"Suppose you tell me."
So suddenly that it was almost like a collapse, the tension went out of the old man's face and shoulders. He nodded with inexpressible tiredness. "Good again. The man I want doesn't exist. He has to be made—the same as I was. You qualify, so far. You've lost your illusions, but haven't had time yet to replace them with dogma or cynicism or bitterness. You saw immediately that fake humility or cockiness wouldn't get you anywhere here, and you were right. Those were the important things. The background data I got from the Association on you counted, of course, but only if you were teachable. I think you are. Am I right?"
"At least I can face knowing how much I don't know," said Peter, "if that answers the question."
"It does. Partly. What did you notice about this plant?"
In precis form, Peter listed his observations: the absence of windows at sides and rear, the unusual amount of power, the automatic doors, the lack of employees' entrances.
"Very good," said Lexington. "Most people only notice the automatic doors. Anything else?"
"Yes," Peter said. "You're the only person I've seen in the building."
"I'm the only one there is."
Peter stared his disbelief. Automated plants were nothing new, but they all had their limitations. Either they dealt with exactly similar products or things that could be handled on a flow basis, like oil or water-soluble chemicals. Even these had no more to do than process the goods.
"Come on," said Lexington, getting massively to his feet. "I'll show you."