The wheeled carriage was fitted to his underside and Rod was lowered to the floor. The machine screwed one arm in its socket—it was a simple matter—and picked up the other. He looked at it, turned it about in his tendrils.
"Zutkuh!" he cried. "I've gotten two left upper-joints by mistake. This will not fit the right socket. I must go get another from the supply house." He whirled, rolled toward the door. Then paused, returned. "But you can be absorbing the idea while I am gone! It will save time."
He went to the peculiar machine Rod had noticed in the corner, rolled it to him.
It was a wheeled, oblong box, thickly insulated and studded with calibrated dials and levers. A heavy cord connected it with the dynamo. Taking a length of wire, 83 attached one end to a contact on the machine, approached Rod with the other.
"This is a short-wave vibration transmitter which is attuned to my cerebral frequency. I shall attach it to your brain-cord and when I return your mind will be on the exact wave-length as mine. Our every thought will be synonymous, with the exception that the weaker potential which I give you will place you in my command."
Rod watched 83 and to his mind came a wild, formless plan.
The machine rolled close and 83 enlongated his neck cable, eyed a small hole in Rod's cylinder. He reached to plug in the wire.
Rod's single arm moved quickly, silently. Before 83 could perceive the motion, Rod had entwined his steel tendrils about the lever on his shell, snapped the switch downward.
The black neck of 83 went suddenly limp. His crystal eye mechanism dulled, clattered to the floor and the jointed arms fell, dangled lifelessly.
Rod marveled at the ease with which he moved. Given the thought stimulus, his members sprang into action with amazing speed and strength. He fumbled with 83's right upper-arm joint, unscrewed it from the socket, and with a dexterity he had never known, set it in place upon himself. It responded instantly as contact was made with the sensitive mechanism within.