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.Wondering vaguely why even to bother with survival, I returned to my blankets (the birds had refused to budge) and again was soon asleep.In the morning the birds had gone.Hours passed with no sign of them; I began to wonder if they’d deserted me.After going into another ravinelike fissure to relieve myself, I was returning to the cave when a commotion arose from the oasis trail.The binoculars, steadied not too satisfactorily on a secondary rock formation, showed an unbelievable scene.The birds had caught and killed a fairly large rabbit and now were flinging it about like kittens playing with a dead mouse! It got tossed and apparently lost for a time under the stone outcropping of our first hiding place.Then the male retrieved it and dragged it a little way in the direction of our cave, only to abandon it on a level stretch of ground.With that both birds took off towards the oasis.I returned to the cave, shaking my head and mumbling to myself.Vegetarians, they had always disdained even the choicely chosen, hygienically packaged grubs and worms from their automatic feeder.And now? Poor things, unaccustomed to freedom, they’d eaten some toxic plant or berry and become crazed.The female returned in about a half an hour still damp from her bath at the oasis.In a state of controlled agitation she peered at the house, then flew a short distance back to check the trail to the oasis, then the house, then the trail.She’d begun urging me to a vantage point out of the cave but then flew directly into my face when I tried to stand up.Peeking over the rim of stones, I saw an Academy Patrol vehicle in front of the Cabin.Voices drifted up as two black-uniformed Academy policemen and two other males in desert hiking gear made their way along the riverbed.Each of the civilians had a hunting dog on a leash.Water still flowed in some quantity from last night’s storm and they split up, one policeman and a civilian with his dog taking one side, the others crossing to follow along the opposite side.“.all last night.still so much water around.no chance of finding anything now.”Grumbling, they passed below and were about opposite our first hiding place when out from it flew the male bird.He rose a few feet, lost altitude and fluttered weakly to the ground.The yapping dogs almost jerked their startled handlers off their feet.The civilians let slip the leashes and the dogs galloped toward the bird.Dragging a drooping wing, he struggled a short distance.Just as they leaped for him he managed to flutter up and glide unsteadily some distance farther, only to fall to earth once more.Again with mindless yips the dogs bounded forward for the kill, and again the bird eluded them.This time, however, he’d brought them to where they were standing upon the rabbit carcass.The dogs abandoned him and fell to fighting over the freshly killed meat.From a perch safely out of reach, the male bird, wing still drooping, watched the scene unfold—as did his mate and I from our vantage point.The men, yelling angrily, collared the dogs and jerked them away towards the trail.As they passed our first hiding place, one dog caught some of my scent—left there untouched on surfaces sheltered from the downpour.Baying frantically, he broke loose and ran to sniff the ground beneath the overhang.The men saw only the spattered blood and bits of fur left from the birds’ earlier premeditated tussling with the rabbit; they thought the dog was off on that course again.His handler charged in after him and dragged him out.The dog stupidly headed back in; the man let loose a heavy-booted, well-placed kick at the dog’s exposed rear parts.A thump, a yelp of pain, and that finished the investigation of the only clue left them.Oh, they all trekked up towards the oasis, of course, but soon came scuffling back in glum silence on their way out.The rest of that day and the next passed with no movement or sign of life from the house.I managed to find small pools of water to quench my thirst and paid no heed to the hunger which, ignored, soon left me.Late on the third day the birds decided it was safe and flew down into the courtyard to find what might be left of their food.Restless and jumpy during their long absence, I halfheartedly scolded them through my relief at their return.They were plump and contented once more and settled down near me for the night.A soft warbling between them and the female came over to give my ear lobe a gentle nip.It brought back with a terrible pang the night the male had done this to Vortex.I managed to thank her at some length, though, ruffling her topknot before letting her return to her mate.I’ve always been grateful to whatever Gods prompted me to do so; in the morning the birds did not awaken.Again no tears, and when, with shame, I knew they would not come, I sat pondering the cause of the birds’ dying.Their food might have been purposely poisoned, or maybe merely through exposure and spoilage it had become deadly to them.Or the rabbit might have carried disease against which they had no defense.Or—I was utterly alone now, abandoned, and my madness had begun—or, I thought, simplest of all: their hearts had been shut off.Of course! They, also, had been robots; I had loved them, and that was not permitted.So their hearts, too, had been stopped.“Miserable stinking dogs,” I ranted, “why don’t you turn my heart off?! Now I, too, am only a Robot and utterly useless at that.My Love is dead at your hands, so turn those same hands against me and let me die in peace.Now!”Mumbling with irritation when my demand was ignored, I drifted into feverish sleep.I awoke face up in the blazing sun and groggily rolled back into the shade of the cave’s interior, groaning at my various aches and bruises, trying to reason what had made me crawl outside.The voices! That was it! Male voices raised in the argument I could still hear even as their owners moved out of range.Some inner sense goaded me to get to the oasis.I began to follow along above the trail, keeping well back from the bluff’s edge.Stumbling, cursing my increasing weakness.Resting, then staggering on, only to fall and have to rest again.During one of these forced pauses I became aware of the noise.A dry, rhythmic, near-mechanical scraping would stop a moment, then continue.Something inside me twisted into a cold knot; it knew before I did what made that sound.I hurried on as best I could.The noise grew clearer, more unmistakable.I reached the point where I could peer over the edge.I didn’t have to; by that time I knew what was happening down there.But I had to see it.And did.And still do to this day [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]