商业托福阅读：星球大战第三章(3)
"No doubt about it, we’re doomed," he recited mournfully as Artoo righted himself, returning to full activation. "Do you think they’ll melt us down?" He became silent for several minutes, then added, "It’s this waiting that gets to me." Abruptly the far wall of the chamber slid aside and the blinding white glare of a Tatooine morning rushed in on them. Threepio’s sensitive photoreceptors were hard pressed to adjust in time to prevent serious damage.Several of the repulsive-looking jawas scrambled agilely into the chamber, still dressed in the same swathing and filth Threepio had observed on them before.
Using hard weapons of an unknown design, they prodded at the machines. Certain of them, Threepio noted with a mental swallow, did not stir.
Ignoring the immobile ones, the jawas herded those still capable of movement outside, Artoo and Threepio among them. Both robots found themselves part of an uneven mechanical line.
Shielding his eyes against the glare, Threepio saw that five of them were arranged alongside the huge sandcrawler. Thoughts of escape did not enter his mind.
Such a concept was utterly alien to a mechanical. The more intelligent a robot was, the more abhorrent and unthinkable the concept. Besides, had he tried to escape, built-in sensors would have detected the critical logic malfunction and melted every circuit in his brain.
Instead, he studied the small domes and vaporators that indicated the presence of a larger underground human homestead. Though he was unfamiliar with this type of construction, all signs pointed to a modest, if isolated, habitation. Thoughts of being dismembered for parts or slaving in some high-temperature mine slowly faded. His spirits rose correspondingly.
"Maybe this won’t be so bad after all," he murmured hopefully. "If we can convince these bipedal vermin to unload us here, we may enter into sensible human service again instead of being melted into slag." Artoo’s sole reply was a noncommittal chirp. Both machines became silent as the jawas commenced scurrying around them, striving to straighten one poor machine with a badly bent spine, to disguise a dent or scrape with liquid and dust.
As two of them bustled about, working on his sand-coated skin, Threepio fought to stifle an expression of disgust. One of his many human-analog functions was the ability to react naturally to offensive odors. Apparently hygiene was unknown among the jawas. But he was certain no good would come of pointing this out to them.
Small insects drifted in clouds about the faces of the jawas, who ignored them.
Apparently the tiny individualized plagues were regarded as just a different sort of appendage, like an extra arm or leg.
So intent was Threepio on his observation that he failed to notice the two figures moving toward them from the region of the largest dome. Artoo had to nudge him slightly before he looked up.
The first man wore an air of grim, semi-perpetual exhaustion, sandblasted into his face by too many years of arguing with a hostile environment. His graying hair was frozen in tangled twists like gypsum helicites. Dust frosted his face, clothes, hands, and thoughts. But the body, if not the spirit, was still powerful.
Proportionately dwarfed by his uncle’s wrestler-like body, Luke strode slump- shouldered in his shadow, his present attitude one of dejection rather than exhaustion.
He had a great deal on his mind, and it had very little to do with farming. Mostly it involved the rest of his life, and the commitment made by his best friend who had recently departed beyond the blue sky above to enter a harsher, yet more rewarding career.
The bigger man stopped before the assembly and entered into a peculiar squeaky dialogue with the jawa in charge. When they wished it, the jawas could be understood.
Luke stood nearby, listening indifferently. Then he shuffled along behind his uncle as the latter began inspecting the five machines, pausing only to mutter an occasional word or two to his nephew. It was hard to pay attention, even though he knew he ought to be learning.
商业托福阅读：星球大战第三章(3)
"Luke—oh, Luke!" a voice called.Turning away from the conversation, which consisted of the lead jawa extolling the unmatched virtues of all five machines and his uncle countering with derision, Luke walked over to the near edge of the subterranean courtyard and peered down.
A stout woman with the expression of a misplaced sparrow was busy working among decorative plants. She looked up at him. "Be sure and tell Owen that if he buys a translator to make sure it speaks Bocce, Luke." Turning, Luke looked back over his shoulder and studied the motley collection of tired machines. "It looks like we don’t have much of a choice," he called back down to her, "but I’ll remind him anyway." She nodded up at him and he turned to rejoin his uncle.
Apparently Owen Lars had already come to a decision, having settled on a small semi-agricultural robot. This one was similar in shape to Artoo Detoo, save that its multiple subsidiary arms were tipped with different functions. At an order it had stepped out of the line and was wobbling along behind Owen and the temporarily subdued jawa.
Proceeding to the end of the line, the farmer’s eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the sand-scoured but still flashy bronze finish of the tall, humanoid Threepio.
"I presume you function," he grumbled at the robot. "Do you know customs and protocol?" "Do I know protocol?" Threepio echoed as the farmer looked him up and down.
Threepio was determined to embarrass the jawa when it came to selling his abilities.
"Do I know protocol! Why, it’s my primary function. I am also well—" "Don’t need a protocol ’droid," the farmer snapped dryly.
"I don’t blame you, sir," Threepio rapidly agreed. "I couldn’t be more in agreement. What could be more of a wasteful luxury in a climate like this? For someone of your interests, sir, a protocol ’droid would be a useless waste of money.</p>
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