"I?" Then, in a renewed access of fear, "What has happened?" Johannes told her.
It was two days before she could see her husband for more than a moment or two. He was sitting up in bed, looking a little pale, but smiling at her.
"A new lease on life, Tertia," he said buoyantly.
"Indeed, Greg, I was quite wrong. The experiment succeeded and they tell me they can't find a trace of cancer in you."
"Well, we can't be too confident about that. There may be a cancerous cell here and there, but perhaps my immune system will handle it, especially with the proper medication, and if it ever builds up again, which might well take years, we'll call on Mike again."
At this point, he frowned and said, "You know, I haven't seen Mike."
Mrs. Arnfeld maintained a discreet silence.
Arnfeld said, "They've been putting me off."
"You've been weak, dear, and sedated. Mike was poking through your tissues and doing a little necessary destructive work here and there. Even with a successful operation you need time for recovery."
"If I've recovered enough to see you, surely I've recovered enough to see Mike, at least long enough to thank him."
"A robot doesn't need to receive thanks."
"Of course not, but I need to give it. Do me a favor, Tertia. Go out there and tell them I want Mike right away."
Mrs. Arnfeld hesitated, then came to a decision. Waiting would make the task harder for everyone. She said carefully, " Actually, dear, Mike is not available."
"Not available! Why not?"
"He had to make a choice, you see. He had cleaned up your tissues marvelously well; he had done a magnificent job, everyone agrees; and then he had to undergo reexpansion. That was the risky part."
"Yes, but here I am. Why are you making a long story out of it?"
"Mike decided to minimize the risk. "
"Naturally. What did he do?"
"Well, dear, he decided to make himself smaller. "
"What! He couldn't. He was ordered not to."
"That was Second Law, Greg. First Law took precedence. He wanted to make certain your life would be saved. He was equipped to control his own size, so he made himself smaller as rapidly as he could, and when he was far less massive than an electron he used his laser beam, which was by then too tiny to hurt anything in your body, and the recoil sent him flying away at nearly the speed of light. He exploded in outer space. The gamma rays were detected."
Arnfeld stared at her. "You can't mean it. Are you serious? Mike is dead?"
"That's what happened. Mike could not refuse to take an action that might keep you from harm."
"But I didn't want that. I wanted him safe for further work. He wouldn't have reexpanded uncontrollably. He would have gotten out safely."
"He couldn't be sure. He couldn't risk your life, so he sacrificed his own."
"But my life was less important than his."
"Not to me, dear. Not to those who work with you. Not to anyone. Not even to Mike." She put out her hand to him.
"Come, Greg, you're alive. You're well. That's all that counts."
But he pushed her hand aside impatiently. "That's not all that counts. You don't understand. Oh, too bad. Too bad!"
Stories Robbie
"Ninety-eight - ninety-nine - one hundred." Gloria withdrew her chubby little forearm from before her eyes and stood for a moment, wrinkling her nose and blinking in the sunlight. Then, trying to watch in all directions at once, she withdrew a few cautious steps from the tree against which she had been leaning.
She craned her neck to investigate the possibilities of a clump of bushes to the right and then withdrew farther to obtain a better angle for viewing its dark recesses. The quiet was profound except for the incessant buzzing of insects and the occasional chirrup of some hardy bird, braving the midday sun.
Gloria pouted, "I bet he went inside the house, and I've told him a million times that that's not fair."
With tiny lips pressed together tightly and a severe frown crinkling her forehead, she moved determinedly toward the two-story building up past the driveway.
Too late she heard the rustling sound behind her, followed by the distinctive and rhythmic clump-clump of Robbie's metal feet. She whirled about to see her triumphing companion emerge from hiding and make for the home-tree at full speed.
Gloria shrieked in dismay. "Wait, Robbie! That wasn't fair, Robbie! You promised you wouldn't run until I found you." Her little feet could make no headway at all against Robbie's giant strides. Then, within ten feet of the goal, Robbie's pace slowed suddenly to the merest of crawls, and Gloria, with one final burst of wild speed, dashed pantingly past him to touch the welcome bark of home-tree first.
Gleefully, she turned on the faithful Robbie, and with the basest of ingratitude, rewarded him for his sacrifice by taunting him cruelly for a lack of running ability.
"Robbie can't run," she shouted at the top of her eight-year-old voice. "I can beat him any day. I can beat him any day." She chanted the words in a shrill rhythm.
Robbie didn't answer, of course - not in words. He pantomimed running instead, inching away until Gloria found herself running after him as he dodged her narrowly, forcing her to veer in helpless circles, little arms outstretched and fanning at the air.
"Robbie," she squealed, "stand still!" - And the laughter was forced out of her in breathless jerks.
Until he turned suddenly and caught her up, whirling her round, so that for her the world fell away for a moment with a blue emptiness beneath, and green trees stretching hungrily downward toward the void. Then she was down in the grass again, leaning against Robbie's leg and still holding a hard, metal finger.