when george grabfield went out for his morning run on that fateful morning, he saw a gorilla seated at the bottom of his driveway.
always the politest of persons, he asked the gorilla if he was lost.
no, the gorilla replied with equal courtesy, i am always at home in my surroundings.
cam i help you with anything? george persisted. i am just starting out on my morning run, but i am in no particularly hurry.
i do not need any assistance, thank you. i am, in fact, quite enjoying these lovely surroundings. you seem to have yourself quite a snug berth here. i am particularly impressed by the meticulous upkeep of the flower beds outside the houses. do you keep them up yourselves or do you have servants to do so, or have robots or other mechanical means to maintain them?
in this civilization, george answered, we do not consider thr entoties you refer to as robots, to be different from ourselves, and regard the word “robot” itself as demeaning and hurtful.
i will keep that in mind. but to return to my original question, how exactly are the flowers kept so transparently meticulous?
we have our ways, george replied after a moment’s pregnant pause.
thank you. i will not keep you running in place any longer. enjoy your run.
george did enjoy his run, as he usually did or he would not have gone on them, although his mind occasionally drifted back to the gorilla and his curious line of questioning.
when george returned, the gorilla was gone, and he never saw him again.
dilworth, his wife, was just getting ready to go out the door when george entered the house.
did you see a gorilla? george asked her. there was one sitting in the driveway when i left.
no, but a mongol horseman came by and tried to sell me something or other.
oh. and did you buy any of the mongol horseman’s something or other?
no, i am not in a buying mood this morning.
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