"But why not, Don? After all, none of the decisions that have been reached were due to you."
"Perhaps not—but I doubt now that any of the roboes could find it in their hearts to like any member of the human race. They're being hunted down like wild dogs; the people all think it part of a game created for their express amusement." He paused, groping for words. "Like—like people at a carnival who shoot at mechanical targets for some cheap award."
"I know," she said gently, sitting close beside him. "It's not really their fault; propaganda, turned out by the ton, beats it into them that this is a rebellion of machines."
There was a moment of silence and Shiela's hand found its way to his. She sighed, "The harm's all been done now; people will never accept the roboes as anything but an animated calculating machine or 'electronic brain.' One or the other must fall."
"I can't understand their inactivity," he puzzled. "With all of their created abilities, I had expected something devastating. After all, they were created for atomic and cosmic work and knew all that the best scientific brains in the world could teach them."
"Did you ever stop to wonder if they wanted nothing but peace and would try to hide out or escape?" she asked.
He stared at her, "Deep down inside you're hoping that they'll succeed, aren't you?"
Shiela traced a long, slender finger around in the grass, not looking at him. "Oh, perhaps. Don't you wish something would happen that would allow them to escape, perhaps even to another world?"
"But that's impossible!"
"What of the space ships now being built secretly?" she reminded him.