by
John Victor Peterson
It was only a robot, tiny, chubby, for all the universe like a Ganymedean monkey. It stood in the dark old mansion alone, stiff, immovable. Its pink, bewhiskered, rubberoid face seemed twisted with abject loneliness.... Aye, it stood alone and lonely, as if awaiting the return of its master—The song pulsed in a vibrant, ominous cadence through the ..