Slowly it penetrated the red haze of torment in his mind. The Aliens wanted to kill him. They'd played with him, had turned him into a monster to do their malicious bidding. They'd given him nothing in return. And now they wanted everything. His own life, worthless though it might be--and the life of his friends. The hate washed through him--the cold, hard hate that had a greater strength for its very lack of endocrine instability. "I'm all right," he said slowly. "You're safe. You can go back to the base." Miles stared at him with a warm and friendly understanding. "We really did know about you, Bill," he said. "That business about your being the only undetected human on the asteroid looked suspicious, and the psychologists weren't fooled. We were gambling on a chance to get some information on the Aliens' detector out of you before you could do anything dangerous. "Hardwick was the only man who could have known enough to have any chance. With him dead, we had to hope they'd give you information enough to act in his place. Pat volunteered to watch you. And we had ultra-violet cameras in every room where you ever were, watching you every second." He paused, but Norden could think of nothing to say. He looked at Pat for confirmation, and she nodded. "We set the whole thing up for you, Bill. But we found we were wrong. The Aliens had done too good a job on you for their own good. They made you too human--so human that you had to begin thinking _our_ way. After that business with Armsworth, we stopped worrying." "But you came out here ..." he began. "Not to spy on you, Bill," Miles told him. "Earth's evacuating the Moon, now that you found us weapons to handle the Aliens. We're needed to supervise things back at the factories. Pat and I just came to pick you up, when you wouldn't answer your calls. We're taking you home." He stared at them silently, and there was a complex of feelings in his mind that made thinking almost impossible. Bitterness was heavier than anything else. "That's fine for someone who won't hate an enemy--though you're quick enough to employ hate when it's useful." He looked at Miles steadily. "What about the rest of the world? Will they welcome a bomb-carrying robot monster as a friend?" Bill Norden wanted to know. Miles put his hands on Norden's shoulders, while Pat went back into the workroom. "Sit down on the desk, Bill," he urged. "The only people who know are the two of us, and Jim--the psychologist who predicted exactly how you'd react from the beginning. He also gave you a test that first day that involved our top-grade X-ray machine--not one of those fluoroscopic toys. It's a good thing you've got your brains all through you, because when I get done, you'll be literally empty-headed." Pat came back with a collection of equipment. Norden stared, trying to sit up. "You must be insane. Do you want to be killed if I blow. Are all humans crazy?"