Henry Kuttner - Piggy Bank

They dodged before Argus trampled them in his automatic fight-reaction away from the quicksand tank.

The robot dripped goo over a dozen valuable rugs before he dried. But after that he was no longer so dazzling a spectacle. However, his abilities were unimpaired.

Ballard tried the quicksand trick again, with a larger tank and smooth walls, on which the robot could get no grip. Yet Argus seemed to learn through experience. Before entering a passage now, he would make certain that there were no tractors within reach. Ballard concealed a tractor in an adjoining room where Argus could not see it, and the robot was induced to go into the fatal passage; but he ran out again the moment the tractor clanked into movement. Argus had an excellent sense of hearing.

“Well-” Johnson said doubtfully.

Ballard moved his lips silently. “Eh? Get that stuff from the quicksand washed off Argus. He’s supposed to be a showpiece!”

Johnson looked after Ballard’s retreating figure. His eyebrows lifted quizzically.

Ballard had a tough session with the televisor. His enemies were closing in from all sides. If only the end of the month would come, when he could get the new diamonds! His holdings were falling in ruin around him. And that damned robot held the key to-everything!

He gave such orders as he could and wandered upstairs, to Argus’ room. The robot, newly cleaned, stood by the window in a blaze of sunlight, a figure of fantastic beauty. Ballard noticed his own reflection in a nearby mirror. Instinctively he drew himself up.

It was a singularly futile gesture. The silent presence of Argus was like a rebuke. Ballard looked at the robot.

“Oh, damn you!” he said. “Damn you!”

Through the visor the impassive face of Argus ignored him. A whim had made Ballard shape the robot to resemble a knight. Somehow the idea seemed less satisfactory now.

Ballard’s long-suppressed inferiority complex was suffering badly.

The golden knight stood there, towering, beautiful, mighty. There was dignity in its silence. It was a machine, Ballard told himself, merely a machine that man had made. He was certainly better than a machine.

But he wasn’t.

Within its specialized limits, the robot had greater intelligence than his own. It had security, for it was invulnerable. It had wealth-it was wealth, a Midas without the Midas curse. And it had beauty. Calm, huge, utterly self-confident, Argus stood ignoring Ballard.

If Ballard could have destroyed the robot then, he might have done so. If only the damned thing wouldn’t ignore him! It was wrecking his life, his power, his empire-and doing so unconsciously. Malice and hatred Ballard could have faced; as long as a man is important enough to be hated, he is not a cipher. But, to ‘Argus, Ballard simply did not exist.

The sunlight blazed yellow from the golden cuirass. The diamonds sent out rainbow rays into the still air of the room. Ballard did not realize that his lips had drawn back into a snarling rictus- After that events moved swiftly. The most notable was the impounding of the castle, a result of Ballard’s avalanching economic collapse. He had to move out. Before he did so, he risked opening the annealing chamber on the new diamonds, a week before the process was finished. The result was worthless carbon. But Ballard could not have waited a week, for by that time the castle and all it contained would have been out of his possession.

Except the robot. That was still his own-or, rather, it belonged technically to his divorced wife. The documents he and Jessica had signed were thoroughly waterproof and legal. Ballard secured a court judgment; he was permitted to enter the castle and take away the robot at any convenient time. If he could find a way of immobilizing Argus long enough to dismantle the creature.

In time he might hit on a way. Maybe. Maybe-

Ffoulkes summoned Ballard to a conference, superficially a luncheon engagement. For a time Ffoulkes talked of casual matters, but there was a sardonic gleam in his eyes.

At last he said, “How are you getting on with that robot of yours, Bruce?”

“All right.” Ballard was wary. “Why?”

“The castle’s impounded, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. But I can get the robot whenever I like. The court ruled in my favor-special circumstances.”

“Think you can catch the thing. I don’t. Gunther was a smart man, if he made that robot invulnerable. I’ll bet you won’t be able to get your hands on it. Unless you know the key phrase, of course.”

“I-” Ballard stopped. His eyes changed. “How’d you know-”

“That there was a code? Gunther phoned me just before he… ah.. met his unfortunate accident. He suspected you were going to kill him.

I do not know the ins and outs of the thing, but I got a telecall from him that night. All he said was to tell you what the key code was-but not to tell you till the right time. Gunther was pretty farsighted.”

“You know the code?” Ballard said, his voice expressionless.

Ffoulkes shook his head. “No.”

“Just what do you mean?”

“Gunther said this: ‘Tell Ballard that the key code is what he finds on the wire tape-the name and number of the patent for making artificial diamonds.’”

Ballard looked at his fingernails. The wire tape. The secret he had found only by tricking and killing Gunther. Only in his mind now did that information exist-”McNamara, Torsion Process, Patent No. R-73-V-22.”

And Gunther must have keyed the robot to that chain of phrases before he died.

“Finished?” Ffoulkes asked.

“Yeah.” Ballard got up, crumpling his napkin.

“This is on me. -.. One more point, Bruce. It would be distinctly to my advantage if diamonds became valueless. I’ve sold out all my diamond holdings, but plenty of my competitors have interests in the African mines. If the bottom falls out of the market, I can do some good for myself.”

“Well?”

“Would you tell me that patent number?”

"No."

“I thought not,” Ffoulkes said, sighing. “Well, good-by.”

Ballard commandeered a truck, well armored, and hired a dozen guards. He drove out to the castle. The officer at the gate nodded agreeably.

“Want to go in, sir?”

“Yes. I have permission-”

“I know that, sir. Go right ahead. You’re after your robot?”

Ballard didn’t answer. The castle, after he had entered, seemed strange to him. Already there had been alterations, rugs removed, pictures stored, furniture carried away. It was no longer his.

He glanced at his watch. Five after two. Argus would be making his rounds. The great hall- Ballard headed for it. He caught sight of the golden robot emerging into the hall and beginning its slow circuit. Two men followed it, just beyond the circle of reaction. They were police guards.

Ballard walked toward them. “I’m Bruce Ballard.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What… what the devil! Aren’t you Dangerfield? Ffoulkes’ chief of staff? Wh-”

Dangerfield’s blank face didn’t change expression. “I’ve been sworn in as special deputy. The authorities consider your robot too valuable to be left unguarded. We’re detailed to keep an eye on it.”

Ballard didn’t move for a moment. Then he said, “Well, your job’s finished. I’m taking the robot away.”

“Very well, sir.”

“You can leave.”

“Sorry, sir. My orders were not to leave the robot unguarded for a moment.”

“Ffoulkes gave you those orders,” Ballard said, his voice not quite under control.

“Sir?”

Ballard looked at the other guard. “Are you Ffoulkes’ man, too?”

“Sir?”

Dangerfield said, “You’re quite free to remove your robot whenever you wish, but until it’s out of the castle, we mustn’t take our eyes off those diamonds.”