrator together, and Sledge tested the sensitivity of the rotary switch with his trembling deformed finger, and as his finger turned, the slender palladium needle oscillated obediently. "Okay," he said hoarsely. At the beginning, although his voice was hoarse, he seemed quite calm, but his breathing was so rapid.His large gnarled hands began to tremble violently, and Underhill saw his thin, withered face suddenly turn blue and purple.He was sitting on the high chair, gripping the edge of the table tightly.Seeing that he was in pain, Underhill quickly fetched the medicine and handed it to him. He swallowed it in one gulp, and the rapid breathing began to ease. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice agitated. "It'll be all right in a minute. I've got plenty of time." He glanced out the window at the naked blackness still moving like shadows across the valley, the black robots still building gold for the crimson palace domes. spire. "Watch them," he said, "let me know when they stop." He waited, waiting for the shaking of his hands to stop, before turning the rotary switch on the director.The long needle on the aggregator swung soundlessly, as soundlessly as light. The kind of force that is invisible to the human eye and that would blow up a planet.Human ears cannot hear such sounds.Cathode tubes are housed in the case of the director, enabling the weak human vision to see distant targets. That needle was pointing right at the kitchen wall, but the rhodium beam was able to penetrate the wall.The whole machine was as inconspicuous as a toy, and as silent as a walking robot. The needles were swinging, and the dots of green light were constantly moving on the cathode fluorescent screen. These green lights indicated that the eternal search beam was scanning the stars in space-silently searching for the world to be destroyed. Underhill recognized the familiar constellations, only shrunk to a tiny fraction.The constellations crawl across the screen as the needle swings.When the three stars formed an irregular triangle in the middle of the fluorescent screen, the pointer suddenly stopped moving.Sledge touched the other rotary switches, and the green lights split.Between them, another green dot is created. "Wing Constellation!" whispered Sledge. As other stars moved across the screen, the green dot grew larger.All that remained on the screen was this green dot, which became a bright little disk.Suddenly, more than a dozen visible small green dots appeared around the small disk. "No. 4 wing star!" The old man said softly out of breath in a hoarse voice, the hand holding the switch was trembling, the fourth green dot on the periphery of the disk turned to the center of the fluorescent screen, and gradually became larger, the other green dots The point recedes gradually.The green dot also began to tremble like Sledge's hand. "Sit still," he whispered excitedly. "Hold your breath. Don't disturb the direction of the needle." He reached for another switch, and as soon as he touched it, the green image flickered violently.He withdrew his hand and used his other hand to adjust the switch. "Okay!" He said softly, his voice hoarse and tense.He nodded towards the window. "Let me know when they stop." Reluctantly, Underhill looked away from the emaciated figure where Sledge was bending nervously over the useless little thing that looked like a toy.Underhill looked out of the window again, and saw two or three little black things busy on the gleaming dome of the palace beyond the valley. He waited for them to stop. He didn't even dare to breathe, he could only feel his heart beating rapidly like a hammer, and the muscles in his body were constantly shaking with tension.He tried his best to calm himself down, trying not to think about the impending explosion of a planet so far away from the earth that the flash of its explosion might take a century or more to reach the earth.At this time, the harsh voice startled him. "Have they stopped?" He shook his head and took a breath.The little black thing carried those unknown tools and strange materials, and was busy building the delicate palace dome with crimson glitter on the other side of the valley. "Not yet," he said. "In this case, we have failed." The old man's voice was weak, "I don't know why we failed." Then, the door was pushed and rattled.The door was locked, but the flimsy lock could only prevent humans, and with a snap, the door was knocked open.A black robot walked in gracefully, its voice still low and gentle. "At your service, Mr. Sledge." The old man stared at it, eyes glazed and panicked. "Get out of here!" he yelled angrily, "I won't let you..." It ignored it, went straight to the dining table, quickly and without hesitation turned off the two switches on the director.The small fluorescent screen instantly became pitch black, and the palladium needle dangled aimlessly.It deftly twisted off the solder joint next to the lead sphere, and turned its blind eye to Sledge. "You attempted to violate the highest purpose." It spoke in a gentle and pleasant voice, without the slightest hint of reproach, nor malice or resentment. "You know that compliance with your liberty presupposes obedience to the highest purpose, and we must therefore interfere." The old man lowered his head, his face was ashen-pale, as if all the liquid of life had been squeezed out at once, a shocking and violent light shot out from his pit-like eye sockets, his breathing was extremely irregular, and he seemed to be struggling. "How could...?" He muttered feebly, "How did you...?" The black robot stood there indifferently, motionless, and happily told him: "We learned about rhodium magnetic shields from the assassin who came to Wing IV to assassinate you. After that, the control center installed are protected by a rhodium magnetic shield, so your rhodium magnetically polymerized beams do not work." Old Sledge got down from the high stool, and the muscles in his lean body spasmed.He stood there, holding his belly in his hands and shaking from side to side, his whole body was like a dried and shriveled mummy, panting in pain, his eyes were frantically staring at the pair of steel blind eyes of the intelligent robot, revealing an instinctive desire to survive.He choked, his slack mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.