"Wonder how far past the old city I'd have to go to meet someone in person," he murmured as he pulled himself from the pool. "Maybe I ought to try accepting that televised invitation of the other night." * * * * * Several dark usuform robots were smoothing the sand on this beach under the direction of a blue humanoid supervisor. Watching them idly, Robert estimated that it must be ten years since he had seen another human face to face. His parents were dim memories. He got along very well, however, with robots to serve him or to obtain occasional information from the automatic scanners of the city library that had long ago been equipped to serve such a purpose. "Much better than things were in the old days," he told himself as he crossed the lawn to his sprawling white mansion. "Must have been awful before the population declined. Imagine having people all around you, having to listen to them, see them, and argue to make them do what you wanted!" The heel of his bare right foot came down heavily on a pebble, and he swore without awareness of the precise meaning of the ancient phrases. He limped into the baths and beckoned a waiting robot as he stretched out on a rubbing table. "Call Blue One!" he ordered. The red robot pushed a button on the wall before beginning the massage. In a few moments, the major-domo arrived. "Did Robert enjoy the tennis?" it inquired politely. "I did _not_!" snapped the man. "Red Three won--and by too big a score. Have it geared down a few feet per second." "Yes, Robert." "And have the lawn screened again for pebbles!" As Blue One retired he relaxed, and turned his mind to ideas for filling the evening. He hoped Henry would televise: Robert had news for him. After a short nap and dinner, he took the elevator to his three-story tower and turned on the television robot. Seating himself in a comfortable armchair, he directed the machine from one channel to another. For some time, there was no answer to his perfunctory call signals, but one of his few acquaintances finally came on. "Jack here," said a quiet voice that Robert had long suspected of being disguised by a filter microphone. "I haven't heard you for some weeks," he remarked, eying the swirling colors on the screen. He disliked Jack for never showing his face, but curiosity as to what lay behind the mechanical image projected by the other's transmitter preserved the acquaintance. "I was ... busy," said the bodiless voice, with a discreet hint of a chuckle that Robert found chilling. He wondered what Jack had been up to. He remembered once being favored with a televised view of Jack's favorite sport--a battle between companies of robots designed for the purpose, horribly reminiscent of human conflicts Robert had seen on historical films. * * * * *