"You see, Sethos, man changed out in space. He is a long way from your ancestors who started all this. But before those ancient men left, they established Earth as a control planet, to maintain forever a specimen of the original stock. It may have been done out of his egocentric ideas at the time, but it proved wise, for such a specimen is valuable in our research."
"Sethos," said Hol, seeing the bewilderment on the young man's face, "the mechanoids who attend your little community are more than one hundred thousand years old. That is how long your little culture has been faithfully preserved, just as it was then. You would not be capable of living elsewhere in the universe now. You could survive, perhaps, bright as you are, for a century or so, and then die, unhappy, maladjusted, never finding another of your own level. You are, after all, a savage."
Sethos was dazed.
He—an atavism, a prehistoric man! No wonder his people behaved as they did—they were merely a docile herd of caged animals, kept complacent and well-fed by the keepers outside. An extinct beast, left to be tended until the earth reached the end of its course as a flaming speck in the infinite cavern of space!
"You—you must take me! I couldn't stand it now. How can I go back, knowing we're just a miserable experiment? Please—I'll go crazy!"
"Even now you exhibit one of your primitive traits—pride of being a man. But you will adjust to life. It is as it should be."
"But—"
"I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do."
"No, wait—I...."
The two men were gone.