Too late. Too late to defend yourself.
"Fourteen," the robobrain of the elevator announced. The door slid back. Mannion felt light pressure behind each of his arms as his two guards shoved him gently forward.
A frosted glass door loomed up ahead of him. The sign on the door read Mnemonics Laboratory.
Cold sweat drenched his body. Now that he was but feet away from the room where the erasure would take place, he wanted out desperately, wanted some chance to prove that he hadn't conspired with the androids, hadn't aided in the revolt, hadn't helped to murder 12 fellow Patrolmen and wreck the Iapetus project.
"You go in here," someone said to him.
The door marked Mnemonics Laboratory was swinging open to receive him.
There was no way out.
Four gray-smocked technicians waited inside for him. One of the guards with him said, "This is Mannion. He was just sentenced upstairs."
"I know. The order came down the pneumotubes a minute ago. Total erasure."