"Kuttner, Henry - Piggy Bank UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

Ballard had been too busy pulling strings to enjoy his golden plaything. The advent of the Donners gave him a new idea. It would be a shame to mar the robot, but the diamonds could be replaced later. And what good was a bank except for emergencies?
Ballard found a canvas bag and went into the robot’s room, locking the doors behind him. Argus stood motionless in a corner, his diamond eyes inscrutable. Ballard took out a tiny chisel, shook his head rather sadly, and said in a firm voice, “What light through yonder window breaks—”
He finished the scrambled quotation and walked toward the robot. Argus silently went away.
Ballard moved his shoulders impatiently. He repeated the key sentence louder. How many decibels were necessary? A good many— Argus still ran away. This time Ballard yelled the key at the top of his
voice.
And the robot’s flight mechanism continued to operate. The automatic alarm began to work. The siren screech hooted deafeningly through the room.
Ballard noticed that a little envelope was protruding from a slot in Argus’ cuirass. Automatically he reached for it—and the robot fled.
Ballard lost his temper and began to follow Argus around the room. The robot kept at a safe distance. Eventually Argus, since he was untiring, won the race. Panting, Ballard unlocked the door and rang for help. The alarm siren died.
When servants came, Ballard ordered them to surround the robot. The circle of humanity closed in gradually, until Argus, unable to retreat within himself, chose the most logical solution and walked through the living wall, brushing the servants aside casually. He continued toward the door and through it, in a crackling of splintered mahogany panels. Ballard looked after the retreating figure without saying anything.
The envelope had been brushed free by the encounter with the door, and Ballard picked it up. The brief note inside read:

Dear Bruce:
I’m taking no chances. Unless I make a certain adjustment on Argus daily, he reverts to a different code phrase from the one you give him. Since I’m the only guy who knows that code, you’ll have a sweet time catching Argus in case you cut my throat. Honesty is the best policy.
Love,
Joe Gunther.

Ballard tore the note into tiny fragments. He dismissed the servants and followed the robot, who had become immobile in the next room.
He went out, after a while, and televised his divorced wife in Chicago.
“Jessie?”
“Hello,” Jessie said. “What’s up?”
“You heard about my golden robot?”
“Sure. Build as many as you want, as long as you keep on paying my alimony. What’s this I hear about your hitting the skids?”
“Ffoulkes is behind that,” Ballard said grimly. “If you want your alimony to continue, do me a favor, I want to register my robot in your name. Sign it over to you for a dollar. That way, I won’t lose the robot even if there’s a foreclosure.”
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s plenty bad. But as long as I’ve got the robot, I’m safe. It’s worth several fortunes. I want you to sell the robot back to me for a dollar, of course, but we’ll keep that document quiet.”
“You mean you don’t trust me, Bruce?”
“Not with a diamond-studded robot,” Ballard said.
“Then I want two dollars. I’ve got to make a profit on the transaction. O.K. I’ll attend to it. Send me the papers and I’ll sign ‘em.”
Ballard broke the beam. That was done, anyhow. The robot was unequivocally his, and not even Ffoulkes could take it away from him.
Even if he went broke before the month was up and the new diamonds ready, the robot would put him on his feet again in no time. However, it was first necessary to catch Argus— There were many telecalls that day. People wanted collateral. Brokers
wanted margin covered. Ballard frantically juggled his holdings, liquidating, attempting flotations, trying to get loans. He received a visit from two bulky men who made a business of supplying credit, at exorbitant rates.
They had heard of the robot. But they demanded to see it~
Ballard was gratified by their expressions. “What do you need credit for, Bruce? You’ve got plenty tied up in that thing.”
“Sure. But I don’t want to dismantle it. So you’ll help me out till after the first—”
“Why the first?”
“I’m getting a new shipment of diamonds then.”
“Uh-huh,” said the taller of the two men. “That robot runs away, doesn’t he?”
“That’s why he’s burglar-proof.”
The two brokers exchanged glances. “Mind if we make a closer examination?” They went forward, and Argus fled.
Ballard said hastily, “Stopping him is rather a complicated process. And it takes time to start him again. Those stones are perfect.”
“How do we know? Turn off the juice, or whatever makes the thing tick. You don’t object to our making a closer examination, do you?”
“Of course not,” Ballard said. “But it takes time——”
“I smell a rat,” one of the brokers remarked. “You can have all the credit you want, but I insist on testing those diamonds. Call me when you’re ready.”
They both went out. Ballard cursed silently. The telescreen in the corner flickered. Ballard didn’t bother to answer; he knew very well what the purport of the message would be. Collateral— Ffoulkes was closing in for the kill.
Ballard’s lips tightened. He glared at the robot, spun on his heel, and summoned his secretary. He issued swift orders.
The secretary, a dapper, youngish man with yellow hair and a perpetually worried expression, went into action. He, in turn, issued orders. People began to come to the castle—workmen and technicians.
Ballard consulted with the technicians. None of them could suggest a certain method for immobilizing the robot. Yet they were far too optimistic. It didn’t seem difficult to them to catch a machine.
“Flame throwers?”
Ballard considered. “There’s an alloy casing under the gold plate.”
“Suppose we can corner it long enough to bum through to the brain? That should do the trick.”