"You got something there! Yes, sir! Did you notice how Betsy's standby light was wabbling while she was bringin' in that broadcast? If she could sweat, she'd've been sweating!"
Lecky turned his head to stare at the sergeant.
"Machines," said Bellews profoundly, "act according to the golden rule. They do unto you as they would have you do unto them. You treat a machine right and it treats you right. You treat it wrong and it busts itself—still tryin' to treat you right. See?"
Lecky blinked.
"I do not quite see how it applies," he said mildly.
"Betsy's an old, experienced machine," said the sergeant. "A signal that makes her sweat like that has got something wrong about it. Any ordinary machine 'ud break down handlin' it."
Graves said jerkily:
"The other machines that received these broadcasts did break down, Sergeant. All of them."
"Sure!" said the sergeant with dignity. "O' course, who's broadcastin' may have been tinkerin' with their signal since they seen it wasn't gettin' through. Betsy can take it now, when younger machines with less experience can't. Maybe a micro-microwatt of signal. Then it makes her sweat. If she was broadcastin', with a hell of a lot more'n a micro-microwatt—it'd be bad! I bet you that every machine we make to broadcast breaks down! I bet—"
Howell said curtly: