ROBOT MAN

Greymouth Evening Star, 12 November 1928, Page 9

ROBOT MAN

A WOMAN’S DESCRIPTION. I have become enamoured of a strange man; like the song, “he is tall and dark and handsome,” and his name is George, or alternatively Eric. He prefers George, however, because like George Washington, he cannot tell a lie (writes a woman contributor to the London “Sunday Times” on September 16). Voracity is not the secret of his attraction—it is that he always does as he is told. “George, sit down,” and he sits. “George, stand up,” and up he stands. George, who is not fashioned after the manner of ordinary mortals, but in shinging armour, made his de-,, but before the world yesterday, when he opened the model Engineer Exhibition at the Horticultural Hall, Westminster, where he delivered what all admitted was a masterly speech. Clear and distinct, his voice penetrated the hall —the burr of his “r’s” giving a faint impression of Scottish origin—as he welcomed the hundreds of beys of all ages who crowded the hall to se him and the other exhibits. George, of course, would be indignant at being referred to as an exhibit. The exhibition is characteristic of British workmanship and skill. The model ships and steam engines, aeroplanes and hydraulic pumps, trains and battle cruisers are marvellous in their intricacies —in fact, George, who speaks with peculiar authority, declared that some of them wore equal in design and workmanship to anything to be found in the Science Museum at South Kensington. George was the centre of attraction, and at one time a queue of people waiting outside to gain admission to the already overcrowded hall, shouted greetings to him through the doors and windows. George’s beauty is of the modern school, hard and shiny, with a futuristic angularity. Obedience is his chief charm; he sits and stands, raises his arms, flashes his eyes, and

shows his teeth. The last-named feat is rather alarming, for the dental display is accompanied by blue sparks and flashes, like the emission of fire by the best story-book dragoils. He tells the time accurately, in fact is rather too fastidious over detail. I stood close to his breastplate, which bears a tribute to the Robot of Capek in the “R.U.R.” engraved thereon in bold letters, and asked him the time. Very politely George requested two men to stand aside so he could see the clock, and then said: “Nineteen and a-half minutes to four.” Too distressingly exact for everyday affairs! George would demand a three and a-quarter minutes’ boiling of his breakfast egg, I am sure. George is not tactful. Very bravely, I asked if he had any love affairs. He startled me with a disdainful flash in his eyes, and curtly said: “Nothing like that about me.” But George may yet succumb to feminine wiles, for his .creator, Captain Richards, told me that he is; going on the stage in three or four months’ time. Probably George’s present lack of response is due to the much advertised inferiority complex, for maybe he know; that, wonderful as ho is, he is only the Sequel to a disappointment. . i . Mr Percival Marshall, the organiser, some time ago asked the Duke of York to open the Exhibition yesterday. The Duke had already made his Scottish engagements, and was unable to attend. So George came on the scene instead, and I fancy his Occasional taciturnity is duo to the fact that although he is supremo, ih hif own Robot kingdom, he knows he f only a “next best thing.” ■■■ ■ ■ ' ■■!■■■■■—