I began to laugh suddenly. Leopold, offended, glared at me and said, "May I ask what's so funny, Dr. Anderson?"
"Ozymandias!" I said, when I had subsided a bit. "It's a natural! Ozymandias!"
"I'm afraid I don't—"
"Listen to him," I said. "It's as if he was built and put here for those who follow after, to explain to us the glories of the race that built the cities. Only the cities are gone, and the robot is still here! Doesn't he seem to be saying, 'Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'"
"Nothing besides remains," Webster quoted. "It's apt. Builders and cities all gone, but the poor robot doesn't know it, and delivers his spiel nonetheless. Yes. We ought to call him Ozymandias!"
Gerhardt said, "What shall we do with it?"
"You say you couldn't budge it?" Webster asked Leopold.
"It weighs five or six hundred pounds. It can move of its own volition, but I couldn't move it myself."
"Maybe the five of us—" Webster suggested.
"No," Leopold said. An odd smile crossed his face. "We will leave it here."