Dzhon Makdonald - Nicky and the Tin Finge [story]

This character Nicky Lugan is, from way back, a tinkerer, and since in Udella which has no more than fifteen thousand people in it everybody knows everybody, Kopal, on the city desk, wasted no time in shooing me off to interview Nicky when it became evident that a tinkerer had done the dirty to Big George Loke.

Barney, Kopal said, trot on over and talk to this Nicky Lugan. You know him, and you have done features on him; and maybe he likes you though why, it would be hard to ascertain.

I used to know Nicky Lugan back in the days when he only had three vending machines. At that time he lived over Veneriks Garage, and the only time anybody would see Nicky would be when he trotted by, because he covered his three machines on foot, and the money for a bowl of chili for dinner had to be grabbed out of one of the machines.

He still lives over Veneriks Garage. And he has not changed in the seventeen years it took him to work up from three machines to two hundred and eighteen, the current count. The machines are in nice spots all over the county, and they vend candy, cigarettes, milk, soft drinks and so on. Now Nicky has a guy who makes the repairs and the collections, and it is long since Nicky has trotted from place to place.

He averages five dollars per month per machine after paying off his man, which is a splendid two fifty a week, and more than hay.

He is a little round man with the expression of a young owl who has found out that life can be beautiful.

And a natural tinkerer!

I went up the steps and knocked, and he opened the door and said: Why, Barney! How nice of you to call on me! You know Moe, of course.

I have never been able to break myself of the habit of nodding at Moe when Nicky introduces me to him.

Moe is the only robot in Udella. He is Nickys hobby, and the reason why Nicky hasnt married, and the reason why he still lives over Veneriks Garage and takes mail-order courses in electronics. You take a natural tinkerer and feed him some electronics courses, and you generally end up with something.

They say all first novels are autobiographical. Maybe all first robots are the same way. The only differences between Nicky and Moe are that Moe is two and a half feet taller and about two hundred pounds heavier, and his insides are full of wire and gunk, and his exposed parts are made of aluminum and stainless steel.

But he has the same, round, happy, contented face, and the lenses he has instead of eyes have the same warm, placid look that Nickys eyes have.

There is also one other difference: Where the back of Moes neck should be, there is a very complicated arrangement of little gimmicks like you find two of on a light plug.

Sit down, Barney, Micky said. Moe is on house current, but I havent got him coordinated yet.

I sat down, and Nicky trotted over to a wall cabinet and took out a small black box with a number of holes in it. He went over to Moe and plugged the box onto the back of Moes neck. I noticed that on the side of the black box it said, SOCIAL in small neat white letters.

The big metal head turned slowly, scanning the room, and came to rest on me. As usual, he gave me the shudders.

You remember Barney, Nicky said.

Hello, Barney, Moe said. His voice is somewhat like what would happen if you were flat on your back in the cellar with a tin washtub over your head.

Hello, Moe.

How are you, Barney?

Just fine, Moe. And you?

Im all right, thank you.

Mix us a drink, Moe, Nicky said briskly.

Moe stood up. The floor creaked under his weight. Nicky told me once that Moe has walked and moved a lot better since he outfitted him with a mess of those tiny electric motors that were Air Corps surplus after the war. Moe used to click and chatter a lot. Now he moves with a slow hum.

He moved heavily out into the kitchen, and I heard glasses clink.

Nicky smiled. I suppose you want to do another feature on Moe, Barney?

I was uncomfortable. Not this time, Nicky. Were overdue for one, but not this time. This time I want to know if the cops have been to see you.

Nicky looked troubled. They had me go to see them. They sent a car. They had a lot of questions to ask. It almost seems as if they think I killed Big George Loke. He laughed nervously. I didnt, of course.

Im afraid theyll be back to see you again, Nicky.

At that moment Moe came back in, carefully carrying a tray. He started toward Nicky. Company first, Nicky said. Moe stopped in his tracks, turned and brought me my drink. Then he took Nicky his. There was one remaining drink on the tray a shot glass half-full of machine oil. Moe set the tray aside, sat down on the couch, said, Heres how, and knocked off the machine oil. He hiccuped once.

Nicky looked proudly at me.

Cute, huh? I added that last week. Actually, the drink lubricates his knee and ankle joints.

It has been known to do the same to mine, I said. But to get back to you, Nicky: The cops will be back.

Certainly they dont think I have time to go around killing people, Barney. Im much too busy with Moe. My goodness!

I had to count it out for him on my fingers: One-Big George Loke got into the vending-machine business two years ago. Hes been doing well.

He hasnt, hurt me any, Barney.

I ignored him: Two people think youre a little crazy, staying up here all the time and making improvements on Moe, and then taking him down to the tavern once a week.

Whats queer about that? Moe is better company than most people.

Three Big George was killed with just the sort of gimmick you would think up. And youve got the shop here to make it.

They wouldnt tell me about the... ah... gimmick.

Dont you read the papers? It was a cute little item: It clamped on the inside of the front wheel of Big Georges car. It was okay in the city. But when he got it up to a high speed, centrifugal force pulled a little weight out on the end of a spring until it finally touched a copper plate. That made contact and a dry cell exploded just enough powder to blow the wheel off. George was spread out over fifty feet of three-lane concrete.

Nicky fingered his chin. Very good. Very good indeed! If I ever decide to kill anyone, I certainly hope I think of as nice a thing as that.

You see, Nicky has always been a tinkerer.

While I questioned Nicky, Moe fixed us another drink, knocked off his second shot of machine oil and hiccuped twice. That way, Nicky said, I can tell how much hes had. I dont want him to flood his bearings.

We certainly wouldnt want that, I agreed.

Finally Nicky called Moe over, had him turn around while Nicky took off the SOCIAL black box and put one on called COOKING. As Moe walked around, the electric cord reeled up and unreeled through a small hole in the base of his spine. He seemed very careful not to get tangled in the cord.

Fix dinner, Moe, Nicky said, for two. Steak, baked potatoes, frozen limas, a tossed salad with French dressing, coffee, and lay out the cigars. Call us when its ready to serve. Well eat at the kitchen table.

Moe bowed and tromped off, his little motors humming.

Thats new, isnt it? I asked.

Nicky looked proud. Not so very new. He could always cook. But now he doesnt bum things the way he used to, and he uses more seasoning. And he hasnt broken a dish in two months.

I was worried, and I had no reason to keep it from Nicky. Finally I said: Nicky, if they cant pin it on you, the very least theyll do is put you away in a padded cell.

His eyes grew round with terror. No! No, Barney! You wouldnt let them!

Moe is a nice gu a nice robot, Nicky; but hes made you a few enemies, you know. Remember when he walked up in the dark and tapped Mrs. Berril on the shoulder? She turned and slugged him, and had to have three stitches taken in her hand. And remember the day he went into the school by mistake. Eleven cases of hysterics in the third grade alone. No, Nicky. I think they could do it to you, and I think a lot of people would be darn well pleased over it.