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The Helpful Robots
They had come to pass judgement on him. He had violated their law--wilfully, ignorantly, and very deliberately. Classic science fiction from Robert Shea.
28 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 1, 1957
23 people want to read
About the author
Robert Shea
66 books174 followersRobert Joseph Shea was a novelist and journalist best known as co-author with Robert Anton Wilson of the science fantasy trilogy Illuminatus!. It became a cult success and was later turned into a marathon-length stage show put on at the British National Theatre and elsewhere. In 1986 it won the Prometheus Hall of Fame Award. Shea went on to write several action novels based in exotic historical settings.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
March 19, 2020
Robots programmed to help Humans.
Just what we need - or are they?
So you think you know how to operate a robot
Rankin, who prided himself on knowing how to handle robots, but did not realize that the robots of the Clearchan Confederacy were subject to a higher law than implicit obedience to man.
Not a friendly person
"OUR people will be arriving to visit us today," the robot said.
"Shut up!" snapped Rod Rankin. He jumped, wiry and quick, out of the chair on his verandah and stared at a cloud of dust in the distance.
"Our people—" the ten-foot, cylinder-bodied robot grated, when Rod Rankin interrupted him.
"I don't care about your fool people," said Rankin. He squinted at the cloud of dust getting bigger and closer beyond the wall of kesh trees that surrounded the rolling acres of his plantation. "That damned new neighbor of mine is coming over here again."
He gestured widely, taking in the dozens of robots with their shiny, cylindrical bodies and pipestem arms and legs laboring in his fields. "Get all your people together and go hide in the wood, fast."
A greedy person
"You're built to follow orders, nothing else. I know a thing or two about how you robots work. You've got one law, to follow orders, and until that neighbor of mine sees you to give you orders, you work for me. Now get into those woods and hide till he goes away."
A neighbor in need of help
Barrows looked weary and worried. "Them brown beetles is at my crop again," he said. "Thought you might know some way of getting rid of them."
"Sure," said Rankin. "Pick them off, one by one. That's how I get rid of them."
"Why, man," said Barrows, "you can't walk all over these miles and miles of farm and pick off every one of them beetles. You must know another way."
Rankin's shady past
"Rankin," said Barrows, "I know you were a crook back in the Terran Empire, and that you came out beyond the border to escape the law. Seems to me, though, that even a crook, any man, would be willing to help his only neighbor out on a lone planet like this. You might need help yourself, sometime."
"You keep your thoughts about my past to yourself," said Rankin. "Remember, I keep a gun. And you've got a wife and a whole bunch of kids on that farm of yours. Be smart and let me alone."
Visitors drop in
A huge, white globe was descending across the sky. A space ship, thought Rankin, startled.
Police? This planet was outside the jurisdiction of the Terran Empire. When he'd cracked that safe and made off with a hundred thousand credits, he'd headed here, because the planet was part of something called the Clearchan Confederacy. No extradition treaties or anything. Perfectly safe, if the planet was safe.
A safe planet with helpful, law abiding robots
The planet was more than safe. There had been a hundred robots waiting when he landed. Where they came from he didn't know, but Rankin prided himself on knowing how to handle robots. He'd appropriated their services and started his farm. At the rate he was going, he'd be a plantation owner before long.
That must be where the ship was from. The robot said they'd expected visitors. Must be the Clearchan Confederacy visiting this robot outpost. Was that good or bad?
From everything he'd read, and from what the robots had told him, they were probably more robots. That was good, because he knew how to handle robots.
Who is the boss?
A half hour later the column of his robot laborers marched out of the forest. There were three more robots, painted grey, at the head. The new ones from the ship, thought Rankin. Well, he'd better establish who was boss right from the start.
"Stop right there!" he shouted.
The shiny robot laborers halted. But the three grey ones came on.
"Stop!" shouted Rankin.
They didn't stop, and by the time they reached the verandah, he cursed himself for having failed to get his gun.
Two of the huge grey robots laid gentle hands on his arms. Gentle hands, but hands of superstrong metal.
The third said, "We have come to pass judgement on you. You have violated our law."
"What do you mean?" said Rankin. "The only law robots have is to obey orders."
What Law was broken?
Why have the grey Robots arrested him?
Find out in this short story - free from Project Gutenberg.
Enjoy!
Just what we need - or are they?
So you think you know how to operate a robot
Rankin, who prided himself on knowing how to handle robots, but did not realize that the robots of the Clearchan Confederacy were subject to a higher law than implicit obedience to man.
Not a friendly person
"OUR people will be arriving to visit us today," the robot said.
"Shut up!" snapped Rod Rankin. He jumped, wiry and quick, out of the chair on his verandah and stared at a cloud of dust in the distance.
"Our people—" the ten-foot, cylinder-bodied robot grated, when Rod Rankin interrupted him.
"I don't care about your fool people," said Rankin. He squinted at the cloud of dust getting bigger and closer beyond the wall of kesh trees that surrounded the rolling acres of his plantation. "That damned new neighbor of mine is coming over here again."
He gestured widely, taking in the dozens of robots with their shiny, cylindrical bodies and pipestem arms and legs laboring in his fields. "Get all your people together and go hide in the wood, fast."
A greedy person
"You're built to follow orders, nothing else. I know a thing or two about how you robots work. You've got one law, to follow orders, and until that neighbor of mine sees you to give you orders, you work for me. Now get into those woods and hide till he goes away."
A neighbor in need of help
Barrows looked weary and worried. "Them brown beetles is at my crop again," he said. "Thought you might know some way of getting rid of them."
"Sure," said Rankin. "Pick them off, one by one. That's how I get rid of them."
"Why, man," said Barrows, "you can't walk all over these miles and miles of farm and pick off every one of them beetles. You must know another way."
Rankin's shady past
"Rankin," said Barrows, "I know you were a crook back in the Terran Empire, and that you came out beyond the border to escape the law. Seems to me, though, that even a crook, any man, would be willing to help his only neighbor out on a lone planet like this. You might need help yourself, sometime."
"You keep your thoughts about my past to yourself," said Rankin. "Remember, I keep a gun. And you've got a wife and a whole bunch of kids on that farm of yours. Be smart and let me alone."
Visitors drop in
A huge, white globe was descending across the sky. A space ship, thought Rankin, startled.
Police? This planet was outside the jurisdiction of the Terran Empire. When he'd cracked that safe and made off with a hundred thousand credits, he'd headed here, because the planet was part of something called the Clearchan Confederacy. No extradition treaties or anything. Perfectly safe, if the planet was safe.
A safe planet with helpful, law abiding robots
The planet was more than safe. There had been a hundred robots waiting when he landed. Where they came from he didn't know, but Rankin prided himself on knowing how to handle robots. He'd appropriated their services and started his farm. At the rate he was going, he'd be a plantation owner before long.
That must be where the ship was from. The robot said they'd expected visitors. Must be the Clearchan Confederacy visiting this robot outpost. Was that good or bad?
From everything he'd read, and from what the robots had told him, they were probably more robots. That was good, because he knew how to handle robots.
Who is the boss?
A half hour later the column of his robot laborers marched out of the forest. There were three more robots, painted grey, at the head. The new ones from the ship, thought Rankin. Well, he'd better establish who was boss right from the start.
"Stop right there!" he shouted.
The shiny robot laborers halted. But the three grey ones came on.
"Stop!" shouted Rankin.
They didn't stop, and by the time they reached the verandah, he cursed himself for having failed to get his gun.
Two of the huge grey robots laid gentle hands on his arms. Gentle hands, but hands of superstrong metal.
The third said, "We have come to pass judgement on you. You have violated our law."
"What do you mean?" said Rankin. "The only law robots have is to obey orders."
What Law was broken?
Why have the grey Robots arrested him?
Find out in this short story - free from Project Gutenberg.
Enjoy!
March 19, 2013
If you like robots and short stories, you'll definitely love this short read.
January 17, 2012
Good story. Ok voice but poor recording technique.
I listen to these short stories while walking to and from work.
I listen to these short stories while walking to and from work.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews