She switched on a button in the wall, a button he had not seen before. Her thought came to him then.
"I was so sorry I did not have one when you came. I ordered one, but they have to be made as there are not many in use. Now it has come, I can tell you. There is something you could not understand."
"There's a lot of things you could tell me, that's a fact. It's so puzzling. They take me for granted. No excitement...."
"That is because of prevision."
Steve started. A shiver went through him, or was it a pulse of delight at the sudden knowledge of what was to come?
"Prevision?" asked Steve, though he suddenly realized he knew the answer.
"After the change, people came to know by experience that they could foresee the future, when they willed to see ahead. When you came, I knew what would come to pass."
"Because they know what's coming, they didn't get excited?" Steve asked, his eyes on her sweet perfection, on her hands, setting the flowers straight in the bowl again, then going back to her eternal knitting.
"That's why we seem like robots to you. Robots don't have to think about what's coming next. They know. They know because they are machines. We know ahead, too, not because it's built in us, but because we can deduce precisely how things are going to turn out. The penalty of increased mental activity ... see?" Her voice was gentle, but there was awareness of something in it, something he ought to understand, something she couldn't say.