The Robot numbered 63-17-B (but the numbers were hidden under the central face plate and you hardly could tell the machines apart) made a brief inspection of the vault, then climbed to his niche in the wall, where he sat completely without motion while the other Robots filed from the chamber. "Although we can't address the Robot, our supervisor can," Westler said eagerly. "That means, at least, communication of some sort is possible." "I guess so. Why don't you get to know the supervisor?" "You're much better at that sort of thing than I am, Johnny." "We came here for different reasons, don't forget. There's an old hag I'd like to answer more questions when I find her." "Here comes our supervisor now," Westler whispered. Then, aloud: "My name is Amos Westler." "I don't care what it is. It's recorded. Keep working, friend." The supervisor was a brutal-faced man who snarled out his words. His jaw, cheekbones and forehead were silver-sheened with Plague scar, with the Plague silver remaining there as well as on his limbs. His face seemed metallic as a Robot's. "See?" Westler whispered in despair as another damaged Robot slid to a stop in front of them. Johnny offered a wan grin. "Take it easy," he said, but hardly felt more than the last remaining shreds of patience within himself. If the old hag wouldn't talk when he saw her tonight.... * * * * * "Don't bother calling me names, young man," cackled the hag. "I'm virtually immune. It is against existing regulations to give you that information since it is felt all ties with the past and the outside world must be broken, not gradually but at once." "Listen," Johnny said desperately, "you must remember your own youth." He had tried every other verbal assault he could think of. Now he hardly thought flattery would work on the ancient bag of bones in front of him, but it seemed his last hope. "You must have had your lovers in your day, were you as attractive for your years as a younger woman...." Something melted in the hag's eyes. She scrubbed her breastbone with the knuckles of one parchment hand, as if preening. "Why, yes," she admitted. "I'm in love with the girl. You must know how I feel. He--he took her." At least in part, it was the truth. In love with Diane? He'd never thought of it, yet what had impelled him to battle Keleher in an uneven fight, to set out for New York when he could have ruled the encampment instead, to surrender himself to the Robots of the Citadel? Johnny smiled. Trying to awaken something in the hag, he had succeeded in awakening something, all right, but in himself. "Such information I cannot give you, young man--" "And I thought you remembered your youth!" "--but they say the view from the corridor 13 exit is magnificent. To reach it, one travels along corridor 14, which is a dormitory for some of our young, unmarried women." The hag cackled. "Don't get caught." "I won't. Thank you."