"Isaac Asimov - Gold - 01 - " - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

My master has three different Writers for writing stories. One is very old, but he says he keeps it because it has sentimental value.
I don't know what sentimental value is. I do not like to ask. he does not use the machine for his stories. Maybe sentimental value means it must not be used.
He doesn't say I can not use it. I do not ask him if I can use it. If I do not ask him and he does not say I must not, then I am not disobeying orders if I use it.
At night, he is sleeping, and the other human masters who are sometimes here are gone. There are two other robots my master has who are more important than I am. They do more important work. They wait in their niches at night when they have not been given anything to do.
My master has not said, Stay in your niche, Cal.
Sometimes when he doesn't, because I am so unimportant, and then I can move about at night. I can look at the Writer. You push keys and it makes words and then the words are put on paper. I watch the master so I know how to push keys. The words go on the paper themselves. I do not have to do that.
I push the keys but I do not understand the words. I feel bad after a while. The master may not like it even if he does not tell me not to do it.
The words are printed on paper and in the morning I show the words to my master.
I say, I am sorry. I was using the Writer.
He looks at the paper. Then he looks at me. He makes a frown.
He says, Did you do this?
Yes, master.
When?
Last Night.
Why?
I want very much to write. Is this a story?
He holds up the paper and smiles.
He says, These are just random letters, Cal. This is gibberish.
He does not seem angry. I feel better. I do not know what gibberish is.
I say, Is it a story?
He says, No, it is not. And it is a lucky thing the Writer cannot be damaged by mishandling. If you really want to write so badly, I will tell you what I will do. I will have you reprogrammed so that you will know how to use a Writer.
Two days later, I technician arrives. He is a master who knows how to make robots do better jobs. My master tells me that the technician is the one who put me together, and my master helped. I do not remember that.
The technician listens carefully to my master.
he says, Why do you want to do this, Mr. Northrop?
Mr. Northrop is what other masters call my master.
My master says, I helped design Cal, remember. I think I must have put into him the desire to be a writer. I did not intend to, but as long as he does, I feel I should humour him. I owe it to him.
The technician says, That is foolish. Even if we accidentally put in a desire to write that is still no job for a robot.
My master says, Just the same I want it done.
The technician says, It will be expensive, Mr. Northrop.
My master frowns. He looks angry.
He says, Cal is my robot. I shall do as I please. I have the money and I ant him adjusted.
The technician looks angry, too. He says, If that's what you want, very well. The customer is the boss. But it will be more expensive than you think, because we can not put in the knowledge of how to use a Writer without improving his vocabulary a good deal.
My master says, Fine. Improve his vocabulary.
The next day, the technician comes back with lots of tools. He opens my chest. It is a queer feeling. I do not like it. He reaches in. I think he shuts off my power pack, or takes it out. I do not remember. I do not see anything, or think anything, or know anything.

Then I could see and think and know again. I could see that time had passed, but did not know how much time.
I thought for a while. It was odd, but I knew how to run a Writer and I seemed to understand more words. For instance, I knew what "gibberish" meant, and it was embarrassing to think I had shown gibberish to my master, thinking it was a story.
I would have to do better. This time I had no apprehension--I know the meaning of "apprehension," too--I had no apprehension that he would keep me from using the old Writer. After all, he would not have redesigned me to be capable of using it if he were going to prevent me from doing so.
I put it to him. "Master, does this mean I may use the writer?"
He said, "You may do so at any time, Cal, that you are not engaged in other tasks. You must let me see what you write, however."
"Of course, master."
He was clearly amused because I think he expected more gibberish (what an ugly word!) but I didn't think he would get any more.
I didn't write a story immediately. I had to think about what to write. I suppose that that is what the master meant when he said you must make up a story.
I had found it was necessary to think about it first and then write down what was thought. It was much more complicated than I had supposed.
My master noticed my preoccupation. He asked me, "What are you doing, Cal?"
I said, "I am trying to make up a story. It's hard work."
"Are you finding that out, Cal?" Good. Obviously, your reorganization has not only improved your vocabulary but it seems to me that it has intensified your intelligence."
I said, "I'm not sure what is meant by 'intensified'/"
"It means you seem smarter. You seem to know more."
"Does that displease you, master?"