DOMIN. That’s good. (_Kisses her hand. She lowers her head._) Oh, I beg your pardon! (_Rises_) But a working machine must _not_ play the piano, must not feel happy, must not do a whole lot of other things. A gasoline motor must not have tassels or ornaments, Miss Glory. And to manufacture artificial workers is the same thing as the manufacture of a gasoline motor. (_She is not interested._) The process must be the simplest, and the product the best from a practical point of view. (_Sits beside her again_) What sort of worker do you think is the _best_ from a practical point of view? HELENA. (_Absently_) What? (_Looks at him._) DOMIN. What sort of worker do you think is the best from a practical point of view? HELENA. (_Pulling herself together_) Oh! Perhaps the one who is most honest and hard-working. DOMIN. No. The one that is the _cheapest_. The one whose requirements are the _smallest_. Young Rossum invented a worker with the minimum amount of requirements. He had to simplify him. He rejected everything that did not contribute directly to the progress of work. Everything that makes man more expensive. In fact he _rejected man_ and made the _Robot_. My dear Miss Glory, the Robots are not people. Mechanically they are more _perfect_ than we are; they have an enormously developed intelligence, but they have no soul. (_Leans back._) HELENA. How do you know they have no soul? DOMIN. Have you ever seen what a Robot looks like inside? HELENA. No. DOMIN. Very neat, very simple. Really a beautiful piece of work. Not much _in_ it, but everything in flawless order. The product of an engineer _is_ technically at a higher pitch of perfection than a product of Nature. HELENA. But man is supposed to be the product of God. DOMIN. All the worse. God hasn’t the slightest notion of modern engineering. Would you believe that young Rossum then proceeded to play at being God? HELENA. (_Awed_) How do you mean? DOMIN. He began to manufacture Super-Robots. Regular giants they were. He tried to make them twelve feet tall. But you wouldn’t believe what a failure they were. HELENA. A failure? DOMIN. Yes. For no reason at all their limbs used to keep snapping off. “Evidently our planet is too small for giants.” Now we only make Robots of normal size and of very high-class human finish. HELENA. (_Hands him flower; he puts it in button-hole_) I saw the first Robots at home. The Town Council bought them for--I mean engaged them for work. DOMIN. No. _Bought_ them, Miss Glory. Robots are bought and sold. HELENA. These were employed as street-sweepers. I saw them sweeping. They were so strange and quiet. DOMIN. (_Rises_) Rossum’s Universal Robot factory doesn’t produce a uniform brand of Robots. We have Robots of _finer_ and _coarser_ grades. The best will live about _twenty_ years. (_Crosses to desk. HELENA looks in her pocket mirror. He pushes button on desk._) HELENA. Then they die?