Stifling an exclamation as he saw who it was, Don exclaimed, "Shiela! What in the world are you doing here?" "I wanted to find out what had happened at the meeting," she replied, brushing stray strands of golden-brown hair from her face. "You know how father never tells me anything." "You know that Dr. Stone has more on his mind now than at any other time in his life," stated Don, steeling himself against the pleading and petulant look on the girl's face. "Why have all of the roboes disappeared so suddenly?" she asked, changing her line of questioning. "Is it to be war after all?" "Primo absolutely refused to listen to reason," Don explained. "Whose reasoning?" came the soft question, "His or the Earth Council's?" "The reasoning of his creators," angrily retorted Don. She stared at him, eyes wide with amazement. "Don, it isn't like you to talk like that. Surely you don't say that the loud, fat General Adams," she wrinkled her nose with disgust, "is superior to someone like Primo." His shoulders slumped with dejection. "No, Shiela, but what are we to do? The roboes won't work for the human race any longer and the humans will not admit equality. Even though it does exist now." Her face brightened, "Then you are for them. Oh, Don, then it won't...." She stopped at the dark look on his face. "No, Shiela. I work for your father, Dr. Stone, and will follow his orders without question." He grasped her and turned her down from the laboratory, "You go to your room now," he directed; "I'm going to be busy for awhile." Her glance darted to the doors of the laboratory. "What are you going to do?" she asked in low tones, an unspoken fear in her eyes. He looked away and replied roughly, "I said that I have work to do; now will you go away and leave me alone?" "Don!" He stopped at the horror in her voice. "You--you aren't going to do anything to the tanks, are you?" Still silence from Don. "Why, that would be but mass murder!" "It's nothing more alive than yeast, Shiela. How could it be murder to kill something that has no brain?" "It's just as much alive as an unborn child." * * * * * Biting his lower lip, Don turned abruptly and pushed through the lab doors. The lines of low, gleaming tanks soothed him momentarily. A movement by one made him stop, startled. It was a roboe. The "mechanical" man came towards him, and Don recognized it as one of the regular technicians who worked without sleep as did all of the roboes, it not being needed. "Everything is in order, sir," the roboe reported; "in three days we should be able to proceed with the creation." "But what are you doing here?" asked Don with amazement, "I thought that Primo had withdrawn all roboes with him?" "I don't understand, sir." The roboe was plainly puzzled, his forehead wrinkled. "This is my assigned task."