I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

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👉The story begins at 1:56 and the tiny lessons begin at 12:50

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2024 Edward Cooper Howland

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TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

OK so, this week and next week, we’re gonna take a little break from Forty Stories. Why? Because it’s really, really hard for me to write a good story every single week, and make the tiny lessons, AND record and edit everything. Also, I want these Forty Stories to finish around Christmas this year, so actually, I need to take some breaks. So. I found a fun science fiction story from 1955 that’s out of copyright, and I’m gonna read it to you. This one is…well…I don’t want to spoil it for you. But I can tell you that this story is very sweet. Nothing horrible, I promise. 

SELLING POINT

By Norman Arkawy

A new industry blossomed when U.S. Robot

Company put their perfected models on the market.

Perfected? Nobody had considered the one defect!

"Good morning, madam," Ira said. "I represent...."

"We don't want any," said the women, easing the door shut.

With the time tested finesse of door-to-door salesmen, Ira slipped his size twelve shoe between the swinging door and the jamb. "But madam, if you'll give me a few minutes of your time...."

The woman shook her head. "It won't do you any good," she said, trying to squeeze the door shut over his foot. "Whatever it is, we don't want any."

"I represent U.S. Robot Company," Ira persisted. He smiled pleasantly. His unyielding foot maintained a six inch wide avenue of communication between himself and the woman in the house. "Long the leader in commercial and industrial mechanicals, U.S. Robot is now introducing a new line of home servants, designed to assist the housewife in every possible task about the house."

"You're wasting your time," the woman said wearily.

Ira used his professional smile to indicate that he enjoyed wasting his time. "When you've seen the demonstration," he said, "I'm sure you'll agree that no home should be without a Model I household robot."

The woman looked out at him silently, patiently, resigned. She was pretty and petite and very young; and, from her appearance, had never done a day's work in her life. A typical newlywed, Ira thought. A perfect prospect, he decided.

"As you undoubtedly know, the outstanding characteristics of U.S. Robot mechanicals have always been ability, durability and reliability. Their performance in industry has earned for the United States Robot Company the enviable reputation it is proud to possess: 'Leader in the art, artist of the trade—if it's U.S. Robot, it's perfect!'"

The woman smiled and allowed the door to swing open slightly. "What about Amalgamated Androids?" she asked. "I understand they've got some pretty good models, too."

"Well," Ira admitted, "some of their models are pretty good; adequate, perhaps. But why take anything but the best? And, of course, our robots...."

"I've seen some AA models that are perfect," the woman said. A suggestion of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "How can yours be any better than perfect?"

Ira's voice took on a confidential complexion. "Some of their models are beautiful," he conceded. "And they may seem to work well when they're new. But they're not built to last, like ours. Why...."

"I think," the woman tried to interrupt, "that some of...."

"How can you compare them to U.S. Robot?" Ira ran on. "We have had forty-seven years of experience in producing mechanicals for the most difficult jobs imaginable. Amalgamated Androids while producing an adequate household model, does not have the valuable know-how to build into their mechanicals the strength and quality that is taken for granted in every machine bearing the U.S. Robot label."

The woman was skeptical. "Maybe your company does make the best factory hands," she argued, "but household robots must be esthetic as well as rugged. And Amalgamated Androids are specialists in building humanoid robots, while your company...."

"But, madam," Ira said, grinning. "Our household models are perfectly human in appearance—I should say, imperfectly human because we even give them tiny blemishes to make them seem more natural."

The woman was obviously unconvinced. Ira applied the clincher. "What greater proof could you want than this?" He held up his left hand, baring his wrist so that she could read his identification stamp.

Model I (Masc.)

Serial No. 27146 12V

U.S. ROBOT CO., INC.

The woman's eyes widened. Her face took on an expression of delighted surprise.

"What better proof could you want?" Ira repeated. "Do I look like a robot? Am I not a perfect humanoid? Here," he said, extending his hand, "feel my skin and see if it isn't just like a man's."

The woman gingerly touched his hand. Her eyes mirrored her satisfaction.

Ira pressed his advantage. "Model I robots come in both masculine and feminine designs, built to your individual specifications as to size, coloring, strength, personality traits, apparent age, and so forth. For example, lonely people can have companionship built in, if they like. You can have an Ira or Inez possessing an almost human intelligence and free choice, or you can get one that is blindly servile and which will never volunteer advice or information. You can get an elderly, refined butler or a handsome young man-around-the-house. You can get a pretty, petite parlor maid or a buxom cook."

Ira paused to observe his customer. She was looking at him in a peculiar way. Knowing that he was a robot, she seemed to be appraising him as she would a man. Ira noted her odd reaction and puzzled over it. It usually went the other way—women lost interest in him when they learned that he was not a man.

"Why don't you come inside," the woman suggested suddenly, opening the door for him.

Ira smiled at her graciously and went into the house. Her reaction was not so puzzling, after all, he decided. A young and virtuous wife would feel the conventional fears that were "built into her" by society. She had to be careful. It was conceivably dangerous to be alone in the house with a handsome man. But, if he's a robot, she has nothing to fear—from him or herself.

Well…..That’s part one. What do you think? I think it’s very cute. I’ve always loved old science fiction stories like this. So, like always when we do a two-part story like this, I’d like you to take a moment and make a prediction about how this story will end. Maybe even write it down on a piece of paper, so you can check it next week. What’s gonna happen with Ira and this lady? I’m not gonna tell….

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

How’s the big picture looking? Cute. It’s looking cute. 

My question is, why does Ira reveal that he’s a robot? Take a minute and think about it. It’s because he’s trying to show how lifelike the US Robots are. They could fool anyone. 

And what’s the hot new dance at the Dicitonary Disco? It’s the ROBOT. Of course. I’m sorry. 

Anyway I have two vocabulary words for you. The first one is: “adequate.” It’s in there twice, it must be important. Adequate means…good enough. Not really very good. But, you know. OK.

And the second vocab word is….gingerly. It has nothing to do with the yummy spice, ginger. Instead, it means very carefully, or cautiously. So when she touched his hand gingerly, maybe she’s a little bit afraid of him?

And how about a nice Melody Moment?

It’s…P. It’s the sound you get from the letter PEE. This one is hard for me, because it’s rough on the microphone. So I’ll do my best. To make this sound correctly, you have to bring your lips into your mouth. And then POP them back out again. “P” And this is an unvoiced sound. You don’t use your throat. But if you did, what sound would it make? Try, by yourself, right now. “P” but vibrate your throat. Yeah. “B” Like BEE. Crazy, right? P and B are like 95% the same sound. 

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to this special bonus episode of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it. 

I got this story from Project Gutenberg, which is a super cool resource for copyright-free books, and you should check it out. 

Again, thank you  so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other. 

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

SELLING POINT

By Norman Arkawy

A new industry blossomed when U.S. Robot

Company put their perfected models on the market.

Perfected? Nobody had considered the one defect!

"Good morning, madam," Ira said. "I represent...."

"We don't want any," said the women, easing the door shut.

With the time tested finesse of door-to-door salesmen, Ira slipped his size twelve shoe between the swinging door and the jamb. "But madam, if you'll give me a few minutes of your time...."

The woman shook her head. "It won't do you any good," she said, trying to squeeze the door shut over his foot. "Whatever it is, we don't want any."

"I represent U.S. Robot Company," Ira persisted. He smiled pleasantly. His unyielding foot maintained a six inch wide avenue of communication between himself and the woman in the house. "Long the leader in commercial and industrial mechanicals, U.S. Robot is now introducing a new line of home servants, designed to assist the housewife in every possible task about the house."

"You're wasting your time," the woman said wearily.

Ira used his professional smile to indicate that he enjoyed wasting his time. "When you've seen the demonstration," he said, "I'm sure you'll agree that no home should be without a Model I household robot."

The woman looked out at him silently, patiently, resigned. She was pretty and petite and very young; and, from her appearance, had never done a day's work in her life. A typical newlywed, Ira thought. A perfect prospect, he decided.

"As you undoubtedly know, the outstanding characteristics of U.S. Robot mechanicals have always been ability, durability and reliability. Their performance in industry has earned for the United States Robot Company the enviable reputation it is proud to possess: 'Leader in the art, artist of the trade—if it's U.S. Robot, it's perfect!'"

The woman smiled and allowed the door to swing open slightly. "What about Amalgamated Androids?" she asked. "I understand they've got some pretty good models, too."

"Well," Ira admitted, "some of their models are pretty good; adequate, perhaps. But why take anything but the best? And, of course, our robots...."

"I've seen some AA models that are perfect," the woman said. A suggestion of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "How can yours be any better than perfect?"

Ira's voice took on a confidential complexion. "Some of their models are beautiful," he conceded. "And they may seem to work well when they're new. But they're not built to last, like ours. Why...."

"I think," the woman tried to interrupt, "that some of...."

"How can you compare them to U.S. Robot?" Ira ran on. "We have had forty-seven years of experience in producing mechanicals for the most difficult jobs imaginable. Amalgamated Androids while producing an adequate household model, does not have the valuable know-how to build into their mechanicals the strength and quality that is taken for granted in every machine bearing the U.S. Robot label."

The woman was skeptical. "Maybe your company does make the best factory hands," she argued, "but household robots must be esthetic as well as rugged. And Amalgamated Androids are specialists in building humanoid robots, while your company...."

"But, madam," Ira said, grinning. "Our household models are perfectly human in appearance—I should say, imperfectly human because we even give them tiny blemishes to make them seem more natural."

The woman was obviously unconvinced. Ira applied the clincher. "What greater proof could you want than this?" He held up his left hand, baring his wrist so that she could read his identification stamp.

Model I (Masc.)

U.S. ROBOT CO., INC.

The woman's eyes widened. Her face took on an expression of delighted surprise.

"What better proof could you want?" Ira repeated. "Do I look like a robot? Am I not a perfect humanoid? Here," he said, extending his hand, "feel my skin and see if it isn't just like a man's."

The woman gingerly touched his hand. Her eyes mirrored her satisfaction.

Ira pressed his advantage. "Model I robots come in both masculine and feminine designs, built to your individual specifications as to size, coloring, strength, personality traits, apparent age, and so forth. For example, lonely people can have companionship built in, if they like. You can have an Ira or Inez possessing an almost human intelligence and free choice, or you can get one that is blindly servile and which will never volunteer advice or information. You can get an elderly, refined butler or a handsome young man-around-the-house. You can get a pretty, petite parlor maid or a buxom cook."

Ira paused to observe his customer. She was looking at him in a peculiar way. Knowing that he was a robot, she seemed to be appraising him as she would a man. Ira noted her odd reaction and puzzled over it. It usually went the other way—women lost interest in him when they learned that he was not a man.

"Why don't you come inside," the woman suggested suddenly, opening the door for him.

Ira smiled at her graciously and went into the house. Her reaction was not so puzzling, after all, he decided. A young and virtuous wife would feel the conventional fears that were "built into her" by society. She had to be careful. It was conceivably dangerous to be alone in the house with a handsome man. But, if he's a robot, she has nothing to fear—from him or herself.

Well…..That’s part one. What do you think? I think it’s very cute. I’ve always loved old science fiction stories like this. So, like always when we do a two-part story like this, I’d like you to take a moment and make a prediction about how this story will end. Maybe even write it down on a piece of paper, so you can check it next week. What’s gonna happen with Ira and this lady? I’m not gonna tell….

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

How’s the big picture looking? Cute. It’s looking cute.

My question is, why does Ira reveal that he’s a robot? Take a minute and think about it. It’s because he’s trying to show how lifelike the US Robots are. They could fool anyone.

And what’s the hot new dance at the Dicitonary Disco? It’s the ROBOT. Of course. I’m sorry.

Anyway I have two vocabulary words for you. The first one is: “adequate.” It’s in there twice, it must be important. Adequate means…good enough. Not really very good. But, you know. OK.

And the second vocab word is….gingerly. It has nothing to do with the yummy spice, ginger. Instead, it means very carefully, or cautiously. So when she touched his hand gingerly, maybe she’s a little bit afraid of him?

And how about a nice Melody Moment?

It’s…P. It’s the sound you get from the letter PEE. This one is hard for me, because it’s rough on the microphone. So I’ll do my best. To make this sound correctly, you have to bring your lips into your mouth. And then POP them back out again. “P” And this is an unvoiced sound. You don’t use your throat. But if you did, what sound would it make? Try, by yourself, right now. “P” but vibrate your throat. Yeah. “B” Like BEE. Crazy, right? P and B are like 95% the same sound.

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to this special bonus episode of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

I got this story from Project Gutenberg, which is a super cool resource for copyright-free books, and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.