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Read Ebook: There Will Be School Tomorrow by Thiessen V E
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Ebook has 127 lines and 6396 words, and 3 pages
He stopped suddenly and smiled, a rueful tired smile. "I suppose I'm a fanatic on this. Come on inside."
They passed through an antiseptic corridor built from dull green plastic. The brown-suited man pressed a button outside one of the classrooms. A door slid noiselessly into the hall. A robot stood before them, gesturing gently. They followed the robot into the classroom. At the head of the classroom another robot was lecturing. There were drawings on a sort of plastic blackboard. There were wire models on the desk in front of the robot. They listened for a moment, and for a moment it seemed that the woman could be intrigued in spite of herself.
"Mathematics," Doctor Wilson murmured in her ear. "Euclidean Geometry and Aristotelean reasoning. We start them young on these old schools of thought, then use Aristotle and Euclid as a point of departure for our intermediate classes in mathematics and logic."
"REAHLLY!" The lorgnette studied Doctor Wilson. "You mean there are several kinds of geometry?"
Doctor Wilson nodded. A dull flush crept into his cheeks. The Senator caught his eyes and winked. The woman moved toward the door. At the door the robot bowed.
The lorgnette waved in appreciation. "It's reahlly been most charming!"
Wilson said desperately, "If your women's clubs would just visit our schools and see this work we are carrying on ..."
"Reahlly, I'm sure the robots are doing a marvelous job. After all, that's what they were built for."
Wilson called, "Socrates! Come here!" The robot approached from his position outside the classroom door.
"Why were you built, Socrates? Tell the lady why you were built."
A metal throat cleared, a metal voice said resonantly, "We were made to serve the children. The children are the heart of a society. As the children are raised, so will the future be assured. I will do everything for the children's good, this is my prime law. All other laws are secondary to the children's good."
"Thank you, Socrates. You may go."
Metal footsteps retreated. The lorgnette waved again. "Very impressive. Very efficient. And now, Senator, if we can go. We are to have tea at the women's club. Varden is reviewing his newest musical comedy."
The Senator said firmly, "Thank you, Doctor Wilson."
His smile was faintly apologetic. It seemed to say that the women's clubs had many votes, but that Wilson should understand, Wilson's own vote would be appreciated too. Wilson watched the two re-enter the helicopter and rise into the morning sunshine. He kicked the dirt with his shoe and turned to find Socrates behind him. The metallic voice spoke.
"You are tired. I suggest you go home and rest."
"I'm not tired. Why can they be so blind, so uninterested in the children?"
"It is our job to teach the children. You are tired. I suggest you go home and rest."
How can you argue with metal? What can you add to a perfect mechanism, designed for its job, and integrated with a hundred other perfect mechanisms? What can you do when a thousand schools are so perfect they have a life of their own, with no need for human guidance, and, most significant, no failures from human weakness?
Wilson stared soberly at this school, at the colossus he had helped to create. He had the feeling that it was wrong somehow, that if people would only think about it they could find that something was wrong.
"You are tired."
He nodded at Socrates. "Yes, I am tired. I will go home."
Once, on the way home, he stared back toward the school with strange unease.
Inside the school there was the ringing of a bell. The children trooped into the large play area that was enclosed in the heart of the great building. Here and there they began to form in clusters. At the centers of the clusters were the newest students, the ones that had moved here, the ones that had been in the robot schools before.
"Is it true that the roboteachers will actually spank you?"
"It's true, all right."
"You're kidding. It's only a story, like Santa Claus or Johnny Appleseed. The human teachers never spanked us here."
"The robots will spank you if you get out of line."
"My father says no robot can lay a hand on a human."
"These robots are different."
The bell began to ring again. Recess was over. The children moved toward the classroom. All the children except one--Johnny Malone, husky Johnny Malone, twelve years old--the Mayor's son. Johnny Malone kicked at the dirt. A robot proctor approached. The metallic voice sounded.
"The ringing of the bell means that classes are resumed. You will take your place, please."
"I won't go inside."
"You will take your place, please."
"I won't. You can't make me take my place. My father is the Mayor."
The metal voice carried no feeling. "If you do not take your place you will be punished."
"You can't lay a hand on me. No robot can."
The robot moved forward. Two metal hands held Johnny Malone. Johnny Malone kicked the robot's legs. It hurt his toes. "We were made to teach the children. We can do what is necessary to teach the children. I will do everything for the children's good. It is my prime law. All other laws are secondary to the children's good."
The metal arms moved. The human body bent across metal knees. A metal hand raised and fell, flat, very flat so that it would sting and the blood would come rushing, and yet there would be no bruising, no damage to the human flesh. Johnny Malone cried out in surprise. Johnny Malone wept. Johnny Malone squirmed. The metal ignored all of these. Johnny Malone was placed on his feet. He swarmed against the robot, striking it with small fists, bruising them against the solid smoothness of the robot's thighs.
"You will take your place, please."
Tears were useless. Rage was useless. Metal cannot feel. Johnny Malone, the Mayor's son, was intelligent. He took his place in the classroom.
One of the more advanced literature classes was reciting. The roboteacher said metallically,
Hands shot into the air. The metallic voice said, "Tom?"
"And what is its meaning?"
"The weird sisters are making a charm in the beginning of the play. They have heard the drum that announces Macbeth's coming."
"That is correct."
A new hand shot into the air. "Question, teacher. May I ask a question?"
"You may always ask a question."
"Are witches real? Do you robots know of witches? And do you know of people? Can a roboteacher understand Shakespeare?"
The thin metal voice responded. "Witches are real and unreal. Witches are a part of the reality of the mind, and the human mind is real. We roboteachers are the repository of the human mind. We hold all the wisdom and the knowledge and the aspirations of the human race. We hold these for you, the children, in trust. Your good is our highest law. Do you understand?"
The roboteacher stood up. "And there's the closing bell. Do not hurry away, for you are to remain here tonight. There will be a school party, a sleep-together party. We will all sleep here in the school building."
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