The Positronic Man by Isaac Asimov, Robert Silverberg Page A

plastic with an artificial platinum-iridium brain inside his chrome-steel skull, and he had no right to feel emotions, or to think paradoxical thoughts, or to do any other such complex and mysterious human thing. Even his woodworking art-and he did allow himself to think of it as "art"-was simply a function of the skills with which he had been programmed by his designers.
    Little Miss never allowed herself to forget that the very first piece of woodcarving Andrew had done had been for her. She was rarely without the little pendant that he had made for her out of that piece of driftwood, wearing it on a silver chain about her neck and reaching up to finger it fondly again and again.
    It was she who first objected to Sir's casual habit of giving away Andrew's productions to anyone who visited the house. He would proudly show his guests Andrew's latest work, and then, when the predictable expressions of admiration and even envy were uttered, would grandly exclaim, "Do you really like it that much? Then take it with you! By all means, take it! My pleasure! There are plenty more where that one came from!"
    One day Sir bestowed a particularly intricate abstract carving-a shining spheroid made of slender interwoven strips of redwood with inlays of manzanita and madrone wood-on the Speaker of the Legislature. The Speaker was a loud-voiced red-faced man who had always seemed particularly dull-witted and vulgar to Little Miss, and she very much doubted that he had any ability to see the beauty in Andrew's work. No doubt he was simply being diplomatic when he had praised the carving, and he would simply toss it thoughtlessly into some closet when he got it home.
    Little Miss said, after the Speaker had left, "Come on, Dad. You shouldn't have given that to him and you know it!"
    "But he liked it, Mandy. He said he thought it was extremely beautiful."
    "It is extremely beautiful. So is the beach in front of our house. If he said the beach was extremely beautiful, would you have deeded it over to him?"
    "Mandy, Mandy-"
    "Well? Would you?"
    "It's a false parallel," Sir said. "Obviously you don't go handing away chunks of your real estate to people on a whim. But a small carving-given as a modest expression of affection to a friend of many years' standing who also happens to be a highly influential political leader-"
    "Are you saying it was a bribe?"
    For an instant real anger flashed in Sir's eyes. But it died away almost as fast as it had come and the usual twinkle with which he regarded his youngest daughter returned.
    "You don't really mean that, do you, Mandy? You understand that my gift to the Speaker was merely an act of hospitality, right?"
    "Well-yes. Yes. I'm sorry, Dad. What I said was uncalled-for and mean."
    Sir smiled. "It was, yes. -Is it that you wanted that carving for yourself? Your room is already filled with things that Andrew has made, you know. The whole house is. We can't give them away as fast as he makes them."
    "That's the whole point I was trying to make. That you give them away."
    Sir's smile grew broader. "Well, what would you prefer that I do? Sell them to people?"
    "As a matter of fact, yes. That's exactly what I would prefer."
    Sir said, looking astonished, "It isn't like you to be greedy, Mandy."
    "What does greed have to do with this?"
    "Surely you must understand that we already have more than enough money. Quite apart from the complete impropriety of my putting a price tag on some object that a guest in my house might happen to admire, it would be absurd for me to go in for trivial profiteering of any such kind."
    "I'm not saying that we should try to make money on the things Andrew carves. But what about Andrew?"
    "What about him?"
    "He does the work. He should have the money."
    Sir blinked. "Andrew's a robot, Mandy."
    "Yes, I know that, Dad"
    "Robots aren't people, sweet. They're machines, remember? Like telephones, like computers. What imaginable use would a machine have for money? Robots don't go