Title fight

By WILLIAM C. GAULT
These robots were coming up in the world, getting too big for their britches. Nick Nolan would show them....
In every robot brain there was a remote-controlled circuit breaker—and in every robot brain there was resentment and the determination to work for THE DAY. William Campbell Gault, better known to the readers of our companion magazine , The Saint Detective Magazine, tells the compelling story of the robots who passed and the robots who fought and who planned for the moment—and what happened....
The sounds from above were dim in the dressing room. Over his head, between him and the thousands of fans, were the tons of concrete, robot-made concrete. Man conceived but robot made.
He looked down at his hands, his strong, short-fingered hands. Complete with fingerprints—but of protonol. Who'd know it, to look at them? In man's image, he was made. In God's image, man was made, if one believed in that, any more. In man's image, he was made, but not with man's status.
His name was Alix 1340, which meant only that he was the thirteen hundred and fortieth of the Alix type. The short, broad Nordic type. In about twenty minutes, he was due in the ring. He was fighting for the middleweight championship of the world.
Joe Nettleton had dreamed that one up. It had been born in the verbiage of his daily syndicated sports column, nurtured by the fans' clamor, and fanned into reality—by what? Animosity? These robots were coming up in the world, getting too big for their britches. Nick Nolan would show this Alix his place.
Nick was the champ, a man, made in His image. He butted and thumbed and gouged and heeled. His favorite target was the groin. But he was a man. Oh, yes, he was a man. A champion among men.
Manny came in. His real title was Manuel 4307, but robots like to forget the numbers. He was Manny, Alix's manager and number one second. A deft and sharp and able robot, Manny.
He said, I thought it would be better if we were alone. No fans, especially. And I've had a bellyfull of sports writers.