Part 2

DOMIN. (_Crosses to SULLA_) Sulla isn’t angry. See, Miss Glory, the kind of skin we make. Feel her face. (_Touches SULLA’S face._)

HELENA. Oh, no, no.

DOMIN. (_Examining SULLA’S hand_) You wouldn’t know that she’s made of different material from us, would you? Turn ’round, Sulla. (_SULLA does so. Circles twice._)

HELENA. Oh, stop, stop.

DOMIN. Talk to Miss Glory, Sulla. (_Examines hair of SULLA._)

SULLA. Please sit down. (_HELENA sits on couch._) Did you have a pleasant crossing? (_Fixes her hair._)

HELENA. Oh, yes, certainly.

SULLA. Don’t go back on the _Amelia_, Miss Glory, the barometer is falling steadily. Wait for the _Pennsylvania_. That’s a good powerful vessel.

DOMIN. What’s its speed?

SULLA. Forty knots an hour. Fifty thousand tons. One of the latest vessels, Miss Glory.

HELENA. Thank you.

SULLA. A crew of fifteen hundred, Captain Harpy, eight boilers--

DOMIN. That’ll do, Sulla. Now show us your knowledge of French.

HELENA. You know French?

SULLA. Oui! Madame! I know four languages. I can write: “Dear Sir, Monsieur, Geehrter Herr, Cteny pane.”

HELENA. (_Jumping up, crosses to SULLA_) Oh, that’s absurd! Sulla isn’t a Robot. Sulla is a girl like me. Sulla, this is outrageous--Why do you take part in such a hoax?

SULLA. I am a Robot.

HELENA. No, no, you are not telling the truth. (_She catches the amused expression on DOMIN’S face_) I know they have forced you to do it for an advertisement. Sulla, you are a girl like me, aren’t you? (_Looks at him._)

DOMIN. I’m sorry, Miss Glory. _Sulla is a Robot._

HELENA. It’s a lie!

DOMIN. What? (_Pushes button on desk_) Well, then I must _convince_ you. (_Enter MARIUS R.C. He stands just inside the door._) Marius, take Sulla into the dissecting room, and tell them to open her up at once. (_MARIUS moves toward C._)

HELENA. Where?

DOMIN. Into the dissecting room. When they’ve _cut her open_, you can go and have a look. (_MARIUS makes a start toward SULLA._)

HELENA. (_Stopping MARIUS_) No! No!

DOMIN. Excuse me, you spoke of lies.

HELENA. You wouldn’t have her killed?

DOMIN. You can’t kill machines. Sulla! (_MARIUS one step forward, one arm out. SULLA makes a move toward R. door._)

HELENA. (_Moves a step R._) Don’t be afraid, Sulla. I won’t let you go. Tell me, my dear-- (_Takes her hand_) --are they always so cruel to you? You mustn’t put up with it, Sulla. You mustn’t.

SULLA. I am a Robot.

HELENA. That doesn’t matter. Robots are just as good as we are. Sulla, you wouldn’t let yourself be cut to pieces?

SULLA. Yes. (_Hand away._)

HELENA. Oh, you’re not afraid of death, then?

SULLA. I cannot tell, Miss Glory.

HELENA. Do you know what would happen to you in there?

SULLA. Yes, I should cease to move.

HELENA. How dreadful! (_Looks at SULLA._)

DOMIN. Marius, tell Miss Glory what you are? (_Turns to HELENA._)

MARIUS. (_To HELENA_) Marius, the Robot.

DOMIN. Would you take Sulla into the dissecting room?

MARIUS. (_Turns to DOMIN_) Yes.

DOMIN. Would you be sorry for her?

MARIUS. (_Pause_) I cannot tell.

DOMIN. What would happen to her?

MARIUS. She would cease to move. They would put her into the stamping mill.

DOMIN. That is death, Marius. Aren’t you afraid of death?

MARIUS. No.

DOMIN. You see, Miss Glory, the Robots have no interest in life. They have no enjoyments. They are _less_ than so much grass.

HELENA. Oh, stop. Please send them away.

DOMIN. (_Pushes button_) Marius, Sulla, you may go. (_MARIUS pivots and exits R. SULLA exits L._)

HELENA. How terrible! (_To C._) It’s outrageous what you are doing. (_He takes her hand._)

DOMIN. Why outrageous? (_His hand over hers. Laughing._)

HELENA. I don’t know, but it is. Why do you call her “Sulla”?

DOMIN. Isn’t it a nice name? (_Hand away._)

HELENA. It’s a man’s name. Sulla was a Roman General.

DOMIN. What! Oh! (_Laughs_) We thought that Marius and Sulla were lovers.

HELENA. (_Indignantly_) Marius and Sulla were generals and fought against each other in the year--I’ve forgotten now.

DOMIN. (_Laughing_) Come here to the window. (_He goes to window C._)

HELENA. What?

DOMIN. Come here. (_She goes._) Do you see anything? (_Takes her arm. She is on his R._)

HELENA. Bricklayers.

DOMIN. Robots. All our work people are Robots. And down there, can you see anything?

HELENA. Some sort of office.

DOMIN. A counting house. And in it--

HELENA. A lot of officials.

DOMIN. Robots! All our officials are Robots. And when you see the factory-- (_Noon WHISTLE blows. She is scared; puts arm on DOMIN. He laughs_) If we don’t blow the whistle the Robots won’t stop working. In two hours I’ll show you the kneading trough. (_BOTH come down stage. HELENA is L.C. and DOMIN is R.C., arm in arm._)

HELENA. Kneading trough?

DOMIN. The pestle for beating up the paste. In each one we mix the ingredients for a thousand Robots at one operation. Then there are the vats for the preparation of liver, brains, and so on. Then you will see the bone factory. After that I’ll show you the spinning mill.

HELENA. Spinning mill?

DOMIN. Yes. For weaving nerves and veins. Miles and miles of digestive tubes pass through it at a time.

HELENA. (_Watching his gestures_) Mayn’t we talk about something else?

DOMIN. Perhaps it would be better. There’s only a _handful_ of us among a hundred thousand Robots, and _not one woman_. We talk nothing but the factory _all_ day, and _every_ day. It’s just as if we were under a curse, Miss Glory.

HELENA. I’m _sorry_ I said that you were lying. (_A KNOCK at door R._)

DOMIN. Come in. (_He is C._)

(_From R. enter DR. GALL, DR. FABRY, ALQUIST and DR. HALLEMEIER. ALL act formal--conscious. ALL click heels as introduced._)

DR. GALL. (_Noisily_) I beg your pardon. I hope we don’t intrude.

DOMIN. No, no. Come in. Miss Glory, here are Gall, Fabry, Alquist, Hallemeier. This is President Glory’s daughter. (_ALL move to her and shake her hand._)

HELENA. How do you do?

FABRY. We had no idea--

DR. GALL. Highly honored, I’m sure--

ALQUIST. Welcome, Miss Glory.

BUSMAN. (_Rushes in from R._) Hello, what’s up?

DOMIN. Come in, Busman. This is President Glory’s daughter. This is Busman, Miss Glory.

BUSMAN. By Jove, that’s fine. (_ALL click heels. He crowds in and shakes her hand_) Miss Glory, may we send a cablegram to the papers about your arrival?

HELENA. No, no, please don’t.

DOMIN. Sit down, please, Miss Glory.

(_On the line, “Sit down, please,” all SIX MEN try to find her a chair at once. HELENA goes for the chair at the extreme L. DOMIN takes the chair at front of desk, places it in the C. of stage. HALLEMEIER gets chair at SULLA’S typewriter and places it to R. of chair at C. BUSMAN gets armchair from extreme R., but by now HELENA has sat in DOMIN’S preferred chair, at C. ALL sit except DOMIN. BUSMAN at R. in armchair. HALLEMEIER R. of HELENA. FABRY in swivel chair back of desk._)

BUSMAN. Allow me--

DR. GALL. Please--

FABRY. Excuse me--

ALQUIST. What sort of a crossing did you have?

DR. GALL. Are you going to stay long? (_MEN conscious of their appearance. ALQUIST’S trousers turned up at bottom. He turns them down. BUSMAN polishes shoes. OTHERS fix ties, collars, etc._)

FABRY. What do you think of the factory, Miss Glory?

HALLEMEIER. Did you come over on the _Amelia_?

DOMIN. Be quiet and let _Miss Glory_ speak. (_MEN sit erect. DOMIN stands at HELENA’S L._)

HELENA. (_To DOMIN_) What am I to speak to them about? (_MEN look at one another._)

DOMIN. Anything you like.

HELENA. (_Looks at DOMIN_) May I speak quite frankly?

DOMIN. Why, of course.

HELENA. (_To OTHERS. Wavering, then in desperate resolution_) Tell me, doesn’t it ever distress you the way you are treated?

FABRY. By whom, may I ask?

HELENA. Why, everybody.

ALQUIST. Treated?

DR. GALL. What makes you think--

HELENA. Don’t you feel that you might be living a better life? (_Pause. ALL confused._)

DR. GALL. (_Smiling_) Well, that depends on what you mean, Miss Glory.

HELENA. I mean that it’s perfectly outrageous. It’s terrible. (_Standing up_) The whole of Europe is talking about the way you’re being treated. That’s why I came here, to see for myself, and it’s a thousand times worse than could have been imagined. How _can_ you put _up_ with it?

ALQUIST. Put up with what?

HELENA. Good heavens, you are living creatures, just like us, like the whole of Europe, like the whole world. It’s disgraceful that you must live like this.

BUSMAN. Good gracious, Miss Glory!

FABRY. Well, she’s not far wrong. We live here just like red Indians.

HELENA. Worse than red Indians. May I--oh, may I call you--_brothers_? (_MEN look at each other._)

BUSMAN. Why not?

HELENA. (_Looking at DOMIN_) Brothers, I have not come here as the President’s daughter. I have come on behalf of the Humanity League. Brothers, the Humanity League now has over two hundred thousand members. Two hundred thousand people are on your side, and offer you their help. (_Tapping back of chair._)

BUSMAN. Two hundred thousand people, Miss Glory; that’s a tidy lot. Not bad.

FABRY. I’m always telling you there’s nothing like good old Europe. You see they’ve not forgotten us. They’re offering us help.

DR. GALL. What kind of help? A theatre, for instance?

HALLEMEIER. An orchestra?

HELENA. More than that.

ALQUIST. Just you?

HELENA. (_Glaring at DOMIN_) Oh, never mind about me. I’ll stay as long as it is necessary. (_ALL express delight._)

BUSMAN. By Jove, that’s good.

ALQUIST. (_Rising L._) Domin, I’m going to get the best room ready for Miss Glory.

DOMIN. Just a minute. I’m afraid that Miss Glory is of the opinion she has been talking to Robots.

HELEN. Of course. (_MEN laugh._)

DOMIN. I’m sorry. These gentlemen are human beings just like us.

HELENA. You’re not Robots?

BUSMAN. Not Robots. } } HALLEMEIER. Robots indeed! } } DR. GALL. No, thanks. } (_All together_) } FABRY. Upon my honor, Miss Glory, } we aren’t Robots. }

HELENA. Then why did you tell me that all your officials are Robots?

DOMIN. Yes, the officials, but not the _managers_. Allow me, Miss Glory--this is Consul Busman, General Business Manager; this is Doctor Fabry, General Technical Manager; Doctor Hallemeier, head of the Institute for the Psychological Training of Robots; Doctor Gall, head of the Psychological and Experimental Department; and Alquist, head of the Building Department, R. U. R. (_As they are introduced they rise and come C. to kiss her hand, except GALL and ALQUIST, whom DOMIN pushes away. General babble._)

ALQUIST. Just a builder. Please sit down.

HELENA. Excuse me, gentlemen. Have I done something dreadful?

ALQUIST. Not at all, Miss Glory.

BUSMAN. (_Handing flowers_) Allow me, Miss Glory.

HELENA. Thank you.

FABRY. (_Handing candy_) Please, Miss Glory.

DOMIN. Will you have a cigarette, Miss Glory?

HELENA. No, thank you.

DOMIN. Do you mind if I do?

HELENA. Certainly not.

BUSMAN. Well, now, Miss Glory, it is certainly nice to have you with us.

HELENA. (_Seriously_) But you know I’ve come to disturb your Robots for you. (_BUSMAN pulls chair closer._)

DOMIN. (_Mocking her serious tone_) My dear Miss Glory-- (_Chuckle_) --we’ve had close upon a hundred saviors and prophets here. Every ship brings us some. Missionaries, Anarchists, Salvation Army, all sorts! It’s astonishing what a number of churches and idiots there are in the world.

HELENA. And yet you let them speak to the Robots.

DOMIN. So far we’ve let them all. Why not? The Robot remembers everything but that’s all. They don’t even laugh at what the people say. Really it’s quite incredible.

HELENA. I’m a stupid girl. Send me back by the first ship.

DR. GALL. Not for anything in the world, Miss Glory. Why should we send you back?

DOMIN. If it would amuse you, Miss Glory, I’ll take you down to the Robot warehouse. It holds about three hundred thousand of them.

BUSMAN. Three hundred and forty-seven thousand.

DOMIN. Good, and you can say whatever you like to them. You can read the Bible, recite the multiplication table, whatever you please. You can even preach to them about human rights.

HELENA. Oh, I think that if you were to show them a little love.

FABRY. Impossible, Miss Glory! _Nothing is harder to like than a Robot._

HELENA. What do you make them for, then?

BUSMAN. Ha, ha, ha! That’s good. What are Robots made for?

FABRY. For _work_, Miss Glory. One Robot can replace two and a half _workmen_. The human machine, Miss Glory, was terribly _imperfect_. It had to be removed sooner or later.

BUSMAN. It was too expensive.

FABRY. It was not _effective_. It no longer answers the requirements of _modern engineering_. Nature has no idea of keeping pace with _modern labor_. For example, from a technical point of view, the whole of _childhood_ is a sheer absurdity. So much time lost. And then again--

HELENA. (_Turns to DOMIN_) Oh, no, no!

FABRY. Pardon me. What is the real _aim_ of your League--the--the Humanity League?

HELENA. Its real purpose is to--to protect the Robots--and--and to insure good treatment for them.

FABRY. Not a bad object, either. A machine has to be treated properly. (_Leans back_) _I don’t like damaged articles._ Please, Miss Glory, enroll us all _members_ of your league. (_“Yes, yes!” from all MEN._)

HELENA. No, you don’t understand me. What we really want is to--to--_liberate_ the Robots. (_Looks at all OTHERS._)

HALLEMEIER. How do you propose to do that?

HELENA. They are to be--to be dealt with like human beings.

HALLEMEIER. Aha! I suppose they’re to vote. To drink beer. To order us about?

HELENA. Why shouldn’t they drink beer?

HALLEMEIER. Perhaps they’re even to receive wages? (_Looking at other MEN, amused._)

HELENA. Of course they are.

HALLEMEIER. Fancy that! Now! And what would they do with their wages, pray?

HELENA. They would buy--what they want--what pleases them.

HALLEMEIER. That would be very nice, Miss Glory, only there’s nothing that does please the Robots. Good heavens, what are they to buy? You can feed them on pineapples, straw, whatever you like. It’s all the _same_ to them. They’ve no appetite at all. They’ve no interest in anything. Why, hang it all, nobody’s ever yet seen a Robot smile.

HELENA. Why--why don’t you make them--happier?

HALLEMEIER. That wouldn’t do, Miss Glory. They are only workmen.

HELENA. Oh, but they’re so intelligent.

HALLEMEIER. Confoundedly so, but they’re nothing else. They’ve no will of their own. No soul. No passion.

HELENA. No love?

HALLEMEIER. Love? Huh! Rather not. Robots don’t love. Not even themselves.

HELENA. No defiance?

HALLEMEIER. Defiance? I don’t know. Only _rarely_, from time to time.

HELENA. What happens then?

HALLEMEIER. Nothing particular. Occasionally they seem to go off their _heads_. Something like epilepsy, you know. It’s called “Robot’s Cramp.” They’ll suddenly sling down everything they’re holding, stand still, gnash their teeth--and then they have to go into the stamping-mill. It’s evidently some breakdown in the mechanism.

DOMIN. (_Sitting on desk_) A flaw in the works that has to be removed.

HELENA. No, no, that’s the soul.

FABRY. (_Humorously_) Do you think that the soul first shows itself by a gnashing of teeth? (_MEN chuckle._)

HELENA. Perhaps it’s just a sign that there’s a struggle within. Perhaps it’s a sort of revolt. Oh, if you could infuse them with it.

DOMIN. That’ll be remedied, Miss Glory. Doctor Gall is just making some experiments.

DR. GALL. Not with regard to that, Domin. At present I am making _pain_ nerves.

HELENA. Pain nerves?

DR. GALL. Yes, the Robots feel practically no bodily pain. You see, young Rossum provided them with too limited a _nervous_ system. We _must_ introduce _suffering_.

HELENA. Why do you want to cause them pain?

DR. GALL. For industrial reasons, Miss Glory. Sometimes a Robot does damage to himself because it doesn’t hurt him. He puts his hand into the machine-- (_Describes with gesture_) --breaks his finger-- (_Describes with gesture_) --smashes his head. It’s all the same to him. We must provide them with _pain_. That’s an automatic _protection_ against damage.

HELENA. Will they be happier when they feel pain?

DR. GALL. On the contrary; but they will be more perfect from a technical point of view.

HELENA. Why don’t you create a soul for them?

DR. GALL. That’s not in our power.

FABRY. That’s not in our interest.

BUSMAN. That would increase the cost of production. Hang it all, my dear young lady, we turn them out at such a cheap rate--a hundred and fifty dollars each, fully dressed, and fifteen years ago they cost ten thousand. Five years ago we used to buy the _clothes_ for them. Today we have our own weaving mill, and now we even _export_ cloth five times cheaper than other factories. What do you pay a yard for cloth, Miss Glory?

HELENA. (_Looking at DOMIN_) I don’t really know. I’ve forgotten.

BUSMAN. Good gracious, and you want to found a Humanity League. (_MEN chuckle._) It only costs a third now, Miss Glory. All prices are today a third of what they were and they’ll fall still lower, lower, like that.

HELENA. I don’t understand.

BUSMAN. Why, bless you, Miss Glory, it means that the cost of _labor_ has fallen. A Robot, food and all, costs three-quarters of a cent per hour. (_Leans forward_) That’s mighty important, you know. All factories will go pop like chestnuts if they don’t at once buy Robots to lower the cost of production.

HELENA. And get rid of all their workmen?

BUSMAN. Of course. But in the meantime we’ve dumped five hundred thousand _tropical_ Robots down on the Argentine pampas to grow corn. Would you mind telling me how much you pay a pound for bread?

HELENA. I’ve no idea. (_ALL smile._)

BUSMAN. Well, I’ll tell you. It now costs two cents in good old Europe. A pound of bread for two cents, and the _Humanity League_-- (_Designates HELENA_) --knows nothing about it. (_To MEN_) Miss Glory, you don’t realize that even _that’s_ too expensive. (_All MEN chuckle._) Why, in five years’ time I’ll wager--

HELENA. What?

BUSMAN. That the cost of everything will be a tenth of what it is today. Why, in five years we’ll be up to our ears in corn and--everything else.

ALQUIST. Yes, and all the workers throughout the world will be unemployed.

DOMIN. (_Seriously. Rises_) Yes, Alquist, they will. Yes, Miss Glory, they will. But in ten years Rossum’s Universal Robots will produce so much _corn_, so much _cloth_, so much everything that things will be practically without price. There will be no poverty. All work will be done by living machines. Everybody will be free from worry and liberated from the degradation of labor. Everybody will live only to _perfect_ himself.

HELENA. Will he?

DOMIN. Of course. It’s bound to happen. Then the servitude of man to man and the enslavement of man to matter will cease. Nobody will get bread at the cost of life and hatred. The Robots will wash the feet of the beggar and prepare a bed for him in his house.

ALQUIST. Domin, Domin, what you say sounds too much like Paradise. There was something _good_ in _service_ and something _great_ in humility. There was some kind of virtue in _toil_ and _weariness_.

DOMIN. Perhaps, but we cannot reckon with what is lost when we start out to transform the world. Man shall be _free_ and supreme; he shall have no other aim, no other labor, no other care than to perfect himself. He shall serve neither matter nor man. He will not be a machine and a device for production. He will be _Lord_ of creation.

BUSMAN. Amen.

FABRY. So be it.

HELENA. (_Rises_) You have bewildered me. I should like to believe this.

DR. GALL. You are younger than we are, Miss Glory. You will live to see it.

HALLEMEIER. True. (_Looking around_) Don’t you think Miss Glory might lunch with us? (_All MEN rise._)

DR. GALL. Of course. Domin, ask her on behalf of us all.

DOMIN. Miss Glory, will you do us the honor?

HELENA. When you know why I’ve come?

FABRY. For the League of Humanity, Miss Glory.

HELENA. Oh, in that case perhaps--

FABRY. That’s fine. (_Pause_) Miss Glory, excuse me for five minutes. (_Exits R._)

HALLEMEIER. Thank you. (_Exits R. with DR. GALL._)

BUSMAN. (_Whispering_) I’ll be back soon. (_Beckoning to ALQUIST, they exit._)

ALQUIST. (_Starts, stops, then to HELENA, then to door_) I’ll be back in exactly five minutes. (_Exits R._)

HELENA. What have they all gone for?

DOMIN. To cook, Miss Glory. (_On her L._)

HELENA. To cook what?

DOMIN. Lunch. (_They laugh; takes her hand_) The Robots do our cooking for us and as they’ve no taste it’s not altogether-- (_She laughs._) Hallemeier is awfully _good_ at grills and Gall can make any kind of sauce, and Busman knows all about omelets.

HELENA. What a feast! And what’s the specialty of Mr.--your builder?

DOMIN. Alquist? Nothing. He only lays the table. And Fabry will get together a little fruit. Our cuisine is very modest, Miss Glory.

HELENA. (_Thoughtfully_) I wanted to ask you something--

DOMIN. And I wanted to ask you something too--they’ll be back in five minutes. (_Looks at door R._)

HELENA. What did you want to ask me? (_Sits C._)

DOMIN. Excuse me, you asked first. (_Sits L. of her._)

HELENA. Perhaps it’s silly of me, but why do you manufacture female Robots when--when--

DOMIN. When sex means nothing to them?

HELENA. Yes.

DOMIN. There’s a certain demand for them, you see. Servants, saleswomen, stenographers. People are _used_ to it.

HELENA. But--but tell me, are the Robots male and female, mutually--completely without--

DOMIN. Completely indifferent to each other, Miss Glory. There’s no sign of any _affection_ between them.

HELENA. Oh, that’s terrible.

DOMIN. Why?

HELENA. It’s so unnatural. One doesn’t know whether to be disgusted or to hate them, or perhaps--

DOMIN. To pity them. (_Smiles._)

HELENA. That’s more like it. What did you want to ask _me_?

DOMIN. I should like to ask you, Miss Helena, if you will marry me.

HELENA. What? (_Rises._)

DOMIN. Will you be my wife? (_Rises._)

HELENA. No. The idea!

DOMIN. (_To her, looking at his watch_) Another three minutes. If you don’t marry me you’ll have to marry one of the other five.

HELENA. But why should I?

DOMIN. Because they’re _all_ going to ask you in turn.

HELENA. (_Crossing him to L.C._) How could they dare do such a thing?

DOMIN. I’m very sorry, Miss Glory. It seems they’ve fallen in love with you.

HELENA. Please don’t let them. I’ll--I’ll go away at once. (_Starts R. He stops her, his arms up._)

DOMIN. Helena-- (_She backs away to desk. He follows_) You wouldn’t be so cruel as to refuse us.

HELENA. But, but--I can’t marry all six.

DOMIN. No, but one anyhow. If you don’t want _me_, marry Fabry.

HELENA. I won’t.

DOMIN. Ah! Doctor Gall?

HELENA. I don’t want any of you.

DOMIN. Another two minutes. (_Pleading. Looking at watch._)

HELENA. I think you’d marry any woman who came here.

DOMIN. _Plenty_ of them have come, Helena.

HELENA. (_Laughing_) Young?

DOMIN. Yes.

HELENA. Why didn’t you marry one of _them_?

DOMIN. Because I didn’t lose my head. Until today--then as soon as you lifted your veil-- (_HELENA turns her head away._) Another minute.

(_WARN Curtain._)

HELENA. But I don’t want you, I tell you.

DOMIN. (_Laying both hands on her shoulder_) One more minute! Now you either have to look me straight in the eye and say “no” violently, and then I leave you alone--or-- (_HELENA looks at him. He takes hands away. She takes his hand again._)

HELENA. (_Turning her head away_) You’re mad.