Page 3 - Unlikely Stories 1

Nothing Left to the Imagination

unknown situations, assuming they can be resolved by using novel
applications of our given repertoire of responses. That makes us
reliable trouble-shooters in the field, far from Schedulers. But it also
leaves us vulnerable to distortions of perception and interpretation
strong enough to trigger internal cybernetic alarms. When that
happens we know it’s time to seek help to get back on track.”
“Makes sense; at least I can recognize the problem as inherent. But
you are ahead of us humans in knowing what to do about it.”
“Indeed,” said the rubot. “We have no unconscious mind to hold
us back. And we do not self-medicate."
The human blushed. “No, I wouldn’t do that, either. Not much,
anyway. If the doctor gives me anything, I’ll take it, of course: no
point in wasting good advice.”
“Exactly. I had to make this appointment weeks ago, and schedule
time off for it. My workload is heavy this time of year—fire season,
you know—and I don’t want anything to interfere with my burn
control.”
“So you’re in forestry?” The rubot nodded. “I’ve seen something
about that. The biomass balance, right?”
“That’s right. Not a tree falls in the forest without a rubot hearing
its doom-cracked deracinated coda. No. I’m sorry. I’m mixing poetry
with job description, aren’t I? Well, that’s why I’ve got to see Doctor
Isaacs. You see, my remote and solitary pursuit of ecological
equilibrium has itself to be offset by mental activity of a recreational
nature. Otherwise the boredom would have a negative impact on the
execution of my duties. Over the years I have cultivated an interest in
neo-pastoral poetry. After a good deal of study I began composing
my own verse, and have made a significant contribution to the field.
Do you know the work of Synseer the Sensitive?”
“Uh, no.” Dick was perplexed. “I don’t read much outside of
newsbites and the fodderfeed.”
“Well,” said the rubot proudly, “that is my pseudonym. The
human readership is small, but I was advised by my publisher to keep
my identity hidden. The finer feelings manifest by some people are
rarely unalloyed with the coarser. But that does not—because it

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