"Yes? How do you know? You've never...." "I don't know. But Amos Westler always said so." "Westler!" Starbuck spat contemptuously. "A reader of books. We go out to hunt or raid, Westler seeks his books and grows soft looking through them." "With more Westlers and less Starbucks in the world," Diane began, "we probably wouldn't have had to fight three World Wars and never would have--" "That's enough," said Starbuck, his eyes darting suspiciously to the old woman, who was taking in their conversation with an amused look on her face. "It is quite enough," agreed the old woman. "If you want to last here more than a few days." "Can the Robots actually understand us?" Starbuck asked. The old woman shrugged thin shoulders. "Some say they can read our minds. It is not important. Those of us who rule can understand. Since they can somehow communicate with the Robots, it is the same thing." "We will conform," promised Starbuck. "Like robots of robots," said Diane bitterly. * * * * * Johnny Hope rubbed the stubble of beard on his face and frowned at Westler. "I'm not sure, but I think I know this place. We should reach the New York River this afternoon." They stood in a forest glade not a hundred yards from one of the overgrown concrete highways upon which the Robots were known to tread. A path paralleled the highway through the woods, and upon this they made their way. "Sometimes I wonder if you know what you're letting yourself in for," Westler mused. "I want to find Diane. I'll take whatever goes with it." "Do you mind if I ask why?" "I'm not sure I know myself. All I know is I think of her all the time. Nothing matters as much as finding her--and freeing her." "We could be wrong. Perhaps she is not with the Robots at all." "What do you think?" "I think she is. Everything points to it. I was only pointing out that we're not sure. Johnny, not many years ago I met a man, another Shining One, who had fled from New York. He was old and he didn't last long, but he told me things which--" "About the Robots, you mean?" "Yes. You know, of course, they can help cure the Plague. Instead, they spread it." "I never could figure out why." "Who knows what sort of thinking the Robots can do? We're not even sure if they possess sentience at all, although I suspect they do. But in the last days of the War, man made a frantic mistake. The Robots were conceived as fighters, were constructed as fighters, were built to hate man and to kill man. When we gave the Robots a different mission entirely, it failed. They've simply strengthened the Plague toxoid and made it lethal. I don't think they'll rest until every man on Earth is destroyed. "We're weak now, disorganized. We've left civilization behind us. You'd think the Robots could do the job overnight, but the only thing that prevents them, actually, is their lack of numbers."