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"
Yes
,
Mr.
Robot
,
sir
.
"
To
which
the
Talking
Robot
's
only
response
was
an
erratic
splutter
and
an
occasional
incoherent
sound
.
The
radical
generalization
offered
it
,
i.
e.
,
its
existence
,
not
as
a
particular
object
,
but
as
a
member
of
a
general
group
,
was
too
much
for
it
.
Loyally
,
it
tried
to
encompass
the
concept
and
half
a
dozen
coils
burnt
out
.
Little
warning
signals
were
buzzing
.
(
The
girl
in
her
mid-teens
left
at
that
point
.
She
had
enough
for
her
Physics-1
paper
on
"
Practical
Aspects
of
Robotics
.
"
This
paper
was
Susan
Calvin
's
first
of
many
on
the
subject
.
)
Gloria
stood
waiting
,
with
carefully
concealed
impatience
,
for
the
machine
's
answer
when
she
heard
the
cry
behind
her
of
"
There
she
is
,
"
and
recognized
that
cry
as
her
mother
's
.
"
What
are
you
doing
here
,
you
bad
girl
?
"
cried
Mrs.
Weston
,
anxiety
dissolving
at
once
into
anger
.
"
Do
you
know
you
frightened
your
mamma
and
daddy
almost
to
death
?
Why
did
you
run
away
?
"
The
robot
engineer
had
also
dashed
in
,
tearing
his
hair
,
and
demanding
who
of
the
gathering
crowd
had
tampered
with
the
machine
.
"
Ca
n't
anybody
read
signs
?
"
he
yelled
.
"
You
're
not
allowed
in
here
without
an
attendant
.
"
Gloria
raised
her
grieved
voice
over
the
din
,
"
I
only
came
to
see
the
Talking
Robot
,
Mamma
.
I
thought
he
might
know
where
Robbie
was
because
they
're
both
robots
.
"
And
then
,
as
the
thought
of
Robbie
was
suddenly
brought
forcefully
home
to
her
,
she
burst
into
a
sudden
storm
of
tears
,
"
And
I
got
to
find
Robbie
,
Mamma
.
I
got
to
.
"
Mrs.
Weston
strangled
a
cry
,
and
said
,
"
Oh
,
good
Heavens
.
Come
home
,
George
.
This
is
more
than
I
can
stand
.
"
That
evening
,
George
Weston
left
for
several
hours
,
and
the
next
morning
,
he
approached
his
wife
with
something
that
looked
suspiciously
like
smug
complacence
.
"
I
've
got
an
idea
,
Grace
.
"
