"Somehow it doesn't seem fair," he commented unhappily.
"What doesn't?" Drummond asked.
"They're so close to the Truth. Yet, after we file a report, a deactivation crew will come along and erase their beliefs. They'll have their memory banks swept clean and once more they'll be nothing but clunkers with a factory-specification job of routine work to do."
"Ain't that what they're supposed to be?"
"But these are different. They've found something no clunker's ever had before—hope, faith, aspiration beyond death." He shook his head ruefully.
There was movement at the mouth of the cave and the smaller group of robots emerged from the shadows, two of them bearing a stone slab. Their steps were ceremoniously slow as they approached the ledge. Bowing, they placed the tablet at Angus's feet and backed away.
"These are the articles of our faith, O Jackson," one announced. "We have preserved them for Thy coming."
McIntosh stared down at the charred remains of a book. Its metal-fiber binding was shredded and fused and encrusted with the dust of ages.
Drummond knelt beside it and, with stiff fingers, brushed away the film of grime, uncovering part of the title:
OLY
BIB E