Marcus closed his eyes and grasped the arm of the chair.
"Do you feel ill?" inquired the managing robot. "Shall I call the doctor? No? Well, as I was saying, there was already a supply of animal tissue on hand. It was this that the robots used. It's funny that you're asking this. Not many people are so curious."
"They didn't care," snarled Marcus. "As long as they were fed, they didn't ask what it was."
"Why should they?" asked the robot. "The tissue was already well adapted to growth tanks. Scrupulously asceptic, in no way did it harm the original donors who were long since dead. And there was little difference in the use of it, anyway. No one would hesitate if he were injured and needed skin or part of a liver or a new eye. This was replacement from the inside, by a digestive process rather than a medical one."
"The robots took tissue from the surgery replacement tanks," said Marcus. "Do you deny it?"
"That's what I've been telling you," said the robot. "A very clever solution considering how little time they had. However only about half of the tanks had to be replaced."
"Cannibals," said Marcus, nearly destroying the chair as he hurled it away from him.
"What's a cannibal?" asked the robot.
But Marcus wasn't there to answer. He went back to the restaurant, under control by the time he reached the table. He couldn't tell Wilbur because Wilbur had finished eating except for the vegetables which were mostly untouched. Marcus sat down and took the shields off the food, looking at it gloomily.
"Pa, aren't you going to eat?" asked Wilbur.