Leo Tolstoy - Android Karenina

2010

Illustrations by Eugene Smith

Russian names consist of three parts: the given name, the patronymic (derived from the fathers first name), and the family name. Often, individuals also go by a nickname. Hence the first character introduced is Stepan Arkadyich Oblonsky-Stepan is his given name, Arkadyich the patronymic, and Oblonsky the family name. But the man is often called Stiva, his nickname.

Class I and II robots also use a three-part nomenclature: a Roman numeral for class type, a function-designation, and an indication of model. Hence the I/Samovar/1(8) is a Class I device, designed to steep and serve tea, model number 1(8).

Class III robots are universally known by the nickname bestowed by their master or mistress.

Stepan Arkadyich Oblonsky (Stiva), a Moscow gentleman and Small Stiva, Stivas Class III

Darya Alexandrovna Oblonskaya (Dolly), Oblonskys wife and Dolichka, Dollys Class III

Anna Arkadyevna Karenina, Oblonskys sister and Android Karenina, Annas Class III

Alexei Alexandrovich Karenin, Annas husband

Sergey Alexeich Karenin (Seryozha), the Karenins young son

Konstantin Dmitrich Levin, Oblonskys old friend and Socrates, Levins Class III

Nikolai Dmitrich Levin, Levins brother and Karnak, Nikolais Class III

Ekaterina Alexandrovna Shcherbatskaya (Kitty), Dollys sister and Tatiana, Kittys Class III

Prince Alexander Dmitrievich Shcherbatsky, Kitty and Dollys father

The Princess Shcherbatskaya, Kitty and Dollys mother and La Scherbatskaya, the Princesss Class III

Count Alexei Kirillovich Vronsky, a war hero and Lupo, Vronskys Class III

Countess Vronsky, Vronskys mother and Tunisia, the Countesss Class III

Elizaveta Fyodorovna Tverskaya (Betsy), Vronskys cousin and a friend of Anna

and Darling Girl, Betsys Class III

Marya Nikolaevna, Nikolai Levins companion

Madame Stahl, a society woman and prominent xenotheologist

Varenka, a poor girl attached to Madame Stahl

Yashvin, Count Vronskys friend and fellow officer

Vassenka Veslovsky, a gentleman of society

FUNCTIONING ROBOTS are all alike; every malfunctioning robot malfunctions in its own way.

Everything was in confusion in the Oblonskys house. The wife had discovered that the husband was carrying on an intrigue with the French girl who had been a mcanicienne in their family, charged with the maintenance of the households Class I and II robots. Stunned and horrified by such a discovery, the wife had announced to her husband that she could not go on living in the same house with him. This position of affairs had now lasted three days, and not only the husband and wife themselves, but all the robots in the household were terribly affected by it. The Class IIIs were keenly aware of their respective masters discomfort, and the Class IIs sensed in their rudimentary fashion that there was no logic in their being agglomerated together, and that any stray decoms, junkering in a shed at the Vladivostok R. P. F., had more in common with one another than they, the servomechanisms in the household of the Oblonskys.

The wife did not leave her own room; the husband had not been at home for three days. The II/Governess/D145, its instruction circuits pitifully mistuned, for three days taught the Oblonsky children in Armenian instead of French. The usually reliable II/Footman/C(c)43 loudly announced nonexistent visitors at all hours of the day and night. The children ran wild all over the house. A II/Coachman/47-T drove a sledge directly through the heavy wood of the front doors, destroying a I/Hourprotector/14 that had been a prized possession of Oblonskys father.

Three days after the quarrel, Prince Stepan Arkadyich Oblonsky-Stiva, as he was called in the fashionable world-woke at eight oclock in the morning, not in his wifes bedroom, but within the oxygen-tempered Class I comfort unit in his study. He woke as usual to the clangorous thumpthumpthump of booted robot feet crushing through the snow, as a regiment of 77s tromped in lockstep along the avenues outside.

Our tireless protectors, he thought pleasantly, and uttered a blessing over the Ministry as he turned over his stout, well-cared-for person, as though to sink into a long sleep again. He vigorously embraced the pillow on the other side and buried his face in it; but all at once he jumped up, banging his rotund forehead against the glass ceiling of the I/Comfort/6, and opened his eyes.

He suddenly remembered that he was not sleeping in his wifes room, but in his study, and why: the smile vanished from his face, he knitted his brows.

Small Stiva, Stepan Arkadyichs Class III companion robot, clomped happily into the room on his short piston-actuated legs, carrying his masters boots and a telegram. Stiva, as yet unprepared to undertake the days obligations, bid his Class III come a bit closer, and then swiftly pressed three buttons below the rectangular screen centered in Small Stivas midsection. He sat back glumly in the I/Comfort/6, while every detail of his quarrel with his wife was displayed on Small Suvas monitor, illuminating the hopelessness of Suvas position and, worst of all, his own fault.

Yes, she wont forgive me, and she cant forgive me, Stepan Arkadyich moaned when the Memory ended. Small Stiva made a consoling chirp and piped, Now, master: She might forgive you.

Stiva waved off the words of consolation. The most awful thing about it is that its all my fault-all my fault, though Im not to blame. Thats the point of the whole situation.

Quite right, Small Stiva agreed.

Oh, oh, oh! Stiva moaned in despair, while Small Stiva motored closer, angled his small, squattish frame 35 degrees forward at the midsection, and rubbed his domed head in a catlike gesture against his masters belly. Stepan Arkadyich then re-cued the Memory on the monitor and stared desolately at the most unpleasant part: the first minute when, on coming, happy and good-humored, from the theater, with a huge pear in his hand for his wife, he had found his wife in her bedroom viewing the unlucky communiqu that revealed everything.

She, his Dolly, forever fussing and worrying over household details, supervising the mcaniciennes, limited in her ideas, had been sitting perfectly still while the incriminating communiqu played on the monitor of her Class III, Dolichka, and looking at him with an expression of horror, despair, and indignation. Dolichka, despite the rounded simplicity of her forms, appeared equally distraught, and her perfectly circular peach-colored eyes glowed fiercely from her ovoid silver faceplate.

Whats this? Dolly asked, gesturing wildly toward the images displayed upon Dolichkas midsection.

Stepan Arkadyich, as is so often the case, was not so much annoyed at the fact itself as at the way in which he had met his wifes words. What happened to him at that instant happens to people when they are unexpectedly caught in something very disgraceful. He did not succeed in adapting his face to the position in which he was placed toward his wife by the discovery of his fault. Instead of being hurt, denying, defending himself, begging forgiveness, instead of remaining indifferent even-anything would have been better than what he did do-his face utterly involuntarily (reflex spinal action, reflected Stepan Arkadyich, who from his work at the Ministry understood the simple science of motor response)-utterly involuntarily assumed its habitual, good-humored, and therefore idiotic smile. Still worse, Small Stiva emitted a nervous, high-pitched series of chirps, clearly indicating a guilty thought-string.