"Greetings. Do not be alarmed. We do not wish you to be alarmed. Our desire is only to serve...."
"Greetings, it said! Greetings!" Ball was mumbling incredulously through shocked lips.
Everyone on the ship had heard the voice. When it spoke again, Steffens was not sure whether it was just one voice or many voices.
"We await your coming," it said gravely, and repeated: "Our desire is only to serve."
And then the robots sent a picture.
As perfect and as clear as a tridim movie, a rectangular plate took shape in Steffens' mind. On the face of the plate, standing alone against a background of red-brown, bare rocks, was one of the robots. With slow, perfect movement, the robot carefully lifted one of the hanging arms of its side, of its right side, and extended it toward Steffens, a graciously offered hand.
Steffens felt a peculiar, compelling urge to take the hand, realized right away that the urge to take the hand was not entirely his. The robot mind had helped.
When the picture vanished, he knew that the others had seen it. He waited for a while; there was no further contact, but the feeling of the robot's urging was still strong within him. He had an idea that, if they wanted to, the robots could control his mind. So when nothing more happened, he began to lose his fear.
While the crew watched in fascination, Steffens tried to talk back. He concentrated hard on what he was saying, said it aloud for good measure, then held his own hand extended in the robot manner of shaking hands.