Domin. No. Bought them, Miss Glory. Robots are bought and sold.
Helena. These were employed as street-sweepers. I saw them sweeping. They were so strange and quiet.
Domin. (Rises) Rossum’s Universal Robot factory doesn’t produce a uniform brand of Robots. We have Robots of finer and coarser grades. The best will live about twenty years. (Crosses to desk. Helena looks in her pocket mirror. He pushes button on desk.)
Helena. Then they die?
Domin. Yes, they get used up. (Enter Marius, R. Domin crosses to C.) Marius, bring in samples of the manual labor Robot. (Exit Marius R.C.) I’ll show you specimens of the two extremes. This first grade is comparatively inexpensive and is made in vast quantities. (Marius re-enters R.C. with two manual labor Robots. Marius is L.C., Robots R.C., Domin at desk. Marius stands on tiptoes, touches head, feels arms, forehead of one of the Robots. They come to a mechanical standstill.) There you are, as powerful as a small tractor. Guaranteed to have average intelligence. That will do, Marius. (Marius exits R.C. with Robots.)
Helena. They make me feel so strange.
Domin. (Crosses to desk. Rings) Did you see my new typist?
Helena. I didn’t notice her.
(Enter Sulla L. She crosses and stands C., facing Helena, who is still sitting in the couch.)