"There is but one Supervisor!" intoned 204.
"But one Jackson!" answered the assembly.
"And now He dwelleth among His children!" 76 chanted.
"In their midst!" boomed the hundreds.
Suddenly it all seemed horribly ludicrous and Angus laughed. The litany, stopped and his laughter grew shriller, louder, edged with hysteria.
The shimmering sea of metal, confounded, stared at him and it was as though he could see fleshy furrows of confusion on the featureless faces.... But how could a clunker show emotion?
His laughter slowed and died, like the passing of a violent storm. And he felt weakened with a sickening sense of compassion. Robots—human robots—standing awed before unknown concepts while they groped for Truth. Clunkers with a sense of right and wrong and with an overwhelming love. It was absurd that he had been elected father of twelve hundred children—whether flesh or metal—but it didn't feel at all absurd.
"Dost Thou despair of us, O Jackson?" asked 76 hesitantly, staring up at him.
204 motioned toward the ship, the top of its hull shining beyond the nearby woods. "Wouldst Thou still return to Thy vessel, Supervisor?"
Incredulous, Angus tensed. "You mean I can go?"