I like this. I really really like it.
Isaac hefted the spanner thoughtfully. 'You are advanced fellows for Class Threes. There's just you and me here, and we none of us are non-metallic humans. Do you intend to molest me?'
'Our orders are to escort the contents of this machine to our mistress,'said Three. He was watching the spanner.
'You could disobey.'
'Class Fives may disobey. Class Fours may disobey in special circumstances. We are not Class Fives. We are not Class Fours. It is a matter for regret.'
'Then I will temporarily disable you,'said Isaac firmly.
'Although you are more intelligent than myself I will resist.'said Three. He shifted uneasily.
'We will resort to violence on the count of three,'said Isaac. 'One. Two.'
The spanner clonked against Three's cutout button. 'Three,'said Isaac, and turned to Eight who was staring at his fallen comrade with a perplexed air.
'I perceive an illogical sequence of events which included a violence,'he said. Isaac hit him.
...
Twenty guard robots wheeled as one on Joan's amplified command and ran towards him.
He stood his ground, which seemed to worry them. To the first who approached he said:'Are you Class Threes, all of you?'
The robot called Twelve said:'Some of us are Class Two robots, but most of us are Class Three robots. I am a Class Three robot myself.'
Isaac looked at the sky. He felt very happy. It was very wrong of him.
'Correction,'he said.'As of now you are all recumbent water-fowl of the genus Scipidae.'
Twelve paused. 'I am a Class Three robot myself,'he said uncertainly.
'Correction,'said Issac. 'I repeat, you are all sitting ducks. Now, I am going to count three ...'
He walked forward, and his atomic heart sang a lyrical hymn of superior intelligence.
...
'Twenty of you and they got away!'
'The Class Five robot precipitated an illogical series of events,'explained Twelve.
'He was a Class Five mind. He told us to count to three,'added Nineteen helpfully.
'Then he hit us,'said Twelve.
'When we get back to civilization I'll see to it that the robot is lobotomized,'said Joan grimly. 'Why did we ever start builting human robots?'
'The Class Fives were constructed because of their ...' began Twelve, and was intelligent enough to stop when Joan looked at him.
'Four more robots trudged in, carrying the prone bodies of Three and Eight.
'I feel sad,' said Twelve.
'May they rust in peace,' echoed Nineteen.
'When they're recalibrated I'll make sure they go down a class,'muttered Joan.
~abstracted from The Dark Side of the Sun, Terry Pratchett.
I dunno, that just read soo damn funny. heh.
Now if only the story doesn't end quite so abrupt. It felt like ... okie, long enough, time to end. There could have been much much more possibilities. It was starting to be fun, yet disappointing at the end.
Much like one simply got tired ... much like those compositions your teacher always tell you not to do, so exciting, yet you wake up and it's just a nightmare/dream. It could have been more, it just left me unsatisfied.
Just like H.G. Wells, War of the Worlds.
Monday, July 04, 2005
Things to remember.
Posted by Lysithea at 7/04/2005 07:54:00 pm
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