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"The only real way to maintain privacy is to be uninteresting. It may be that privacy is a passing fad."
- Larry Niven
 |
| Hired Man | ||
| An automaton helper. |
Farmer Corndropper is looking for help to run his small farm. The automaton delivers himself at the local railway station.
| There was a mild sensation at the East Slowcombe railway station when a stranger, bearing a two-gallon can, carefully crated, stepped off the 3.30 accommodation, and there were many speculations hazarded as to his identity, business and destination, but, without stopping to question or exchange words with any of the waiting crowd, he stepped across the platform to where Farmer Corndropper was waiting with his gray mare and buggy. He handed the fanner a letter, stepped into the buggy and was driven slowly away. Without a word of welcome or of apology to his visitor, the farmer opened the letter and proceeded intently to read the contents:
Dear Sir: — We forward you herewith — or, rather this will be handed to you by — Tom, our Automatic Farmer (Ely’s patent). If same proves unsatisfactory after one month’s constant use, money will be refunded. The active principle by which the farmer is controlled is contained in an oil (two gallons forwarded) embodying all the essential nutritive elements which, acting upon our improved substitute for cerebral tissue, contained in the farmer’s cranial cavity, results in a faculty which cannot be distinguished from ordinary common sense. Josiah Corndropper meditatively folded and pocketed this letter, clucked to the gray mare and fixed his gaze upon his silent companion, who, however, paid no heed. He was tall, broad-shouldered and robust looking, with a wonderfully intelligent and life-like countenance, upon which his owner gazed with wonder and admiration. Tom promptly followed his master when he alighted at the farmhouse and seated himself in a corner of the kitchen, where he remained, dumb and deaf to all the subdued comments upon his appearance and deportment. At six o’clock, sharp, following the printed directions stitched to the back of Tom’s vest, Josiah cautiously lifted the brim of his straw hat, poured some “food” into the aperture disclosed and stepped back to await results. Instantly the figure gazed curiously around and then sat upright at attention, regarding his owner enquiringly. “Waal, he don’t talk back, like some hired men,” exclaimed Mrs. Corndropper, amused and relieved. “Course, he’s only a machine,” said the farmer, mollified. “Tom, go milk the cows.” This order was obeyed with neatness and dispatch. Four great pails were soon standing on the dairy floor, and Tom was awaiting further instructions. “Waal, by gum, ye do work mighty spry,” ejaculated Josiah. “Ye might’s well go out an’ finish the chores,” and Tom was gone like a flash... |
| Technovelgy from Mr. Corndropper's Hired Man,
by W.M. Stannard. Published by Black Cat in 1900 Additional resources -
|
Tom the Hired Man was all a farmer could ask for:
When Josiah came down in the morning the first thing he saw was the automaton, standing stolidly on the back porch, evidently awaiting orders.
“Mornin’, Tom. It’s time ter milk an’ do up the chores ag’in. Seems ez ef as intelligent-lookin’ a cuss ez you be would almost ‘a known it ‘thout bein’ told.” Before this mild criticism, the only reproof which his owner ever bestowed upon him, was finished, Tom was in the barnyard, dispatching the work.
“Waal, by gum!” chuckled Corndropper, “an’ only costs six cents a day, nuther. Gee, ef this ain’t a snap.” He scanned all he could see of the stone wall, and soliloquized:
“I b’leeve he’s done it all right. I must set him ‘bout the farmin’ right away; won’t need t’hire nobody this season!” and Josiah smiled audibly over the saving of three men’s hire as he went in to breakfast...
As no vote of thanks could be made intelligible to Tom, and no increase of rations would be grateful or necessary to his inner anthropomorphy, the Corndroppers were forced to be content with putting their appreciation into a testimonial to the Ely Mfg. Co. (Limited), and such public utterances as Josiah found time to make at the grocery, where he never tired of boasting of a hired man who could do the work of three, on six cents a day, and earn his employer a five hundred dollar premium the first year.
Thanks to SFFaudio for bringing this item to my attention!
Josiah scratched his head reflectively. “Able to work all night, is he? Guess I’ll set him t’ buildin’ stun wall. Here, Tom, go out ‘n straighten out th’ wall around the ten-acre lot. Then in the mornin’, ‘bout four o’clock, come in an’ wait at the back door, till I give ye su’thin’ else t’ do.” Tom was out of sight in the direction of the ten-acre lot before Corndropper had done wondering.
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Tech news articles related to works by W.M. Stannard
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'...there's a narrow belt where the climate is moderate.'
'... with the Master-operator all you have to do is push one! A remarkable achievement!'
'Not like me. A T-1000, advanced prototype. A mimetic poly-alloy. Liquid metal.'
'It was riddled with holes that were the mouths of tunnels.'
'The massive feet working the pedals, arms and hands flashing and glinting...'
'There were cubic miles of it, and it glistened like a silvery Christmas tree...'
'Jason had been guiding the caravan of cars as usual...'
"The robot solemnly hit a ball against the wall, picked it up and teed it, hit it again, over and again...'
