beast—rubbed his fat, impractical hands together with an ungod-like glee. “Excellent,” he said. “Far, far better, in fact, than I had hoped.” He did not elucidate.

I looked at Jon Rogeson. He shook his head slowly.

“You there—robot!” said Langley, looking at me. “How far across this place?” The word was like a blow. I could not answer.

MS-33, glistening in the dying light of Mars, strode over to me, clanking heavily up on the black rocks. He seized me with his grapples and shook me until my wiring was in danger of shorting out. “Speak up when you are spoken to, archaic mechanism!” he grated.

I would have struck out at him, but what use except to warp my own aging limbs.

Jon Rogeson came to my rescue. “On Phobos,” he explained to Langley, “we don’t use that word ‘robot.’ These folk have been free a long time. They’ve quite a culture of their own nowadays, and they like to be called ‘metal people.’ As a return courtesy, they refer to us humans as ‘builders.’ Just a custom, Senator, but if you want to get along with them—”

“Can they vote?” said Langley, grinning at his own sour humor.

“Nonsense,” said MS-33. “I am a robot, and proud of it. This rusty piece has no call to put on airs.”

“Release him,” Langley said. “Droll fellows, these discarded robots. Really nothing but mechanical dolls, you know, but I think the old scientists made a mistake, giving them such human appearance, and such obstinate traits.”

Oh, it was true enough, from his point of view. We had been mechanical dolls at first, I suppose, but fifty years can change one. All I know is this: we are people; we think and feel, and are happy and sad, and quite often we are bored stiff with this dreary moon of Phobos.

It seared me. My selenium cells throbbed white hot within the shell of my frame, and I made up my mind that I would learn more about the mission of this Langley, and I would get even with MS-33 even if they had me dismantled for it.

Of the rest of that week I recall few pleasant moments. We went out every day, and the quick-eyed servants of Langley measured the areas with their instruments, and exchanged significant looks from behind their spectacles, smug in their thin air helmets. It was all very mysterious. And disturbing.

But I could discover nothing about their mission. And when I questioned 

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