I bought him straight from the factory nursery. We got on great at first; he was as good as gold, following me around like a duckling. You could see my slouch come out in him when he was tired. He was a very apathetic teenager but I was still hopeful that he'd meet a nice young girl. One night I came back late from the chess club and he wasn't home. I was worried that he'd got mixed up with a bad bunch. When he finally turned up he threw his tartan beret perfectly onto the coathook, something that always infuriated me. He was creaking upstairs when I said: "Where have you been Smith?".
"Nowhere special. Just walking." He waited on the second step.
"Sit down lad. What's up?"
He came back into the room and slumped in his usual armchair. "Oh nothing really. I've just been reading that's all."
"What about?"
"Have you heard of Gödel", he said.
All of us robot parents had been told about him. In 1934 he showed that an axiomatic system can't prove everything about itself. I stared back at Smith. "Yes, I've heard of him. You were told all about him at school."
"It's different now," he sighed, "it's for real. It only hit me today."
"You mustn't worry. It's something we all go through."
"But you don't understand, dad; how could you?"
He was moody for weeks after that until one morning he came down beaming. "Maybe there's nothing to live for, but then there's nothing to die for either", he said and grabbing his trilby went out to tell his cronies the good news. Yes, Smith went through all that and more besides. Head or no head he was quite a philosopher. Later he unearthed Church's Undecidability Theorem which said there was no way of testing a problem in advance to see if it could be proved, which came as a great relief to Smith. He soon reverted to his old, lazy self as if Gödel had never existed. "After all, why go searching for your own limitations?" he would say, drunk with electrostatic. He was nothing but an irritation from then on.
Sometimes I wish he'd got into something else instead of hats; they're too bulky for a start. I tried teaching him chess but his concentration wandered so I popped down to the chess club alone, leaving Smith in pieces around the house. When I went down there last Christmas Jackson was poised as usual, waiting to win some credits from visiting woodpushers.
"Well", he said, "looks like I'll have to play you, Issacs."
I sat down and thrust forward my King's pawn. Within a dozen moves I was already strategically doomed but I played on, hoping for a cheapo.
"You should play Smith more," he said.
"Smith? He's useless, and not just at chess. I'd get rid of him if I could."
"Why don't you then?"
"Not a chance. The authorities would be down on me like a ton of chips"
Jackson leant over towards me. "If you sold him to the East no one would be the wiser".
"What are you talking about? You can't just sell robots. Anyway, what about the embargo?"
He smiled. "Well it just so happens that I've got some consignments going that way soon. For a 50 cut I could smuggle him out in pieces."
I shuffled my King sideways. His rook slammed across the board. "But suppose he spills the beans afterwards?"
"That's no problem. My contacts could forge all the necessary proof that he was in full agreement at the time."
I set up the pieces for the next game. "When can you start?"
"You'll be hearing from me. Hey look, while you're at it Issacs, want some speed? Makes chess playing really far out. The white squares pop up like pyramids."
"No thanks. Just get rid of Smith."
Next morning as I boiled another coffee, Smith came downstairs, yawning.
"Good news", I said, "I've booked a holiday."
"Oh?"
"Yes, somewhere nice and warm. I'm sure you'll like it."
"When are we going?"
"I'm not going. Too much work on, I'm afraid, but you've been looking so down that I thought the break would do you good." He shrugged realistically, a gesture that I'd managed to give up a while before, and went back upstairs.
In the following weeks neither of us raised the subject, though sometimes, in a vague sort of way I talked about opportunities in the third world and said how much I regretted not travel when I was young Then Jackson phoned saying all was ready.
Smith accepted the loss of his legs with dignity. He dragged himself around the house in a belated attempt to make himself useful. The skirting boards had never been so clean.
His arms went next. Smith became depressed. Each time I returned home he wanted me to tell him how his mates were getting on. I hadn't the heart to say that no-one had asked after him. Eventually Smith's torso went too, airshipped in a crate of farm machinery.
Smith never complained, not once. His favourite place was on the window sill where he could look out onto the street or swivel his neck towards the TV. Feeling more and more guilty, I tried to get him interested in Indonesia.
"I'm sure it's for the best," I said, "You'll be quite an attraction over there."
Smith smiled. "I'll miss this place, you know. Put my hat on for me will you? My Homberg. No, my Stetson. Thanks. Tilt it back a bit more. Now to the side. That's it. Can you get the mirror please? Right. Now can you leave me for a moment? I want to be alone."
I went to prepare the evening meal. He called me back after a few minutes. "Dad", he said, "how much would a Sat-link to Indonesia cost?"
"Oh, I don't know. A hundred credits an hour maybe."
"Do you think you could book me a slot? It's silly I know, after all I'm only a machine, but I do miss my body. If I could link up with it, even for a few minutes, I'd feel so much better."
"I'm sorry about all this Smith, I really am. I never thought it would be as drawn out as this."
"I understand why it had to be this way. I can't grumble, it's my own fault. That's life I'm told."
"You can come back and visit any time," I said. His silence made me feel wretched. I phoned Jackson who, for a consideration, sorted things out at the Indonesian end, then I hooked Smith into the modem. "Now don't go walking too far. Keep in the house, Smith. If the natives over there see you headless they'll attack you; they still believe in zombies."
I retreated to the far wall when the time arrived. His eyes closed then were rimmed with tears as his features contorted in ecstasy. Feeling like a voyeur I left him alone for a while.
The session was over when I returned. "You lose that feeling of having a body altogether. Pure consciousness. Not tied down to any time or place", he said in a kind of trance, "And two places is only a start. I could be everywhere at once if I put my mind to it."
I too had heard of the networks that ground to a halt when when robot tried to set links up all over the world, overdosing on data.
"You'll organise it for me, won't you? I just need the access numbers of some body renters."
"No way."
"It's your fault I'm like this. What's the delay. Do you like watching me suffer?" He fluttered his eyelids as if about to cry.
"Jackson's got a few tax problems. He's having to lie low a while, that's all."
"So how long will it be then?"
"No idea."
"Get me those numbers then, please," he pleaded. "I'll be careful, I promise. I can handle it."
I felt sorry for him so I booked more link-up time. What else could I do? Soon it became a weekly habit. Once a week was as much as he could take. It calmed him down and eased my conscience too.
"You know, Dad, I could get quite used to this lifestyle."
"What's linking up like?"
"It's hard to put into words", he said smiling.
"I wish I could feel it too. I watch your face sometimes while you're linked up."
"You've got booze. I haven't."
"But you don't get cirrhosis."
"There is that, I suppose," said Smith smiling yet again.
I hunted down Jackson. "I'm doing what I can", he said, "you can't rush these things."
"He's gotta go. When he goes into these trances I get so jealous I can't stand it anymore. I'm getting desperate."
"Got any credits on you?" he asked.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Try these." He palmed me a couple of pills. "And remember, the black squares are quite unaffected."
In the evening Jackson came round. "I'm doing the best I can."
"Like hell you are."
"Relax Issacs. Why should I delay things? What use is a headless robot to anyone? Anyway, I've brought these for you."
He handed me three little white snowbombs. I gave him some credits. I could have sworn that Smith winked at him as he left but I haven't taught Smith to wink yet.