DR. GALL. You see, so many Robots are being manufactured that people are becoming superfluous. Man is really a survival, but that he should die out, after a paltry thirty years of competition, that’s the awful part of it. You might almost think that Nature was _offended_ at the manufacture of the Robots, but we still have old Rossum’s manuscript. HELENA. Yes. In that strong box. DR. GALL. We go on using it and making Robots. All the universities are sending in long petitions to restrict their production. Otherwise, they say, mankind will become extinct through lack of fertility. But the R. U. R. shareholders, of course, won’t hear of it. All the governments, on the other hand, are clamoring for an increase in production, to raise the standards of their armies. And all the manufacturers in the world are ordering Robots like mad. HELENA. And has no one demanded that the manufacture should cease altogether? DR. GALL. No one has courage. HELENA. Courage! DR. GALL. People would stone him to death. You see, after all, it’s more convenient to get your work done by the Robots. HELENA. Oh, Doctor, what’s going to become of people? DR. GALL. God knows. Madame Helena, it looks to us scientists like the end. HELENA. (_She looks out front. Rising_) Thank you for coming and telling me. DR. GALL. (_Rises_) That means that you’re sending me away. HELENA. Yes. (_Exit DR. GALL L.2. She crosses to L.C. To door L.1. With sudden resolution_) Nana! Nana! the fire, light it quickly. (_HELENA exits R._) NANA. (_Entering L.1_) What, light the fire in the summer? HELENA. (_Off R._) Yes! NANA. (_She looks for RADIUS_) Has that mad _Radius_ gone?--A fire in summer, what an idea? Nobody would think she’d been _married_ ten years. She’s like a baby, no sense at all. A fire in summer. Like a baby. (_She lights the fire._) HELENA. (_Returns from R. with armful of faded papers. Back of couch to fireplace, L. of NANA_) Is it burning, Nana? All this has got to be burned. NANA. What’s that? HELENA. Old papers, fearfully old. Nana, shall I burn them? NANA. Are they any use? HELENA. _No._ NANA. Well, then, burn them. HELENA. (_Throwing the first sheet on the fire_) What would you say, Nana, if this was money and a lot of money? And if it was an invention, the greatest invention in the world? NANA. (_R. of fireplace_) I’d say burn it. All these new-fangled things are an offense to the Lord. It’s downright wickedness. Wanting to improve the world after He has made it. HELENA. Look how they curl up. As if they were alive. Oh, Nana, how horrible! NANA. Here, let me burn them. HELENA. (_Drawing back_) No, no, I must do it myself. Just look at the flames. They are like hands, like tongues, like living shapes. (_Raking fire with the poker_) Lie down, lie down. NANA. That’s the end of them. (_Fireplace slowly out._) HELENA. Nana, Nana! NANA. Good gracious, what is it you’ve burned? (_Almost to herself._) HELENA. Whatever have I done?