"Teacher says they don't rule, they just exist like trees or stones, and are just as neutral — that's what teacher said."
"What does your teacher know?" Grandfather mumbled testily. "Young kid, twenty years old. I could tell him. The robots rule. Mankind has fallen from the pinnacle of power."
They emerged from the woods then and the first thing they saw was a robot squatting by the path, industriously filing a gear out of a metal blank. Grandfather kicked out in sudden rage and caught the thing on its side with a dull metallic boom. It had been badly assembled, or made of inferior material, because when it fell over its head came off. Almost before it hit the ground there was the thud of rushing feet and a flock of robots raced by, plucking up the head and chasing after the rolling gear wheel. There was a brief flurry of motion and the decapitated robot was dismembered: the robots hurried off.
"Andy — \" his mother's voice called from the pleasant cottage at the end of the flagstone walk.
"We're late for dinner again, I bet," the boy said with sudden guilt.
He ran quickly up the steps that were made of robot bodies welded solidly together, and grabbed the handle of the door. This had been a robot's hand; you just shook hands and turned it to open the door. He vanished inside.
Grandfather lingered, not wanting to face his daughter's sharp tongue. Not yet. He could hear it still echoing in his head from the last time. "Don't fill the boy's head with your nonsense. It's a good world. Why don't you wear decent clothes of robot insulation like the rest of us, instead of those awful old pre-R smelly things? Robots are a national resource — the national resource — not the enemy. We never had it so good." On and on, the same old record.
He packed his pipe — made of robot fingers — with tobacco and sucked it alight. There was the quick sound of running feet and a farm wagon ran around the corner. Thick boards were bolted to the truncated torsos of a dozen robots. Just the pelvic motors and legs were left of each one, and they made a fine form of transportation that was completely independent of roads. All of the truck farmers around the village used them now. No expense and no upkeep. An unlimited supply of free replacement parts.
"It is not a Utopia the way they say!" Grandfather mumbled fiercely through a cloud of smoke. "Man was meant to work and work hard. Shouldn't have everything handed to him so easy. They're using robot parts for everything now, a man can't find an honest day's work even if he wants to.
"End of the world, that's what it was.
"End of my world!"
"We're losing a planet, Neel. I'm afraid that I can't. . understand it." The bald and wrinkled head wobbled a bit on the thin neck, and his eyes were moist. Abravanel was a very old man. Looking at him, Neel realized for the first time just how old and close to death he was. It was a profoundly shocking thought.
"Pardon me, sir," Neel broke in, "but is it possible? To lose a planet, I mean. If the readings are done correctly, and the k-factor equations worked to the tenth decimal place, then it's really just a matter of adjustment, making the indicated corrections. After all, Societies is an exact science—"
"Exact? Exact! Of course it's not! Have I taught you so little that you dare say that to me?" Anger animated the old man, driving the shadow of death back a step or two.
Neel hesitated, feeling his hands quiver ever so slightly, groping for the right words. Societies was his faith, and his teacher, Abravanel, its only prophet. This man before him, carefully preserved by the age-retarding drugs, was unique in the galaxy. A living anachronism, a refugee from the history books. Abravanel had single-handedly worked out the equations, spelled out his science of Societies. Then he had trained seven generations of students in its fundamentals. Hearing the article of his faith defamed by its creator produced a negative feedback loop in Neel, so strong his hands vibrated in tune with it. It took a jarring effort to crack out of the cycle.
"The laws that control Societies, as postulated by… you, are as exact as any others in the unified-field theory universe."
