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- Исаак Азимов
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"
Well
,
"
-
he
rubbed
his
face
--
the
air
was
so
delightfully
cool
,
"
you
know
that
when
we
get
things
set
up
here
and
Speedy
put
through
his
Field
Tests
,
they
're
going
to
send
us
to
the
Space
Stations
next
-
"
"
No
!
"
"
Yes
!
At
least
that
's
what
old
lady
Calvin
told
me
just
before
we
left
,
and
I
did
n't
say
anything
about
it
,
because
I
was
going
to
fight
the
whole
idea
.
"
"
Fight
it
?
"
cried
Donovan
.
"
But
--
"
"
I
know
.
It
's
all
right
with
me
now
.
Two
hundred
seventy-three
degrees
Centigrade
below
zero
.
Wo
n't
it
be
a
pleasure
?
"
"
Space
Station
,
"
said
Donovan
,
"
here
I
come
.
"
Half
a
year
later
,
the
boys
had
changed
their
minds
.
The
flame
of
a
giant
sun
had
given
way
to
the
soft
blackness
of
space
but
external
variations
mean
little
in
the
business
of
checking
the
workings
of
experimental
robots
.
Whatever
the
background
,
one
is
face
to
face
with
an
inscrutable
positronic
brain
,
which
the
slide-rule
geniuses
say
should
work
thus-and-so
.
Except
that
they
do
n't
.
Powell
and
Donovan
found
that
out
after
they
had
been
on
the
Station
less
than
two
weeks
.
Gregory
Powell
spaced
his
words
for
emphasis
,
"
One
week
ago
,
Donovan
and
I
put
you
together
.
"
His
brows
furrowed
doubtfully
and
he
pulled
the
end
of
his
brown
mustache
.
It
was
quiet
in
the
officer
's
room
on
Solar
Station
#
5
--
except
for
the
soft
purring
of
the
mighty
Beam
Director
somewhere
far
below
.
