YOUR SERVANT, SIR
BY SOL BOREN
We all know that every android has
its little idiosyncrasies. But what can
a civilized human being do about it when
his perfect servant drives him crazy?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The chubby woman glared at the android and dropped her suitcase on thefloor. She turned to her husband and said in an angry, unsteady voice,"I'm leaving." Her double chin trembled. "I can't stand the sight ofthat thing another second."
Raymond Golden gripped his empty glass with both hands, leaned forwardtensely in the chair, and tried to find the right words.
"Paula," he began helplessly. "Please wait. I'll get it fixed, or sellit, or trade it in. I'll do something."
Mrs. Golden pointed a shaky, pudgy finger. "I'll never come back aslong as that is here."
She bent to pick up her suitcase. The android approached silently andstared at her posterior.
"Madam," the android said, "you are getting quite fat."
Paula's back snapped upward. Her face was red and there were darkshadows under her eyes. "I can't stand it!" she shrieked. "I can't! Ican't!"
The words pierced Raymond's skull, exploded and splattered within. Hewinced under the barrage. Paula ignored the automatic door button, andflung the plastic slab open with her hand.
The android followed her with its cold stare and spoke in its perfectvoice. "Madam, that dress is atrocious. I would suggest that you changeat once to your gray, princess silk, which will, at least, create theimpression of slenderness."
Paula screamed hysterically and ran out of the apartment. The androidmoved swiftly to the door and called after her, "Farewell, Madam. Watchyour weight. Take care."
It pushed the button on the wall and the door swung shut.
The dreaded ultimatum had at last been carried out, and Raymond felthelpless, numbed. Indecision settled upon him like a leaden cloak andpulled him back against the foam-air-rest, where his head wobbleduncomfortably. He closed his burning, blood-shot eyes, and found nopeace. He rubbed them with his free hand, and opened his vision to thestaring android.
Without any conscious thought, his arm extended in a slow, habitualmotion. The android responded automatically, plucked the empty glassout of his hand, and said, "You drink too much, sir."
Raymond nodded irritably. "I know. You've reiterated that profoundspiritual message with monotonous irregularity."
"But you do, you know."
Raymond shouted angrily, "Shut up!"
"Very good, sir."
The android was a tall, handsome model. Its voice was deep, resonantand faintly British. It glided over to the built-in bar and performedrapid, indiscernible manipulations involving ice cubes, whiskey andsoda.
The android returned swiftly with the drink and served it with asweeping flourish. Raymond took the glass and gestured impatiently."Cigar."
"Very good, sir."
The android withdrew a long, brown cigar from the humidor on the small,floating ebony end-table, placed the clipped end in Raymond's mouth,and lit it with the tip of its forefinger, which suddenly glowed red.
It watched as Raymond puffed up several billowing, little gray clouds.The smoke drifted towards the android, and it said: "Disgusting habit."
Raymond raised his glass, sipped the col