（外文电子版资料）Kuttner, Henry - The Ego Machine .pdf

The Ego Machine NICHOLAS MARTIN looked up at the robot across the desk. Im not going to ask what you want, he said, in a low, restrained voice. I already know. Just go away and tell St. Cyr I approve. Tell him I think its wonderful, putting a robot in the picture. Weve had everything else by now, except the Rockettes. But clearly a quiet little play about Christmas among the Portuguese fishermen on the Florida coast must have a robot. Only, why not six robots? Tell him I suggest a bakers dozen. Go away. Was your mothersname Helena Glinska? the robot asked, paying no heed to Martins remarks. It was not, Martin said. Ah, then she must have been the Great Hairy One, the robot murmured. Martin took his feet off the desk and sat up slowly. 1 Its quite all right, the robot said hastily. Youve been chosen for an ecological experiment, thats ah . But it wont hurt. Robots are perfectly normal life forms where I come from, so you neednt— Shut up, Martin said. Robot indeed, you—you bit-player! This tune St. Cyr has gone too far. He began to shake slightly all over, with some repressed but strong emotion. The intercom box on the desk caught his eye, and he stabbed a finger at one of the switches. Get me Miss Ashby! Right away! Im so sorry, the robot said apologetically. Have I made a mistake? The threshold fluctuations in the neurons always upset my mnemonic norm when I temporalize. Isnt this a crisis-point in your life? Martin breathed hard, which seemed to confirm the robots assumption. Exactly, it said. The ecological imbalance approaches a peak that may destroy the life-form, unless . . . mm-m. Now either youre about to be stepped on by a mammoth, locked hi an iron mask, assassinated by helots, or—is this Sanskrit Im speaking? He shook his gleaming head. Perhaps I should have got off fifty years ago, but I thought—sorry.