The Miserly Robot

"Nestor," said Harry Lowndes to the robot who had entered the study in answer to the pull on the bell cord, "I must have an advance on my allowance."

Nestor stopped just inside the door. He was a small and chunky robot, much older than the slender six-tube types presently in use. His somber clothing, unlike the gaily clad, stupid Cornusian robots, gave evidence that he was a production of the Rotulian era. A blue-serge suit decked his blocky metal frame. A conservative black and white zebraic tie, a type popular with professional men, was knotted neatly into his spotlessly white button-down collar and draped in graceful folds over his aud screen. Thick, horn-rimmed focals perched on his stub nose and magnified his magenta eye sockets.

He was carrying two bulky ledgers, a huge well-worn legal-looking volume and half a dozen much-thumbed copies of the Uni-Worlds Financial Journal. As Lowndes finished speaking Nestor shuffled toward the desk, set the armload down and stepped back, removing his black bowler and exposing to Lowndes' view a worn, blue-gray pate from which tiny specks of aconium flaked--a sign of rapid aging in the Rotulian robot.

"Master Lowndes," said Nestor, "an advance will be impossible. According to the terms of your late father's will--"

Lowndes interrupted, red-faced. He slammed his fist down on the desk top. "All right. All right, Nestor," he growled. "So my father left you, his financial adviser, in charge of the estate. I'm not complaining. You're making kredits. But can't you loosen up a little bit? All I need is a five hundred advance on next month's allowance."

Nestor leaned forward to place the black bowler on the corner of the desk. "I'm sorry, Master," he said, straightening back up slowly. "The will allows you one thousand kredits."

"I know what the will allows me," yelled Lowndes.

"Master," said Nestor, "I am trying to preserve the estate. Your interests are paramount with--"

"Nestor, I've got to have five hundred kredits!"

The robot did not answer. His aud lights flickered.

Lowndes cooled down. "Nestor," he asked, "can't you find a loophole in the terms of the will?" He pointed to the legal-looking volume setting on the desk. "How about digging through that?"

Nestor did not answer. His aud lights still flickered fitfully.

"Nestor, I am sorry I spoke shortly to you."

Silence.

Lowndes stared at the motionless robot. "Now look here Nestor, you heard me apologize."

Still silence.

"Please, Nestor," Lowndes pleaded. "I know you can figure out a way. Just this once. Please Nestor."

Suddenly Nestor's cranial lights lit up. His aud lights flashed on. He looked like a Christmas tree. His relays began to click-clack. His aud box hummed. He sounded like a swarm of bees.

Lowndes stared in amazement. Nestor's deep thought processes never failed to fascinate him. As he watched, abruptly all the lights cut out. The relays gave a final "clack." For a minute there was silence. Then Nestor spoke: "Master, I have converted a majority of the holdings ... yet five hundred cash kredits remain in Central National Repository. Under provisions of section four, paragraph seven, sub-paragraph eighteen of the Quarto Code, this amount could be carried to the ledgers as a gift to you, deductible. Your signature would not be required for the cash transfer."

Lowndes eyes gleamed. "I'm proud of you, Nestor. How long will it take to get the kredits?"

"Master, as I mentioned, I have converted all but--"

"For pete's sake Nestor, I've got to have those kredits by seven tonight!"

"Master, please! Allow me to explain the disposition of the converted assets. I am certain that we are facing a recession comparable to that suffered by the ancients in the twenty-ninth year of the twentieth century. Therefore, I have withdrawn--"

Again Lowndes broke in. "Look, Nestor, tell me later. Let's get the five hundred!"

"Perhaps we should reconsider, Master. Even though legal, this action is irregular."

"Reconsider! Whadya mean, reconsider! You figured it out, didn't you? Nestor, someday you'll blow your tubes from worry. Now how about getting those kredits!"

"All right, Master. I shall go." The robot shuffled from the study, his tempite joints creaking with age.

The head and shoulders of an attractive female appeared on the screen. Her shoulder length auburn hair framed a face dominated by green eyes and sulky red lips.

"Judy," said Lowndes enthusiastically, "I was just thinking of you."

"Don't 'Judy' me, you beast," she flung back at him.

"Why, sweets, what's wrong?" he asked innocently.

"You know well enough what's wrong," she flared. "I waited for you at the Club last night. But you never showed!" Her temper, clued by her auburn hair, was showing. "And I waited for my birthday present! But I suppose it never occurred to you"--she stressed the you nastily--"that last evening was also my birthday!"

"Sweets, I'm sorry." He sidled away from the green eyes glaring at him and added, "I'll see you tonight at eight-thirty."