Larry looked around the large room. It seemed almost crowded now with quietly smiling young men who held their tall cocktail glasses without sipping them. And all the quietly smiling young men were watching him and Stella. The moment seemed to lift out of time and suspend itself on the peak of a crest, stationary. There was no fear, nor even any realization that anything was wrong. Stella, beside him, was saying something happy and gay, but his ears weren't listening. It was one of those moments in time where the past is like a page you have just read, and the future is on a page about to be turned. You hold the continuity, even the sense of half a phrase. Your thoughts, your emotions, pause for what is to come. * * * * * A door opened fifty feet away. The robot entered the room. Its two lens eyes were fixed on them. Its microphone wands slanted slightly toward them. It took a few steps with the casual self-assurance of a man. The quietly smiling young men were still looking at Larry. They seemed indifferent about the presence of the robot. Then one of them near Larry said, "We were going to destroy you, of course. We had no use for you. However, 2615 talked us out of it. He seems to have a great deal of resentment in his make-up. I think he wants to take it out on you two." And the robot stepped toward them until it could have reached out and crushed them. "_Torture them!_" It was a hoarse sadistic whisper escaping quietly smiling lips. The robot turned its sensory assembly to look at the source of the voice. "I'll torture them in my own way, Pwowp," it said. "I want them to last a long time. A very long time." "What are you?" Larry's voice was hoarse. "Can humans stoop so low that they let this happen?" "Humans?" the robot said. "Look. I'll show you." It reached out to the nearest of the young men. The quiet smile remained on the young man's face as 2615's metal fingers wrapped around the head and crushed it. Wires and plastic tubing and colorless fluid squeezed through the metal fingers. The robot withdrew its hand. The man with the crushed face didn't scream nor fall down. He stood there, one hand brushing casually at the damage. Then he turned and made his way toward a door, avoiding obstacles as though he still could see. _And he should have been dead._ "Robots," 2615 said. It reached out slowly toward Larry. Its metal fingers circled his throat, but without exerting pressure. "They have given me dogs. Puppies. Some of them are--like I was. I want to be with them all the time. But every day I will come to you. Larry? Stella? Human names. Humans. I don't want you to die. Not for a long time." The metal fingers were withdrawn from Larry's neck, leaving discolored bruises. 2615 turned abruptly and strode from the room.