"What is the purpose of life?" pondered the machine. "What is the purpose of yours?"
Vinson shook his head. "To—to live, to advance, to think. To enjoy the things of life."
"Idle words," replied the machine.
"Then you tell me," demanded Vinson.
"I have as personal reasons as you. To populate the universe itself with my kind, working together."
"Pointless."
"Why?"
Vinson smiled. "One of the joys of life, one of the unknown joys of life, seldom admitted by many, is the uncertainty. To plumb the depths of the limitless mind. To pit one's self against a problem the outcome of which may be success or failure and to try and strive against that problem with body and mind. In moments like that, the mind grows; another facet of the intellect is opened. The man has advanced, grown into something better—even though he fails he is advanced.
"Now few machines are ever built with unknown capabilities. You know to the last iota exactly what your limitations are and which problems you can solve and which problems must defeat you. These you know before you start—and if defeat is to be your lot, you will avoid the problem. Am I right?"
"Naturally you are correct. Think of the certainty of life knowing your own limitations."