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other systems were all welcome but not from Earth. "And human life, any kind of human life,
doesn't mean much to them, anyway. They're machine-centered. I've watched them with their
metal men. They're more considerate of a Sirian robot, almost, than of a Sirian man. They
would regard a robot as worth a hundred men of Earth. They pamper those robots. They
love them. Nothing's too good for them." Lucky murmured, "Robots are expensive. They
have to be treated carefully." "Maybe so," said Dr. Peverale, "but men who become
accustomed to worrying about the needs of machines become callous about the needs of
men." Lucky Starr leaned forward, elbows on the table, dark eyes serious and the smooth
vertical lines of his handsome, still subtly boyish face set gravely. He said, "Dr. Peverale, if
the Sirians are race-conscious and are breeding themselves into uniformity, they will defeat
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themselves in the long run. It is variety in the human race that brings about progress. It is
Earth and not Sirius that is in the forefront of scientific research. Earthmen settled Sirius in
the first place, and it is we, not our Sirian cousins, who are advancing in new directions
every year. Even the positronic robots you mention were invented and developed on Earth
by Earthmen." "Yes," said the astronomer, "but Earthmen don't make use of the robot. It
would upset our economy, and we place the comfort and security of today above" the safety
of tomorrow. We use our scientific advance 57 to make ourselves weaker. Sinus uses its to
make itself stronger. That's the difference and that's the danger." Dr. Peverale threw himself
back in his chair, looking grim. The mechanical tray-carrier cleared the table. Lucky pointed
at it. "That's a sort of a robot, if you like," he said. The mechanical tray-carrier went quietly
about its task. It was a flat-surfaced thing moving smoothly on a diamagnetic field, so that its
gently curved base never actually touched the floor. Its limber tentacles removed dishes with
careful delicacy, placing some on its upper surface, others within a cabinet in its side.
"That's a simple automaton," snorted Dr. Peverale. "It has no positronic brain. It cannot
adapt itself to any change in its task." "Well, then," said Lucky, "are you saying that the
Sirians are sabotaging Project Light?" "Yes. I am." "Why should they?" Dr. Peverale
shrugged. "Perhaps it's just part of a larger plan. I don't know what trouble there is elsewhere
in the Solar System. These may be the first random probings to prepare for ultimate
invasion and conquest Project Light in itself means nothing, the Sirian danger everything. I
wish I could rouse the Council of Science and the government and the people to that truth."
Hanley Cook coughed, then spoke for the first time. "The Sirians are human like the rest of
us. If they're on the planet, where are they?" Dr. Peverale said coldly, "That's for an exploring
expedition to find out. A well-prepared, well-equipped expedition." 58 "Wait a minute," said
Mindes, his eyes glinting with excitement, "I've been out on the Sun-side, and I'll swear " "A
well-prepared, well-equipped expedition," repeated the old astronomer firmly. "Your
one-man flights mean nothing, Mindes." The engineer stuttered a moment and slumped into
an embarrassed silence. Lucky said suddenly, "You seem to be unhappy about this, Urteil.
What is your opinion of Dr. Pever-ale's view?" The investigator lifted his eyes and met those
of Lucky for a long moment in hatred and open defiance. It was obvious he had not
forgotten, nor would forget, the earlier exchange at this table. He said, "I'm keeping my
opinion to myself. But I will say this, I'm not fooled by anything that's going on here tonight."
His mouth clamped shut and Lucky, having waited a moment for further remarks, turned to
Peverale and said, "I wonder if we do need a complete expedition, sir. If we suppose that
the Sirians are here on Mercury, can we perhaps deduce where they might be?" "Go ahead,
Lucky," crowed Bigman at once. "Show them how." Dr. Peverale said, "How do you mean?"
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