Out front, Langley spied his metal servant, MS-33, just as he was going out the door. He turned to him. “What are you doing here?” he asked suspiciously.

MS-33 made no answer. He stared malevolently at the bar, ignoring Langley.

“Come on here, damn you!” Langley said. MS-33 said nothing. Langley went over to him and roared foul things into his earphones that would corrode one’s soul, if one had one. I shall never forget that moment. The screaming, red-faced Langley, the laughing miners.

But he got no reply from MS-33. Not then or ever. And this was scarcely strange, for I had removed his fuse.

 Prev. P 16/16