Dixon looked at the thing with pride.
“Visitors to see you, Una,” he told it.
The eyes turned to me, and then back to Alfred. One of them blinked, with a click from its lid as it closed. A deep, reverberant voice emerged from no obvious source.
“At last! I've been asking you long enough,” it said.
“Good God!” said Alfred. “That appalling thing can talk?”
The steady gaze dwelt upon him.
“That one will do. I like his glass eyes,” rumbled the voice.
“Be quiet, Una. This isn't what you think,” Dixon interposed. “I must ask you,” he added to us, but looking at Alfred, “to be careful in your comments. Una naturally lacks the ordinary background of experience, but she is aware of her distinction — and of her several physical superiorities. She has a somewhat short temper, and nothing is going to be gained by offending her. It is natural that you should find her appearance a little surprising at first, but I will explain.”
A lecturing note crept into his voice.
“After I had discovered my method of animation, my first inclination was to construct an approximately anthropoid form as a convincing demonstration. On second thoughts, however, I decided against mere imitation. I resolved to proceed functionally and logically, remedying certain features which seemed to me poorly or weakly designed in man and other existing creatures. It also proved necessary later to make a few modifications for technical and constructional reasons. However, in general, Una is the result of my resolve.” He paused, looking fondly at the monstrosity.
“I — er — you did say ‘logically’!” I inquired.
Alfred paused for some time before making his comment. He went on staring at the creature which still kept its eyes fixed on him. One could almost see him causing what he likes to think of as his better nature to override mere prejudice. He now rose nobly above his earlier, unsympathetic remark.
“I do not consider it proper to confine so large an animal in such restricted quarters,” he announced.
One of the horny eyelids clicked again as it blinked.
“I like him. He means well. He will do,” the great voice rumbled.
Alfred wilted a little. After a long experience of patronizing dumb friends, he found it disconcerting to be confronted by a creature that not only spoke, but patronized him as it did so. He returned its steady stare uneasily.
Dixon, disregarding the interruption, resumed:
“Probably the first thing that will strike you is that Una has no distinct head. That was one of my earliest rearrangements; the normal head is too exposed and vulnerable. The eyes should be carried high, of course, but there is no need whatever for a demi-detached head.
“But in eliminating the head, there was sight to be considered. I therefore gave her three eyes, two of which you can see now, and one which is round the back — though, properly speaking, she has no back. Thus she is easily able to look and focus in any direction without the complicated device of a semi-rotatory head.”
“Her general shape almost ensures that any falling or projected object would glance off the reinforced plastic carapace, but it seemed wise to me to insulate the brain from shock as much as possible by putting it where you might expect the stomach, I was thus able to put the stomach higher and allow for a more convenient disposition of the intestines.”
“How does it eat?” I put in.
“Her mouth is round the other side,” he said shortly. “Now, I have to admit that at first glance the provision of four arms might give an impression of frivolity. However, as I said before, the hand is the perfect tool — it is the right size. So you will see that Una's upper pair are delicate and finely moulded, while the lower are heavily muscular.”
“Her respiration may interest you, too. I have used a flow principle. She inhales here, exhales there. An improvement, you must admit, on our own rather disgusting system.”
“As regards the general design, she unfortunately turned out to be considerably heavier than I had expected — slightly over one ton, in fact — and to support that I had to modify my original plan somewhat. I redesigned the legs and feet rather after the pattern of the elephant's so as to spread the weight, but I'm afraid it is not altogether satisfactory; something will have to be done in the later models to reduce the overall weight.”
“The three-legged principle was adopted because it is obvious that the biped must waste quite a lot of muscular energy in merely keeping its balance, and a tripod is not only efficient, but more easily adaptable to uneven surfaces than a four-legged support.”
“As regards the reproductory system—”
“Excuse me interrupting,” I said, “but with a plastic carapace, and stainless steel bones I don't — er — quite see —”
“A matter of glandular balance: regulation of the personality. Something had to be done there, though I admit that I'm not quite satisfied that I have done it the best way. I suspect that an approach on parthenogenetic lines would have been... However, there it is. And I have promised her a mate. I must say I find it a fascinating speculation...”
“He will do,” interrupted the rumbling voice, while the creature continued to gaze fixedly at Alfred.
“Of course,” Dixon went on to us, a little hurriedly, “Una has never seen herself to know what she looks like. She probably thinks she —“
“I know what I want,” said the deep voice, firmly and loudly, “I want—”
“Yes, yes,” Dixon interposed, also loudly. “I'll explain to you about that later.”
“But I want—” the voice repeated.
“Will you be quiet!” Dixon shouted fiercely.
The creature gave a slight rumbling protest, but desisted.
Alfred drew himself up with the air of one who after communing seriously with his principles is forced into speech.
“I cannot approve of this,” he announced. “I will concede that this creature may be your own creation — nevertheless, once created it becomes, in my opinion, entitled to the same safeguards as any other dumb — er, as any other creature.”
“I say nothing whatever about your application of your discovery — except to say that it seems to me that you have behaved like an irresponsible child let loose with modelling clay, and that you have produced an unholy — and I use that word advisedly — unholy mess; a monstrosity, a perversion. However, I say nothing about that.”
“What I do say is that in law this creature can be regarded simply as an unfamiliar species of animal. I intend to report that in my professional opinion it is being confined in too small a cage, and clearly without proper opportunities for exercise. I am not able to judge whether it is being adequately nourished, but it is easy to perceive that it has needs that are not being met. Twice already when it has attempted to express them to us you have intimidated it.”
“Alfred,” I put in, “don't you think that perhaps —” but I was cut short by the creature thrumming like a double bass.
“I think he's wonderful! The way his glass eyes flash! I want him!” It sighed in a kind of deep vibrato that ran along the floor. The sound certainly was extremely mournful, and Alfred's one-track mind pounced on it as additional evidence.
“If that is not the plaint of an unhappy creature,” he said, stepping closer to the cage, “then I have never—”
“Look out!” shouted Dixon, jumping forward.
One of the creature's hands made a darting snatch through the bars. Simultaneously Dixon caught him by the shoulders, and pulled him back. There was a rending of cloth, and three buttons pattered on to the linoleum.