B-12’s MOON GLOW
Among the metal-persons of Phobos, robot B-12 held aspecial niche. He might not have been stronger, larger,faster than some … but he could be devious … and more important,he was that junkyard planetoid’s only moonshiner.
I am B-12, a metal person. If you readDay and the other progressive journalsyou will know that in some quarters ofthe galaxy there is considerable prejudice directedagainst us. It is ever so with minorityraces, and I do not complain. I merely makethis statement so that you will understandabout the alarm clock.
An alarm clock is a simple mechanismused by the Builders to shock themselvesinto consciousness after the periodic comasto which they are subject. It is obsolescent,but still used in such out of the way placesas Phobos.
My own contact with one of these devicescame about in the following manner:
I had come into Argon City under coverof darkness, which is the only sensible thingto do, in my profession, and I was stealingthrough the back alleyways as silently as myrusty joints would allow.
I was less than three blocks from Benny’sPlace, and still undetected, when I passedthe window. It was a large, cheerful oblong of light, so quite naturally I stopped to investigate,being slightly phototropic, by virtueof the selenium grids in my rectifiercells. I went over and looked in, unobtrusivelyresting my grapples on the outerledge.
There was a Builder inside such as I hadnot seen since I came to Phobos half a centuryago, and yet I recognized the subspeciesat once, for they are common on Earth. Itwas a she.
It was in the process of removing certainouter sheaths, and I noted that, while quitesymmetrical, bilaterally, it was otherwiseoddly formed, being disproportionatelylarge and lumpy in the anterior ventral region.
I had watched for some two or three minutes,entirely forgetting my own safety,when then she saw me. Its eyes widened andit snatched up the alarm clock which was,as I have hinted, near at hand.
“Get out of here, you nosey old tin can!”it screamed, and threw the clock, whichcaromed off my headpiece, damaging oneearphone. I ran.
If you still do not see what I mean aboutracial prejudice, you will, when you hearwhat happened later.
I continued on until I came to Benny’sPlace, entering through the back door.Benny met me there, and quickly shushedme into a side room. His fluorescent eyeswere glowing with excitement.
Benny’s real name is BNE-96, and whenon Earth he had been only a Servitor, nota General Purpose like myself.
But perhaps I should explain.
We metal people are the children of theBuilders of Earth,