Sprockets Read Free Page A

know how addled you get when you have to add and subtract fractions. You’re always having Jim do your fractions, and that isn’t right. Sprockets could handle them easily, and probably help you on your Moon research as well. Now you go right to the telephone and call the robot factory.”
    â€œBut, Miranda, I don’t want a robot!” the doctor cried, running his fingers through his mop of thick white hair so that it stood straight up. It gave him a very wild appearance. “And why shouldn’t Jim do all my fractions? He’s nearly eight—”
    â€œI’m practically eleven !” Jim interrupted. “Can’t you ever remember my age?”
    â€œWell, h’mp, six, eight, ten, twelve—bless me, what’s the difference so long as you have a superior mentality like, h’mp, your daddy. But about the robot factory. There’s no one there I could talk to at this hour.”
    â€œSir,” said Sprockets, “the sales department is always open.”
    The doctor frowned at him, then turned reluctantly to the telephone on the workbench.
    When he had the night salesman of the robot factory on the line he said: “I’m Dr. Barnabas Bailey, and I’ve found your robot that escaped. How much do you want for him?”
    He listened a moment. “What?” he cried. “ That much? For a little half-grown pintsized bundle of rusty scraps? Why, bless me, he’s not even gold-plated! Huh? His brain? Yes, I realize a positronic brain is positively super, but I had no idea—H’m—Yes, I’ll think about it. Trial period, eh? Very well, I’ll try him out and let you know.”
    The doctor slammed down the receiver and glared at Sprockets.
    â€œYou’re on probation,” he growled. “One month. I may buy you, and I may not.” Suddenly he shook his finger under Sprockets’ nose. “Now mind! For the next thirty days you’d better be on your toes and keep all your positronic circuits really clicking. Otherwise you’re going right back to the factory!”
    At that moment a red light flashed from the clock over the workbench. An alarm bell rang and the clock’s voice fairly shrieked: “ Flying saucer! Flying saucer! Flying saucer !”
    The doctor raced out of the shop and went pounding through the house, with Jim and Yapper at his heels.

3
    He Becomes Partially Educated
    Sprockets blinked his eye lights at the curious clock that had caused such a commotion. Briefly he touched his cerebration button. After a moment he turned to Mrs. Bailey.
    â€œFlying saucers,” he said pensively. “Can you tell me, ma’am, whether the subject comes under the heading of aircraft or crockery? There’s nothing in my memory banks that serves as a clue.”
    Mrs. Bailey chuckled. “Probably space craft. They are strictly out of this world, my dear, and no one knows beans about them. Not even Barnabas.”
    â€œBut it is obvious, ma’am, that he has a consuming interest in them. I would deduce that he has an automatic observatory connected with the clock somewhere nearby. Is that right?”
    Mrs. Bailey patted him on the head. “Your education may be limited, but your positronic circuits are clicking beautifully. Yes, Barnabas is absolutely dotty on saucers, and so is Jim. The subject comes next to his Moon research. They have an observatory in the attic, but it doesn’t work too well. It has probably spotted another shooting star.”
    She stooped, examining him with a motherly eye. “You’ll need clothes so you can have pockets. But first I’d better fix a cover for your switch box so you won’t get turned off accidentally. Barnabas should do it, but he’ll forget. His mind is on so many things. Let me see—a bit of tin and a screw should do it.”
    A switch-box cover was speedily made and fastened in place. Next came a pair of blue overalls that