That afternoon another incident happened. Les Payten came to meet his friends again in their favorite restaurant. They sat chatting glumly and listening to the newscast. The androids--"The Phonies," they were already being called--were slipping away to the hills, for safety and also no doubt to gather their own not inconsiderable numbers, and to entrench themselves. Les Payten was called to the phone. He came back after a minute, saying with a puzzled expression, and almost a cynical smile, "My father committed suicide. He left a note: 'Eternity is a joke. And I'm sick of being a robot. But what's the good of being a man, either--now?' Burned himself wide open with a Midas Touch pistol. I guess the ultimate cruelty would be to bring him back." * * * * * That night there were three times as many crushed bodies as the night before. But there were far more deaths caused by other violent means. Two weeks passed, each day worse than the preceding. Neighbors started hurling imprecations at neighbors: "Test-tube monkey!... Obsolete imbecile!..." Once there was a news report: "Equipment found--a power generator of a type and output similar to that for a star ship, but obviously for another purpose: meant, it seems, to power high-energy weapons of the beam type. Is this an android or a human assembly? The equipment was ordered dismantled. It was found in a large basement in the City." And Tom Granger began his broadcasts again: "Androids--your numbers are relatively few. You could not win against us. And we would take you back--kindly--to become people again. Most of you once were human beings. You were meant to be that..." Granger's tone was softer; it was condescending. Ed Dukas phoned Granger at the newscast studio. After a long wait, he managed to contact him. That Granger agreed to speak to him at all was no doubt due to Ed's relationship to Mitchell Prell. "Granger," he said, "I'm pleading. Please, forget that you know how to say anything. No, I don't want to offend you--but it's just no good. I'm not guessing--I've seen. To some you may be a great leader. To others--well--you're a lot less. So do us a favor--again, please! Go away, disappear. Take a long, silent rest in a place unknown." Ed Dukas was desperate, grasping at straws. For a fleeting moment his hope almost convinced him that his mixture of begging and ridicule might work. "Do I know you? Oh, yes, Dukas!" Granger mocked. "We should converse again when we both have the time. You still need instruction, I see. You are an incorrigible lover of fantastic novelty, Edward Dukas! Now you're frightened." "Yes, I am frightened!" Ed replied, calmly now. "If you weren't a fool and a fanatic, you could guess that millions of androids--supermen, some call them--could not be weak." "Goodbye for the present, Dukas." Granger broke the connection.