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- Исаак Азимов
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- Стр. 41/268
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"
Speedy
!
"
shouted
Powell
.
"
Come
here
!
"
The
distance
between
the
men
and
the
errant
robot
was
being
cut
down
momentarily
--
more
by
the
efforts
of
Speedy
than
the
slow
plodding
of
the
fifty-year-old
antique
mounts
of
Donovan
and
Powell
.
They
were
close
enough
now
to
notice
that
Speedy
's
gait
included
a
peculiar
rolling
stagger
,
a
noticeable
side-to-side
lurch
-
and
then
,
as
Powell
waved
his
hand
again
and
sent
maximum
juice
into
his
compact
head-set
radio
sender
,
in
preparation
for
another
shout
,
Speedy
looked
up
and
saw
them
.
Speedy
hopped
to
a
halt
and
remained
standing
for
a
moment
with
just
a
tiny
,
unsteady
weave
,
as
though
he
were
swaying
in
a
light
wind
.
Powell
yelled
:
"
All
right
,
Speedy
.
Come
here
,
boy
.
"
Whereupon
Speedy
's
robot
voice
sounded
in
Powell
's
ear
.
phones
for
the
first
time
.
It
said
:
"
Hot
dog
,
let
's
play
games
.
You
catch
me
and
I
catch
you
;
no
love
can
cut
our
knife
in
two
.
For
I
'm
Little
Buttercup
,
sweet
Little
Buttercup
.
Whoops
!
"
Turning
on
his
heel
,
he
sped
off
in
the
direction
from
which
he
had
come
,
with
a
speed
and
fury
that
kicked
up
gouts
of
baked
dust
.
And
his
last
words
as
he
receded
into
the
distance
were
,
"
There
grew
a
little
flower
'n
eath
a
great
oak
tree
,
"
followed
by
a
curious
metallic
clicking
that
might
have
been
a
robotic
equivalent
of
a
hiccup
.
Donovan
said
weakly
:
"
Where
did
he
pick
up
the
Gilbert
and
Sullivan
?
Say
,
Greg
,
he
...
he
's
drunk
or
something
.
"
"
If
you
had
n't
told
me
,
"
was
the
bitter
response
,
"
I
'd
never
realize
it
.
Let
's
get
back
to
the
cliff
.
I
'm
roasting
.
"
