"Yes. I broke their arms today. That can be the beginning of their conditioning. Pain. Torture. They will plead. Sometimes when they plead I will make them do things, and as a reward I will withhold pain and torture. In the end they will be beyond thinking. They won't consider that one word from them might ruin the plan. To keep from feeling more pain--ever to delay pain for another second--they will gladly sacrifice the entire human race. _That is conditioning._" "Then nothing can go wrong. We will have conditioned the robots for the one specific operation. Our fleet will remain in space until you and I have accomplished our task. Then we will send the signal for it to come in and occupy the Earth. When it's all over you will undoubtedly be the leader of the new race--the robots of Earth." "The leader," 2615 said. "Yes. The Leader." Pwowp watched 2615 ride the travelwalk out to the grav-cylinder, and there was a quiet smile of contentment hovering on his lips. "Yes," he murmured. "Nothing can go wrong. Once your robots have destroyed Earth's defenses and we have taken over, wiping out man, we will turn our weapons upward and destroy you!" But 2615 didn't hear his words. 2615 was already entering the grav-cylinder. The barking of thousands of dogs was in its ear. It was music.... * * * * * Metal hands that look much like skeletons of human hands. Metal fingers that hover over you and dart out faster than you can jerk--but you jerk anyway. You cringe, looking at the staring lenses, looking at the metal fingers. Symbols. Multiply the week by four and a fraction. A month. Multiply that by ten. Ten months.... 2615 looked down at Larry. Larry, trembling violently, unable to stand or even to crouch, looked up at the lenses, the fingers of metal. Near by, Stella sat on the floor, her fists doubled up in her eyes to blot out light. "Today," 2615 said, "I want you to do something. If you do it I won't touch you. Do you understand, Larry? If you do what I ask, I won't touch you. I won't _hurt_ you today." Numb hope molded itself in the pallid flesh around Larry's eyes. His mouth opened to speak, but he couldn't speak. "You must answer me, Larry. You must always speak." "I understand you," Larry said, his voice weak. "You know better than that," 2615 said. "Put emotion into it. Enthusiasm. Must we go through this every time? Smile. Smile with your eyes too. Speak with enthusiasm." Desperation became a visible force, molding Larry's lips into a cheery smile, steadying his voice and giving it the overtones of enthusiasm. "I understand you." "Good. I must always have obedience. Now--you must break Stella's little finger. It won't be difficult for--" "No!" The scream of horror and revulsion and hate exploded shrilly.