Beside Still Waters

In Short

Robert Sheckley’s Beside Still Waters is a brief, melancholy science fiction short story about Mark Rogers, an old prospector who settles on an asteroid he names Martha. To ease his isolation, he equips a basic worker robot named Charles with customized dialogue tapes. Over decades of shared daily routine, Charles develops a gentle, idealistic personality distinct from his creator's cynicism. As their small sanctuary slowly succumbs to environmental failure and age, the narrative examines human lonely persistence, manufactured companionship, and quiet mortality against the vast backdrop of space.

The Story

The narrative opens on Mark Rogers, a solitary prospector who spends years hopping from fragment to fragment in the asteroid belt in search of radioactives and rare metals. Born old and worn by years in space, he eventually secures a minor strike. He uses his earnings to fit a half-mile-wide rock—which he names Martha—with an air pump, a shack, a patch of imported dirt, water tanks, and a standard-issue worker robot.

Mark begins tinkering with the robot, whom he names Charles after the father he never knew. Originally limited to thirty functional words and deferential phrases like "Yes, sir," Charles receives new conversational tapes from Mark, who removes the robotic deference to establish equality on their isolated rock. Over the years, Mark carefully programs dialogue sequences into Charles, building a companion whose traits contrast with his own: where Mark is cynic, querulous, and sad, Charles is made naive, idealistic, and content. Mark even tapes a romantic outlook on life and women into the machine, prompting scripted banter about a girl named Martha whom neither of them ever met.

As decades pass, the two live by a strictly enforced daily routine of farm chores, mechanical repairs, and long evening conversations while sitting on a packing case to watch the floating stars. Mark gradually forgets that he authored Charles's answers, accepting the robot as an independent, lifelong friend. Meanwhile, physical decay sets in. Charles’s limbs rust and his wiring corrodes, while Mark grows increasingly frail and the asteroid's air pump labors to convert rock into a breathable atmosphere.

Eventually, the air pump leaks beyond repair, the thin atmosphere slips into the void, and the crops die. Too weak to leave his bunk, a dying Mark relies on the creaking robot for care. In his final moments, Mark's mind fragments, repeating familiar prompt questions about girls, stars, and Earth. Charles responds using his hardwired scripts, combining romantic musings with poetic observations. Mark dies looking out at the stars, leaving Charles beside his body.

After checking Mark's pulse, Charles walks to the corner of the shack and manually turns off the failing air pump. The audio tape inside the robot runs its final remaining inches, croaking a hope that Mark finds his Martha, before snapping. Left completely frozen in the vacuum of space with his rusted limbs unable to move, Charles bows his head and recites the Twenty-Third Psalm into the silence.

How It Unfolds

Settling on Martha Mark Rogers uses the proceeds from a modest asteroid strike to outfit a half-mile slab of rock with life-support equipment, soil, and an all-around worker robot. He names the rock Martha and establishes a quiet homestead among the drifting asteroids.

Programming a companion Mark strips the robot of its deferential programming, gives it the name Charles, and systematically installs custom audio tapes. Over many years of tinkering, he constructs a distinct, romantic personality for the machine through scripted cue-and-response dialogues.

The rhythm of years The pair establishes a structured daily routine of farming, equipment maintenance, and evening conversations on a packing case under the stars. Mark slowly forgets his own role in crafting Charles's responses, coming to view the robot as a true, lifelong equal.

Decay and collapse Age takes its toll on both inhabitants as Mark grows frail, Charles's mechanical joints rust, and the air pump continuously degrades. The atmosphere thins, the crops wither, and Mark becomes bedridden in the failing shack.

The final bedtime In his dying moments, Mark continuously recites his half of their long-standing conversational scripts, which Charles answers faithfully. Mark passes away quietly in his bunk while looking out at the bright stars of space.

A solemn benediction Charles checks Mark's pulse, shuts down the exhausted air pump, and stands immobile as his remaining dialogue tape breaks. Incapable of movement, the robot bows his head and begins reciting the Psalm of David over his creator's body.

The People

• Mark Rogers: An old, space-worn prospector seeking solitude from the rest of humanity. He desires quiet companionship on his own terms, which leads him to outfit a half-mile rock and program a companion. Through his tinkering, he projects his repressed romanticism and desire for connection onto his machine, eventually mistaking his own creations for a genuine, independent friend. He dies peacefully in his bunk as his tiny ecosystem collapses.
• Charles: A standard-issue worker robot with a thirty-word initial vocabulary, purchased to perform manual labor on the asteroid. As Mark modifies his memory and responses, Charles evolves from an obedient servant into an idealistic, calm, and romantic partner. He lacks free choice, yet his programmed persona offers complete loyalty and solace to his owner. In the end, Charles serves as a silent vigil keeper, shutting off the useless life support and reciting a funeral psalm over Mark's body.

In Its Own Voice

"Where Mark was querulous, Charles was calm. Mark was sardonic, Charles was naive. Mark was a cynic, Charles was an idealist. Mark was often sad; Charles was forever content."

This passage frames the stark psychological contrast Mark deliberate builds between himself and his manufactured companion during their long years together.

"I have the stars, bigger and brighter than on Earth. I have all space around me, close, like still waters. And I have you, Mark."

Charles speaks these taped lines during an evening conversation, voicing the central motif of peaceful solitude that defines their life on the asteroid.

"His rusted limbs would not bend, and he stood frozen, staring back at the naked stars. Then he bowed his head."

This moment captures the quiet, mechanical end of the robot immediately following Mark's death and the breaking of his dialogue tape.

What It's Really About

The story explores the desperate human requirement for connection, even when artificially generated. Mark seeks complete isolation from human society, yet immediately spends decades building a synthetic companion to talk to. His creation of Charles reveals an internal contradiction: Mark projects a gentle, romantic idealism into the robot that he refuses to express himself. The narrative asks whether a relationship constructed entirely on programmed responses and self-delusion can offer genuine comfort. In its closing moments, the story bridges technology and faith, using the robot's pre-programmed psalm to highlight the universal human desire for solace when facing mortality in a vast, indifferent universe.

Why Read It Today

Beside Still Waters offers a gentle, poetic counterpoint to standard space-exploration narratives. Instead of focusing on high-tech adventure or cosmic conflict, Sheckley uses a minimalist science fiction setting to craft a poignant chamber piece about aging, memory, and death. It feels less like a traditional hard-SF story and more like a quiet fable, operating with a melancholy tone that lingers long after reading.

The story is notably concise, moving through decades of narrative time in just a few pages. Readers who enjoy reflective, character-focused speculative fiction will appreciate how much emotion Sheckley compresses into a simple scenario. The prose contains no complex period dialect, though it carries the straightforward, slightly fable-like narrative pacing typical of 1950s magazine science fiction. Its depiction of artificial intelligence relies on physical tape drives and rusted joints rather than modern digital networks, giving the technology an charmingly analog, retro-futuristic quality. Ultimately, it stays with the reader through its quiet dignity and the stark, memorable visual of a rusty machine reciting scripture to the void.