"Asimov Isaac - Gold, The Final Science Fiction Collection" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

I was very pleased with the story and I showed it to the master. I was sure he would be very pleased, too.
He was more than pleased, for as he read it, he smiled. He even laughed a few times. Then he looked up at me and said, „Did you write this?“
„Yes, I did, master,“ I said.
„I mean, all by yourself. You didn’t copy anything?“
„I made it up in my own head, master, „ I said. „Do you like it?“ He laughed again, quite loudly. „It’s interesting,“ he said.
I was a little anxious. „Is it funny?“ I asked. „I don’t know how to make things funny.“
„I know, Cal. It’s not funny intentionally.“
I thought about that for a while. Then I asked, „How can something be funny unintentionally?“
„It’s hard to explain, but don’t worry about it. In the first place, you can’t spell, and that’s a surprise. You speak so well now that I automatically assumed you could spell words but, obviously, you can’t. You can’t be a writer unless you can spell words correctly, and use good grammar.“
„How do I manage to spell words correctly?“
„You don’t have to worry about that, Cal,“ said my master. „We will outfit you with a dictionary. But tell me, Cal. In your story, Cal is you, isn’t he?“
„Yes.“ I was pleased he had noticed that.
„Bad idea. You don’t want to put yourself into a story and say how great you are. It offends the reader.“
„Why, master?“
„Because it does. It looks like I will have to give you advice, but I’ll make it as brief as possible. It is not customary to praise yourself. Besides you don’t want to say you are great, you must show you are great in what you do. And don’t use your own name.“
„Is that a rule?“
„A good writer can break any rule, but you’re just a beginner. Stick to the rules and what I have told you are just a couple of them. You’re going to encounter many, many more if you keep on writing. Also, Cal, you’re going to have trouble with the Three Laws of Robotics. You can’t assume that wrongdoers will weep and be ashamed. Human beings aren’t like that. They must be punished sometimes.“
I felt my positronic brain-paths go rough. I said, „That is difficult. „
„I know. Also, there’s no mystery in the story. There doesn’t have to be, but I think you’d be better off if there were. What if your hero, whom you’ll have to call something other than Cal, doesn’t know whether someone is an intruder or not. How would he find out? You see, he has to use his head.“ And my master pointed to his own.
I didn’t quite follow.
My master said, „I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you some stories of my own to read, after you’ve been outfitted with a spelling dictionary and a grammar and you’ll see what I mean.“

The technician came to the house and said, „There’s no problem in installing a spelling dictionary and a grammar. It’ll cost you more money. I know you don’t care about money, but tell me why you are so interested in making a writer out of this hunk of steel and titanium.“
I didn’t think it was right for him to call me a hunk of steel and titanium, but of course a human master can say anything he wants to say. They always talk about us robots as though we weren’t there. I’ve noticed that, too.
My master said, „Did you ever hear of a robot who wanted to be a writer?“
„No,“ said the technician, „I can’t say I ever did, Mr. Northrop.“
„Neither did I! Neither did anyone as far as I know. Cal is unique, and I want to study him.“
The technician smiled very wide-grinned, that’s the word. „Don’t tell me you have it in your head that he’ll be able to write your stories for you, Mr. Northrop.“
My master stopped smiling. He lifted his head and looked down on the technician very angrily. „Don’t be a fool. You just do what I pay you to do.“
I think the master made the technician sorry he had said that, but I don’t know why. If my master asked me to write his stories for him I would be pleased to do so.

Again, I don’t know how long it took the technician to do his job when he came back a couple of days later. I don’t remember a thing about it.
Then my master was suddenly talking to me. „How do you feel, Cal?“
I said, „I feel very well. Thank you, sir.“
„What about words. Can you spell?“
„I know the letter-combinations, sir.“
„Very good. Can you read this?“ He handed me a book. It said, on the cover, The Best Mysteries of J. F. Northrop.
I said, „Are these your stories, sir?“
„Absolutely. If you want to read them, you can.“
I had never been able to read easily before, but now as soon as I looked at the words, I could hear them in my ear. It was surprising. I couldn’t imagine how I had been unable to do it before.
„Thank you, sir,“ I said. „I shall read this and I’m sure it will help me in my writing.“
„Very good. Continue to show me everything you write.“
The master’s stories were quite interesting. He had a detective who could always understand matters that others found puzzling. I didn’t always understand how he could see the truth of a mystery and I had to read some of the stories over again and do so slowly.
Sometimes I couldn’t understand them even when I read them slowly. Sometimes I did, though, and it seemed to me I could write a story like Mr. Northrop’s.
This time I spent quite a long while working it out in my head. When I thought I had it worked out, I wrote the following:

The Shiny Quarter
by Euphrosyne Durando