"'Inmates will not be permitted to disassemble or otherwise interfere with the machinery of the institution,'" quoted the carpenter. "Need I say more, Jim?"
"Okay," said James Ypsilanti, resuming his destructive work on the new door. "Scram, stupid." The carpenter departed.
"That dope," Jim said between blows, "is even foggier in the head than my lousy lawyer was, and that's going some."
"Jim," said the carpenter, returning and sounding very pleased with himself, "look here at what I have found, Jim."
James Ypsilanti turned to look at what the carpenter held in his hand. It was a carpenter's square sheathed in plastic.
"Found enough of them to last me a lifetime, Jim," said the carpenter complacently. "I'll never have to buy any."
"No, you won't," agreed James Ypsilanti bitterly. "Can't you get it into your head that you and I are the only ones left on Earth? After the war the rest left. They couldn't find us when they evacuated this atomic-explosion wrecked planet, because we were in this escape-proof jug. So they went away and left us!"
"I know, Jim."
Ypsilanti studied the mobile features of the carpenter, searching intently for a sign.
But the carpenter robot strolled away, whistling.