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- Исаак Азимов
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Powell
groped
in
his
shirt
pocket
for
a
loose
cigarette
.
"
Dave
,
"
he
said
,
"
you
're
a
good
fellow
.
There
's
nothing
flighty
or
prima
donnaish
about
you
.
You
're
a
stable
,
rockbottom
mining
robot
,
except
that
you
're
equipped
to
handle
six
subsidiaries
in
direct
coordination
.
As
far
as
I
know
,
that
has
not
introduced
any
unstable
paths
in
your
brain-path
map
.
"
The
robot
nodded
,
"
That
makes
me
feel
swell
,
but
what
are
you
getting
at
,
boss
?
"
He
was
equipped
with
an
excellent
diaphragm
,
and
the
presence
of
overtones
in
the
sound
unit
robbed
him
of
much
of
that
metallic
flatness
that
marks
the
usual
robot
voice
.
"
I
'm
going
to
tell
you
.
With
all
that
in
your
favor
,
what
's
going
wrong
with
your
job
?
For
instance
,
today
's
B-shift
?
"
Dave
hesitated
,
"
As
far
as
I
know
,
nothing
.
"
"
You
did
n't
produce
any
ore
.
"
"
I
know
.
"
"
Well
,
then
-
"
Dave
was
having
trouble
,
"
I
ca
n't
explain
that
,
boss
.
It
's
been
giving
me
a
case
of
nerves
,
or
it
would
if
I
let
it
--
my
subsidiaries
worked
smoothly
.
I
know
I
did
.
"
He
considered
,
his
photoelectric
eyes
glowing
intensely
.
Then
,
"
I
do
n't
remember
.
The
day
ended
and
there
was
Mike
and
there
were
the
ore
cars
,
mostly
empty
.
"
Donovan
broke
in
,
"
You
did
n't
report
at
shift-end
those
days
,
Dave
.
You
know
that
?
"
