"Yes," he murmured. "Nothing can go wrong. Once your robots have destroyed Earth's defenses and we have taken over, wiping out man, we will turn our weapons upward and destroy you!"
But 2615 didn't hear his words. 2615 was already entering the grav-cylinder. The barking of thousands of dogs was in its ear. It was music....
Metal hands that look much like skeletons of human hands. Metal fingers that hover over you and dart out faster than you can jerk—but you jerk anyway. You cringe, looking at the staring lenses, looking at the metal fingers. Symbols.
Multiply the week by four and a fraction. A month. Multiply that by ten. Ten months....
2615 looked down at Larry. Larry, trembling violently, unable to stand or even to crouch, looked up at the lenses, the fingers of metal. Near by, Stella sat on the floor, her fists doubled up in her eyes to blot out light.
"Today," 2615 said, "I want you to do something. If you do it I won't touch you. Do you understand, Larry? If you do what I ask, I won't touch you. I won't hurt you today."
Numb hope molded itself in the pallid flesh around Larry's eyes. His mouth opened to speak, but he couldn't speak.
"You must answer me, Larry. You must always speak."
"I understand you," Larry said, his voice weak.