William Campbell Gault

“ The Chief was a sentimentalist and he'd just lost a fine friend. This friend was his terrier, Murph, who'd been hit by a speeding car.
The story of Murph from birth to death was a fairly long one, but never dull. The Chief had a way with words. Even Joe, one of the world's top-ranking non-sentimentalists, was touched by the tale. When they came to the end, where Murph had lain in his master's arms, whimpering, as though to comfort him, trying to lick his face, Joe's eyes were wet and the drink wobbled in his hand. ”

“ A person without faults is not a person. And if—it or he—she were, I don't think I'd care to know him or her or it."
"Naturally. You're a sentimentalist. You've seen so much misery, so much human error, so much stupidity that you've built up your natural tolerance into a sloppy and unscientific sentimentality. It happens to sociologists all the time."
"Joe, I'm not going to argue with you. Only one thing I ask. When you—break the news to Vera, break it gently. And get her back to the Center as quickly as you can. She's a choice, rare number."
Joe said nothing to that. Sam looked miserable. ”

“ Driving over to Westchester that night, Joe told Alice, "Sam's a timid bidder. His wife's inclined to overbid. Plays a sacrificing game when she knows it will gain points. Our job will be to make her oversacrifice." ”

“ I hope so, though very few people are." Joe looked at Sam squarely. "Every man wants a perfect wife, doesn't he?"
Sam shrugged. "I suppose."
"And no human is perfect, so no man gets a perfect wife. Am I right, so far?"
"Sounds like it."
"Okay." Joe tapped Sam's chest with a hard finger. "I'm going to make a perfect wife." He tapped his own chest. "For me, just for me, the way I want her. No human frailties. Ideal."
"A perfect robot," Sam objected.
"A wife," Joe corrected. "A person. A human being." ”

“ The Harveys had a gift for putting guests at ease, the gift being a cellar full of thirty-year-old bourbon the elder Harvey had bequeathed them at the end of their adjustment period.
The talk moved here and there, over the bourbon, Alice sharing in it rarely, though nodding when Joe was talking.
Then, at mention of someone or other, Mrs. Harvey said tolerantly, "Well, none of us are perfect, I guess."
Alice smiled and answered, "Some of us are satisfied with mediocrities in marriage."
Mrs. Harvey frowned doubtfully. "I don't quite understand, dear. In any marriage, there has to be adjustment. ”

“ Sam seemed to sigh with relief when they said good night.
In the car, Joe was thoughtful. Halfway home, he said, "Darling, I think you know too much—for a female, that is. I think you'll have to have a go with the knowledge-instiller. In reverse, of course."
"Of course," she agreed.
"I don't object to females knowing a lot. The world does." ”

“ Sam shook his head. "Vera's been too busy to have much time for the director. She's our most popular number." Sam paused. "About the new one. Hear she's something to see."
"You heard right. She's practically flawless, Sam. She's just what a man needs at home." His voice, for some reason, didn't indicate the enthusiasm he should have felt.
Sam chewed one corner of his mouth. "Why not bring her over, say, tonight? We'll play some bridge."
That would be something. Two minds, perfectly in harmony, synchronized, working in partnership. Joe's smile was smug. "We'll be there. ”

“ Joe wished she would. This was worse.
"It's not your fault," he said, after a moment. "I'm not going to get another. You're as ideal, almost, as a human wife can ever be."
"I've tried so hard," she said. "Maybe I tried too hard."
"No," he said, "it isn't your fault. Any reasonable man would be delighted with you, Vera. You won't be at the Center long."
"I don't want a reasonable man," she said quietly. "I want you, Joe. I—I loved you."
He had started to get out of the car. ”

“ Joe took a breath, looked away, and back at Burke. "Well, a wife."
A frown, a doubtful look from the cold, blue eyes. "Robot? Dishwasher and cook and phone answerer and like that?"
"More than that."
Slightly raised eyebrows.
"More?"
"Completely human, except she will have no human faults."
Cool smile. "Wouldn't be human, then, of course."
"Human, but without human faults, I said!"
"You raised your voice, Joe."
"I did."
"I'm the Senior Assistant. Junior Assistants do not raise their voices to Senior Assistants." ”

“ The nerves, muscles, flesh, circulatory system could be made—and better than they were ever made naturally. The brain would be cybernetic and fashioned after his own, with his own mental background stored in the memory circuits. ”