He was dreaming. The little girl, whose kitten had disappeared was pointing an accusing finger at him. He was trying to explain that he hadn't taken her kitten. And then, Sheila was there, and she had a great urgency in her manner. She was warning him. Stains. The stains that he had noticed. Didn't he see?
No. He didn't see. His mind spun and whirled. Sounds were a tortured mixture of Sheila's voice, the little girl's sobs, and the faint mechanical grunts which Ohm made.
And then, the laboratory collapsed. The walls caved in to the center and the roof dropped down on top of him. It was a terrible pressure on his chest—crushing it. He had to remove that pressure—had to push that crushing weight away—had to get free.
But he was awake. And it wasn't the roof on his chest. It was Ohm ... Ohm crouched on top of him ... the beady photo-electric eye focused on the lamp which burned like a beacon in the otherwise total dark. And then Craig remembered. He hadn't caged Ohm in for the night. He had been loose in the apartment. Naturally, he had come to the only light, and now, he crouched on Craig's chest.
He tried to move, but the robot only flattened itself more—a dead weight. The heavy steel jaws poised over Craig's throat, the steel teeth glittering in the light.
"Ohm!" That single word was a prayer, a plea, a sob.
The stains on the teeth ... the missing kitten ... those razor sharp teeth. A strange purring noise filled the room ... caused the bed to vibrate under him. The steel jaws clicked open.