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- Исаак Азимов
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"
You
mean
he
'll
never
come
back
again
?
"
Her
eyes
were
round
with
horror
.
"
We
may
find
him
soon
.
We
'll
keep
looking
for
him
.
And
meanwhile
you
can
play
with
your
nice
new
doggie
.
Look
at
him
!
His
name
is
Lightning
and
he
can
-
"
But
Gloria
's
eyelids
had
overflown
,
"
I
do
n't
want
the
nasty
dog
--
I
want
Robbie
.
I
want
you
to
find
me
Robbie
.
"
Her
feelings
became
too
deep
for
words
,
and
she
spluttered
into
a
shrill
wail
.
Mrs.
Weston
glanced
at
her
husband
for
help
,
but
he
merely
shuffled
his
feet
morosely
and
did
not
withdraw
his
ardent
stare
from
the
heavens
,
so
she
bent
to
the
task
of
consolation
,
"
Why
do
you
cry
,
Gloria
?
Robbie
was
only
a
machine
,
just
a
nasty
old
machine
.
He
was
n't
alive
at
all
.
"
"
He
was
not
no
machine
!
"
screamed
Gloria
,
fiercely
and
ungrammatically
.
"
He
was
a
person
just
like
you
and
me
and
he
was
my
friend
.
I
want
him
back
.
Oh
,
Mamma
,
I
want
him
back
.
"
Her
mother
groaned
in
defeat
and
left
Gloria
to
her
sorrow
.
"
Let
her
have
her
cry
out
,
"
she
told
her
husband
.
"
Childish
griefs
are
never
lasting
.
In
a
few
days
,
she
'll
forget
that
awful
robot
ever
existed
.
"
But
time
proved
Mrs.
Weston
a
bit
too
optimistic
.
To
be
sure
,
Gloria
ceased
crying
,
but
she
ceased
smiling
,
too
,
and
the
passing
days
found
her
ever
more
silent
and
shadowy
.
Gradually
,
her
attitude
of
passive
unhappiness
wore
Mrs.
Weston
down
and
all
that
kept
her
from
yielding
was
the
impossibility
of
admitting
defeat
to
her
husband
.
Then
,
one
evening
,
she
flounced
into
the
living
room
,
sat
down
,
folded
her
arms
and
looked
boiling
mad
.
Her
husband
stretched
his
neck
in
order
to
see
her
over
his
newspaper
,
"
What
now
,
Grace
?
"
