"Тед Чан. Seventy-Two Letters (72 буквы, Рассказ) (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

there."
The automaton trudged over to a nearby wall and picked up the pieces of
the mold Stratton had indicated: it was the mold for a small porcelain
messenger. Several journeymen stopped what they were doing to watch the
automaton carry the pieces over to a work area. There it fitted the
various sections together and bound them tightly with twine. The
sculptors’ wonderment was apparent as they watched the automaton’s fingers
work, looping and threading the loose ends of the twine into a knot. Then
the automaton stood the assembled mold upright and headed off to get a
pitcher of clay slip.
"That’s enough," said Willoughby. The automaton stopped its work and
resumed its original standing posture. Examining the mold, Willoughby
asked, "Did you train it yourself?"
"I did. I hope to have Moore train it in metal casting."
"Do you have names that can learn other tasks?"
"Not as yet. However, there’s every reason to believe that an entire
class of similar names exists, one for every sort of skill needing manual
dexterity."
"Indeed?" Willoughby noticed the other sculptors watching, and called
out, "If you’ve nothing to do, there’s plenty I can assign to you." The
journeymen promptly resumed their work, and Willoughby turned back to
Stratton. "Let us go to your office to speak about this further."
"Very well." Stratton had the automaton follow the two of them back to
the frontmost of the complex of connected buildings that was Coade
Manufactory. They first entered Stratton’s studio, which was situated
behind his office proper. Once inside, Stratton addressed the sculptor.
"Do you have an objection to my automaton?"
Willoughby looked over a pair of clay hands mounted on a work-table.
On the wall behind the table were pinned a series of schematic drawings
showing hands in a variety of positions. "You’ve done an admirable job of
emulating the human hand. I am concerned, however, that the first skill in
which you trained your new automaton is sculpture."
"If you’re worried that I am trying to replace sculptors, you needn’t
be. That is absolutely not my goal."
"I’m relieved to hear it," said Willoughby. "Why did you choose
sculpture, then?"
"It is the first step of a rather indirect path. My ultimate goal is to
allow automatous engines to be manufactured inexpensively enough so that
most families could purchase one."
Willoughby’s confusion was apparent. "How, pray tell, would a family
make use of an engine?"
"To drive a powered loom, for example."
"What are you going on about?"
"Have you ever seen children who are employed at a textile mill?
They are worked to exhaustion; their lungs are clogged with cotton
dust; they are so sickly that you can hardly conceive of their reaching
adulthood. Cheap cloth is bought at the price of our workers’ health;
weavers were far better off when textile production was a cottage
industry."
"Powered looms were what took weavers out of cottages. How could they