The reporters' pencils scribbled. The tape cut soundlessly across the magnetic energizers of the recorders. The man at the gain control didn't flicker an eyelash.
"You don't really believe that, Professor. Instead of wars as a goal, the creation of Seventh Order Humanoids will be the Earth's crowning and sublime achievement. Mankind will be supremely happy. Anybody who could not be would simply prove himself neurotic and would have to be dealt with."
"You will use force?"
The reporters' grips on their pencils tightened. Several looked up.
"How does one deal with the insane, Professor Tomlin?" the robot asked confidently. "They will simply have to be—processed."
"You'll have to process the whole Earth, then. You'll have to include me, too."
The robot gave a laugh. "I admire your challenging spirit, Professor."
"What you are saying is that you, a single robot, intend to conquer the Earth and make its people do your bidding."
"Not alone. I may have to ask for help when the time comes, when I have evaluated the entire planet."