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for yourself?"
"You can't possibly understand," said Andrew.
"So you keep saying. I understand this, though: you've developed a patented
line of prosthetic devices that amounts to an immense technological
breakthrough. They're going to extend the human life-span enormously and
transform the existence of millions of people who otherwise would be facing
crippling and debilitating circumstances as they age. I realize that you're
wealthy already, but once your devices are on the market they'll make you rich
beyond anybody's comprehension. Maybe having more money doesn't mean much to
you, but there'll be fame along with it--honors galore--the gratitude of an
entire world. It's an enviable position, Andrew. Why can't you settle for what
you have now? Why take all these crazy chances, and run the risk of losing
everything? Why do you insist on playing further games with your body?"
Andrew did not answer.
Nor did he let any of Alvin Magdescu's objections prevent him from
continuing to follow his chosen path. With the basic principles of his
prosthetic devices established, he was able to develop a host of new
applications involving virtually every organ of the body. And everything went
pretty much as Magdescu had said it would--the money, the honors, the fame.
But the personal risks of which Magdescu had spoken did not materialize.
The frequent upgrades which Andrew underwent over the next decade had no
harmful effects whatever as they brought his android body closer and closer in
its operational systems to the human norm.
The Feingold and Charney people had helped him to draft and negotiate the
licensing agreement under which all the patent-protected prosthetic devices
developed by Andrew Martin Laboratories would be manufactured and marketed by
United States Robots and Mechanical Men on a royalty-payment basis. Andrew's
patents were air-tight and the contract was a highly favorable one. Whatever
irritation or resentment U. S. Robots might have felt all these years over the
mere fact of Andrew's existence was forgotten, or at least put aside.
Willy-nilly, they had to treat him with respect. He and the company were
partners, now.
U. S. Robots established a special division to produce Andrew's devices, with
factories on several continents and in low orbit. Marketing experts from the
parent company were brought in to develop plans for distributing the new
products everywhere on Earth and the space settlements. Surgeons, both human
and robot, underwent courses of instruction at the U. S. Robots prosthetics
facility so that they would be able to carry out the complicated installation
procedures.
Demand for Andrew's prosthetic devices was immense. The flow of royalties was
heavy right from the start and within a few years became overwhelming.
Andrew now owned the entire Martin-Charney estate, and much of the surrounding
land--a wondrous stretch of clifftop terrain overlooking the
Pacific Ocean for eight or ten kilometers. He lived in Sir's big house, but
maintained his own old cottage nearby as a sentimental reminder of his early
days of independent life after gaining free-robot status.
Farther down the property he built the imposing research facilities of
Andrew Martin Laboratories. There was a little trouble with the zoning
authorities about that, because this was supposed to be a quiet residential
area and the research center that Andrew wanted to set up would be the size of
a small university campus. There was also, perhaps, some lingering anti-robot
feeling at work among the opposition.
But when his application came up for approval, Andrew's lawyer simply said,
"Andrew Martin has given the world the prosthetic kidney, the prosthetic lung,
the prosthetic heart, the prosthetic pancreas. In return all he asks is the
right to continue his research in peace on the property where he has lived and
worked for well over a hundred years. Who among us would refuse such a small
request when it comes from so great a benefactor of mankind?" And after a
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certain amount of debate the zoning variance was granted and the buildings of
the Andrew Martin Laboratories Research Center began to rise amid the somber
cypresses and pines of what had, long ago, been the wooded estate of
Gerald Martin.
Every year or two, Andrew would return to the gleaming operating theater at u.
S. Robots for additional prosthetic upgrading of his own. Some of the changes
were utterly trivial ones: the new fingernails and toenails, for example,
virtually indistinguishable now from those of humans. Some of the changes were
major: the new visual system, which although synthetically grown was able to
duplicate the human eyeball in virtually every respect.
"Don't blame us if you come out of this permanently blind," Magdescu told him
sourly, when Andrew went to him for the eye transplant.
"You aren't looking at this rationally, my friend," replied Andrew. "The
worst that can happen to me is that I will be forced to go back to photo-optic
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