“How did you find out?” he asked at last..
“The papers are full of it. And Valentine was a little too close to Vandaleur. That wasn’t smart, was it?”
“I guess not. I’m not very smart.”
“Your android’s got quite a record, hasn’t it? Assault. Arson. Destruction. What happened on Paragon?”
“It kidnapped a child. Took her out into the rice fields and murdered her.”
“Raped her?”
“I don’t know.”
“They’re going to catch up with you.”
“Don’t I know it? Christ! We’ve been running for two years now. Seven planets in two years. I must have abandoned a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of property in two years.”
“You better find out what’s wrong with it.”
“How can I? Can I walk into a repair clinic and ask for an overhaul? What am I going to say? ‘My android’s just turned killer. Fix it.’ They’d call the police right off.” I began to shake. “They’d have that android dismantled inside one day. I’d probably be booked as an accessory to murder.”
“Why didn’t you have it repaired before it got to murder?”
“I couldn’t take the chance,” Vandaleur explained angrily. “if they started fooling around with lobotomies and body chemistry and endocrine surgery, they might have destroyed its aptitudes. What would I have left to hire out? How would I live?”
“You could work yourself. People do.”
“Work at what? You know I’m good for nothing. How could I compete with specialist androids and robots? Who can, unless he’s got a terrific talent for a particular job?”
“Yeah. That’s true.”
“I lived off my old man all my life. Damn him! He had to go bust just before he died. Left me the android and that’s all. The only way I can get along is living off what it earns;”
“You better sell it before the cops catch up with you. You can live off fifty grand.
Invest it.”
“At three percent? Fifteen hundred a year? When the android returns fifteen percent of its value? Eight thousand a year. That’s what it earns. No, Dallas. I’ve got to go along with it.”
“What are you going to do about its violence kick?”
“I can’t do anything. . . except watch it and pray. What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. It’s none of my business. Only one thing. . .I ought to get something for keeping my mouth shut.”
“What?”
"The android works for me for free. Let somebody else pay you, but I get it for free.”
The multiple-aptitude android worked. Vandaleur collected its fees. His expenses were taken care of. His savings began to mount. As the warm spring of Megastâr V
turned to hot summer, I began investigating farms and properties. It would be possible, within a year or two, for us to settle down permanently, provided Dallas Brady’s demands did not become rapacious.
On the first hot day of summer, the android began singing in Dallas Brady’s workshop. It hovered over the electric furnace which, along with the weather, was broiling the shop, and sang an ancient tune that had been popular half a century before.
“Oh, it’s no feat to beat the heat.
All reet! All reet!
So jeet your seat
Be fleet be fleet
Cool and discreet
Honey...”
It sang in a strange, halting voice, and its accomplished fingers were clasped behind its back, writhing in a strange rumba all their own. Dallas Brady was surprised.
“You happy or something?” she asked.
“I must remind you that the pleasure-pain syndrome is not incorporated in the android synthesis,” I answered. “All reet! All rent! Be fleet be fleet, cool and discreet, honey
Its fingers stopped their twisting and picked up a pair of iron tongs. The android poked them into the glowing heart of the furnace, leaning far forward to peer into the lovely heat.
“Be careful, you damned fool!” Dallas Brady exclaimed. “You want to fall in?”
“I must remind you that I am worth fifty-seven thousand dollars on the current exchange,” I said. “It is forbidden to endanger valuable property. All met! All met!
Honey. . .”
It withdrew a crucible of glowing gold from the electric furnace, turned, capered hideously, sang crazily., and splashed a sluggish gobbet of molten gold over Dallas Brady’s head. She screamed and collapsed, her hair and clothes flaming, her skin crackling. The android poured again while it capered and sang.
“Be fleet be fleet, cool and discreet, honey. .. .“ It sang and slowly poured and poured the molten gold until the writhing body was still. Then I left the workshop and rejoined James Vandaleur in his hotel suite. The android’s charred clothes and squirming fingers warned its owner that something was very much wrong.
Vandaleur rushed to Dallas Brady’s workshop, stared once, vomited and fled. I had enough time to pack one bag and raise nine nundred dollars on portable assets.
He took a third-class cabin on the Megastar Queen, which left that morning for Lyre Alpha. He took me with him. He wept and counted his money and I beat the android again.
And the thermometer in Dallas Brady’s workshop registered 98.10 beautifully Fahrenheit.
On Lyra Alpha we holed up in a small hotel near the muversity. There, Vandaleur carefully bruised my forehead until the letters MA were obliterated by the swelling and the discoloration. The letters would reappear again, but not for several months, and in the meantime Vandaleur hoped that the hue and cry for an MA android would be forgotten. The android was hired out as a common laborer in the university power plant. Vandaleur, as James Venice, eked out life on the android’s small earnings.
I wasn’t too unhappy. Most of the other residents in the hotel were university students, equally hard up, but delightfully young and enthusiastic. There was one charming girl with sharp eyes and a quick mind. Her name was Wanda, and she and her beau, Jed Stark, took a tremendous interest in the killing android which was being mentioned in every paper in the galaxy.
“We’ve been studying the case,” she and Jed said at one of the casual student parties which happened to be held this night in Vandaleur’s room. “We think we know what’s causing it. We’re going to do a paper.” They were in a high state of excitement.