Kir Bulychev - Alice - The Girl From Earth

“You speak very well.” Alice said.

“I am the detachment’s commander, the corporal. The others are limited. They know only a hundred words. I know a whole thousand.”

From the ruins came a racket, as though someone were beating a metal sheet with a stick.

“Evening roll call.” The robot shouldered his bow, and turned with a horrible squeaking noise, and started to trudge up the land. “Maybe we can dive and swim to the shore.” Alice thought aloud.

“Don’t even think of it.” The old man said. “I will not let thee. You would put your young life in danger in the watery abyss.”

Alice realized that there really was no way the old man robot could let her try it. Robots were directed to help people in the moment of danger and would rather die than subject a human being to danger. And even if this was a film robot, the Laws of Robotics would have been installed in its electronic brain as well.

“Then let’s go look at their roll call. At least then we’ll know how many of them there are.”

The sun had totally vanished; the water had become bluish grey, and the first large southern stars had begun to appear in the sky. Very high, among the stars, Alice made out the contrail of a passenger liner. They have to be looking for us, Alice thought. But how can they even guess that we’re on this island.

In the square formed by the ruins stood a line of nine metal robots. Three of them held bows in thier hands, while the rest carried thick iron rods. The robots were black against the background of the deep blue sky and were so motionless they appeared to be statues erected and left here many years ago.

“Even space between you, boys.” The robot on the end said. “Tenn-Hutt!” The command was utterly wasted; the robots stood so stiffly that they stood perfectly to attention always.

The robot who had given the command started to drum on his own chest with his metal hands, and the drum beat resounded forth across the quiet evening sea.

A door made out of steel sheet on the smuggler’s hut was pushed to one side and another metal robot came out into the square, scarcely moving his feet. It was taller than the others and there was a rusty helmet on his head, and his chest was decorated with crudely cut crosses. Alice realized that this was the chief robot.

The general opened its mouth slowly several times but no sounds emerged other than the rusty creaking. Finally, it angled its head upward, something clicked and an unexpectedly thin and squeaky voice emerged from its enormous chest.

“Hello, Boys!” It said.

“Hello, Chief!” The robots chorused.

“Report.” The general said.

The nearest robot stepped forward and said:

“We have finished constructing the wall. Robots Two and Three have carried out a reconnaissance of the Continent. Two prisoners have been taken. Weapons were not located.”

“Bad.” The General said. “Terrible. Insufficient. Idiots. The bomb shelter?”

“Will be ready tomorrow. In the second watch.”

“I commend you for your diligence. Bring me the prisoners. Set a guard for the night. All hail me, your Leader!”

“Hooray!” The robots shouted.

“You have rusted, but you have kept your powder dry.”

The general turned, lifting one foot, but the foot would not go back down again. He hoped around in unsteady equilibrium and could have toppled over onto the stones at any moment. The wall of robots stood there unmoving.

“Help me!” The general ordered. “Push my foot down. Quickly!”

“Which of us will go to your aid?” The nearest robot asked.

“You.”

The robot obeyed. With all its weight it pushed on the general’s upraised leg until the stuck limb finally went back down to the stones with a loud creak. Limping, the General went back to the ruins.

“Where are the prisoners?” The robot who had helped the General asked.

“They are right here. Did they not hear what was ordered?”

The old man and Alice and gone up to the ruins and entered. In side it was almost entirely dark, and only an uneven twilight came in through a few cracks and spaces in the half ruined roof.

The ruined house was filled with metal junk, trash, and old tin cans. In one corner stood a bag, right beside it a rudely cut limestone block. The Robot General sat on the block beside the bag and held a large pair of scissors in one hand. The bag was stuffed with pieces of tin can and boxes of concentrates. Evidently, the archaeologists and tourists who had spent time here, had felt it was better to lay their accumulated garbage into their old trenches than dump it into the sea. The General was cutting a complicated, many-pointed star from the top of a tin can.

“You’ve come.” It asked, not letting the scissors out of its hand. “Stand where you are and come no closer. I cannot stand humans. And be silent. I am busy. I am making a medal. Beautiful, isn’t it? Why don’t you answer? You are doing the right thing; I have not ordered you to answer yet.”

Finally the robot finished its work, attached the piece of tin to its chest, and seemed pleased.

“Beautiful.” It said. “We will begin the interrogation. You with the beard will answer first. What is your name?”

“Let it never be said that I gave any information to such an Iron Monstrosity? No, never.”

“Which detachment?” The robot continued as if the old man had said nothing. “How man robots and battle machines? Tanks? Cannons? You will answer now.”

“I said, I will not answer a single question. When General Gurko led us into battle he said: “‘Don’t think of your widows and orphans, boys or we won’t take Mount Sapan by storm!’ Or something like that.”

“Write it down.” The Robot General said to his aid. “Their Commander is General Gurko.”

“I have nothing to write with, Chief.” The robot said.

“Of course you have nothing to write with. And don’t lie to me. You aren’t able to write at all. None of us can write. And this is good. When we are victorious, no one will ever write again. And what shall we do when we are victorious? You ask. And you? And You? You don’t know. We shall march. That is all. And work. And enforce order and discipline.”

“That will never happen.” Alice said. “You don’t understand anything or you’ve gone out of your mind. It’s time to turn you off and throw you into the trash; you’re even all rusty. What I can’t understand is why you haven’t been sent to a scrap metal foundry already.”

“Silence!” The robot said. There was a grinding sound, a gnashing of metal, a burbling of hydraulic fluid, and the robot repeated: “Silence….” The robot blew air through its acoustic system a moment, and continued:

“Silence! After your interrogation you will be thrown into the lock-up. Do you understand? Now, tell me your name? What is your unit? How much artillery do you have? Where are the tactical nuclear weapons situated?”

“I don’t understand the word you used. What tactical nuclear weapons? What cannon?”

“You will be locked up.” The general said. “We will thrash you. We will drive you before us with whips!”

“You would do better to keep your mouth shut!” The old man grew very angry. “Who are you to drive anyone anywhere? Who do you think you are talking to? I’ll….”

“Hold him!” The robot General shouted to his robot aide de camp. “He is attacking!”

The robot aide grabbed the old man from behind with his enormous claws. The old man’s hat fell off and coarse synthetic hairs scattered in all directions.

“Good.” The General said to the robot. “You will receive a medal. There is no way he could have defeated me. I am a fatalist. Do you understand what that means? It means I fear nothing and nothing endangers me. Not even rifle fire frightens me. Not even the direct application of explosive charges.”