"No, you don't see, because I've got my screen on. Which I will now take off—" he suited action to word—"since the whole planet's screened and I have nothing to hide from you. Teddy Blake and I both thought of that, but we'll consider it only as the ultimately last resort. We don't want to live a million years. And we want our race to keep on developing. But you folks can replace carbon-based molecules with silicon-based ones just as easily as, and a hell of a lot faster than, mineral water petrifies wood. What can you do along the line of rebuilding me that way? And if you can do any such conversion, what would happen? Would I live at all? And if so, how long? How would I live? What would I live on? All that kind of stuff."
"Shortly before they left, two of the Masters did some work on that very thing. Tuly and I converted them, sir."
"Fine—or is it? How did it work out?"
"Perfectly, sir ... except that they destroyed themselves. It was thought that they wearied of existence."
"I don't wonder. Well, if it comes to that, I can do the same. You can convert me, then."
"Yes, sir. But before we do it we must do enough preliminary work to be sure that you will not be harmed in any way. Also, there will be many more changes involved than simple substitution."
"Of course. I realize that. Just see what you can do, please, and let me know."
"We will, sir, and thank you very much."