HELEN OLOY

LESTER DEL REY











I am an old man now, but I can still see Helen as Dave unpacked her, and still hear him gasp as he looked her over.
	Man, isnt she a beauty?
	She was beautiful, a dream in spun plastics and metals, something Keats might have seen dimly when he wrote his sonnet. If Helen of Troy had looked like that the Greeks must have been pikers when they launched only a thousand ships; at least, thats what I told Dave.
	Helen of Troy, eh? He looked at her tag. At least it beats this thing_K2W88. Helen . . . Mmmm . . . Helen of Ahoy.
	Not much swing to that, Dave. Too many unstressed syllables in the middle. How about Helen OLoy?
	Helen OLoy she is, Phil. And thats how it began_one part beauty, one part dream, one part science; add a stereo broadcast, stir mechanically, and the result is chaos.
	Dave and I hadnt gone to college together, but when I came to Messina to practice medicine I found him downstairs in a little robot repair shop. After that we began to pal around, and when I started going with one twin he found the other equally attractive, so we made it a foursome.
	When our business grew better, we rented a house near the rocket fieldnoisy but cheap, and the rockets discouraged apartment building. We liked room enough to stretch ourselves. I sup-
pose if we hadnt quarreled with them wed have married the twins in time. But Dave wanted to look over the latest Venusrocket attempt when his twin wanted to see a display stereo starring Larry Ainslee, and they were both stubborn. From then on we forgot the girls and spent our evenings at home.
	But it wasnt until Lena put vanilla on our steak instead of salt that we got off on the subject of emotions and robots. While Dave was dissecting Lena to find the trouble, we naturally mulled over the future of the mechs. He was sure that the robots would beat men someday, and I couldnt see it.
	Look here, Dave, I argued. You know Lena doesnt think not really. When those wires crossed, she could have corrected herself. But she didnt bother; she followed the mechanical impulse. A man might have reached for the vanilla, but when he saw it in his hand, hed have stopped. Lena has sense enough, but she has no emotions, no consciousness of self.
	All right, thats the big trouble with the mechs now. But well get around it, put in some mechanical emotions or something. He screwed Lenas head back on, turned on her juice. Go back to work, Lena, its nineteen oclock.
	Now, I specialized in endocrinology and related subjects. I wasnt exactly a psychologist, but I did understand the glands, secretions, hormones, and miscellanies that are the physical causes of emotions. It took medical science three hundred years to find out how and why they worked, and I couldnt see men duplicating them mechanically in much less time.
	I brought home books and papers to prove it, and Dave quoted the invention of memory coils and veritoid eyes. During that year we swapped knowledge until Dave knew the whole theory of endocrinology and I could have made Lena from memory. The more we talked, the less sure I grew about the impossibility of homo mechanensis as the perfect type.
	Poor Lena. Her cuproberyl body spent half its time in scattered pieces. Our first attempts were successful only in getting her to serve fried brushes for breakfast and wash the dishes in oleo oil. Then one day she cooked a perfect dinner with six wires crossed, and Dave was in ecstasy.
	He worked all night on her wiring, put in a new coil, and taught her a fresh set of words. And the next day she flew into a tantrum
and swore vigorously at us when we told her she wasnt doing her work right.
	Its a lie, she yelled, shaking a suction brush. Youre all liars. If you so-and-sos would leave me whole long enough, I might get something done around the place.
	When we had calmed her temper and got her back to work, Dave ushered me into the study. Not taking any chances with Lena, he explained. Well have to cut out that adrenal pack and restore her to normalcy. But weve got to get a better robot. A housemaid mech isnt complex enough.
	How about Dillards new utility models? They seem to combine everything in one.
	Exactly. Even so, well need a special one built to order, with a full range of memory coils. And out of respect to old Lena, lets get a female case for its works.
	The result, of course, was Helen. The Dillard people had performed a miracle and put all the works in a girl-modeled case. Even the plastic-and-rubberite face was designed for flexibility to express emotions, and she was complete with tear glands and taste buds, ready to simulate every human action, from breathing to pulling hair. The bill they sent with her was another miracle, but Dave and I scraped it together; we had to turn Lena over to an exchange to complete it, though, and thereafter we ate out.
	Id performed plenty of delicate operations on living tissues, and some of them had been tricky, but I still felt like a pre-med student as we opened the front plate of her torso and began to sever the leads of her nerves. Daves mechanical glands were all prepared, complex little bundles of radio tubes and wires that heterodyned on the electrical thought impulses and distorted them as adrenalin distorts the reaction of human minds.
	Instead of sleeping that night, we pored over the schematic diagrams of her structures, tracing the thought mazes of her wiring, severing the leaders, implanting the heterones, as Dave called them. And while we worked, a mechanical tape fed carefully prepared thoughts of consciousness and awareness of life and feeling into an auxiliary memory coil. Dave believed in leaving nothing to chance.
	It was growing light as we finished, exhausted and exultant. All that remained was the starting of her electrical power; like all the
Dillard mechs, she was equipped with a tiny atomotor instead of batteries, and once started she would need no further attention.
	Dave refused to turn her on. Wait until weve slept and rested, he advised. Im as eager to try her as you are, but we cant do much studying with our minds half dead. Turn in, and well leave Helen until later.
	Even though we were both reluctant to follow it, we knew the idea was sound. We turned in, and sleep hit us before the air conditioner could cut down to sleeping temperature. And then Dave was pounding on my shoulder.
	Phil! Hey, snap out of it!
	I groaned, turned over, and faced him. Well? . . . Uh! What is it? Did Helen
	No, its old Mrs. Van Styler. She visored to say her son has an infatuation for a servant girl, and she wants you to come out and give counterhormones. Theyre at the summer camp in Maine.
	Rich Mrs. Van Styler! I couldnt afford to let that account down, now that Helen had used up the last of my funds. But it wasnt a job I cared for.
	Counterhormones! Thathl take two weeks full time. Anyway, Im no society doctor, messing with glands to keep fools happy. My jobs taking care of serious trouble.
	And you want to watch Helen. Dave was grinning, but he was serious too. I told her itd cost her fifty thousand!
	Huh?
	And she said okay, if you hurried.
	Of course, there was only one thing to do, though I could have wrung fat Mrs. Van Stylers neck cheerfully. It wouldnt have happened if shed used robots like everyone elsebut she had to be different.
	Consequently, while Dave was back home puttering with Helen, I was racking my brain to trick Archy Van Styler into getting the counterhormones, and giving the servant girl the same. Oh, I wasnt supposed to, but the poor kid was crazy about Archy. Dave might have written, I thought, but never a word did I get.
	It was three weeks later instead of two when I reported that Archy was cured, and collected on the line. With that money in my pocket, I hired a personal rocket and was back in Messina in half an hour. I didnt waste time in reaching the house.
	As I stepped into the alcove, I heard a light patter of feet, and an eager voice called out, Dave, dear? For a minute I couldnt answer, and the voice came again, pleading, Dave?
	I dont know what I expected, but I didnt expect Helen to meet me that way, stopping and staring at me, obvious disappointment on her face, little hands fluttering up against her breast.
	Oh, she cried. I thought it was Dave. He hardly comes home to eat now, but Ive had supper waiting hours. She dropped her hands and managed a smile. Youre Phil, arent you? Dave told me about you when . . . at first. Im so glad to see you home, Phil.
	Glad to see you doing so well, Helen. Now, what does one say for light conversation with a robot? You said something about supper?
	Oh, yes. I guess Dave ate downtown again, so we might as well go in. Itll be nice having someone to talk to around the house, Phil. You dont mind if I call you Phil, do you? You know, youre sort of a godfather to me.
	We ate. I hadnt counted on such behavior, but apparently she considered eating as normal as walking. She didnt do much eating, at that; most of the time she spent staring at the front door.
	Dave came in as we were finishing, a frown a yard wide on his face. Helen started to rise, but he ducked toward the stairs, throwing words over his shoulder.
	Hi, Phil. See you up here later.
	There was something radically wrong with him. For a moment Id thought his eyes were haunted, and as I turned to Helen hers were filling with tears. She gulped, choked them back, and fell to viciously on her food.
	Whats the matter with him . . . and you? I asked.
	Hes sick of me. She pushed her plate away and got up hastily. Youd better see him while I clean up. And theres nothing wrong with me. And its not my fault, anyway. She grabbed the dishes and ducked into the kitchen; I could have sworn she was crying.
	Maybe all thought is a series of conditioned reflexesbut she certainly had picked up a lot of conditioning while I was gone. Lena in her heyday had been nothing like this. I went up to see if Dave could make any sense out of the hodgepodge.
	He was squirting soda into a large glass of apple brandy, and I saw that the bottle was nearly empty. Join me? he asked.
	It seemed like a good idea. The roaring blast of an ion rocket overhead was the only familiar thing left in the house. From the look around Daves eyes, it wasnt the first bottle hed emptied while I was gone, and there were more left. He dug out a new bottle for his own drink.
	Of course, its none of my business, Dave, but that stuff wont steady your nerves any. Whats gotten into you and Helen? Been seeing ghosts?
	Helen was wrong; he hadnt been eating downtownnor anywhere else. His muscles collapsed into a chain in a way that spoke of fatigue and nerves, but mostly of hunger. You noticed it, eh?
	Noticed it? The two of you jammed it down my throat.
	Uhmmm. He swatted at a nonexistent fly and slumped farther down in the pneumatic. Guess maybe I should have waited with Helen until you got back. But if that stereo cast hadnt changed
	Anyway, it did. And those mushy books of yours finished the job.
	Thanks. That makes it all clear.
	You know, Phil, Ive got a place up in the countryfruit ranch. My dad left it to me. Think Ill look it over.
	And thats the way it went. But finally, by much liquor and more perspiration, I got some of the story out of him before I gave him an amytal and put him to bed. Then I hunted up Helen and dug the rest of the story from her, until it made sense.
	Apparently as soon as I was gone Dave had turned her on and made preliminary tests, which were entirely satisfactory. She had reacted beautifullyso well that he decided to leave her and go down to work as usual.
	Naturally, with all her untried emotions, she was filled with curiosity and wanted him to stay. Then he had an inspiration. After showing her what her duties about the house would be, he set her down in front of the stereovisor, tuned in a travelogue, and left her to occupy her time with that.
	The travelogue held her attention until it was finished, and the station switched over to a current serial with Larry Ainslee, the same cute emoter whod given us all the trouble with the twins. Incidentally, he looked something like Dave.
	Helen took to the serial like a seal to water. This play-acting was a perfect outlet for her newly excited emotions. When that particular episode finished, she found a love story on another station and added still more to her education. The afternoon programs were mostly news and music, but by then shed found my books; and I do have rather adolescent taste in literature.
	Dave came home in the best of spirits. The front alcove was neatly swept, and there was the odor of food in the air that hed missed around the house for weeks. He had visions of Helen as the superefilcient housekeeper.
	So it was a shock to him to feel two strong arms around his neck from behind and hear a voice all aquiver coo into his ears, Oh, Dave, darling, Ive missed you so, and Im so thrilled that youre back. Helens technique may have lacked polish, but it had enthusiasm, as he found when he tried to stop her from kissing him. She had learned fast and furiously-_also, Helen was powered by an atomotor.
	Dave wasnt a prude, but he remembered that she was only a robot, after all. The fact that she felt, acted, and looked like a young goddess in his arms didnt mean much. With some effort, he untangled her and dragged her off to supper, where he made her eat with him to divert her attention.
	After her evening work, he called her into the study and gave her a thorough lecture on the folly of her ways. It must have been good, for it lasted three solid hours and covered her station in life, the idiocy of stereos, and various other miscellanies. When he had finished, Helen looked up with dewy eyes and said wistfully, I know, Dave, but I still love you.
	Thats when Dave started drinking.
	It grew worse each day. If he stayed downtown, she was crying when he came home. If he returned on time, she fussed over him and threw herself at him. In his room, with door locked, he could hear her downstairs pacing up and down and muttering; and when he went down, she stared at him reproachfully until he had to go back up.
	I sent Helen out on a fake errand in the morning and got Dave up. With her gone, I made him eat a decent breakfast and gave him a tonic for his nerves. He was still listless and moody.
	Look here, Dave, I broke in on his brooding. Helen isnt
human, after all. Why not cut off her power and change a few memory coils? Then we can convince her that she never was in love and couldnt get that way.
	You try it. I had that idea, but she put up a wail that would wake Homer. She says it would be murderand the hell of it is that I cant help feeling the same about it. Maybe she isnt human, but you wouldnt guess it when she puts on that martyred look and tells you to go ahead and kill her.
	We never put in substitutes for some of the secretions present in man during the love period.
	I dont know what we put in. Maybe the heterones backfired or something. Anyway, shes made this idea so much a part of her thoughts that wed have to put in a whole new set of coils.
	Well, why not?
	Go ahead. Youre the surgeon of this family. Im not used to fussing with emotions. Matter of fact, since shes been acting this way Im beginning to hate work on any robot. My business is going to blazes.
	He saw Helen coming up the walk and ducked out the back door for the monorail express. Id intended to put him back in bed, but let him go. Maybe hed be better off at his shop than at home.
	Daves gone? Helen did have that martyred look now.
	Yeah. I got him to eat, and hes gone to work.
	Im glad he ate. She slumped down in a chair as if she were worn out, though how a mech could be tired beat me. Phil?
	WTell, what is it?
	Do you think Im bad for him? I mean, do you think hed be happier if I werent here?
	Hell go crazy if you keep acting this way around him.
	She winced. Those little hands were twisting about pleadingly, and I felt like an inhuman brute. But Id started, and I went ahead. Even if I cut out your power and changed your coils, hed probably still be haunted by you.
	I know. But I cant help it. And Id make him a good wife, really I would, Phil.
	I gulped; this was going a little too far. And give him strapping Sons to boot, I suppose. A man wants flesh and blood, not rubber and metal.
	Dont, please! I cant think of myself that way; to me, Im a woman. And you know how perfectly Im made to imitate a real womanin all ways. I couldnt give him sons, but in every other way Id try so hard, I know Id make him a good wife.
	I gave up.
	Dave didnt come home that night, nor the next day. Helen was fussing and fuming, wanting me to call the hospitals and the police, but I knew nothing had happened to him. He always carried identification. Still, when he didnt come on the third day, I began to worry. And when Helen started out for his shop, I agreed to go with her.
	Dave was there, with another man I didnt know. I parked Helen where he couldnt see her, but where she could hear, and went in as soon as the other fellow left.
	Dave looked a little better and seemed glad to see me. Hi, Phil
just closing up. Lets go eat.
	Helen couldnt hold back any longer, but came trooping in. Come on home, Dave. Ive got roast duck with spice stuffing, and you know you love that.
	Scat! said Dave. She shrank back, turned to go. Oh, all right, stay. You might as well hear it, too. Ive sold the shop. The fellow you saw just bought it, and Im going up to the old fruit ranch I told you about, Phil. I cant stand the mechs any more.
	Youll starve to death at that, I told him.
	No, theres a growing demand for old-fashioned fruit, raised out of doors. People are tired of this water-culture stuff. Dad always made a living out of it. Im leaving as soon as I can get home and pack.
	Helen clung to her idea. Ill pack, Dave, while you eat. Ive got apple cobbler for dessert. The world was toppling under her feet, but she still remembered how crazy he was for apple cobbler.
	Helen was a good cook; in fact she was a genius, with all the good points of a woman and a mech combined. Dave ate well enough, after he got started. By the time supper was over, hed thawed out enough to admit he liked the duck and the cobbler, and to thank her for packing. In fact, he even let her kiss him goodbye, though he firmly refused to let her go to the rocket field with him.
	Helen was trying to be brave when I got back, and we carried on a stumbling conversation about Mrs. Van Stylers servants for a while. But the talk began to lull, and she sat staring out of the window at nothing most of the time. Even the stereo comedy lacked interest for her, and I was glad enough to have her go off to her room. She could cut her power down to simulate sleep when she chose.
	As the days slipped by, I began to realize why she couldnt believe herself a robot. I got to thinking of her as a girl and companion myself. Except for odd intervals when she went off by herself to brood, or when she kept going to the telescript for a letter that never came, she was as good a companion as a man could ask. There was something homey about the place that Lena had never put there.
	I took Helen on a shopping trip to Hudson, and she giggled and purred over the wisps of silk and glassheen that were the fashion, tried on endless hats, and conducted herself as any normal girl might. We went trout fishing for a day, where she proved to be as good a sport and as sensibly silent as a man. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and thought she was forgetting Dave. That was before I came home unexpectedly and found her doubled up on the couch, threshing her legs up and down and crying to the high heavens.
	It was then I called Dave. They seemed to have trouble in reaching him, and Helen came over beside me while I waited. She was tense and fidgety as an old maid trying to propose. But finally they located Dave.
	Whats up, Phil? he asked as his face came on the viewplate. I was just getting my things together to
	I broke him off. Things cant go on the way they are, Dave. Ive made up my mind. Im yanking Helens coils tonight. It wont be worse than what shes going through now.
	Helen reached up and touched my shoulder. Maybe thats best, Phil. I dont blame you.
	Daves voice cut in. Phil, you dont know what youre doing!
	Of course I do. Itll all be over by the time you can get here. As you heard, shes agreeing.
	There was a black cloud sweeping over Daves face. I wont have it, Phil. Shes half mine and I forbid it!
	Of all the
	Go ahead, call me anything you want. Ive changed my mind. I was packing to come home when you called.
	Helen jerked around me, her eyes glued to the panel. Dave, do you . . . are you . .
	Im just waking up to what a fool Ive been, Helen. Phil, Ill be home in a couple of hours, so if theres anything . . .
	He didnt have to chase me out. But I heard Helen cooing something about loving to be a ranchers wife before I could shut the door.
	Well, I wasnt as surprised as they thought. I think I knew when I called Dave what would happen. No man acts the way Dave had been acting because he hates a girl; only because he thinks he does
and thinks wrong.


	No woman ever made a lovelier bride or a sweeter wife. Helen never lost her flare for cooking and making a home. With her gone, the old house seemed empty, and I began to drop out to the ranch once or twice a week. I suppose they had trouble at times, but I never saw it, and I know the neighbors never suspected they were anything but normal man and wife.
	Dave grew older, and Helen didnt, of course. But between us we put lines in her face and grayed her hair without letting Dave know that she wasnt growing old with him; hed forgotten that she wasnt human, I guess.
	I practically forgot, myself. It wasnt until a letter came from Helen this morning that I woke up to reality. There, in her beautiful script, just a trifle shaky in places, was the inevitable that neither Dave nor I had seen.


DEAR PHIL,
	As you know, Dave has had heart trouble for several years now. We expected him to live on just the same, but it seems that wasnt to be. He died in my arms just before sunrise. He sent you his greetings and farewell.
	Ive one last favor to ask of you, Phil. There is only one thing for me to do when this is finished. Acid will burn out metal as well as flesh, and ill be dead with Dave. Please see that we are
buried together, and that the morticians do not find my secret. Dave wanted it that way, too.
	Poor, dear Phil. I know you loved Dave as a brother, and how you felt about me. Please dont grieve too much for us, for we have had a happy life together, and both feel that we should cross this last bridge side by side.
	With love and thanks from
HELEN


	It had to come sooner or later, I suppose, and the first shock has worn off now. Ill be leaving in a few minutes to carry out Helens last instructions.
	Dave was a lucky man, and the best friend I ever had. And Helenwell, as I said, Im an old man now and can view things more sanely; I should have married and raised a family, I suppose. But . . . there was only one Helen OLoy.
