INTRODUCTION
Maximiliano Mariotti was an Argentinian author who published at least five science fiction stories in Latin American science fiction magazines, and one novel, "10 de Guerra", which appears to be a war novel without science fiction elements.
"All-Service" was published in the August 1956 issue of the Argentine science fiction magazine "Más Allá" ("Beyond") and was illustrated by Pambrok.
For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)" and "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures".
For complete scans of Más Allá, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/
ALL-SERVICE
MARCOS Aurelio owned a robot. It was an old robotic butler model 2211 named Jeremías who responded to a proper name, just like all the robots of that era.
Jeremías had been serving in the family for many years; he had served Marcos' grandfather (his buyer) and Marcos' father. After both of them died, Marcos inherited the robot along with the house, some furniture and several extremely annoying debts. In recent times, unfortunately, things had gone from bad to worse, so much so that even Jeremías himself was perfectly aware of the situation. That is, until one morning...
* * *
- "Jeremías!" - Marcos Aurelio called, in a still drowsy voice.
Marcos had spent the night very poorly, tossing and turning in bed, being assailed by his troubles.
- "Jeremías!" - he called again, in a more impatient tone.
Jeremías opened the door and entered the bedroom. Lately, all of his movements had become slower and heavier. With the guarantee of proper function long expired, the robot sometimes interrupted his tasks, as if meditating on the orders he'd received.
- "The poor old boy's circuits are failing," thought Marcos, with good reason.
That morning especially, Jeremías had presented an appearance more lamentable than he was accustomed to: dull, worn-out, almost completely lacking the metallic brilliance of his arms and legs, he looked more like a sickly bird than an efficient robot.
- "My clothes, Jeremías," Marcos commanded, in a loud voice.
Lately, he had to shout some of his orders.
- "The ones from yesterday, sir?" Jeremías asked respectfully.
Even his voice sounded cracked. Marcos looked at him with growing displeasure.
- "And what others, if not those?" he expressed with irony.
Jeremías refrained from responding. Slowly, he looked for Marcos' felt-soled shoes and romper suit.
- "Would the gentleman like me to dispatch them to the laundry?" Jeremías inquired, examining the clothes.
- "What for?"
- "They are not at all presentable, sir," replied the robot.
- "Would you like to tell me then, Mr. Know-it-all, what money do I have to pay for the laundry?" Marcos pointed out nervously.
Jeremías was silent again. He remained indecisive with Marcos's romper suit, waiting for new orders. These did not take long to arrive.
- "Leave the romper there. I'm going to take a bath."
Marcos marched to one of the corners of the bedroom where he opened a small door to the automatic bathroom. He went in, took a cold shower, shaved, and came out again in his previous humor.
- "Give me the romper."
Jeremías handed him the garment and stood watching him while Marcos got dressed.
- "What are you looking at?" he asked.
Jeremías answered with another question.
- "Do you need anything else from me?"
- "No. Go to the kitchen, Jeremías. Prepare breakfast and wait for me there."
Jeremías left the bedroom. Marcos finished dressing, admitting to himself that the robot was correct in describing his clothes as unpresentable. As he left the bedroom, Marcos almost tripped over the robot, who was coming back.
- "What on earth do you want?" he asked once again, irritated.
- "There's nothing in the kitchen for your breakfast, sir," Jeremías replied, always respectful. "Nothing in the fridge, nothing in the cupboard, nothing in the..."
- "Fine, Jeremías," expressed Marcos, strangely reassured.
He looked at the robot again. He needed someone to confide in, even if that someone was just a machine.
- "Jeremías," he said in a low voice, "I don't know if you can comprehend this, but I'm going to tell you something: I am completely defeated."
The robot was silent.
- "I haven't had a steady job for three months; I have numerous debts and I urgently need money."
The robot remained silent.
- "Jeremías," Marcos continued passionately, "in a few words, I don't even have a place to fall dead."
The robot looked like he was going to say something, but he stopped himself. Marcos fixed his eyes on him.
- "What, Jeremías?"
The machine remained mute. Marcos looked at him; he looked at that tall, old, antiquated robot, as if he were a sick person as sad as himself.
- "You can sell me, sir," the robot's voice echoed, clear and sudden.
Marcos was amazed.
- "You can sell me, sir," the robot repeated.
There was a minute of silence.
- "How could you know that?" Marcos asked, recuperating. His voice trembled. "How does that fit into your tasks?"
Jeremías' voice remained clear and firm sounding.
- "It's the last of my circuits, sir," he replied, "the circuit never used before today: the butler's dismissal."
Marcos was amazed again.
- "A perfect servant must know when it is time to retire," the robot added. "Do not forget, sir, that when your grandfather acquired me, I was the latest model, the non plus ultra of butlers."
- "Latin!" Marcos exclaimed, stupefied.
Jeremías nodded:
- "In the event that I had to present myself in the service of a prelate, sir. With you, I never needed to employ it."
Marcos fell silent again.
- "There are several businesses that buy, sell and repair robots, sir," Jeremías continued Jeremiah. "You can take me to one of those."
Involuntarily, Marcos' eyes lit up.
- "You think?"
- "You must do it, sir," the robot corroborated. "You have no other recourse."
Marcos was pondering. Suddenly he felt remorseful.
- "To part with you, Jeremiah, is like losing an arm. How many years have you been in the house?"
- "One hundred and twelve, sir."
- "My grandfather..." Marcos began to say.
- "Your grandfather, when the time came, would have done what I suggested, sir."
Marcos continued to ponder and looked at the robot: a cold, insensitive machine. Suddenly he headed towards the door.
- "Let's go, Jeremías," he said.
* * *
Everyone was looking at them on the streets. It was very rare to see such an old robot (Jeremías had never left home) that even the other modern robots turned to stare at him.
They boarded one of the rolling carriages, which took them into the very heart of the shopping district. The movement of people and aerotaxis was greater than everywhere else, but with more of a purpose. Because of this, people didn't stare at them as much there.
- "I see one of those businesses, sir," Jeremías reported.
A plastic sign which was constantly changing color read:
PURCHASE, SALE, AND REPAIR OF ROBOTS
ALL MAKES AND MODELS
- "Here?"
- "Yes," Jeremías said.
They entered. It was not a first-class shop. There were many robots on display, but none of them were from the latest series.
- "Sir?" inquired a voice.
Marcos turned around. A robot had approached him.
- "I would like to speak with the owner," Marcos expressed coldly.
- "With Mr. Zoe?"
Jeremías and the new robot mutually examined each other. This grew fastidious.
- "With the owner," Marcos repeated even more dryly.
- "I'll call Mr. Zoe immediately," replied the new robot. "Please hold."
Mr. Zoe finally appeared, coming out of the back of the store; a short, fat man. Marcos felt how he and Jeremías were examined from head to toe with a quick glance.
- "How may I help you?" Mr. Zoe asked.
- "I'd like to get rid of this robot," said Marcos. "I don't need him anymore."
He said this without looking at Jeremías. Mr. Zoe seemed to notice this.
- "A family heirloom, I presume," he began to thoroughly examine Jeremías, "quite old indeed".
Jeremías wavered slightly; he remained silent, however.
- "Can I take a closer look at it?" Zoe asked.
Marcos nodded. Zoe opened Jeremías' chest cover and buried his nose in the opening. He extended the fingers of his right hand and inserted them as well.
- "Breakfast is served, sir," Jeremías said in rush. "It's sunny. It's pouring rain. It's snowing. They need protein in the kitchen. It would be advisable to furnish yourself with synthetic meat. Should I take your clothes to the laundry? There is a message for you. There are no messages for you. We have nothing to send to the laundry."
- "Very interesting," Zoe said, reaching in with his other hand.
- "Sunt bestiae quaedam in quibus inest aliquid simile virtutis."["There are certain animals in which there is something like virtue."]
- "Remarkable!" Zoe exclaimed, drawing back his hands and closing the door; "utterly!”
Marcos looked at him and felt uneasy.
- "How much can you offer me for the robot?" he asked impatiently.
Mr. Zoe clenched his lips.
- "Not much. You see, young man, it's an old machine that needs adjustments. Spare parts are expensive and..."
- "How much?" Marcos asked again.
- "One hundred gold," Zoe replied, "not one more, not one less."
Marcos clenched his fists.
- "One hundred gold!"
- "Not one more, not one less," Zoe repeated. "That's my only offer; take it or leave it."
- "Jeremías, let's go!" Marcos ordered, his voice sharp.
They walked together to the exit of the shop. Mr. Zoe caught up with them there.
- "One hundred and ten gold coins," he panted, "not one more, not one less."
Marcos turned around slightly.
- "You can go to..."
He left the store before finishing the sentence.
* * *
- "It's certainly the oldest model I've ever seen," said the proprietor of a second business that purchased, sold and repaired robots.
- "How much can you offer me for him?" Marcos asked.
The other opened Jeremías' chest and put both hands inside. Jeremías remained mute.
- "Circuits insensitive to light," said the business' proprietor. "Remarkable."
- "How much will you give me for him?" - repeated Marcos, looking at Jeremías with his chest open.
- "One hundred and twenty gold," offered the business' proprietor. "I dare not offer you more."
Marcos closed Jeremías' chest.
- "Come, Jeremías," he said.
* * *
- "How long has he been with you?" - asked the proprietor of the third business that purchased, sold and repaired robots.
- "About thirty years," lied Marcos.
The proprietor opened Jeremías' chest and abdomen and bent down a little.
- "Multiple chains. Single transmission. Dials." He stood up, shaking his head. "It's a relic, sir," he said. "Do you see what I mean?"
He inserted his hands in Jeremías' abdomen and pressed something. The robot leaned forward and then back, he stretched his arms violently, so much so that he was on the verge of breaking Marcos's neck; he withdrew them, lifted one leg and let it fall. His entire structure was vibrating and shaking as if he had a fever. The business' proprietor withdrew his hands and closed Jeremías' cover.
- "Do you see what I mean? One of these days the transmission's going to break, and the robot might become dangerous."
- "He never was before," Marcos stated harshly.
The business' proprietor stared fixedly at him.
- "One hundred and fifteen gold is all I can give you. I don't think it's a good deal either."
* * *
When they left from there, it was already late morning.
- "You haven't had your breakfast yet, sir," Jeremías reminded him respectfully.
Marcos went to a vending machine and with one of the last coins he had left, he bought a cup of coffee and a vitamin cake. When he left the bar, he turned to the robot that had been waiting for him outside.
- "Let's go, Jeremías."
- "Where to, sir?"
- "To home", replied Marcos, "immediately."
* * *
Seated on the still unmade bed, Marcos was meditating with his head resting on his hands. Jeremías was standing before him, immobile.
- "What will we do, Jeremías?"
The robot did not respond.
- "One hundred and ten, one hundred and fifteen, one hundred and twenty gold," added Marcos, "that's not even a quarter of what I need. Are you really worth so little, Jeremías?"
The robot came a little closer.
- "If you permit me, sir..."
Marcos raised his head.
- "I'm listening, Jeremías."
The robot said only three words:
- "Dismantle me, sir."
* * *
Marcos had been working on Jeremías for half an hour. The robot was lying on the kitchen table, supine. He no longer had any arms.
- "There's one tool missing, Jeremías," Marcos said.
His voice and hands were shaking. His hair was falling over his eyes.
- "You probably forgot it in my tool rack, sir," the robot's rhythmic voice suggested. "Take another look, sir."
Marcos once again inserted his right hand into Jeremías' open abdomen. Inside the cavity, on the left, within a sealed box, he found the missing tool: a utensil resembling a small chisel. He showed it to Jeremías, who approved.
- "The leg joints are cut differently than the arm joints; slightly larger. Proceed as before, sir."
Marcos laboriously lifted one leg and then the other. He was sweating.
- "Did I hurt you, Jeremías?" he asked, distressed, before realizing the foolishness of what he had just said.
- "Take the arms to one place and the legs to another," Jeremías instructed. "I'm sure you'll get a higher price. The only inconvenience is that you will have to make two trips instead of just one."
Marcos picked up the robot's arms, wrapped them in a piece of cloth and left very depressed, overwhelmed by the weight of the load.
* * *
- "A pair of arms, robot type 2211/2230" - said the proprietor of the fourth business that purchased, sold and repaired robots, "old but still usable."
Marcos remained silent.
- "Seventy gold," the proprietor said at last. "I think that's a fair price."
* * *
- "A pair of legs for a 2211/2230 robot," - said the proprietor of the fifth business that purchased, sold and repaired robots, "old but in good condition. How much are you asking?"
Marcos replied that he would defer to the man's good judgment.
- "Ninety gold," said the proprietor. "No, ninety-five. I don't want to cheat you. The pieces, as far as I can see, have never been taken apart before."
- "No," said Marcos, upset, "never."
* * *
Jeremías was still lying on the kitchen table, his chest and abdomen still open.
- "How did it go, sir?" he asked when he saw Marcos appear.
He could no longer move his head, although he could speak.
- "One hundred and sixty-five gold coins, Jeremías," replied Marcos, without any joy in his voice.
- "With the trunk and head disassembled in series and sold in separate parts, you will easily reach five hundred gold, sir," said the robot. "The individual parts are still highly valued; the first gentleman we visited told us so; we should have guessed before... I advise you to conclude the business today, sir, before the circuits are damaged."
Marcos nodded. Suddenly he asked.
- "Jeremías, tell me: if I separate your trunk and your head, won't it be true that you'll no longer speak?"
Jeremías' voice continued to ring out.
- "No, sir; I will not speak."
Marcos hesitated and did not move.
- "Go ahead, sir," the robot urged.
Marcos held a chisel to the robot's neck. He was still hesitating.
- "I'll be more comfortable than I am now" - added Jeremías - "Ut laete vivas..."["May you live happily"]
The tip of the chisel sank into the grooves of his neck and began to press upward.
- "Goodbye, Jeremías," said Marcos, his eyes cloudy.
- "Goodbye, sir," the robot replied respectfully.
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