COSMIC CASTAWAY
By STANLEY MULLEN
"You aren't human, Bell. And you're not a
robot. What are you?" Bell pondered the query
slowly, cautiously, with his semi-mechanical
superbrain ... a brain that Plutonians dubbed
the most deadly and dangerous in the universe.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories May 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Atmosphere in the ticket agent's office seemed thicker and warmer than usual, but the disturbing factors were supercharged emotions, not jammed pressure-gauges or thermal adjusters. Not all the emotions were human; but they were real enough, both to Bell and to the ticket agent.
"I know all about you, Bell," the agent said, looking over the half-man curiously, with a hint of vicious resentment. Like many minor functionaries, the ticket agent took the troubles of his employers personally, and Mines, Inc. on Pluto was a subsidiary of the Power and Transport Trust. "Sure, you think you have return passage coming to you. Hasn't the company been more than generous? Actually, it must have cost a fortune to patch you up."
Like many minor functionaries the ticket agent studied the half-man with a hint of vicious resentment.