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....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Universe December 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
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.