"There was no nonsense about Pure Science with Edith..."

"...she liked working towards a prescribed practical end."

Two girls are playing with a toy theatre:

Edith, who moved the paste-board figures about under Jane's supervision, said one day (it was the summer of 1923), 'Wouldn't it be more fun to have these people moving by themselves, instead of having to shove one's hand in among them?  And speaking for themselves, too?'

Jane said, 'Oh, marionettes!  You can't do much with them, and the movements are so jerky.  And the strings are the devil to manipulate.  And ventriloquism is just like bad acting.'

Edith explained:  'No, I meant robots—life-sized robots, probably of rubber and steel, controlled by wireless and activated by this new phototropic principle—you know, it's derived from a study of how moths' wings react to candle-light.  It ought to be possible.  And no need for ventriloquism, either.  With wirelessed gramophone records you could make them really talk.  But they'd have to move their lips in a convincing way and be able to dance about rubberily.  I'd love to try it.  You could even get on the stage and act along with them.  There would have to be two sets of robots, one life-size and the other a tiny set attached to a sort of keyboard.  Someone behind the stage would manipulate the tiny set by touching various buttons and switches on the keyboard, and the big set would respond sympathetically.  There would have to be what is called "sensitivity-locuses" on their joints:  the relation of the sensitivity-locuses would be what counted.  Facial expressions would be complicated:  to work out the proper position for each facial locus and find different formulas for, say, a scowl or a leer or a grin would take a lot of doing.  But nothing's impossible.  And all the voicing could be yours—I have found out an amusing way of converting a woman's voice on the gramophone into a man's.  You could sing choruses with yourself—in soprano, contralto, tenor and bass.'

'You're quite mad,' said Jane.  'But I give you leave to try.  If you get any sort of results I'll take you into partnership and we'll make our fortunes.'
 If there were a Bechdel Test for fiction, I'd give this an A.  Who do you think wrote it?  And when? (If you know, don't tell yet.)

Nine