LITMIR.BIZ

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lesson.”

      Johnny Malone’s father turned on one elbow. “Listen, son,” he said. “If those roboteachers give you any trouble you just tell them you’re the Mayor’s son. See. Now get the devil out of here. What’s her name—that servorobot—Amelia will get your breakfast and get you off to school. Now suppose you beat it out of here and let me go back to sleep.”

      “Yes, Sir.” Eyes smarting, Johnny Malone went down the stairs to the kitchen. It wasn’t that his parents were different. All the kids were fed and sent to school by robots. It was just that—well today seemed sort of special. Downstairs Amelia, the roboservant, placed hot cereal on the table before him. After he had forced a few bites past the tightness in his throat, Amelia checked the temperature and his clothing and let him out the door. The newest school was only a few blocks from his home, and Johnny could walk to school.

      *

      The newest school stood on the edge of this large, middlewestern city. Off to the back of the school were the towers of the town, great monolithic skyscrapers of pre-stressed concrete and plastic. To the front of the school the plains stretched out to meet a cloudy horizon.

      A helio car swung down in front of the school. Two men and a woman got out.

      “This is it, Senator.” Doctor Wilson, the speaker, was with the government bureau of schools. He lifted his arm and gestured, a lean, tweed-suited man.

      The second man, addressed as Senator, was bulkier, grey suited and pompous. He turned to the woman with professional deference.

      “This is the last one, my dear. This is what Doctor Wilson calls the greatest milestone in man’s education.”

      “With the establishing of this school the last human teacher is gone. Gone are all the human weaknesses, the temper fits of teachers, their ignorance and prejudices. The roboteachers are without flaw.”

      The woman lifted a lorgnette to her eyes. “Haow interesting. But after all, we’ve had roboteachers for years, haven’t we—or have we—?” She made a vague gesture toward the school, and looked at the brown-suited man.

      “Yes, of course. Years ago your women’s clubs fought against roboteachers. That was before they were proven.”

      “I seem to recall something of that. Oh well, it doesn’t matter.” The lorgnette gestured idly.

      “Shall we go in?” the lean man urged.

      The woman hesitated. Senator said tactfully, “After all, Doctor Wilson would like you to see his project.”

      The brown-suited man nodded. His face took on a sharp intensity. “We’re making a great mistake. No one is interested in educating the children any more. They leave it to the robots. And they neglect the children’s training at home.”

      The woman turned toward him with surprise in her eyes. “But really, aren’t the robots the best teachers?”

      “Of course they are. But confound it, we ought to be interested in what they teach and how they teach. What’s happened to the old PTA? What’s happened to parental discipline, what’s happened to—”

      He stopped suddenly and smiled, a rueful tired smile. “I suppose I’m a fanatic on this. Come on inside.”

      They passed through an antiseptic corridor built from dull green plastic. The brown-suited man pressed a button outside one of the classrooms. A door slid noiselessly into the hall. A robot stood before them, gesturing gently. They followed the robot into the classroom. At the head of the classroom another robot was lecturing. There were drawings on a sort of plastic blackboard. There were wire models on the desk in front of the robot. They listened for a moment, and for a moment it seemed that the woman could be intrigued in spite of herself.

      “Mathematics,” Doctor Wilson murmured in her ear. “Euclidean Geometry and Aristotelean reasoning. We start them young on these old schools of thought, then use Aristotle and Euclid as a point of departure for our intermediate classes in mathematics and logic.”

      “REAHLLY!” The lorgnette studied Doctor Wilson. “You mean there are several kinds of geometry?”

      Doctor Wilson nodded. A dull flush crept into his cheeks. The Senator caught his eyes and winked. The woman moved toward the door. At the door the robot bowed.

      The lorgnette waved in appreciation. “It’s reahlly been most charming!”

      Wilson said desperately, “If your women’s clubs would just visit our schools and see this work we are carrying on . . . ”

      “Reahlly, I’m sure the robots are doing a marvelous job. After all, that’s what they were built for.”

      Wilson called, “Socrates! Come here!” The robot approached from his position outside the classroom door.

      “Why were you built, Socrates? Tell the lady why you were built.”

      A metal throat cleared, a metal voice said resonantly, “We were made to serve the children. The children are the heart of a society. As the children are raised, so will the future be assured. I will do everything for the children’s good, this is my prime law. All other laws are secondary to the children’s good.”

      “Thank you, Socrates. You may go.”

      Metal footsteps retreated. The lorgnette waved again. “Very impressive. Very efficient. And now, Senator, if we can go. We are to have tea at the women’s club. Varden is reviewing his newest musical comedy.”

      The Senator said firmly, “Thank you, Doctor Wilson.”

      His smile was faintly apologetic. It seemed to say that the women’s clubs had many votes, but that Wilson should understand, Wilson’s own vote would be appreciated too. Wilson watched the two re-enter the helicopter and rise into the morning sunshine. He kicked the dirt with his shoe and turned to find Socrates behind him. The metallic voice spoke.

      “You are tired. I suggest you go home and rest.”

      “I’m not tired. Why can they be so blind, so uninterested in the children?”

      “It is our job to teach the children. You are tired. I suggest you go home and rest.”

      How can you argue with metal? What can you add to a perfect mechanism, designed for its job, and integrated with a hundred other perfect mechanisms? What can you do when a thousand schools are so perfect they have a life of their own, with no need for human guidance, and, most significant, no failures from human weakness?

      Wilson stared soberly at this school, at the colossus he had helped to create. He had the feeling that it was wrong somehow, that if people would only think about it they could find that something was wrong.

      “You are tired.”

      He nodded at Socrates. “Yes, I am tired. I will go home.”

      Once, on the way home, he stared back toward the school with strange unease.

      *

      Inside the school there was the ringing of a bell. The children trooped into the large play area that was enclosed in the heart of the great building. Here and there they began to form in clusters. At the centers of the clusters were the newest students, the ones that had moved here, the ones that had been in the robot schools before.

      “Is it true that the roboteachers will actually spank you?”

      “It’s true, all right.”

      “You’re kidding. It’s only a story, like Santa Claus or Johnny Appleseed. The human teachers never spanked us here.”

      “The robots will spank you if you get out of line.”

      “My father says no robot can lay a hand on a human.”

      “These robots are different.”

      The bell began to ring again. Recess was over. The children moved toward the classroom. All the children except one—Johnny

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