He soon made an excuse to break off and set the robot to scanning Henry's channel. He had something to tell the older man, who lived only about a hundred miles away and was as close to being his friend as was possible in this age of scattered, self-sufficient dwellings. "I don't mind talking to _him_," Robert reflected. "At least he doesn't overdo this business of individual privacy." He thought briefly of the disdainful face--seemingly on a distant station--which had merely examined him for several minutes one night without ever condescending to speak. Recalling his rage at this treatment, Robert wondered how the ancients had managed to get along together when there were so many of them. They must have had some strict code of behavior, he supposed, or they never would have bred so enormous a population. "I must find out about that someday," he decided. "How did you act, for instance, if you wanted to play tennis but someone else just refused and went to eat dinner? Maybe that was why the ancients had so many murders." He noticed that the robot was getting an answer from Henry's station, and was pleased. He could talk as long as he liked, knowing Henry would not resent his cutting off any time he became bored with the conversation. * * * * * The robot focused the image smoothly. Henry gave the impression of being a small man. He was gray and wrinkled compared with Robert, but his black eyes were alertly sharp. He smiled his greeting and immediately launched into a story of one of his youthful trips through the mountains, from the point at which it had been interrupted the last time they had talked. Robert listened impatiently. "Maybe I have some interesting news," he remarked as the other finished. "I picked up a new station the other night." "That reminds me of a time when I was a boy and--" Robert fidgeted while Henry described watching his father build a spare television set as a hobby, with only a minimum of robot help. He pounced upon the first pause. "A new station!" he repeated. "Came in very well, too. I can't imagine why I never picked it up before." "Distant, perhaps?" asked Henry resignedly. "No, not very far from me, as a matter of fact." "You can't always tell, especially with the ocean so close. Now that there are so few people, you'd think there'd be land enough for all of them; but a good many spend all their lives aboard ship-robots." "Not this one," said Robert. "She even showed me an outside view of her home." Henry's eyebrows rose. "She? A woman?" "Her name is Marcia-Joan." "Well, well," said Henry. "Imagine that. Women, as I recall, usually do have funny names." He gazed thoughtfully at his well-kept hands. "Did I ever tell you about the last woman I knew?" he asked. "About twenty years ago. We had a son, you know, but he grew up and wanted his own home and robots." "Natural enough," Robert commented, somewhat briefly since Henry _had_ told him the story before.