Illustrated by Paul Orban Service
with a
Smile
robot. The ladies' slightest
wish was his command....
BY CHARLES L. FONTENAY
Herbert bowed with a mutedclank—indicating he probablyneeded oiling somewhere—andpresented Alice with a perfect martinion a silver tray. He stood holdingthe tray, a white, permanentporcelain smile on his smoothmetal face, as Alice sipped thedrink and grimaced.
"It's a good martini, Herbert,"said Alice. "Thank you. But, dammit,I wish you didn't have that everlastingsmile!"
"I am very sorry, Miss Alice,but I am unable to alter myself inany way," replied Herbert in hispolite, hollow voice.
He retired to a corner and stoodimpassively, still holding the tray.Herbert had found a silver depositand made the tray. Herbert hadfound sand and made the cocktailglass. Herbert had combined Godknew what atmospheric and earthchemicals to make what tasted likegin and vermouth, and Herberthad frozen the ice to chill it.
"Sometimes," said Thera wistfully,"it occurs to me it would bebetter to live in a mud hut with areal man than in a mansion withHerbert."
The four women lolled comfortablyin the living room of theirspacious house, as luxurious as anythingany of them would haveknown on distant Earth. The rugswere thick, the furniture was overstuffed,the paintings on the wallswere aesthetic and inspiring, theshelves were filled with booktapesand musictapes.
Herbert had done it all, exceptthe booktapes and musictapes,which had been salvaged from thewrecked spaceship.
"Do you suppose we'll ever escapefrom this best of all possiblemanless worlds?" asked Betsy, fluffingher thick black hair with herfingers and inspecting herself in aHerbert-made mirror.
"I don't see how," answeredblond Alice glumly. "That atmospherictrap would wreck any othership just as it wrecked ours, andthe same magnetic layer preventsany radio message from getting out.No, I'm afraid we're a colony."
"A colony perpetuates itself," remindedsharp-faced Marguerite,acidly. "We aren't a colony, withoutmen."
They were not the prettiest fourwomen in the universe, nor theyoungest. The prettiest women andthe youngest did not go to space.But they were young enough andhealthy enough, or they could nothave gone to space.
It had been a year and a halfnow—an Earth year and a half ona nice little planet revolving arounda nice little yellow sun. Herbert,the robot, was obedient and versatileand had provided them with ahouse, food, clothing, anything theywished created out of the raw elementsof earth and air and water.But the bones of all the men whohad been aspace with these fourladies lay mouldering in the wreckageof their spaceship.
And Herbert could not create aman. Herbert did not have to havedirect orders, and he had tried onceto create a man when he had overheardthem wishing for one. Theyhad buried the corpse—perfect inevery detail except that it neverhad been alive.
"It's been a hot day," said Alice,fanning her brow. "I wish it wouldrain."
Silently, Herbert moved from hiscorner and went out the door.
Marguerite gestured after himwith a bitter little laugh.
"It'll rain this afternoon," shesaid. "I don't know how Herbertdoes it—maybe with silver iodide.But it'll rain. Wouldn't it have beensimpler to get him to air-conditionthe house, Alice?"
"That's a good idea," said Alice