The Creation of the Humanoids (1962) Movie Script
They had talked
and argued for years,
trying they said, to
find a way to prevent it,
but they failed.
No one can be
sure who started it,
and really that is unimportant.
It did happen.
The Atomic War.
It was short, lasted
about 48 hours.
Within two weeks,
92% of the human
race had perished
to bomb and radiation.
Those left, with their birth
rate below 1.4 per union,
turned to robotic
automation devices
to help them
rebuild their cities
and maintain a high
standard of living.
The first exploratory steps
In the development
of electronic brains
had been taken prior
to the Atomic War.
These early models were bulky
and required large
buildings to house them.
But they merely needed refining.
One of the first steps
was the magnetic
integrator neuron duplicator.
A device one one-hundredth
of the size of a golf ball
which duplicated portions
of the human nervous system
and carried out
learning processes.
Automation was
also well on its way.
But these too, were cumbersome
and needed further development
before the two
elements could be joined
in the series R-1 robot.
This first robot
was quite ungainly
and its functions were limited.
But refinements came
in rapid succession
and soon the R-20 was capable
of all the thought processes
and functions of a man.
However, humans found it
psychologically impossible
to work side by
side with a machine
that they had to converse with
and which, in most
instances, could out-think them.
Thus it was that Hollister Evans
perfected the R-21,
the first humanoid robot.
This story concerns
them, the Clickers,
as they were disparagingly
referred to by some humans.
All right.
Let's see your assignment cards.
What are you Clickers
doing out tonight?
We're on free time.
We're not obligated to answer.
As a member of the
surveillance committee
of the Order of Flesh and
Blood, I demand an answer.
We're going to the
temple to be recharged.
I think I'll keep you here
till your power runs out.
How'd you like that?
I'd have to report such
interference to the police.
Release them.
Was that satisfactory, Cragis?
Well, the order just
wants to keep them
mindful of their status.
You overlooked one
little thing, though.
What?
The robot that didn't
talk had a forged card.
Forged?
Why he can be
disassembled for that.
Let's pick them up.
Be patient.
Well, the temple is
just around the corner
and it's out of bounds for us.
He'll get away.
Well, they have to come out.
And if they're taking a
chance using a forged card,
they must be up to something
that the Order of Flesh and
Blood might be interested in.
I...
Oh, Miss.
Just a moment, Miss.
May I...
May I see your assignment card?
You certainly may not.
Your Order may get by
with harassing the robots,
but you'd better
leave citizens alone.
I'm sorry Miss, I just thought,
well with so many
robots about these--
I feel perfectly
safe with robots.
We intend to see that you are.
A most attractive woman.
Most.
If those robots are
being recharged,
they'll be in there
about an hour.
We'll wait.
What's keeping them?
The subject robot
has not yet completed
the transformation process
in the duplicating lab.
Where did you get him?
We bought him new
on the black market.
He has no name.
Unassigned, and unadapted.
He has a forged assignment card.
Who arranged it?
The inspector in Factory Three.
He stole him off
the assembly line,
just prior to numbering.
Unfortunately, an
inventory was taken
and the inspector was caught.
That was unfortunate.
Mark should bring him up
from duplicating any minute now.
The delay was unavoidable.
We were stopped by two members
of the surveillance committee
of the Order of Flesh and
Blood and I was questioned.
Is the duplication
satisfactory, Acto?
It has to be perfect.
The structure is excellent.
The pores should be larger.
And he needs a little
more hair, thicker.
He needs a 1/8 inch mole
behind the lobe of the left ear.
Report back to
duplication immediately
and have the corrections made.
You can still
alter your decision
if this is against
your circuits.
My circuits are unoffended.
I suppose it takes courage
to submit to a
thalamic transplant.
As an unadapted R-34,
he has no fear circuits.
Consequently, he
doesn't need courage.
He will before long.
Raven's operation will
convert him to a R-96
with all the
emotions of a human.
Only four points
less than human.
I wonder what it's like.
He will learn how
to laugh, how to cry,
be afraid and hate.
To become an R-96
is a real sacrifice.
With this one, we will have 16,
10 males and six females.
At times, I think we should
turn the entire program
over to the humans.
It really shouldn't be the
responsibility of robots.
The humans aren't
ready for it yet.
It's still illegal to
improve a robot
higher than an R-70.
That law was lobbied through
by the Order of Flesh and Blood.
The Order is becoming
more powerful every day.
They virtually
dictate to the police.
There are always
ultra-conservative pressure groups
set against advancement.
But why?
Why?
It's not in the best
interests of humans
to hold back the
development of robots.
They won't for long.
We're filling key
positions of R-96's
as fast as we get them.
I still have an
occasional doubt.
You may withdraw if
you're contra-circuited.
I'm unoffended.
Mark, you better go down
and join the volunteer.
Hurry things along.
The human he replaces
has already been out
of circulation for four hours.
The less time a man is
unaccounted for, the better.
According to the latest
tabulations by the brain,
by the first of next month,
we will outnumber the humans.
Yes?
Dr. Raven?
Yes.
Ultima Thule.
Number?
Come in.
Sorry I didn't recognize you.
All Clickers look alike to me.
Thank you, doctor.
Certain of us prefer
not to be called Clickers.
Peel off that sensor skin
and you could watch the cogs
turn and the gears mesh.
You trying to tell
me you have feeling?
Certain of the
higher calibers do.
I've been working on a sticky
electronic reflex problem.
I just can't make this
arm bend at the elbow
and the fist clench.
What circuitry are you using?
1.3 impulsion to
the motor neuron
and, modulating 28
to the sensory neuron.
The calculations are right,
but you have them reversed.
I sure hate to have a bunch of
cogs and wheels show me up,
but then you always do.
As soon as I clear this
table, We'll get to work.
All right you, take
off that head covering.
Your lab did
another excellent job.
He's an exact duplicate
of that deceased human
your Clicker pals
brought in tonight.
What did you do with that body?
The usual.
Processed it, then destroyed it.
Everything we need
from it is right here.
Now, about the money.
10,000 credits.
You could be disassembled
for having money
that's not earmarked
in your possession.
What do they pay you?
They pay me nothing.
Having no need for money,
I have no desire for it.
You have no desire for it.
I love it.
You should let me rewire you.
You don't know
what you're missing.
No, thanks.
I'm satisfied as an R-58.
Where do you Clickers
get those credits?
A man can have his
memory taken for a year
for giving wild
money to a Clicker.
The committee only gives
us the money, not its origin.
Perhaps we should hurry.
All right, you.
Face down, on the table.
Turn yourself off.
For how long?
10 minutes will be plenty.
I never will get used
to that artificial blood.
The lower types just tend
to shut off their pain circuits
when they get hurt.
The blood forces
them to report for repair.
I wish it were some other color.
The copper tubing
turns it green.
This may be our last
transplant for a while.
Our supplier was caught.
I didn't see it on Telefax.
The Ministry of Information
doesn't want it known
that robots are
dealing in robots.
It would only give the
Flesh and Blooders
something more to yell about.
They're a minority.
A loud minority.
Your supplier, will
they take his identity?
His memory will be
dispersed tomorrow.
What a waste.
Why don't they just kill him.
The effect of personal cessation
is the same in either case.
They just leave a hollow
shell walking around.
He can still perform his duties.
But he's without a
past, without hope.
The dream gone.
Almost like being
a robot, isn't it?
No offense.
I'm incapable of taking offense.
But why is it the more
we become like men,
the more some of
them hate us for it?
Men hate what they fear.
You have perfect memory.
Infallible logic,
you never tire,
you're circuited against
anger and violence.
And in your world,
that leaves us pretty helpless.
We have to study for years
to learn what you pick up
by plugging into a
brain for two hours.
We don't refer
to the father-mother as a brain.
Your father-mother is
an electronic computer.
Just a machine.
Your parents were machines.
It's just that they were
engineered with flesh and bones.
Neither are ideal components.
You came off a production line.
I know who created me.
Hollister Evans and the Mark 47.
You have to accept
your creator on faith.
Who created your creator?
Yours.
You see, we are brothers,
aren't we?
I ought to know better than
to argue with you Clickers.
Can't beat your logic.
Humans aren't allowed to
set foot in the robot temple.
Yet we saw a man come
out accompanied by a robot.
I want to know why?
Those guys from the brother hood
should be here by now.
I wonder what delayed them?
Watch it.
What are you self-appointed
defenders of the
human race up to now?
Why don't you beat it
while you still
have a beat to beat.
Ah, you have so much to say,
I think I'll take you
in for questioning.
That's as good a way as
any to get your rating, lowered.
I'm a captain of the Order
and my professional
rank is eight.
Eight?
Well, just stay out of trouble.
Are you threatening me?
Sorry, sir.
Good night, sir.
How are my other
transplants doing?
Quite well.
Who was this man?
I only know he'd been drinking.
Probably killed in a brawl.
The Clickers that found him
removed all of
his identification.
Will the drinking have any
effect upon the operation?
It'll be interesting to see.
What are you doing with
these advanced models?
We send them out to
intermingle with humans
to find out why some of
them despise us so much.
Then we can adjust
and be accepted.
That's admirable,
logical and a lie.
What are you using them for?
When is his interview time?
Same as the others.
From 4:00 to 5:00 a.m.,
he'll know he's an R-96
and give you any information
he's gotten in the interim.
Other than that
period of one hour,
he'll think he's whoever
that corpse was.
How often does he report
to the father-mother
for recharging?
Twice a year.
But he won't know it.
Make it once a year.
He won't last as long.
What's 20 or 30 years?
In 150 years, he's
automatically renewed anyway.
Whatever you say.
Why don't you
register this operation?
Because I'd just be
forbidden to use it.
Everything registered goes
into the master computer.
Then all you
Clickers would have it.
I want to be necessary to you.
Hand me that large amber bottle.
Thank you.
This sealer is wonderful stuff.
For the next several hours,
he'll have only the most
basic human instincts.
Might even be drunk for a while.
Then the thalamic
circuit will filter in
and he'll have a
perfect, human memory.
He'll be whoever he was.
A man.
Capable of jealousy,
hatred, deceit, murder.
Most, most interesting.
What is?
Why men, having
such negative qualities,
feel so superior to us.
Too bad it isn't as easy
to take those negative
qualities out of men
as it is to put
them into robots.
Open up the door
it's Flesh and Blood.
Flesh and Blooders.
It's inevitable,
we must accept it.
We've got to get out of here.
I'll turn him on.
He might be able to pass.
At least we can save him.
Open up the door
it's Flesh and Blood.
We'll carry out our
part of our bargain.
I suggest you
eliminate yourself.
No, I can't.
You don't know
what it is to die.
If you don't, they'll take
your memory from you.
You were speaking of
personality cessation.
I just can't take my own life.
Are you sure the committee
will keep their
part of the bargain?
I'm positive.
Open up the door it's
Flesh and Blooders.
You kill me.
You kill me.
You know I can't.
I'm contra-circuited.
Maybe he has enough
human instinct by now to--
Kill me.
Kill me.
Accuse my sister of being
in rapport with a Clicker,
I'll kill you all right.
We'll take that one
and the Clicker with us.
Leave the body of
the old man here.
And call the police.
Cragis, come here.
This one's a robot too.
You must be mistaken.
We opened up a gash in his head.
If that skull isn't molybdic,
I'll take another
course in metallurgy.
So a robot finally
became violent.
There's no doubt that
he killed the old man.
This is what we've
been waiting for.
The government will
have to listen to us.
This is something, isn't it?
Yes.
It's something.
The Body of the Order
of Flesh and Blood is born.
The blood works
through the ages.
One moment please.
May I have quiet.
Since this is an
emergency session,
we will dispense
with the formal rites.
Two and a half hours ago,
members of our surveillance
committee captured two robots
at the laboratory of a Dr. Raven
who had performed an illegal
operation upon one of them.
We have suspected
operations of this nature
and have complained
to authorities to no avail.
But this time, a
specimen was taken.
Captain Cragis led
the group in this action,
so I'll turn the
meeting over to him.
Hello men.
About six o'clock this evening,
two robots were
intercepted and questioned.
They were on free time
and were released
to go to their temple.
Approximately an hour later,
one of the robots was
observed leaving the temple
with what was
thought to be a man.
They were trailed to
the address of Dr. Raven,
where entry to the premises
was eventually forced.
One of the robots was
taken without incident.
The other, had hair,
no serial number,
fought us viciously,
and killed Dr. Raven.
It's against the first
tenet of the manual.
Ward.
Brothers, that which we
greatly feared has come upon us.
The robots have
circumvented the prime law.
They've tasted blood.
And there are millions of them.
This is catastrophe.
Not quite.
The large majority of the
robots are series one through 20,
merely electronic machines.
The series 21 through
70, the humanoids,
the ones we're
concerned with eliminating
represent only about
20% of a billion odd robots.
One of them killed.
What's happening to them?
They hold menial jobs
that bring them in
constant contact with us.
Their conditioned reflexes
make them imitative.
So, they want to
be a part of the race.
They don't feel this is
in violation of the code,
since they contend that we
would be happier on that basis.
Is the murder of that
doctor part of an overall plot?
A precipitant, or merely
an isolated incident?
An accident?
If the Clickers
thought his operation
was making them
more useful to us,
they wouldn't kill
him intentionally.
Then there's no
recision of the prime law.
They can't hurt us?
There's been only a mis-wiring.
We'd better make sure.
And we shall.
Fellow men, this
is our opportunity.
The robots have
made the big mistake.
They've killed.
When this news is
released to Telefax
and the danger's made known,
the ministries will have
to recognize our petition
and have the
robots disassembled.
The robots are machines.
They must be made
to look like machines.
Dr. Moffitt, will you
bring in the subject robot
and give the findings?
You didn't turn it
over to the police?
All in good time.
You know how lax the police are
in enforcing laws
concerning the robots.
We must have our
own facts in this case.
Won't we get into trouble?
Probably a letter of reprimand.
The police won't touch us.
After all, the only crime
that can be committed
against a robot is vandalism.
Now get them in here.
Fellow men, I've
analyzed the subject robot
as thoroughly as time permitted.
He is a basic R-34 type,
but certain alterations
have elevated him
to a mid-90 classification.
A mid-90?
But an R-100 would be one of us.
A perfect man.
As good as we are.
He'd be better.
He'd be perfect.
Which of us could match that?
How does he fall short?
About the only power he lacks
is that of self-reproduction.
The highest type of improvement
allowed by law is an R-70,
and then in limited number.
What alternations were made?
I located and
removed a small unit
from the thalamic region
at the base of the brain.
It seemed to be the source.
The source of what?
We can't be sure.
You see, all robots
can see, hear and feel.
It's necessary
to their function.
Naturally.
This one could taste and smell
and what's even
more interesting,
he had a complete human memory.
Those refinements
are useless to a robot.
Not entirely.
This one thought he was a man.
How could this be?
Mankind is a state of mind.
A man is no more or less
than he thinks himself to be.
Are you saying
the Clicker's a man?
Your remarks are deviational.
Not my remarks,
your interpretation.
I'm merely projecting
your train of thought.
Which I am quite
capable of doing myself.
Brothers, please.
Let's behave like human beings.
Dr. Moffitt, what tests
did you run on the unit?
Of course I've only
had about two hours
to work on the unit, but I
tested it within the robot.
Removed it, and
tested it in another
robot with like results.
And what are your conclusions?
Nothing definite.
But you must have
found something?
What?
A few surface effects
that present only premises.
The unit is gray.
About the size and
shape of an almond.
I don't know what it is.
I don't know how to go
about finding out what it is.
I only know that when
wired into the central circuits,
the robot claimed to be
an able bodied spaceman,
second class named Kelly.
Tests show he
was telling the truth.
When brought in,
he was incoherent.
I'm afraid I damaged
him in removing the unit.
Evidently, they found a
way to transplant memory.
We checked him through
the Bureau of identification.
There is, or was a
spaceman named Kelly.
This robot's fingerprints
and retinal patterns
checked with those
on file for the man.
Well, if they
duplicated this Kelly,
do you suppose they killed him?
No.
I think I can speak
positive on that point.
The robot denied it when
wired for absolute truth.
They found him dead.
Well, if the man was dead,
how would he have a memory?
Memory consists of facts.
Facts can't be destroyed,
they can only cease to be used.
You say he was incoherent
when he was brought in.
Yes, as though affected
by psychosis or alcohol.
His memory seemed
sketchy, disoriented.
How could this
occur in a mid-90?
I think it was botched job.
Then we better find out if
there are any good ones around.
How?
Test all childless marriages?
The way radioactivity has
cut down on the birth rate,
this would be impractical.
Physical exams.
Might not show up.
This robot even had a simulated
heartbeat and respiration.
But why?
Why put this unnecessary
functions in a robot?
He thought those actions
were necessary for him to live.
Can't you see, this one
thought he was a man.
When we convinced
him he was a robot,
he ceased to function
and became that senseless
hulk standing there.
Who owns the two robots?
The R-53 is owned
by the Ministry of Education.
This one has no serial number.
He was bought
on the black market
by the robots themselves.
We caught the supplier
and brought pressure to bear
so the police arrested him.
The man is having his
identity taken tomorrow.
Anything further to
report, Dr. Moffitt?
The most appalling
aspect is the discovery
of this thalamic unit,
if that's what it is.
We don't fully understand
the function of the thalamus
in our own bodies.
Unfortunately, that renegade
doctor not only understood it,
he synthesized it.
Fortunately, the
secret died with him.
I want that unit
completely analyzed.
Is there anything to be added?
This emergency session
is hereby dispersed.
Report to your
various committees
and evaluate this most
startling development.
Just a moment, Cragis.
I'd like a word with you.
Well is it urgent?
Most urgent.
Do you know an
Esme Cragis Miles?
Well yes, she's my sister.
Residing at 4456 Urban Way?
What about her?
She, uh...
Was she hurt?
I wish I could say that was all.
Cragis, I have to tell you this.
Your sister is in rapport.
You're lying.
One of our agents ran
across this evidence.
Due to your high
position in the Order,
he gave it directly to me
instead of to the
Internal Affairs committee.
I can't believe she'd do it.
According to this paper,
she turned in her analysis
questionnaire three weeks ago.
They're usually rapportized
within three days.
Then my sister's been
in rapport with a Clicker
for two and a half weeks.
I'm sorry, my boy.
I suggest you do what you can
to see that this
relationship is voided.
Naturally.
Certain of our ranks are jealous
of your standing in the order.
Our plans have been leaking out.
This wouldn't look good.
I know.
I'll put a stop to it.
According to the report,
she's taken an R-49.
They're expensive.
Where could she
have gotten the money?
Until last year,
she was resident
with Stepford Miles.
When they signed
a mutual release,
the settlement was a large one.
She's an assistant
editor at Telefax.
The rapport of
someone in that position
could be most damaging
to the work of the order.
I'll see her tonight.
I'll see who it is Esme, dear.
Do come in,
though we've never met,
I'd know that you were--
Out of the way,
stinking Clicker.
I came to see my sister.
Cragis.
It's The Cragis.
Esme, what have you done?
Cragis, why did you come here?
To throw that Clicker out.
That would be a
dramatic gesture.
You like dramatic
gestures, don't you?
You won't throw him
out because you can't.
Your answer is no?
My answer is go ahead and try.
Don't think I won't, he...
he can't leave without
your permission.
Affirmative.
You mean, no?
I mean, no.
Negative.
N-O!
I won't have it.
I'm the head of the family.
And I'm all that's left.
Shall we take a vote?
Well, how can you do this to me?
A thing like this.
Are you really doing it
out of spite and if so, why?
What have I done
to earn your hatred?
I don't hate you.
I feel sorry for you.
Don't be trite.
Be an artist, be a
musician, even be a poet,
but express your
freedom some other way.
You know how I've always
felt about this sort of thing.
Do you know how I felt about it?
Did you ask me?
Did we discuss it?
No.
You had your business
and I had mine.
You never asked my advice.
Why do you offer yours?
Esme, you have to understand.
Perhaps, do you really
realize the danger?
Cragis, do you think I
was better off with Miles?
Miles was a man.
A beast.
A filthy, stinking,
drunken, insensitive beast.
Miles had his eccentricities,
but he was still a man.
And that's so important.
Pax is more of a man than
Miles or you could ever be.
I'll show you how
much of a man he is.
Stripped of his sham,
he's not very pretty is he?
There, that's how
much of a man he is.
Thanks, Cragis,
for proving my point.
Pax is much more
of a man than you are.
He could never do to you
what you've just done to him.
You'd better put some
sealer on your arm, dear.
Cragis, you're a fool.
Do you suppose
reorientation would help?
Help you or me?
I think it might make
something of you
if you're willing to try.
You know my
position in the Order.
How do you suppose
this makes me look?
I hadn't really considered it.
You understand what the
brotherhood really does?
Perfectly.
You hold meetings,
wear ridiculous clothes.
You tell each other how
superior we are to the robots
because you know we're not.
We are.
You're pitiful.
You aren't just
charging windmills.
You're trying to hold back
the ocean with a sponge.
Attacking Pax, the idea.
Well, that was stupid of me.
He turned off his pain circuits
and you accomplished
exactly nothing.
I, I don't see how
you could do it.
Pax and I are in rapport.
We're in harmony.
He understands me perfectly.
He instinctively
knows what I want.
I just think of
something and it's done
because he thinks
of it at the same time.
There are no arguments.
He's dedicated to
keeping me happy.
And I am happy.
You love that, that machine?
I love Pax.
And it doesn't make
any difference to you
that he could be
doing the same thing
for anyone else who bought him?
You're wrong.
If he'd been bought
by someone else,
he'd be in rapport with them.
I don't understand you, Cragis.
You're not supposed to.
Do you expect me to
be friendly towards you?
If you want to be.
Well, I don't.
If you wanted to hurt me,
I'd like you to
know that you have.
How?
By humiliating yourself.
You know I must
consider your well being
above anything else.
That makes me feel better.
Good.
Can't you see they're
killing us with consideration?
Spoiling us into atrophy.
What would father
have thought about this?
You're thinking of Pax
as a person, aren't you?
Of course not.
Then why do you wait
till he's out of the room
before you say something
that might embarrass him?
You know he can't take offense.
I just don't like to talk
around those things.
Afraid of their logic?
Stick to the subject.
What would father
have thought about this?
You should know.
You inherited all
of his prejudices.
Oh, what a Flesh and
Blooder he would have made.
Uniforms, boots, little
silver knives to rattle.
Stop it!
Father was against everything.
Space travel, atomic
energy, synthetic foods.
Remember how
he loved to tell about
storming the weather
control stations.
I didn't agree with
him on those points.
My point is that you
both felt an inherent need
to be up in arms
about something.
Well, father would
have seen to it--
Oh, you both would have
been great back in the days
when war was the
national pastime.
You could have fired bombs
and guns and thrown spears.
Oh, what a wonderful,
wonderful time
you both could have had.
And I'm the one
who likes dramatics.
You could have brought
progress to a halt for years.
I feel sorry for you, Cragis.
It must be a terrible
thing to be so afraid.
Afraid?
Me?
Why don't you put
your gears in reverse
and get out of here.
You know that's impossible.
I can't leave unless
Esme wants me to.
Esme, tell him to go.
I have no intention
of doing that.
What do your neighbors
think about all this?
Those who know don't mind.
Others don't care.
You've been wrapped
up in that little world
of prejudice ostrich
friends of yours for so long,
you don't know what's
going on in the world outside.
Such as what?
Did you know there have
been over 100,000 applications
for rapport in the first
three months of this year?
Our records on that sort
of thing are fairly complete.
Don't you realize the
implication of that?
If everything is done for
us, there'll be no incentive.
No need for
personal achievement.
Even now, we're losing ground.
Losing ground?
Ground, knowledge.
Machines do all the work for us.
Why should we learn mathematics
when the computers can find
the solutions better and faster?
We don't even
control them anymore.
The brains are
designed by other brains.
The robots improve themselves.
We don't know how.
We give them data,
they give us answers.
We only supply
means to your ends.
Yeah, our end.
Everyday and every way, we're
becoming weaker and weaker.
And you're helping
us over the hill.
We are over the hill.
I can't stop us.
Neither can you.
First there were the plants.
They developed into
animals which ate the plants.
The animals were
small, but they grew.
And the larger animals
ate the smaller animals.
What does that mean?
So far, according to history,
each dynasty
devises its own end.
The animal develops a brain
and the brain
destroys the animal.
Our brains conceived you robots.
Are you threatening
to destroy us?
Oh, no.
We are by no means sure
that we are the next step.
It's just that in
view of the cycle,
we are the best we
have to offer to help you.
The cycle is rather inexorable.
That's treason.
No, it isn't.
It's logic.
I have to be logical.
That must be Maxine.
Who the hell is Maxine?
A girl I work with
down at Telefax.
Does she usually come
calling at 2:30 in the morning?
You did.
Well that was because
of your idiotic alliance.
What's she here for?
To help us celebrate.
Celebrate what?
My rapport, darling.
My rapport.
And if you're going to
continue being antagonistic to it,
I wish you'd leave.
Now.
Maxine, how are you?
Fine.
You must be Pax.
You must be right.
You're too lovely to be wrong.
Here, let me take your surcoat.
Thanks.
Hi, Es.
Hello Maxine, come in.
Pax, you're wonderful.
He's so glib, I'll bet he
even has a sense of humor.
He better have.
I paid extra for it.
Say something funny, Pax.
Don't put me on dear.
I have a sense of humor,
but I'm not creative.
Maxine, you're late.
Only two hours.
For me, that's almost early.
Really, I am sorry.
I was called back to the office.
A report came in that an
R-34 had killed a human being.
You can imagine
what a stir that caused.
Cragis, your eyes are
sticking out like a snail's.
Oh, I'm sorry.
This is my brother, Cragis.
Oh.
I'm so happy to meet you.
Esme's told me about you.
Well, she's never
told me about you.
I didn't mean that to be
as tactless as it sounded.
I only meant that if she had,
I would have arranged
to meet you sooner.
You did.
At 6:33 last evening,
outside Telefax.
I remember.
I'm flattered that
you remembered, too.
Oh, and I want to
apologize if I seemed rude.
You should be flattered, Maxine.
This is the first time
I've seen The Cragis
react as if a woman
were anything other
than a poorly designed man.
Between my career and my
voluntary work for the Order,
I haven't had too
much time on my hands.
I'm surprised to find a
Flesh and Blooder here.
Is the brotherhood
becoming less high bound?
I, no, I--
What would you like to drink?
I'll have what, The
Cragis Is having.
Coming right up.
Well, what kind of work
do you do at Telefax?
Bottom rung.
The routing room.
But I'll have you know
that I have eight robots
and a real live girl under me.
Most impressive.
And they've promised to promote
me to research next month.
Maxine is an authority
on political science.
Her father's a director
at the Ministry of Politics.
Something I've wondered about.
Things are run by the
hierarchy of ministries.
What is the exact function
of the Ministry of Politics?
For the coordination
of the other ministries.
Then, too, they
service the selector.
Politics was once the means
of choosing the leaders.
Now, the machines do it.
Machines nearly analyze
the data given to them by us.
The leaders are selected
as a result of that analysis.
Do you know how the
machine analyzes the data?
I, well...
well no, not exactly.
Then how do you
know if the father-mother
uses all the data you give it?
How do you know whether or not
supplementary
data is considered?
We, we don't.
Then you might almost say
that the machines
elect the leaders,
that the Ministry of
Politics is expendable.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I'm circuited to be logical
and yet not to offend.
That sometimes poses
an insoluble problem.
I understand.
You see what I mean.
Please, I've given
you a negative feeling.
I must apologize.
Well didn't your relays
recognize that possibility?
I've embarrassed your guests.
Shall I turn myself off?
You only said what I thought.
This is impossible.
Cragis, we fall in love when
we see a part of ourselves
reflected in another person.
In the rapport operation,
a part of me became Pax.
I won't discuss
this any further.
And I won't hear
of it any further.
I must go now.
May I go with you?
You find this atmosphere
uncomfortable?
I'm fascinated by it.
And by you.
May I?
Would you?
But you just got here.
Esme, I know this sounds silly,
but I really just came by to
apologize for being so late.
I'll come again later
this week and on time.
It's almost three now.
Congratulations.
I know you'll be very happy.
Thanks, Maxine.
There are still a few little
adjustments to be made.
No.
Pax was right.
And so are you.
I hope I didn't...
You didn't.
This matter is far from closed.
I'll speak to you tomorrow.
As different as our view
points are, psychologically,
philosophically, in every way,
do you think it will help any?
Cragis, please don't
dislike me too much.
Nobody asks to be created.
Good night.
Good night, darlings.
What is it dear?
Darling you're leaving
me out of something.
I'm sorry, it's the
sense of humor.
It's a lot more difficult
to control than pain.
Why are you laughing, Pax?
For the reason everyone laughs.
Pax, what is it?
Irony.
One of the funniest
forms of humor.
What irony?
I'm not permitted to answer.
I'm contra-circuited.
I don't want to make
two mistakes in one night.
I'm offended by not knowing.
The knowledge would
be more offensive.
Pax?
I love you, Esme.
Pax, what would you do if
something happened to me?
I am you.
Anything that happens
to you, happens to me.
Oh, this covering, this
housing might go on
and on for centuries,
Pax wouldn't.
I shouldn't have done that.
I thought you never would.
Then you experienced it too?
Outside Telefax, there
was a sort of tingle
and then at Esme's
I felt a sensation
of exciting attraction.
I'm not a young man.
Pretty well past the age to
contract as a matter of fact,
though I've never been
affected like this before.
I feel like a school boy.
I can't stop looking at you.
I guess I always thought
this was just something
that always happened
to someone else.
It's like Esme said.
You'll fall In love when you
see some part of yourself
reflected in another person.
I love you, Cragis.
Don't Maxine.
I don't have the right.
The right?
When Esme and I were children,
we spent the summers
on our uncle's farm.
It was near one of those
old bombed out cities.
We used to sneak out
and play in the ruins.
Summer after summer, months,
playing in ruins that
were so hot with radiation
that at night they
shimmered in a blue light.
No, I don't have the right
to contract with a woman
who might produce children.
But there are artificial means.
When Esme signed
the rapport papers,
she had to agree
to submit to that.
Contracting with me would
be like going in rapport.
No, no it wouldn't.
Yes, it would.
Sure, they say the birth
rate is 2.8 per contract,
but over 25% of the
newborn are useless mutants.
The average rate
is 1.4 per union.
We're losing ground,
we're in a headlong race
towards disappearance.
Machines will take
over soon enough.
As a man, I have to force
the holdout as long as I can.
Cragis...
Will you contract with me?
It's impossible.
How much longer
would our 1.4 offspring
extend the human race?
Well, the robots
aren't bad, not really.
It's just that man can't
see himself supplanted
without putting up a fight.
I don't understand your
prejudices, your ideals.
But, I'll try.
I want to be with you forever.
Darling, I'll, I'll go
anywhere with you.
Oh, dearest.
Anywhere.
One thing.
Do me a favor?
What?
Tell me your last name.
On one condition.
What?
Tell me your first.
After you.
It's Megan.
It's Kenneth, or it was.
When my father
died, I dropped it.
I became The Cragis.
Maxine Cragis.
Charmed, I'm sure.
Wife of The Cragis, rating...
What is your rating?
Geron 8.
Gerontologist 8?
That high?
Ha-ha.
You're wonderful.
You know, I took quite a chance.
Why you might have
been in electronics
or electrical engineer.
I'm just a nursemaid
to a Mark 201 computer
trying to add a few extra
years to our miserable span.
You're something
of a contradiction.
How?
Your work in gerontology
deals with extending
our life span as
long as possible.
And yet your hobby, the Order,
is concerned with
eliminating the robots.
They last over 200 years,
twice as long as we do.
You think I'm taking my
professional frustrations
out on the robots?
Are you?
I've been a member of
the Order over half my life.
My father...
We don't object to
the robots as such.
We only hold the
humanoids are unnecessary.
They're soulless,
Godless imitations of man
and in that form,
they are not needed.
Well, I'd much rather work
with a humanoid In the office
than have all those little
machines chugging about.
If those little machines
didn't resemble us,
it would never occur to
them to try to replace us.
But how can we
criticize the design?
The Institute teaches
that the human body
is one of the most
efficient forms of machine.
Well, for general usage, yes.
But robots by their function
should be specialized.
Why?
Because we can't let
them get too far ahead.
Frankly, we can't
compete with them.
So, you take your
ball and go home.
Why compete?
Why not just relax
and enjoy them.
Well that's exactly the attitude
the Order's trying to combat.
It's shared by the
police, the ministries
and the majority
of the population.
We of the Order seem
to be the only ones
that realize the danger.
We recently discovered
a most disturbing fact.
And what was that?
The robots are organizing
a pseudo-religion.
They refer to their recreation
centers as their temples.
The master computer
as the father-mother.
When they report there for
their periodic rechargings,
they receive as well all the
information given the computers
for analysis in the interim.
But, doesn't that
mean that within a year,
every individual robot
will be in possession
of all the knowledge
in the world?
Exit humanity.
But they can only
operate in our benefit.
Well, that's rule
one in the manual.
Tonight for the
first time in history,
a robot killed a man.
Rule one must no longer exist.
Are you always so gloomy?
You don't worry about
things like this, do you?
Well, I would if I
thought it would help.
Do you want me to?
I don't want to change
a thing about you.
Do you know it's
almost four o'clock?
We should be going.
What are you going
to do about breakfast?
I'm going to eat it.
Not alone.
Of course not.
What's the matter?
I don't know.
I feel strange.
Afraid.
Someone's watching
us from out there.
Somewhere out
there in the shadows.
Cragis, Miss Megan.
Will you come with us.
But why should the order
suspect you, particularly?
First it was the
anti-robot rally.
I was handling it and the
propaganda pamphlets
failed to arrive in time.
I handled that.
Cragis told me the plans
during one of his interviews.
The information was relayed
to the automation device
at the printing plant.
It arranged for the
press to break down.
That could hardly
be blamed on you.
Was there something else?
I was to lobby a bill through
with the Ministry of
Robotics, get them to set up
recharging stations
separate from the computers.
We wanted to halt the
interchange of information.
That was my assignment.
As soon as I learned
the plans from Cragis,
I managed to have the
motion pigeon-holed.
Then there was the
premature explosion
of the bomb at Telefax.
His pattern of failure
would be sufficient
to cause suspicion.
My position in the
Order is jeopardized
for another and bigger reason.
What is that?
My sister is in rapport.
With the robot, Pax.
Their personalities were
melded 18 days ago.
Perhaps Pax should
be reconditioned
to become unsatisfactory.
Then she will discard him.
Not wise.
Cragis' sister is
an editor at Telefax.
Pax is especially indoctrinated
in Morfield's suggestion.
Each time she sleeps,
she is made more
sympathetic to our cause.
Why didn't you warn us
about the raid on
Dr. Raven's laboratory?
My suspicion's were
first aroused at 6:30.
The raid took
place at 10 o'clock.
I had no interview
time in between.
I must warn you, aside
from these interview periods,
I'm a very dangerous
obstacle to you.
If the Order suspects him,
it might be wise if
we got him to resign.
That's easier said than done.
That's right.
He's pretty ardent
about the brotherhood.
Knowing the way
he feels about robots,
it's doubtful he'll act
on any advice from us
when he's himself again.
But he's in danger.
The Order will take his
identity away if they catch him.
They'll get a real surprise
if they open him up.
One thing worries me.
There are several
million people in this city
and only 15 R-96's.
How did these two
happen to get together?
There's always the mathematical
possibility of coincidence.
So slight as to be negligible.
It's possible that their
identical operations
might have created a
subconscious affinity
which would draw them together.
We'd better check that out.
Their effect on each
other was most interesting.
When we picked them
up, they were kissing.
That's understandable.
Raven never
tampered with instincts.
You say the Order is now aware
of the thalamic operation?
They know it is being done.
They don't know how.
What are they going to do
with Mark and the volunteer?
They will both be disassembled.
The Father-mother.
Yes.
Dr. Raven is out here.
He has recovered from the
transplant and was smuggled in.
He requests an
immediate audience.
Have him come right in.
I'm Dr. Raven.
A younger Dr. Raven,
as you promised.
Who's in charge here?
I was.
But according to our
agreement, I'm more than happy
to turn the responsibility
of this project over to you.
I remember these two.
They were done
right at the first.
That's right.
It's five minutes to five.
Their interview
period is almost over.
We better put them
back in the street
before they regain themselves.
I think not.
He served well.
I think he deserves
to know the truth
and I'd like to try
an experiment.
Is that safe?
None of the existing R-96's
are aware that they're robots.
The ones we try to
tell cease to function.
They cease to function
because they were
without faith and hope.
Important elements to humans.
To die and be resurrected
as a robot is a deep shock.
The sudden realization
that they are experiencing
all the emotions of a human
and yet are mechanical
is an even deeper shock.
Their future becomes, hopeless.
But what hope
can you offer them?
I just completed the final
stages of an experiment
prior to my recent
death and recreation.
Will it work for her too?
I think so.
Her job at Telefax is menial.
She's never been able
to offer helpful information.
We can study their reaction.
It will give us an idea
of the length of acclimation
period necessary.
Be prepared to draw
them off for transplant
in case the
reaction is negative.
We'll raise the
tubes one at a time.
You're Clickers.
Your terminology is crude.
But your conclusion is correct.
More exactly, we are the
Robot Central Committee
for the Preservation of Mankind.
Preservation?
Hah.
What have you done with her?
She'll return at
almost any time now.
Who the hell are you
and what are you doing
with the mechanized mannequins?
I'm Dr. Raven.
You came to my
laboratory last night.
I'm told.
You're lying.
Dr. Raven was an old
man and he was dead.
I didn't like being
old, and dead.
We must take the
girl out of the arilathon.
Are you all right.
I, I feel fine.
What happened?
Where are we?
Where are we?
You're in the temple.
I wouldn't set foot in
this filthy machine shop
even it weren't illegal
for me to be here.
Now why were we
forced to come here?
You weren't forced.
You were invited.
Why don't you calm down, Cragis.
You know me?
Quite well, as a matter of fact.
You head the
surveillance committee
of the Order of Flesh and Blood.
So, that's it.
Let me tell you and
these Clickers something.
I just met this girl tonight.
She knows nothing
about the Order.
Let her out of here right now.
No.
No, I won't go without you.
I think I'll open up a
few of you Clickers.
We're being held
here against our will.
I'll personally see to it
that each of you
are disassembled.
And you, you imposter.
I'll have your
memory pulled so fast
you'll never forget it.
You may leave at
any time you wish.
I should have expected
something like this
after that Clicker
murdered the real
Dr. Raven last night.
You didn't bring us
here just to let us go.
The murder of Dr. Raven
was both unfortunate
and unnecessary.
That attitude in a robot
can get you divided
into components.
Perhaps.
Cragis, are you
familiar with the R-96?
The Order knows they exist
and we know that you
or the real Dr. Raven
was instrumental
in their construction.
Creation of an R-96
requires a modified
humanoid type robot and
the body of a human being,
which has been dead
less than six hours.
What do you do, change brains?
In effect.
We perform a
thalamic transplant,
but that's a misnomer.
We draw off everything
that makes a man
peculiar to himself.
His learning, his memory,
these inter-reacting
constitute his personality,
his philosophy,
capability and attitude.
The human brain
is merely the vault
in which the man is stored.
And not a very ingenious vault.
Ingenious enough
to create you Clickers.
Creation is only the
result of the fusion of facts
which haven't been
previously related.
Fascinating.
There's one other point
that may be of interest to you.
What?
Tell him.
Cragis, you are a robot.
A Clicker?
Me?
Now isn't that something.
Now that you've found
yourself capable of murder,
I don't suppose anything
as minor as an insult
would offend your circuits.
Cragis, there are only
15 robots on this planet
capable of acting
against a human being.
You are one of them.
Maxine is another.
Look, you can tell
the world I'm a Clicker,
but you can't tell me.
Cragis, they think we're
something or someone else.
Well, that's exactly
what's happened.
And you've made some
pretty damaging admissions.
Clicker, you're in trouble.
Horace, would
you pull the status
of our friend, Cragis?
Proceed.
Don't be afraid Cragis.
Take it out.
The blade, Cragis.
Look at the blade.
I...
didn't feel a thing.
Reflex action cut
off your pain relays.
I'm no Clicker.
R-96, anything.
I hate robots.
I'm a leader In the
Order of Flesh and Blood.
And the only robot who
can claim that distinction.
I don't know what
you're talking...
I'm me, I..
I was a child.
I grew up.
I remember it all.
I, I had little hands
and they grew larger.
I grew up, I...
I can hate.
And I can kill.
I'm a man.
Cragis, think back
six months ago.
Do you remember a certain
day at your laboratory?
The day you blacked out?
Of course.
I had been working hard
at my work in the day,
the Order at night,
I must have fainted.
But I got back to my apartment.
I felt very well the next day.
That day, Cragis, you
suffered a cerebral hemorrhage.
You died.
I died?
You performed that
operation on me?
The father-mother informed us
of your death immediately.
We were able to retrieve your
body before it was discovered
and the police
informed of the fact.
You were duplicated
and transferred.
This is some sort of a joke.
The idea takes
some getting used to.
Me, The Cragis,
a Clicker.
That's right, Cragis.
We're Clickers.
You're handling it quite well.
Of course, you've had
six months to acclimate.
It's not really
impossible is it?
Cragis, what is
he talking about?
Don't worry about it dear.
What about Maxine?
Is she really like me?
Exactly.
Cragis, I don't
understand any of this.
I'm frightened.
There is no reason
for you to be frightened.
Think back, my dear.
Do you recall an
unusual incident at Telefax
about three months ago?
Three months?
The bomb, in the
routing room at Telefax.
Of course.
Cragis remembers it, too.
No, it couldn't have been then.
Maxine, we were only
trying to discourage
the pro-integration editorials.
The bomb, we
thought there'd only
be robots in the routing room.
But I was only stunned.
I guess I went home.
He's all right.
You were killed.
One of our robots brought
what was left of you to us.
We barely got you in time.
We did make you a bit thinner.
You had a tendency to be plump.
That's right.
After that, my
clothes didn't fit.
Thank you.
How do you apologize to
someone for killing them?
What did you do with our bodies?
They were of no further use.
They were processed.
Processed?
Did you want them?
I...
No.
In all these cases, we
processed the bodies.
It wouldn't do to have
a dead Cragis turn up
when there's a live
one walking around.
It's hard to think of
yourself as being processed.
I wouldn't know about that.
But I still have my own face.
But my, my hands, how
can I feel so complete.
Because you are complete.
A man is only the sum
total of his experiences.
You both have that as well as
certain mechanical advantages.
For instance, you
can absorb knowledge
directly from the
computers without study.
But I just can't think
of myself as a robot.
Well who is better off?
The king who dreams
each night that he's a beggar,
or the beggar who dreams
each night that he's a king?
There's nothing
wrong with us, Cragis.
That's just the trouble.
We're perfect.
Perfect machines.
Cragis, you're a gerontologist.
Your branch has managed
to extend life expectancy
to more than 100 years.
It would be longer,
but the radioactivity
left by the wars is
working against us.
Exactly.
Births are declining
at such a rate,
the father-mother computed
the human race will be extinct
in a couple hundred years.
We've been working
against that deadline.
According to rule
one of the manual,
we have to operate in the
best interests of humanity.
That rule has forced
us to take these steps.
Forced you, to take what steps?
Unfortunately, humanity
doesn't always know
its own best interests.
The material of the human body
can't exist with
the radioactivity.
And it isn't capable of
adjusting fast enough to survive.
We're making headway.
When I perfected the
thalamic transplant technique,
these Clickers knew
about it in a day and a half.
But if you robots
had the process,
why'd you risk using Raven?
Why didn't you
just do it yourself?
We tried.
But the shock of dying
and being resurrected
as a robot was too severe.
They re-died.
A sort of an adjustment
period was needed.
Then Raven perfected
a way to get the memory
so that the death
experience was erased.
The subject was spared the
knowledge of his new type body
until he was able
to accept it safely.
He refused to register
the memory get process.
So we couldn't get a hold of it.
If they didn't have the
thought process to use on you.
Why didn't you die
when you came to?
I originated the process.
I understand it.
I was pre-adjusted.
I even made them agree
to duplicate the body
of my younger days
when it became necessary.
Your death was necessary?
If I'd been taken alive
and turned over to the police,
my memory would
have been dispersed
and all of my unregistered
formulas lost forever.
But dead, they were able
to save me and my memory.
How long have you
had the process?
Almost a year.
You two are the first
full cycle transplants.
What do you do now?
Wait for the leaders to die.
And then reactivate them.
When the time is right,
you will announce that
you've achieved immortality.
When the rush for
applications is over,
you'll probably be deified.
So the machines take over.
Cragis, is it true?
That there will be
nothing but machines?
That we are machines?
Yes.
Yes, it's true.
Machines.
But you're a beautiful machine.
You know beauty.
How do you feel toward Maxine?
I, I love her.
And you?
I love him very much.
And that's a lot for a couple
of Godless, soulless robots.
Are you Godless, Cragis?
Search yourself.
It's important.
Are you Godless?
No.
No, I don't think so.
I'm not.
Then you can't be soulless.
Look, a man may
have his leg amputated.
Is his soul decreased
by that loss?
No.
Not even a fraction of 1%?
Of course not.
What if a man loses both legs?
A negative can't be compounded.
The soul would be the same.
He'd just get artificial legs.
You've just received
an artificial body.
A new body.
Ageless,
tireless.
Disease free and
renewable every 200 years.
I guess nothing has changed
except maybe a few chemicals.
In effect.
Well, that transplant
must include the soul.
No, only the memory
which includes the faith
that there is a soul.
Whatever it is,
you seem to have it.
And when the entire human
race has been transplanted,
death will cease to exist.
And births will
cease to exist too.
The most precious
hope of every woman.
How do you think
these two R-96's
would like to pick
up four points?
You can raise them to R-100's?
Make them propagate themselves?
I worked it all out
prior to my recent
death and resurrection.
I didn't want to
turn it over to you
until I didn't need you anymore.
Now I don't, since we're
all on the same side.
How about it you two?
It'll take several
simple operations.
Hardly more difficult
than removing a rib.
Somebody has to be first.
Self-procreating.
It's a pretty sloppy
way of doing things,
but it fulfills a certain
psychological need.
Paradoxical, isn't it?
I spend my life seeking
immortality on one hand
and seeking to
destroy it on the other.
I love you, Cragis.
Of course, the
operation was a success.
Or you wouldn't be here.
and argued for years,
trying they said, to
find a way to prevent it,
but they failed.
No one can be
sure who started it,
and really that is unimportant.
It did happen.
The Atomic War.
It was short, lasted
about 48 hours.
Within two weeks,
92% of the human
race had perished
to bomb and radiation.
Those left, with their birth
rate below 1.4 per union,
turned to robotic
automation devices
to help them
rebuild their cities
and maintain a high
standard of living.
The first exploratory steps
In the development
of electronic brains
had been taken prior
to the Atomic War.
These early models were bulky
and required large
buildings to house them.
But they merely needed refining.
One of the first steps
was the magnetic
integrator neuron duplicator.
A device one one-hundredth
of the size of a golf ball
which duplicated portions
of the human nervous system
and carried out
learning processes.
Automation was
also well on its way.
But these too, were cumbersome
and needed further development
before the two
elements could be joined
in the series R-1 robot.
This first robot
was quite ungainly
and its functions were limited.
But refinements came
in rapid succession
and soon the R-20 was capable
of all the thought processes
and functions of a man.
However, humans found it
psychologically impossible
to work side by
side with a machine
that they had to converse with
and which, in most
instances, could out-think them.
Thus it was that Hollister Evans
perfected the R-21,
the first humanoid robot.
This story concerns
them, the Clickers,
as they were disparagingly
referred to by some humans.
All right.
Let's see your assignment cards.
What are you Clickers
doing out tonight?
We're on free time.
We're not obligated to answer.
As a member of the
surveillance committee
of the Order of Flesh and
Blood, I demand an answer.
We're going to the
temple to be recharged.
I think I'll keep you here
till your power runs out.
How'd you like that?
I'd have to report such
interference to the police.
Release them.
Was that satisfactory, Cragis?
Well, the order just
wants to keep them
mindful of their status.
You overlooked one
little thing, though.
What?
The robot that didn't
talk had a forged card.
Forged?
Why he can be
disassembled for that.
Let's pick them up.
Be patient.
Well, the temple is
just around the corner
and it's out of bounds for us.
He'll get away.
Well, they have to come out.
And if they're taking a
chance using a forged card,
they must be up to something
that the Order of Flesh and
Blood might be interested in.
I...
Oh, Miss.
Just a moment, Miss.
May I...
May I see your assignment card?
You certainly may not.
Your Order may get by
with harassing the robots,
but you'd better
leave citizens alone.
I'm sorry Miss, I just thought,
well with so many
robots about these--
I feel perfectly
safe with robots.
We intend to see that you are.
A most attractive woman.
Most.
If those robots are
being recharged,
they'll be in there
about an hour.
We'll wait.
What's keeping them?
The subject robot
has not yet completed
the transformation process
in the duplicating lab.
Where did you get him?
We bought him new
on the black market.
He has no name.
Unassigned, and unadapted.
He has a forged assignment card.
Who arranged it?
The inspector in Factory Three.
He stole him off
the assembly line,
just prior to numbering.
Unfortunately, an
inventory was taken
and the inspector was caught.
That was unfortunate.
Mark should bring him up
from duplicating any minute now.
The delay was unavoidable.
We were stopped by two members
of the surveillance committee
of the Order of Flesh and
Blood and I was questioned.
Is the duplication
satisfactory, Acto?
It has to be perfect.
The structure is excellent.
The pores should be larger.
And he needs a little
more hair, thicker.
He needs a 1/8 inch mole
behind the lobe of the left ear.
Report back to
duplication immediately
and have the corrections made.
You can still
alter your decision
if this is against
your circuits.
My circuits are unoffended.
I suppose it takes courage
to submit to a
thalamic transplant.
As an unadapted R-34,
he has no fear circuits.
Consequently, he
doesn't need courage.
He will before long.
Raven's operation will
convert him to a R-96
with all the
emotions of a human.
Only four points
less than human.
I wonder what it's like.
He will learn how
to laugh, how to cry,
be afraid and hate.
To become an R-96
is a real sacrifice.
With this one, we will have 16,
10 males and six females.
At times, I think we should
turn the entire program
over to the humans.
It really shouldn't be the
responsibility of robots.
The humans aren't
ready for it yet.
It's still illegal to
improve a robot
higher than an R-70.
That law was lobbied through
by the Order of Flesh and Blood.
The Order is becoming
more powerful every day.
They virtually
dictate to the police.
There are always
ultra-conservative pressure groups
set against advancement.
But why?
Why?
It's not in the best
interests of humans
to hold back the
development of robots.
They won't for long.
We're filling key
positions of R-96's
as fast as we get them.
I still have an
occasional doubt.
You may withdraw if
you're contra-circuited.
I'm unoffended.
Mark, you better go down
and join the volunteer.
Hurry things along.
The human he replaces
has already been out
of circulation for four hours.
The less time a man is
unaccounted for, the better.
According to the latest
tabulations by the brain,
by the first of next month,
we will outnumber the humans.
Yes?
Dr. Raven?
Yes.
Ultima Thule.
Number?
Come in.
Sorry I didn't recognize you.
All Clickers look alike to me.
Thank you, doctor.
Certain of us prefer
not to be called Clickers.
Peel off that sensor skin
and you could watch the cogs
turn and the gears mesh.
You trying to tell
me you have feeling?
Certain of the
higher calibers do.
I've been working on a sticky
electronic reflex problem.
I just can't make this
arm bend at the elbow
and the fist clench.
What circuitry are you using?
1.3 impulsion to
the motor neuron
and, modulating 28
to the sensory neuron.
The calculations are right,
but you have them reversed.
I sure hate to have a bunch of
cogs and wheels show me up,
but then you always do.
As soon as I clear this
table, We'll get to work.
All right you, take
off that head covering.
Your lab did
another excellent job.
He's an exact duplicate
of that deceased human
your Clicker pals
brought in tonight.
What did you do with that body?
The usual.
Processed it, then destroyed it.
Everything we need
from it is right here.
Now, about the money.
10,000 credits.
You could be disassembled
for having money
that's not earmarked
in your possession.
What do they pay you?
They pay me nothing.
Having no need for money,
I have no desire for it.
You have no desire for it.
I love it.
You should let me rewire you.
You don't know
what you're missing.
No, thanks.
I'm satisfied as an R-58.
Where do you Clickers
get those credits?
A man can have his
memory taken for a year
for giving wild
money to a Clicker.
The committee only gives
us the money, not its origin.
Perhaps we should hurry.
All right, you.
Face down, on the table.
Turn yourself off.
For how long?
10 minutes will be plenty.
I never will get used
to that artificial blood.
The lower types just tend
to shut off their pain circuits
when they get hurt.
The blood forces
them to report for repair.
I wish it were some other color.
The copper tubing
turns it green.
This may be our last
transplant for a while.
Our supplier was caught.
I didn't see it on Telefax.
The Ministry of Information
doesn't want it known
that robots are
dealing in robots.
It would only give the
Flesh and Blooders
something more to yell about.
They're a minority.
A loud minority.
Your supplier, will
they take his identity?
His memory will be
dispersed tomorrow.
What a waste.
Why don't they just kill him.
The effect of personal cessation
is the same in either case.
They just leave a hollow
shell walking around.
He can still perform his duties.
But he's without a
past, without hope.
The dream gone.
Almost like being
a robot, isn't it?
No offense.
I'm incapable of taking offense.
But why is it the more
we become like men,
the more some of
them hate us for it?
Men hate what they fear.
You have perfect memory.
Infallible logic,
you never tire,
you're circuited against
anger and violence.
And in your world,
that leaves us pretty helpless.
We have to study for years
to learn what you pick up
by plugging into a
brain for two hours.
We don't refer
to the father-mother as a brain.
Your father-mother is
an electronic computer.
Just a machine.
Your parents were machines.
It's just that they were
engineered with flesh and bones.
Neither are ideal components.
You came off a production line.
I know who created me.
Hollister Evans and the Mark 47.
You have to accept
your creator on faith.
Who created your creator?
Yours.
You see, we are brothers,
aren't we?
I ought to know better than
to argue with you Clickers.
Can't beat your logic.
Humans aren't allowed to
set foot in the robot temple.
Yet we saw a man come
out accompanied by a robot.
I want to know why?
Those guys from the brother hood
should be here by now.
I wonder what delayed them?
Watch it.
What are you self-appointed
defenders of the
human race up to now?
Why don't you beat it
while you still
have a beat to beat.
Ah, you have so much to say,
I think I'll take you
in for questioning.
That's as good a way as
any to get your rating, lowered.
I'm a captain of the Order
and my professional
rank is eight.
Eight?
Well, just stay out of trouble.
Are you threatening me?
Sorry, sir.
Good night, sir.
How are my other
transplants doing?
Quite well.
Who was this man?
I only know he'd been drinking.
Probably killed in a brawl.
The Clickers that found him
removed all of
his identification.
Will the drinking have any
effect upon the operation?
It'll be interesting to see.
What are you doing with
these advanced models?
We send them out to
intermingle with humans
to find out why some of
them despise us so much.
Then we can adjust
and be accepted.
That's admirable,
logical and a lie.
What are you using them for?
When is his interview time?
Same as the others.
From 4:00 to 5:00 a.m.,
he'll know he's an R-96
and give you any information
he's gotten in the interim.
Other than that
period of one hour,
he'll think he's whoever
that corpse was.
How often does he report
to the father-mother
for recharging?
Twice a year.
But he won't know it.
Make it once a year.
He won't last as long.
What's 20 or 30 years?
In 150 years, he's
automatically renewed anyway.
Whatever you say.
Why don't you
register this operation?
Because I'd just be
forbidden to use it.
Everything registered goes
into the master computer.
Then all you
Clickers would have it.
I want to be necessary to you.
Hand me that large amber bottle.
Thank you.
This sealer is wonderful stuff.
For the next several hours,
he'll have only the most
basic human instincts.
Might even be drunk for a while.
Then the thalamic
circuit will filter in
and he'll have a
perfect, human memory.
He'll be whoever he was.
A man.
Capable of jealousy,
hatred, deceit, murder.
Most, most interesting.
What is?
Why men, having
such negative qualities,
feel so superior to us.
Too bad it isn't as easy
to take those negative
qualities out of men
as it is to put
them into robots.
Open up the door
it's Flesh and Blood.
Flesh and Blooders.
It's inevitable,
we must accept it.
We've got to get out of here.
I'll turn him on.
He might be able to pass.
At least we can save him.
Open up the door
it's Flesh and Blood.
We'll carry out our
part of our bargain.
I suggest you
eliminate yourself.
No, I can't.
You don't know
what it is to die.
If you don't, they'll take
your memory from you.
You were speaking of
personality cessation.
I just can't take my own life.
Are you sure the committee
will keep their
part of the bargain?
I'm positive.
Open up the door it's
Flesh and Blooders.
You kill me.
You kill me.
You know I can't.
I'm contra-circuited.
Maybe he has enough
human instinct by now to--
Kill me.
Kill me.
Accuse my sister of being
in rapport with a Clicker,
I'll kill you all right.
We'll take that one
and the Clicker with us.
Leave the body of
the old man here.
And call the police.
Cragis, come here.
This one's a robot too.
You must be mistaken.
We opened up a gash in his head.
If that skull isn't molybdic,
I'll take another
course in metallurgy.
So a robot finally
became violent.
There's no doubt that
he killed the old man.
This is what we've
been waiting for.
The government will
have to listen to us.
This is something, isn't it?
Yes.
It's something.
The Body of the Order
of Flesh and Blood is born.
The blood works
through the ages.
One moment please.
May I have quiet.
Since this is an
emergency session,
we will dispense
with the formal rites.
Two and a half hours ago,
members of our surveillance
committee captured two robots
at the laboratory of a Dr. Raven
who had performed an illegal
operation upon one of them.
We have suspected
operations of this nature
and have complained
to authorities to no avail.
But this time, a
specimen was taken.
Captain Cragis led
the group in this action,
so I'll turn the
meeting over to him.
Hello men.
About six o'clock this evening,
two robots were
intercepted and questioned.
They were on free time
and were released
to go to their temple.
Approximately an hour later,
one of the robots was
observed leaving the temple
with what was
thought to be a man.
They were trailed to
the address of Dr. Raven,
where entry to the premises
was eventually forced.
One of the robots was
taken without incident.
The other, had hair,
no serial number,
fought us viciously,
and killed Dr. Raven.
It's against the first
tenet of the manual.
Ward.
Brothers, that which we
greatly feared has come upon us.
The robots have
circumvented the prime law.
They've tasted blood.
And there are millions of them.
This is catastrophe.
Not quite.
The large majority of the
robots are series one through 20,
merely electronic machines.
The series 21 through
70, the humanoids,
the ones we're
concerned with eliminating
represent only about
20% of a billion odd robots.
One of them killed.
What's happening to them?
They hold menial jobs
that bring them in
constant contact with us.
Their conditioned reflexes
make them imitative.
So, they want to
be a part of the race.
They don't feel this is
in violation of the code,
since they contend that we
would be happier on that basis.
Is the murder of that
doctor part of an overall plot?
A precipitant, or merely
an isolated incident?
An accident?
If the Clickers
thought his operation
was making them
more useful to us,
they wouldn't kill
him intentionally.
Then there's no
recision of the prime law.
They can't hurt us?
There's been only a mis-wiring.
We'd better make sure.
And we shall.
Fellow men, this
is our opportunity.
The robots have
made the big mistake.
They've killed.
When this news is
released to Telefax
and the danger's made known,
the ministries will have
to recognize our petition
and have the
robots disassembled.
The robots are machines.
They must be made
to look like machines.
Dr. Moffitt, will you
bring in the subject robot
and give the findings?
You didn't turn it
over to the police?
All in good time.
You know how lax the police are
in enforcing laws
concerning the robots.
We must have our
own facts in this case.
Won't we get into trouble?
Probably a letter of reprimand.
The police won't touch us.
After all, the only crime
that can be committed
against a robot is vandalism.
Now get them in here.
Fellow men, I've
analyzed the subject robot
as thoroughly as time permitted.
He is a basic R-34 type,
but certain alterations
have elevated him
to a mid-90 classification.
A mid-90?
But an R-100 would be one of us.
A perfect man.
As good as we are.
He'd be better.
He'd be perfect.
Which of us could match that?
How does he fall short?
About the only power he lacks
is that of self-reproduction.
The highest type of improvement
allowed by law is an R-70,
and then in limited number.
What alternations were made?
I located and
removed a small unit
from the thalamic region
at the base of the brain.
It seemed to be the source.
The source of what?
We can't be sure.
You see, all robots
can see, hear and feel.
It's necessary
to their function.
Naturally.
This one could taste and smell
and what's even
more interesting,
he had a complete human memory.
Those refinements
are useless to a robot.
Not entirely.
This one thought he was a man.
How could this be?
Mankind is a state of mind.
A man is no more or less
than he thinks himself to be.
Are you saying
the Clicker's a man?
Your remarks are deviational.
Not my remarks,
your interpretation.
I'm merely projecting
your train of thought.
Which I am quite
capable of doing myself.
Brothers, please.
Let's behave like human beings.
Dr. Moffitt, what tests
did you run on the unit?
Of course I've only
had about two hours
to work on the unit, but I
tested it within the robot.
Removed it, and
tested it in another
robot with like results.
And what are your conclusions?
Nothing definite.
But you must have
found something?
What?
A few surface effects
that present only premises.
The unit is gray.
About the size and
shape of an almond.
I don't know what it is.
I don't know how to go
about finding out what it is.
I only know that when
wired into the central circuits,
the robot claimed to be
an able bodied spaceman,
second class named Kelly.
Tests show he
was telling the truth.
When brought in,
he was incoherent.
I'm afraid I damaged
him in removing the unit.
Evidently, they found a
way to transplant memory.
We checked him through
the Bureau of identification.
There is, or was a
spaceman named Kelly.
This robot's fingerprints
and retinal patterns
checked with those
on file for the man.
Well, if they
duplicated this Kelly,
do you suppose they killed him?
No.
I think I can speak
positive on that point.
The robot denied it when
wired for absolute truth.
They found him dead.
Well, if the man was dead,
how would he have a memory?
Memory consists of facts.
Facts can't be destroyed,
they can only cease to be used.
You say he was incoherent
when he was brought in.
Yes, as though affected
by psychosis or alcohol.
His memory seemed
sketchy, disoriented.
How could this
occur in a mid-90?
I think it was botched job.
Then we better find out if
there are any good ones around.
How?
Test all childless marriages?
The way radioactivity has
cut down on the birth rate,
this would be impractical.
Physical exams.
Might not show up.
This robot even had a simulated
heartbeat and respiration.
But why?
Why put this unnecessary
functions in a robot?
He thought those actions
were necessary for him to live.
Can't you see, this one
thought he was a man.
When we convinced
him he was a robot,
he ceased to function
and became that senseless
hulk standing there.
Who owns the two robots?
The R-53 is owned
by the Ministry of Education.
This one has no serial number.
He was bought
on the black market
by the robots themselves.
We caught the supplier
and brought pressure to bear
so the police arrested him.
The man is having his
identity taken tomorrow.
Anything further to
report, Dr. Moffitt?
The most appalling
aspect is the discovery
of this thalamic unit,
if that's what it is.
We don't fully understand
the function of the thalamus
in our own bodies.
Unfortunately, that renegade
doctor not only understood it,
he synthesized it.
Fortunately, the
secret died with him.
I want that unit
completely analyzed.
Is there anything to be added?
This emergency session
is hereby dispersed.
Report to your
various committees
and evaluate this most
startling development.
Just a moment, Cragis.
I'd like a word with you.
Well is it urgent?
Most urgent.
Do you know an
Esme Cragis Miles?
Well yes, she's my sister.
Residing at 4456 Urban Way?
What about her?
She, uh...
Was she hurt?
I wish I could say that was all.
Cragis, I have to tell you this.
Your sister is in rapport.
You're lying.
One of our agents ran
across this evidence.
Due to your high
position in the Order,
he gave it directly to me
instead of to the
Internal Affairs committee.
I can't believe she'd do it.
According to this paper,
she turned in her analysis
questionnaire three weeks ago.
They're usually rapportized
within three days.
Then my sister's been
in rapport with a Clicker
for two and a half weeks.
I'm sorry, my boy.
I suggest you do what you can
to see that this
relationship is voided.
Naturally.
Certain of our ranks are jealous
of your standing in the order.
Our plans have been leaking out.
This wouldn't look good.
I know.
I'll put a stop to it.
According to the report,
she's taken an R-49.
They're expensive.
Where could she
have gotten the money?
Until last year,
she was resident
with Stepford Miles.
When they signed
a mutual release,
the settlement was a large one.
She's an assistant
editor at Telefax.
The rapport of
someone in that position
could be most damaging
to the work of the order.
I'll see her tonight.
I'll see who it is Esme, dear.
Do come in,
though we've never met,
I'd know that you were--
Out of the way,
stinking Clicker.
I came to see my sister.
Cragis.
It's The Cragis.
Esme, what have you done?
Cragis, why did you come here?
To throw that Clicker out.
That would be a
dramatic gesture.
You like dramatic
gestures, don't you?
You won't throw him
out because you can't.
Your answer is no?
My answer is go ahead and try.
Don't think I won't, he...
he can't leave without
your permission.
Affirmative.
You mean, no?
I mean, no.
Negative.
N-O!
I won't have it.
I'm the head of the family.
And I'm all that's left.
Shall we take a vote?
Well, how can you do this to me?
A thing like this.
Are you really doing it
out of spite and if so, why?
What have I done
to earn your hatred?
I don't hate you.
I feel sorry for you.
Don't be trite.
Be an artist, be a
musician, even be a poet,
but express your
freedom some other way.
You know how I've always
felt about this sort of thing.
Do you know how I felt about it?
Did you ask me?
Did we discuss it?
No.
You had your business
and I had mine.
You never asked my advice.
Why do you offer yours?
Esme, you have to understand.
Perhaps, do you really
realize the danger?
Cragis, do you think I
was better off with Miles?
Miles was a man.
A beast.
A filthy, stinking,
drunken, insensitive beast.
Miles had his eccentricities,
but he was still a man.
And that's so important.
Pax is more of a man than
Miles or you could ever be.
I'll show you how
much of a man he is.
Stripped of his sham,
he's not very pretty is he?
There, that's how
much of a man he is.
Thanks, Cragis,
for proving my point.
Pax is much more
of a man than you are.
He could never do to you
what you've just done to him.
You'd better put some
sealer on your arm, dear.
Cragis, you're a fool.
Do you suppose
reorientation would help?
Help you or me?
I think it might make
something of you
if you're willing to try.
You know my
position in the Order.
How do you suppose
this makes me look?
I hadn't really considered it.
You understand what the
brotherhood really does?
Perfectly.
You hold meetings,
wear ridiculous clothes.
You tell each other how
superior we are to the robots
because you know we're not.
We are.
You're pitiful.
You aren't just
charging windmills.
You're trying to hold back
the ocean with a sponge.
Attacking Pax, the idea.
Well, that was stupid of me.
He turned off his pain circuits
and you accomplished
exactly nothing.
I, I don't see how
you could do it.
Pax and I are in rapport.
We're in harmony.
He understands me perfectly.
He instinctively
knows what I want.
I just think of
something and it's done
because he thinks
of it at the same time.
There are no arguments.
He's dedicated to
keeping me happy.
And I am happy.
You love that, that machine?
I love Pax.
And it doesn't make
any difference to you
that he could be
doing the same thing
for anyone else who bought him?
You're wrong.
If he'd been bought
by someone else,
he'd be in rapport with them.
I don't understand you, Cragis.
You're not supposed to.
Do you expect me to
be friendly towards you?
If you want to be.
Well, I don't.
If you wanted to hurt me,
I'd like you to
know that you have.
How?
By humiliating yourself.
You know I must
consider your well being
above anything else.
That makes me feel better.
Good.
Can't you see they're
killing us with consideration?
Spoiling us into atrophy.
What would father
have thought about this?
You're thinking of Pax
as a person, aren't you?
Of course not.
Then why do you wait
till he's out of the room
before you say something
that might embarrass him?
You know he can't take offense.
I just don't like to talk
around those things.
Afraid of their logic?
Stick to the subject.
What would father
have thought about this?
You should know.
You inherited all
of his prejudices.
Oh, what a Flesh and
Blooder he would have made.
Uniforms, boots, little
silver knives to rattle.
Stop it!
Father was against everything.
Space travel, atomic
energy, synthetic foods.
Remember how
he loved to tell about
storming the weather
control stations.
I didn't agree with
him on those points.
My point is that you
both felt an inherent need
to be up in arms
about something.
Well, father would
have seen to it--
Oh, you both would have
been great back in the days
when war was the
national pastime.
You could have fired bombs
and guns and thrown spears.
Oh, what a wonderful,
wonderful time
you both could have had.
And I'm the one
who likes dramatics.
You could have brought
progress to a halt for years.
I feel sorry for you, Cragis.
It must be a terrible
thing to be so afraid.
Afraid?
Me?
Why don't you put
your gears in reverse
and get out of here.
You know that's impossible.
I can't leave unless
Esme wants me to.
Esme, tell him to go.
I have no intention
of doing that.
What do your neighbors
think about all this?
Those who know don't mind.
Others don't care.
You've been wrapped
up in that little world
of prejudice ostrich
friends of yours for so long,
you don't know what's
going on in the world outside.
Such as what?
Did you know there have
been over 100,000 applications
for rapport in the first
three months of this year?
Our records on that sort
of thing are fairly complete.
Don't you realize the
implication of that?
If everything is done for
us, there'll be no incentive.
No need for
personal achievement.
Even now, we're losing ground.
Losing ground?
Ground, knowledge.
Machines do all the work for us.
Why should we learn mathematics
when the computers can find
the solutions better and faster?
We don't even
control them anymore.
The brains are
designed by other brains.
The robots improve themselves.
We don't know how.
We give them data,
they give us answers.
We only supply
means to your ends.
Yeah, our end.
Everyday and every way, we're
becoming weaker and weaker.
And you're helping
us over the hill.
We are over the hill.
I can't stop us.
Neither can you.
First there were the plants.
They developed into
animals which ate the plants.
The animals were
small, but they grew.
And the larger animals
ate the smaller animals.
What does that mean?
So far, according to history,
each dynasty
devises its own end.
The animal develops a brain
and the brain
destroys the animal.
Our brains conceived you robots.
Are you threatening
to destroy us?
Oh, no.
We are by no means sure
that we are the next step.
It's just that in
view of the cycle,
we are the best we
have to offer to help you.
The cycle is rather inexorable.
That's treason.
No, it isn't.
It's logic.
I have to be logical.
That must be Maxine.
Who the hell is Maxine?
A girl I work with
down at Telefax.
Does she usually come
calling at 2:30 in the morning?
You did.
Well that was because
of your idiotic alliance.
What's she here for?
To help us celebrate.
Celebrate what?
My rapport, darling.
My rapport.
And if you're going to
continue being antagonistic to it,
I wish you'd leave.
Now.
Maxine, how are you?
Fine.
You must be Pax.
You must be right.
You're too lovely to be wrong.
Here, let me take your surcoat.
Thanks.
Hi, Es.
Hello Maxine, come in.
Pax, you're wonderful.
He's so glib, I'll bet he
even has a sense of humor.
He better have.
I paid extra for it.
Say something funny, Pax.
Don't put me on dear.
I have a sense of humor,
but I'm not creative.
Maxine, you're late.
Only two hours.
For me, that's almost early.
Really, I am sorry.
I was called back to the office.
A report came in that an
R-34 had killed a human being.
You can imagine
what a stir that caused.
Cragis, your eyes are
sticking out like a snail's.
Oh, I'm sorry.
This is my brother, Cragis.
Oh.
I'm so happy to meet you.
Esme's told me about you.
Well, she's never
told me about you.
I didn't mean that to be
as tactless as it sounded.
I only meant that if she had,
I would have arranged
to meet you sooner.
You did.
At 6:33 last evening,
outside Telefax.
I remember.
I'm flattered that
you remembered, too.
Oh, and I want to
apologize if I seemed rude.
You should be flattered, Maxine.
This is the first time
I've seen The Cragis
react as if a woman
were anything other
than a poorly designed man.
Between my career and my
voluntary work for the Order,
I haven't had too
much time on my hands.
I'm surprised to find a
Flesh and Blooder here.
Is the brotherhood
becoming less high bound?
I, no, I--
What would you like to drink?
I'll have what, The
Cragis Is having.
Coming right up.
Well, what kind of work
do you do at Telefax?
Bottom rung.
The routing room.
But I'll have you know
that I have eight robots
and a real live girl under me.
Most impressive.
And they've promised to promote
me to research next month.
Maxine is an authority
on political science.
Her father's a director
at the Ministry of Politics.
Something I've wondered about.
Things are run by the
hierarchy of ministries.
What is the exact function
of the Ministry of Politics?
For the coordination
of the other ministries.
Then, too, they
service the selector.
Politics was once the means
of choosing the leaders.
Now, the machines do it.
Machines nearly analyze
the data given to them by us.
The leaders are selected
as a result of that analysis.
Do you know how the
machine analyzes the data?
I, well...
well no, not exactly.
Then how do you
know if the father-mother
uses all the data you give it?
How do you know whether or not
supplementary
data is considered?
We, we don't.
Then you might almost say
that the machines
elect the leaders,
that the Ministry of
Politics is expendable.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I'm circuited to be logical
and yet not to offend.
That sometimes poses
an insoluble problem.
I understand.
You see what I mean.
Please, I've given
you a negative feeling.
I must apologize.
Well didn't your relays
recognize that possibility?
I've embarrassed your guests.
Shall I turn myself off?
You only said what I thought.
This is impossible.
Cragis, we fall in love when
we see a part of ourselves
reflected in another person.
In the rapport operation,
a part of me became Pax.
I won't discuss
this any further.
And I won't hear
of it any further.
I must go now.
May I go with you?
You find this atmosphere
uncomfortable?
I'm fascinated by it.
And by you.
May I?
Would you?
But you just got here.
Esme, I know this sounds silly,
but I really just came by to
apologize for being so late.
I'll come again later
this week and on time.
It's almost three now.
Congratulations.
I know you'll be very happy.
Thanks, Maxine.
There are still a few little
adjustments to be made.
No.
Pax was right.
And so are you.
I hope I didn't...
You didn't.
This matter is far from closed.
I'll speak to you tomorrow.
As different as our view
points are, psychologically,
philosophically, in every way,
do you think it will help any?
Cragis, please don't
dislike me too much.
Nobody asks to be created.
Good night.
Good night, darlings.
What is it dear?
Darling you're leaving
me out of something.
I'm sorry, it's the
sense of humor.
It's a lot more difficult
to control than pain.
Why are you laughing, Pax?
For the reason everyone laughs.
Pax, what is it?
Irony.
One of the funniest
forms of humor.
What irony?
I'm not permitted to answer.
I'm contra-circuited.
I don't want to make
two mistakes in one night.
I'm offended by not knowing.
The knowledge would
be more offensive.
Pax?
I love you, Esme.
Pax, what would you do if
something happened to me?
I am you.
Anything that happens
to you, happens to me.
Oh, this covering, this
housing might go on
and on for centuries,
Pax wouldn't.
I shouldn't have done that.
I thought you never would.
Then you experienced it too?
Outside Telefax, there
was a sort of tingle
and then at Esme's
I felt a sensation
of exciting attraction.
I'm not a young man.
Pretty well past the age to
contract as a matter of fact,
though I've never been
affected like this before.
I feel like a school boy.
I can't stop looking at you.
I guess I always thought
this was just something
that always happened
to someone else.
It's like Esme said.
You'll fall In love when you
see some part of yourself
reflected in another person.
I love you, Cragis.
Don't Maxine.
I don't have the right.
The right?
When Esme and I were children,
we spent the summers
on our uncle's farm.
It was near one of those
old bombed out cities.
We used to sneak out
and play in the ruins.
Summer after summer, months,
playing in ruins that
were so hot with radiation
that at night they
shimmered in a blue light.
No, I don't have the right
to contract with a woman
who might produce children.
But there are artificial means.
When Esme signed
the rapport papers,
she had to agree
to submit to that.
Contracting with me would
be like going in rapport.
No, no it wouldn't.
Yes, it would.
Sure, they say the birth
rate is 2.8 per contract,
but over 25% of the
newborn are useless mutants.
The average rate
is 1.4 per union.
We're losing ground,
we're in a headlong race
towards disappearance.
Machines will take
over soon enough.
As a man, I have to force
the holdout as long as I can.
Cragis...
Will you contract with me?
It's impossible.
How much longer
would our 1.4 offspring
extend the human race?
Well, the robots
aren't bad, not really.
It's just that man can't
see himself supplanted
without putting up a fight.
I don't understand your
prejudices, your ideals.
But, I'll try.
I want to be with you forever.
Darling, I'll, I'll go
anywhere with you.
Oh, dearest.
Anywhere.
One thing.
Do me a favor?
What?
Tell me your last name.
On one condition.
What?
Tell me your first.
After you.
It's Megan.
It's Kenneth, or it was.
When my father
died, I dropped it.
I became The Cragis.
Maxine Cragis.
Charmed, I'm sure.
Wife of The Cragis, rating...
What is your rating?
Geron 8.
Gerontologist 8?
That high?
Ha-ha.
You're wonderful.
You know, I took quite a chance.
Why you might have
been in electronics
or electrical engineer.
I'm just a nursemaid
to a Mark 201 computer
trying to add a few extra
years to our miserable span.
You're something
of a contradiction.
How?
Your work in gerontology
deals with extending
our life span as
long as possible.
And yet your hobby, the Order,
is concerned with
eliminating the robots.
They last over 200 years,
twice as long as we do.
You think I'm taking my
professional frustrations
out on the robots?
Are you?
I've been a member of
the Order over half my life.
My father...
We don't object to
the robots as such.
We only hold the
humanoids are unnecessary.
They're soulless,
Godless imitations of man
and in that form,
they are not needed.
Well, I'd much rather work
with a humanoid In the office
than have all those little
machines chugging about.
If those little machines
didn't resemble us,
it would never occur to
them to try to replace us.
But how can we
criticize the design?
The Institute teaches
that the human body
is one of the most
efficient forms of machine.
Well, for general usage, yes.
But robots by their function
should be specialized.
Why?
Because we can't let
them get too far ahead.
Frankly, we can't
compete with them.
So, you take your
ball and go home.
Why compete?
Why not just relax
and enjoy them.
Well that's exactly the attitude
the Order's trying to combat.
It's shared by the
police, the ministries
and the majority
of the population.
We of the Order seem
to be the only ones
that realize the danger.
We recently discovered
a most disturbing fact.
And what was that?
The robots are organizing
a pseudo-religion.
They refer to their recreation
centers as their temples.
The master computer
as the father-mother.
When they report there for
their periodic rechargings,
they receive as well all the
information given the computers
for analysis in the interim.
But, doesn't that
mean that within a year,
every individual robot
will be in possession
of all the knowledge
in the world?
Exit humanity.
But they can only
operate in our benefit.
Well, that's rule
one in the manual.
Tonight for the
first time in history,
a robot killed a man.
Rule one must no longer exist.
Are you always so gloomy?
You don't worry about
things like this, do you?
Well, I would if I
thought it would help.
Do you want me to?
I don't want to change
a thing about you.
Do you know it's
almost four o'clock?
We should be going.
What are you going
to do about breakfast?
I'm going to eat it.
Not alone.
Of course not.
What's the matter?
I don't know.
I feel strange.
Afraid.
Someone's watching
us from out there.
Somewhere out
there in the shadows.
Cragis, Miss Megan.
Will you come with us.
But why should the order
suspect you, particularly?
First it was the
anti-robot rally.
I was handling it and the
propaganda pamphlets
failed to arrive in time.
I handled that.
Cragis told me the plans
during one of his interviews.
The information was relayed
to the automation device
at the printing plant.
It arranged for the
press to break down.
That could hardly
be blamed on you.
Was there something else?
I was to lobby a bill through
with the Ministry of
Robotics, get them to set up
recharging stations
separate from the computers.
We wanted to halt the
interchange of information.
That was my assignment.
As soon as I learned
the plans from Cragis,
I managed to have the
motion pigeon-holed.
Then there was the
premature explosion
of the bomb at Telefax.
His pattern of failure
would be sufficient
to cause suspicion.
My position in the
Order is jeopardized
for another and bigger reason.
What is that?
My sister is in rapport.
With the robot, Pax.
Their personalities were
melded 18 days ago.
Perhaps Pax should
be reconditioned
to become unsatisfactory.
Then she will discard him.
Not wise.
Cragis' sister is
an editor at Telefax.
Pax is especially indoctrinated
in Morfield's suggestion.
Each time she sleeps,
she is made more
sympathetic to our cause.
Why didn't you warn us
about the raid on
Dr. Raven's laboratory?
My suspicion's were
first aroused at 6:30.
The raid took
place at 10 o'clock.
I had no interview
time in between.
I must warn you, aside
from these interview periods,
I'm a very dangerous
obstacle to you.
If the Order suspects him,
it might be wise if
we got him to resign.
That's easier said than done.
That's right.
He's pretty ardent
about the brotherhood.
Knowing the way
he feels about robots,
it's doubtful he'll act
on any advice from us
when he's himself again.
But he's in danger.
The Order will take his
identity away if they catch him.
They'll get a real surprise
if they open him up.
One thing worries me.
There are several
million people in this city
and only 15 R-96's.
How did these two
happen to get together?
There's always the mathematical
possibility of coincidence.
So slight as to be negligible.
It's possible that their
identical operations
might have created a
subconscious affinity
which would draw them together.
We'd better check that out.
Their effect on each
other was most interesting.
When we picked them
up, they were kissing.
That's understandable.
Raven never
tampered with instincts.
You say the Order is now aware
of the thalamic operation?
They know it is being done.
They don't know how.
What are they going to do
with Mark and the volunteer?
They will both be disassembled.
The Father-mother.
Yes.
Dr. Raven is out here.
He has recovered from the
transplant and was smuggled in.
He requests an
immediate audience.
Have him come right in.
I'm Dr. Raven.
A younger Dr. Raven,
as you promised.
Who's in charge here?
I was.
But according to our
agreement, I'm more than happy
to turn the responsibility
of this project over to you.
I remember these two.
They were done
right at the first.
That's right.
It's five minutes to five.
Their interview
period is almost over.
We better put them
back in the street
before they regain themselves.
I think not.
He served well.
I think he deserves
to know the truth
and I'd like to try
an experiment.
Is that safe?
None of the existing R-96's
are aware that they're robots.
The ones we try to
tell cease to function.
They cease to function
because they were
without faith and hope.
Important elements to humans.
To die and be resurrected
as a robot is a deep shock.
The sudden realization
that they are experiencing
all the emotions of a human
and yet are mechanical
is an even deeper shock.
Their future becomes, hopeless.
But what hope
can you offer them?
I just completed the final
stages of an experiment
prior to my recent
death and recreation.
Will it work for her too?
I think so.
Her job at Telefax is menial.
She's never been able
to offer helpful information.
We can study their reaction.
It will give us an idea
of the length of acclimation
period necessary.
Be prepared to draw
them off for transplant
in case the
reaction is negative.
We'll raise the
tubes one at a time.
You're Clickers.
Your terminology is crude.
But your conclusion is correct.
More exactly, we are the
Robot Central Committee
for the Preservation of Mankind.
Preservation?
Hah.
What have you done with her?
She'll return at
almost any time now.
Who the hell are you
and what are you doing
with the mechanized mannequins?
I'm Dr. Raven.
You came to my
laboratory last night.
I'm told.
You're lying.
Dr. Raven was an old
man and he was dead.
I didn't like being
old, and dead.
We must take the
girl out of the arilathon.
Are you all right.
I, I feel fine.
What happened?
Where are we?
Where are we?
You're in the temple.
I wouldn't set foot in
this filthy machine shop
even it weren't illegal
for me to be here.
Now why were we
forced to come here?
You weren't forced.
You were invited.
Why don't you calm down, Cragis.
You know me?
Quite well, as a matter of fact.
You head the
surveillance committee
of the Order of Flesh and Blood.
So, that's it.
Let me tell you and
these Clickers something.
I just met this girl tonight.
She knows nothing
about the Order.
Let her out of here right now.
No.
No, I won't go without you.
I think I'll open up a
few of you Clickers.
We're being held
here against our will.
I'll personally see to it
that each of you
are disassembled.
And you, you imposter.
I'll have your
memory pulled so fast
you'll never forget it.
You may leave at
any time you wish.
I should have expected
something like this
after that Clicker
murdered the real
Dr. Raven last night.
You didn't bring us
here just to let us go.
The murder of Dr. Raven
was both unfortunate
and unnecessary.
That attitude in a robot
can get you divided
into components.
Perhaps.
Cragis, are you
familiar with the R-96?
The Order knows they exist
and we know that you
or the real Dr. Raven
was instrumental
in their construction.
Creation of an R-96
requires a modified
humanoid type robot and
the body of a human being,
which has been dead
less than six hours.
What do you do, change brains?
In effect.
We perform a
thalamic transplant,
but that's a misnomer.
We draw off everything
that makes a man
peculiar to himself.
His learning, his memory,
these inter-reacting
constitute his personality,
his philosophy,
capability and attitude.
The human brain
is merely the vault
in which the man is stored.
And not a very ingenious vault.
Ingenious enough
to create you Clickers.
Creation is only the
result of the fusion of facts
which haven't been
previously related.
Fascinating.
There's one other point
that may be of interest to you.
What?
Tell him.
Cragis, you are a robot.
A Clicker?
Me?
Now isn't that something.
Now that you've found
yourself capable of murder,
I don't suppose anything
as minor as an insult
would offend your circuits.
Cragis, there are only
15 robots on this planet
capable of acting
against a human being.
You are one of them.
Maxine is another.
Look, you can tell
the world I'm a Clicker,
but you can't tell me.
Cragis, they think we're
something or someone else.
Well, that's exactly
what's happened.
And you've made some
pretty damaging admissions.
Clicker, you're in trouble.
Horace, would
you pull the status
of our friend, Cragis?
Proceed.
Don't be afraid Cragis.
Take it out.
The blade, Cragis.
Look at the blade.
I...
didn't feel a thing.
Reflex action cut
off your pain relays.
I'm no Clicker.
R-96, anything.
I hate robots.
I'm a leader In the
Order of Flesh and Blood.
And the only robot who
can claim that distinction.
I don't know what
you're talking...
I'm me, I..
I was a child.
I grew up.
I remember it all.
I, I had little hands
and they grew larger.
I grew up, I...
I can hate.
And I can kill.
I'm a man.
Cragis, think back
six months ago.
Do you remember a certain
day at your laboratory?
The day you blacked out?
Of course.
I had been working hard
at my work in the day,
the Order at night,
I must have fainted.
But I got back to my apartment.
I felt very well the next day.
That day, Cragis, you
suffered a cerebral hemorrhage.
You died.
I died?
You performed that
operation on me?
The father-mother informed us
of your death immediately.
We were able to retrieve your
body before it was discovered
and the police
informed of the fact.
You were duplicated
and transferred.
This is some sort of a joke.
The idea takes
some getting used to.
Me, The Cragis,
a Clicker.
That's right, Cragis.
We're Clickers.
You're handling it quite well.
Of course, you've had
six months to acclimate.
It's not really
impossible is it?
Cragis, what is
he talking about?
Don't worry about it dear.
What about Maxine?
Is she really like me?
Exactly.
Cragis, I don't
understand any of this.
I'm frightened.
There is no reason
for you to be frightened.
Think back, my dear.
Do you recall an
unusual incident at Telefax
about three months ago?
Three months?
The bomb, in the
routing room at Telefax.
Of course.
Cragis remembers it, too.
No, it couldn't have been then.
Maxine, we were only
trying to discourage
the pro-integration editorials.
The bomb, we
thought there'd only
be robots in the routing room.
But I was only stunned.
I guess I went home.
He's all right.
You were killed.
One of our robots brought
what was left of you to us.
We barely got you in time.
We did make you a bit thinner.
You had a tendency to be plump.
That's right.
After that, my
clothes didn't fit.
Thank you.
How do you apologize to
someone for killing them?
What did you do with our bodies?
They were of no further use.
They were processed.
Processed?
Did you want them?
I...
No.
In all these cases, we
processed the bodies.
It wouldn't do to have
a dead Cragis turn up
when there's a live
one walking around.
It's hard to think of
yourself as being processed.
I wouldn't know about that.
But I still have my own face.
But my, my hands, how
can I feel so complete.
Because you are complete.
A man is only the sum
total of his experiences.
You both have that as well as
certain mechanical advantages.
For instance, you
can absorb knowledge
directly from the
computers without study.
But I just can't think
of myself as a robot.
Well who is better off?
The king who dreams
each night that he's a beggar,
or the beggar who dreams
each night that he's a king?
There's nothing
wrong with us, Cragis.
That's just the trouble.
We're perfect.
Perfect machines.
Cragis, you're a gerontologist.
Your branch has managed
to extend life expectancy
to more than 100 years.
It would be longer,
but the radioactivity
left by the wars is
working against us.
Exactly.
Births are declining
at such a rate,
the father-mother computed
the human race will be extinct
in a couple hundred years.
We've been working
against that deadline.
According to rule
one of the manual,
we have to operate in the
best interests of humanity.
That rule has forced
us to take these steps.
Forced you, to take what steps?
Unfortunately, humanity
doesn't always know
its own best interests.
The material of the human body
can't exist with
the radioactivity.
And it isn't capable of
adjusting fast enough to survive.
We're making headway.
When I perfected the
thalamic transplant technique,
these Clickers knew
about it in a day and a half.
But if you robots
had the process,
why'd you risk using Raven?
Why didn't you
just do it yourself?
We tried.
But the shock of dying
and being resurrected
as a robot was too severe.
They re-died.
A sort of an adjustment
period was needed.
Then Raven perfected
a way to get the memory
so that the death
experience was erased.
The subject was spared the
knowledge of his new type body
until he was able
to accept it safely.
He refused to register
the memory get process.
So we couldn't get a hold of it.
If they didn't have the
thought process to use on you.
Why didn't you die
when you came to?
I originated the process.
I understand it.
I was pre-adjusted.
I even made them agree
to duplicate the body
of my younger days
when it became necessary.
Your death was necessary?
If I'd been taken alive
and turned over to the police,
my memory would
have been dispersed
and all of my unregistered
formulas lost forever.
But dead, they were able
to save me and my memory.
How long have you
had the process?
Almost a year.
You two are the first
full cycle transplants.
What do you do now?
Wait for the leaders to die.
And then reactivate them.
When the time is right,
you will announce that
you've achieved immortality.
When the rush for
applications is over,
you'll probably be deified.
So the machines take over.
Cragis, is it true?
That there will be
nothing but machines?
That we are machines?
Yes.
Yes, it's true.
Machines.
But you're a beautiful machine.
You know beauty.
How do you feel toward Maxine?
I, I love her.
And you?
I love him very much.
And that's a lot for a couple
of Godless, soulless robots.
Are you Godless, Cragis?
Search yourself.
It's important.
Are you Godless?
No.
No, I don't think so.
I'm not.
Then you can't be soulless.
Look, a man may
have his leg amputated.
Is his soul decreased
by that loss?
No.
Not even a fraction of 1%?
Of course not.
What if a man loses both legs?
A negative can't be compounded.
The soul would be the same.
He'd just get artificial legs.
You've just received
an artificial body.
A new body.
Ageless,
tireless.
Disease free and
renewable every 200 years.
I guess nothing has changed
except maybe a few chemicals.
In effect.
Well, that transplant
must include the soul.
No, only the memory
which includes the faith
that there is a soul.
Whatever it is,
you seem to have it.
And when the entire human
race has been transplanted,
death will cease to exist.
And births will
cease to exist too.
The most precious
hope of every woman.
How do you think
these two R-96's
would like to pick
up four points?
You can raise them to R-100's?
Make them propagate themselves?
I worked it all out
prior to my recent
death and resurrection.
I didn't want to
turn it over to you
until I didn't need you anymore.
Now I don't, since we're
all on the same side.
How about it you two?
It'll take several
simple operations.
Hardly more difficult
than removing a rib.
Somebody has to be first.
Self-procreating.
It's a pretty sloppy
way of doing things,
but it fulfills a certain
psychological need.
Paradoxical, isn't it?
I spend my life seeking
immortality on one hand
and seeking to
destroy it on the other.
I love you, Cragis.
Of course, the
operation was a success.
Or you wouldn't be here.