The Creation of the Humanoids (1962) Script

(Several voices speaking at same time)

(Narrator) 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 integrated 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 until 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.


The robot that didn't talk had a forged card.


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.


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.


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.

And 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, ten males and six females.

At times, I think we should turn the entire program over to humans.

It really shouldn't be the responsibility of robots.

But 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?


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.


Dr. Raven?


Ultima Thule.



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, and the fist clench.

What circuitry are you using?

Uh, 1.3 impulsion to the motor neuron and, uh, 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 and 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?

Ten 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?


You see, we are brothers, aren't we?

I ought to no 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 brotherhood 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 you rating, lowered.

I'm a captain of the Order and my professional rank is 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 affect 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 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.

(Pounding on door)

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 metallic, 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?


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 rights.

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 6:00 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, when 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.


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 though twenty, 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.

They're 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 rescission of the prime law.

They can't hurt us?

There's been only a miswiring.

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.


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?


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?


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 ceased 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.


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 bare 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.


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 Stedford 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.


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.

You're answer is no?

My answer is go ahead and try.

Don't think I won't, he...

he can't leave without your permission.


You mean, no?

I mean, no.



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?


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?


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.


By humiliating yourself.

You know I must consider your well being above anything else.

That makes me feel better.


Can't you see they're killing us with consideration?

Spoiling us into atrophy.

What would father have thought about this?

Oh, 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 past time.

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.



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.


Maxine, how are you?


You must be Pax.

You must be right.

You're too lovely to be wrong.

Here, lot me take your surcoat.


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, your 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, you're eyes are sticking out like a snail's.

Oh, I'm, I'm sorry.

This is my brother, Cragis.


I'm so happy to meet your.

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, 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's 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.


I know you'll be very happy.

Thanks, Maxine.

There are still a few little adjustments to be made.


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?


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.


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, and then at Esme's I, 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 as 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, we're in a headlong race towards disappearance.

Machines will take over soon enough.

As a man, I, I have to force the holdout as long as I can.


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.



One thing.

Do me a favor?


Tell me your last name.

On one condition.


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?


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.


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 form of machine.

Well, for general usage, yes.

But robots by their function should be specialized.


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 recharging's, 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 4:00?

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.


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 10:00.

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 advise 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 affect 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 a volunteer?

They will both be disassembled.

The Father-mother.


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.

You're terminology is crude.

But you're conclusion is correct.

More exactly, we are the Robot Central Committee for the Preservation of Mankind.



What have you done with her?

She'll return at almost any time now.

Who the hell are you and what do you do 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, 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.


Cragis, are you familiar with the R-967?

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.


There's one other point that may be of interest to you.


Tell him.

Cragis, you are a robot.

A Clicker?


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 happening.

And you've made some pretty damaging admissions.

Clicker, you're in trouble.

Horace, would you pull the status of our friend, Cragis?



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 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 and 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?


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.


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.

You're 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.


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 it's 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 preadjusted.

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, it's true.


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, 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?


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 two hundred 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 for everyone.

How do you think these two R-96's would like to pick up four points?

You can raise them 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.


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.