Roland was cold. He wanted to rest.
Roland scarcely heard the man. He was cold. He was tired.
“We’ve developed the physiological relation between the nervous system and the consciousness. Instinctualism, a high degree of predictability—but then your human brain wouldn’t understand.”
Roland sank to his knees. He dropped his head in his folded arms.
“Let’s go,” said the woman. “Leave it here. It’ll die soon.”
“Just a minute, Fran. Don’t you find this interesting? This creation of grids, filaments, plates, vacuums, is probably the last genuine human type we’ll see—that’s sane. And we made it!”
She sighed resignedly. “It probably wants to know what the fate of its beloved humanity is. We gave it that social consciousness. Tell it.”
“Of course it’s concerned, but Rolly’s dying now, and the important thing to it is that it’s dying for humanity.” Berti paused. “And the horrible thing for Rolly, is to know that humanity really died from over-specialization when it launched the final Atomic War.”
Roland’s head raised slowly and shook back and forth. “No.”