FROM WHERE I LAY ON my bed, I could see the storage compartments where servitors-robots-companions were stored for take-off. The small windows allowed the face of each to be viewed. Now lifeless, I could stare at them more closely. My father was genius! Truly such skill would be worth killing for . . . killing for. Yes, that is a thought.
In fact, it may be the very reason Father left Earth at all. Al told me how Edwin had won scientific expositions year after year. His robotic theories were sought after, yet he kept them close. He did finally open a full scale production, yet like Father, he held back that which he sold to the public.
Standing, I went to my own automaton, the one father left for me. Bertram had been a fixture in the house all of my life. I inserted his microchip and und
