The quiet room was filled with the sound of Craig Stevens' delighted laughter and the faint little grunting sounds of the robot. Again, Ohm tried an entry, and again, he failed. The next approach was more cautious, but the results were the same. He seemed maddened by the presence of the bright light which he so deeply craved and which had become suddenly inaccessible to him. Again and again he flung his steel body against the wire mesh in a mounting frenzy of desire. Never had Craig Stevens witnessed a spectacle so excruciatingly amusing and revealing. It was as pathetic and priceless as Sheila's foredoomed desire to beget a child. Finally, as the battery which powered him was depleted, Ohm subsided, his steel muzzle touching the mesh which separated him from the life-giving light he had sought. * * * * * Remembering the robot's bewildered struggles as he recorded them in his notes, Craig was shaken from a fresh paroxysm of laughter. He wished now that films had been taken of the experiment, for certainly it had proved most revealing. Of course, it would be repeated. There would be other opportunities. And there were, for Craig tried that particular experiment many times. Not that he needed additional data for his report. He added scarcely one new observation after that first trial. It was more that the robot's agony of frustration seemed to satisfy some deep craving ... a desire as insatiable as Ohm's for the light. Craig could not explain this fascination, in fact, he did not attempt to explain it. Such an explanation might have proved doubly disturbing. Craig seldom went out. More and more, he gave himself over to the delights of mistreating Ohm. He found that he no longer felt any need for human associations. He and the robot were a complete little world in themselves. The creator and the created. The torturer and the tortured. One evening, Professor Beale did drop in, and before he could stop himself, commented on Craig's appearance: "You're not well, Craig," he said. "You've lost weight. Are you sure you're not carrying a fever now?" Craig fought down the unreasoning resentment he felt for Beale. He had planned a new variant to test Ohm that night, and now Beale's visit had cheated him. "Never been better," he countered. "I've been working hard." "With the robot?" Beale's eyes roamed the room, seeking for the steel-encased body, the glistening cyclops-eye. "Naturally. And believe me, Beale, my report is going to create a sensation. Every neurologist and physiologist in the world will be taking lessons from me." His voice had gotten progressively shriller, and he paced nervously up and down as he spoke. Beale shifted uncomfortably. "You're working too hard, Craig. Take some time off. Forget Ohm for a while. Enjoy yourself."