"Frankly, they laughed." "I should think so. The Central Scanner didn't pick up anything except a lot of ineffective propaganda. The sabotage business was all hysteria." "That's just what they said--the assignments were an empty honor." She coldly considered Eric. "I want to wreck him too." "I've smashed the insides," he said. "You'd better just work the surface." "That's all I want to do," she answered, starting to scratch traditional marks all over the dead robot. It gave her a full afternoon of happy, busy labor. * * * * * The next day a large open truck came around and the street echoed to the appeal for contributions. Festival spirit was running high everywhere and when the neighborhood crowd saw the young robot porters carry Eric out there was a loud cheer of appreciation. "My husband decided on a major contribution right away," Marie announced to them. "It's the least we could do," he said modestly. Many onlookers, swept away by their example, rushed indoors to bring out additional items of sacrifice. But only two others gave up their robots. The rest clung to them for private Holy Night ceremonies. Soon Eric disappeared under the renewed deluge of egg-beaters and washers. "The best collection I have seen today," said the inspector accompanying the truck. "You people are to be congratulated for your exceptional patriotism." "Destroy!" they shouted back joyously. "Make work!" At dawn the Central Plaza was already crowded and new hordes kept pouring in from outlying areas. Wendell and his wife had been among the first to arrive. They waited, impatient in their separate ways, on the borderline five hundred yards from the ten-story pyre. Martial music roared from loudspeakers, interrupted by the mellifluous boom of a merchandising announcer: "New product! Better models! One hundred years of High Holy Days! New! New! NEW!" "Destroy!" came the returning shout. "Make work! Work! Work!" All the sounds echoed back and forth until baffled away by the open area across the Plaza, where one large structure had already been destroyed. Three others were slated for collapse today. "The biggest Holy Day ever," a restless old woman said to Marie. "I've seen all nine of them." "Eric's in there," Marie chatted back, superficially sad, deeply happy. "Who?" "Our house robot." "Imagine that! Did you hear that?" People gathered round them and cheered. The good-natured jostling continued until someone said: "Five minutes to go!" Wendell checked his watch. Somewhere in the pile at least one element was coming to life, a metal arm reaching out for brother metal to engulf in its cybernetic sweep. "They're coming!" A line of six shiny new slaggers came rumbling into the open with military precision. They moved along slowly, prolonging the pleasures of anticipation, then broke rank, each seeking its assigned point around the pile of appliances gathered for destruction.