There seems to be a quantum leap when it comes to how people thought about robots.  They were either metallic creatures that were all industrial-strength joints and claws or they were perfect imitations of the human form.  There never seemed to be any sort of an intermediate phase; Robby the Robot to Helen O'lloy in one jump and naught in between, which is odd to anyone who has taken even the most casual look at how technology advances. 

Take, for example, sound recording.  In the last century we went through any number of different technologies and formats for recording and reproducing sound.  First there were wax phonograph cylinders, then bakelite gramophone records, then vinyl LPs,  wire recorders, tape, stereophonic records, HiFi, cassette tapes, CDs, and MP3; and I haven't begun to touch on all the ancillary and failed formats that littered the roadway.

And yet, every time a humanoid robot was trotted out, it was virtually indistinguishable from human except for an irritating tendency to jerk its head and a refusal to use contractions.  You would think that things like subtleties of skin texture, the play of muscle and bones under the skin, facial expressions, or just being able to walk a straight line would have given the engineers pause or resulted in a product that resembled a department store mannequin more than Rita Hayworth.  But, nope.  It was Tin Man to Twilight Zone stock character in one go. 

I suspect that part of this is due to simple impatience.  Hugo Gernsback had that aplenty.  He was desperate for the future to show up and never could quite grasp why it wasn't pounding on the door.  After all, he'd done the hard part and thought up the radioperforer, now it was up to those sluggard engineers to deal with the boring details.  Same goes with robot women

Of course, the other reason is more crass, but as it has to do with the average age of science fiction readers, their sex, income, general status, and probable social life,  I shall leave that to your speculation.

Start the Tour

Tales of Future Past | Ephemeral Isle | Freelance Writing | Radio Plays | Shop