Realizing that the robot could hear every word he was saying, Ball was for a while apprehensive. But the sheer unreality of standing and talking with a multi-limbed, intelligent hunk of dead metal upon the bare rock of a dead, ancient world, the unreality of it slowly died. It was impossible not to like the things. There was something in their very lines which was pleasant and relaxing. Their builders, Steffens thought, had probably thought of that, too. "There's no harm in them," said Ball at last, openly, not minding if the robots heard. "They seem actually glad we're here. My God, whoever heard of a robot being glad?" Steffens, embarrassed, spoke quickly to the nearest mechanical: "I hope you will forgive us our curiosity, but--yours is a remarkable race. We have never before made contact with a race like yours." It was said haltingly, but it was the best he could do. The robot made a singularly human nodding motion of its head. "I perceive that the nature of our construction is unfamiliar to you. Your question is whether or not we are entirely 'mechanical.' I am not exactly certain as to what the word 'mechanical' is intended to convey--I would have to examine your thought more fully--but I believe that there is fundamental similarity between our structures." The robot paused. Steffens had a distinct impression that it was disconcerted. "I must tell you," the thing went on, "that we ourselves are--curious." It stopped suddenly, struggling with a word it could not comprehend. Steffens waited, listening with absolute interest. It said at length: "We know of only two types of living structure. Ours, which is largely metallic, and that of the _Makers_, which would appear to be somewhat more like yours. I am not a--doctor--and therefore cannot acquaint you with the specific details of the Makers' composition, but if you are interested I will have a doctor brought forward. It will be glad to be of assistance." It was Steffens' turn to struggle, and the robot waited patiently while Ball and the second robot looked on in silence. The Makers, obviously, were whoever or whatever had built the robots, and the "doctors," Steffens decided, were probably just that--doctor-robots, designed specifically to care for the apparently flesh-bodies of the Makers. The efficiency of the things continued to amaze him, but the question he had been waiting to ask came out now with a rush: "Can you tell us where the Makers are?" Both robots stood motionless. It occurred to Steffens that he couldn't really be sure which was speaking. The voice that came to him spoke with difficulty. "The Makers--are not here." Steffens stared in puzzlement. The robot detected his confusion and went on: "The Makers have gone away. They have been gone for a very long time." Could that be _pain_ in its voice, Steffens wondered, and then the spectre of the ruined cities rose harsh in his mind.