73
AREN’T HUMANS LUCKY?
"Get off," snarled the
other. “You must be a
rogue cab. A cop called
me."
It picked Perlock up,
placed him on its vast
back, and trundled away.
"And a cop called me, too."
Some hours later Lurton
Perlock was lying on
"Well, my cop called me
first."
"Do you wanna bet?"
Perlock was just about
to climb into the first cab
when its door slammed
and it backed down the
street to get a run-up at
the other. There was a
squealing, grinding noise
and they started fighting.
Perlock wept for a while
then began crawling. But
he hadn’t got far when
the first police robot
returned.
“Accident all sorted, Sir.
Then I detected that you
were in trouble and,
under
Regulation
7,459,532 of the Provision
of Help to Inadequate
Humans in Need of Robot
Assistance Act, I can
carry
you
to
your
destination.”
the floor outside his
office,
croaking, even
more sore all over from
the violent journey back
on a robot unused to the
gentle
function
of
carrying humans.
"Open up, door. It’s me,
your boss."
"I see no-one," said the
door. "Is this a joke.
Secretary, what day is
this?"
"April 4
th
came the reply.
"See,
invisible
joker,"
said the door, "you are too
late."
"I'm down here, you
robotic buffoon," gasped
Perlock. "Get me some
water."
The door looked down.
"My, my, it is you too,
dear late master. Enter,
enter pray do."