It was there again, as completely ruinous to communications as ever. Then the noise ceased and the machine spoke: "Narina Varada and Harry Vinson, you are directed to come to me. You have destroyed my control over your own plane. You are the only ones who really have the answer; therefore I must receive you indirectly instead of merely driving your plane this way."
"No thanks."
"But you will come sooner or later: why not make it easy?"
Vinson snorted. "Just what do you want?"
"I wish to study you."
"Thank you; we don't care to be studied."
The machine's voice was cold. "You have little choice in the matter. Will you come—or shall I send a few guided missiles to herd you in?"
"Neither—for we shall not come."
There was a moment of silence. "The trouble is," said the machine with almost a trace of humor, "that Man made Machine not in His own image. You will find the functional design somewhat more efficient, I guarantee."
And then the radio contact was broken. Also, the radio was completely dead.