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Pygmalion, with the smile of a simpleton, and the eager confidence of a fanatical scientist, climbs awkwardly on to the altar. They prepare for the worst. PYGMALION. My friends: I will omit the algebra ACIS. Thank God! To come to the point, I have succeeded in making artificial human beings. Real live ones, I mean. INCREDULOUS VOICES. Oh, come! Tell us another. Really, Pyg! Get out. You havnt.
ACIS. If you don't want to hear, go away. You go ahead, Pyg. PYGMALION. I went ahead. You see, the lower potentials of the Life Force could make maggots, but not human eyes or ears. I improved the tissue until it was susceptible to a higher potential. PYGMALION. Then the eyes and ears turned into cancers. ECRASIA. Oh, hideous! PYGMALION. Not at all. That was a great advance.
He had seen, or fancied he saw, a ship in distress near Gue Graze; had noticed no light nor heard any signal of distress; had given information at Lizard Town. The rocket apparatus had been got out, and searchers had scoured the cliffs as far as Porth Pyg, but nothing was to be seen.
There are two of Pygmalion's pupils at the laboratory who helped him to manufacture the bones and tissues and all the rest of it. They can turn out a couple of new automatons; and you can model them as ancients if this venerable pair will sit for you. No more automata. They are too disgusting. Poor old Pyg! ECRASIA. Only fancy, Acis!
Among his companions he was a great favorite and frequently was called by one of the several nicknames which his comrades had bestowed upon him. Peewee or Pygmy, the latter sometimes shortened to Pyg, were names to which he answered almost as readily as to his Christian name. His most intimate friend of the four was John Clemens, whose nickname, "String," indicated what his physique was.
You dont seem to understand, any of you, what an enormous triumph it was to produce consciousness at all. ACIS. Cut the cackle; and come to the synthetic couple. SEVERAL YOUTHS AND MAIDENS. Yes, yes. No more talking. Let us have them. Dry up, Pyg; and fetch them along. Come on: out with them! The synthetic couple. Will you please whistle for them? They respond to the stimulus of a whistle.
Indeed she must have been in Butler's eye when he wrote 'That old Pyg what d'ye call him malion That cut his mistress out of stone, Had not so hard a hearted one. Even Lady Rochester will admit I conquered without heroics," upon which her ladyship, late mistress Mallett, a beauty and a fortune, smiled assent with all the complacency of a six-months' bride.
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