RA-76's hand darted out and seized Drummond's ankle, tugged him off the ledge. As he fell to the ground, a score of robots closed in over him, metal arms flailing down methodically. Angus yelled at them to stop, saw he was too late and sank down, turning away sickly. Finally, after a long while, they backed off and faced Angus. "We have passed the Divine test, O Jackson!" 204 shouted up jubilantly. "We have redeemed ourselves before our Supervisor!" exclaimed 76. It took a long, horror-filled moment before Angus could speak. "How do you know?" he managed to ask at last. "If he had been Jackson," exclaimed 204, "we could not have destroyed him." * * * * * The robots fell prostrate again and returned to their devotional. But now the phrases were triumphant, where before they had been servile and uncertain. Angus stared numbly down at Drummond, then backed against the cliff. The litany below, exuberant now, grew mightily in volume, booming vibrantly against distant hills. "There is but one Supervisor!" intoned 204. "But one Jackson!" answered the assembly. "And now He dwelleth among His children!" 76 chanted. "In their midst!" boomed the hundreds. Suddenly it all seemed horribly ludicrous and Angus laughed. The litany, stopped and his laughter grew shriller, louder, edged with hysteria. The shimmering sea of metal, confounded, stared at him and it was as though he could see fleshy furrows of confusion on the featureless faces.... But how could a clunker show emotion? His laughter slowed and died, like the passing of a violent storm. And he felt weakened with a sickening sense of compassion. Robots--_human_ robots--standing awed before unknown concepts while they groped for Truth. Clunkers with a sense of right and wrong and with an overwhelming love. It was absurd that he had been elected father of twelve hundred children--whether flesh or metal--but it didn't _feel_ at all absurd. "Dost Thou despair of us, O Jackson?" asked 76 hesitantly, staring up at him. 204 motioned toward the ship, the top of its hull shining beyond the nearby woods. "Wouldst Thou _still_ return to Thy vessel, Supervisor?" Incredulous, Angus tensed. "You mean I can go?" "If that is Thy wish, True Jackson, you may go," said 76 submissively. As he watched unbelievingly, a corridor opened in their ranks, extending toward the woods and the ship beyond. He glanced anxiously at his watch. There was still more than an hour left. Wearily, he dropped from the ledge and trudged toward freedom, trying to look straight ahead. His eyes, nevertheless, wandered to the dejected figures who faced him with their heads bowed. Then he laughed again, realizing the illogical nature of his solicitous thoughts. Imagine--_dejected_ clunkers! Still, the metal faces seemed somehow different. Where, a moment earlier, he had fancied expressions of jubilation, now there was the sense of hopelessness on the steel plates.