"Thank you, madam." He sat. "But, of course, I don't need the rest. Model I's can do strenuous work for twenty-three out of every twenty-four hours. In fact, in laboratory tests, they've been run for one hundred and eighty-six hours continuously, without a breakdown." He was back in his sales pitch. "Work is the basic function of all U.S. Robot Company robots. With all their esthetic perfection, the household models are no exception to this rule. They are unequaled in efficient performance. Power is the keynote of the Model I." He opened his demonstration case and removed a steel bar, three inches in diameter. Placing one hand on each end, he bent the metal into a V. "The heart of the mechanism," he went on, "is a powerful twelve volt A-battery, perfectly shielded and guaranteed to give trouble-free service for at least forty years. Sixteen motor centers are fed by the central power plant, all coordinated and synchronized by the best flui-electronic brain ever devised. Sturdy TS steel alloy construction over all gives the Model I its phenomenal strength and durability. And the surface tissue, made of a new patented miracle material, combines the best features of esthetic and functional performance." The woman was obviously impressed. Lips slightly parted, she watched Ira attentively and listened breathlessly to everything he said. Instinctively, he felt that he had made a sale. But the woman said nothing; only gazed at him in a way that might have been covetous, might have been adoring or might have been merely symptomatic of hypnosis. "May I demonstrate the I's power and versatility in practical performance?" Ira asked. Taking her silence to be consent, he swung into his demonstration. * * * * * Swiftly, surely, he went about the room, cleaning. Effortlessly, he lifted large pieces of furniture and, holding them aloft with his right hand, he cleaned under them with his left. He talked as he worked. "Notice the quiet efficiency of the self-cleansing electro-static duster we have built in. We also have attachments for waxing, washing, spraying, painting, ironing, soldering...." "You're wonderful," the woman sighed. "And let me point out," Ira pursued, eager to clinch the sale, "that the Model I is so life-like that, in normal operation, it is almost completely silent. Only a faint throbbing--like that of a human heart--is noticeable." The woman cocked her head to a side. "I don't hear _anything_," she said. Ira smiled triumphantly. "Of course, you don't! Come here," he said. "Put your ear to my chest and you'll just be able to make it out." She rested her head on his chest and listened. The delicate fragrance of her perfume mingled with that sweet human scent that not even the Model I robots could imitate. Ira bent his head and brushed his sensitized cheek against her hair. He felt emotions that no robot should feel.