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- Исаак Азимов
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Donovan
whistled
.
"
Look
at
the
size
of
them
,
will
you
?
The
chests
must
be
ten
feet
around
.
"
"
That
's
because
they
're
supplied
with
the
old
McGuffy
gears
.
I
've
been
over
the
insides
--
crummiest
set
you
've
ever
seen
.
"
"
Have
you
powered
them
yet
?
"
"
No
.
There
was
n't
any
reason
to
.
I
do
n't
think
there
's
anything
wrong
with
them
.
Even
the
diaphragm
is
in
reasonable
order
.
They
might
talk
.
"
He
had
unscrewed
the
chest
plate
of
the
nearest
as
he
spoke
,
inserted
the
two-inch
sphere
that
contained
the
tiny
spark
of
atomic
energy
that
was
a
robot
's
life
.
There
was
difficulty
in
fitting
it
,
but
he
managed
,
and
then
screwed
the
plate
back
on
again
in
laborious
fashion
.
The
radio
controls
of
more
modern
models
had
not
been
heard
of
ten
years
earlier
.
And
then
to
the
other
five
.
Donovan
said
uneasily
,
"
They
have
n't
moved
.
"
"
No
orders
to
do
so
,
"
replied
Powell
,
succinctly
.
He
went
back
to
the
first
in
the
line
and
struck
him
on
the
chest
.
"
You
!
Do
you
hear
me
?
"
The
monster
's
head
bent
slowly
and
the
eyes
fixed
themselves
on
Powell
.
Then
,
in
a
harsh
,
squawking
voice
--
like
that
of
a
medieval
phonograph
,
he
grated
,
"
Yes
,
Master
!
"
Powell
grinned
humorlessly
at
Donovan
.
"
Did
you
get
that
?
Those
were
the
days
of
the
first
talking
robots
when
it
looked
as
if
the
use
of
robots
on
Earth
would
be
banned
.
The
makers
were
fighting
that
and
they
built
good
,
healthy
slave
complexes
into
the
damned
machines
.
"
"
It
did
n't
help
them
,
"
muttered
Donovan
.
