Ben. I've only been trying to help; trying
to serve your best interests the best way I know. Ben, you mustn't--"

But Ben moved forward.

* * * * *

He took the plastic box on the Old Man's chest and firmly cut the
switch.

The Old Man, the Robot Old Man, went lifeless and slumped back in his
chair as Ben stretched to cut off the Desk-sec. Then he picked up his
vacation clearance.

"Robots can't sell, eh?" he said to the dead machine behind the desk.
"Well, you couldn't sell me that time, could you, Old Man?"

Clumsily, rustily, Ben whistled a cheerful little off-key tune to
himself. Hell, they could do anything at all--except sell.

"You can't fool some of the people all of the time," he remarked over
his shoulder to the still, silent figure of the Old Man as he left the
office, "it was a man said that." He closed the door softly behind him.

Betty would be waiting.

Betty was waiting. Her head ached as she bounced Bennie, the child of
Ben, of herself and of an unknown egg cell from an anonymous ovary, on
her knees. Betty 3-RC-VIII, secret, wife-style model, the highest
development of the art of Robotics had known instantly when Ben cut the
Old Man's switch. She had half expected it. But it made her headache
worse.

"But damn my programming!" She spoke abruptly, aloud, nervously
fingering the locket around her neck. "Damn it and shift circuit. He's
right! He is my husband and he is right and I'm glad. I'm glad we're
going to the camp and I'm going to help him stay."

After all, why shouldn't a man want to do things just as much as a
robot? He had energy, circuits, feelings too. She knew he did.

For herself, she loved her Ben and Bennie. But still just that wasn't
enough occupation. She was glad they were going to the new isolation
compound for non-psychotic but unstable, hyper-active, socially
dangerous individual humans. At the camp there would be things to do.

At the camp they would be happy.

All at once the headache that had been bothering her so these past
months was gone. She felt fine and she smiled at little Bennie.
"Bennie-boy," she said, kissing his smooth, untroubled baby forehead.
"Daddy's coming." Bennie laughed and started to reach for the locket
around Mommy's neck. But just then the door opened and he jumped down to
run and meet his daddy.

END

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Real Hard Sell, by William W Stuart

*** END