"Allen Steele - Agape Among The Robots" - читать интересную книгу автора (Steele Allen)

But building a new robot is one thing. Dealing with the human factor is quite another.

"Okay, Samson," I said, "fix me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"Yes, Jerry." The voice which came from his mouth grid sounded almost exactly like Robert
RedfordтАЩs. That had to be DonnaтАЩs choice; she was a movie buff, and Butch Cassidy and the
Sundance Kid was one of her favorites. So was Keith, but at least he hadnтАЩt again sampled
Dennis HopperтАЩs vocal patterns from Blue Velvet. That had been a little scary.

Samson turned and walked toward the small kitchenette in one corner of the training suite. The
suite resembled a large, two-room apartment, with everything youтАЩd normally find in a well-
furnished bachelor flat; in fact, some members of the team crashed there overnight when they

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were too tired to drive home. The only difference was the two-way mirror on the wall above the
couch; behind the reflective glass, Donna and Keith were quietly watching the session from the
observation booth.

Samson had no difficulty finding his way to the kitchen; his three-dimensional grid-map had
already memorized the suite, and even when we rearranged the furniture Samson quickly
relearned his way around. As he trod past the dinner table, the coffee in my cup sloshed slightly
over the rim. "WeтАЩre going to have work on the shock-absorption," I murmured as I jotted a note
on my clipboard. "Maybe some padding on his treads."

"IтАЩll take it up with the shop," DonnaтАЩs voice whispered in my earpiece, "but theyтАЩre not going to
be happy about it." I knew what she meant. Although SamsonтАЩs frame was constructed of
lightweight polymers, he still weighed more than two hundred and fifty pounds. Still, we couldnтАЩt
have a robot who shook the floor every time he walked by.

Samson stopped in front of the kitchen counter. In earlier tests of his cooking repertoire, we had
laid everything out he needed in plain sight. This time, though, the counter was clean. Two days
earlier, we had stocked the kitchen, then spent the better part of the afternoon showing him what
everything was and where it was stored. If his conditioning module had properly tutored him, he
should figure it out with no problem.

And sure enough, Samson reached up to the cupboard above the counter and, ever so gently,
pulled out a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. He carefully placed them on the counter,
then turned to the refrigerator, opened it, and accurately selected the grape jelly from the nearly
identical jars of mayo and mustard placed next to them. Sometime later weтАЩd put two different
flavors of jelly in the fridge, but right now his artificial vision was doing well to recognize and read
printed labels.

Samson located a butter-knife in the utensil drawer, laid it on the counter next to the jars of jelly
and peanut butter. He had no problem opening the bread loafтАУalthough it had taken him several
hours to learn the trick of loosening twist-ties without ripping open the wrapperтАУbut I held my
breath as he picked up the peanut butter. Before I led Samson into the room, Keith had
deliberately tightened its lid as firmly as possible, then bet me ten bucks that Samson couldnтАЩt