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"Jon — Venex, I don't recognize your family name. Something to do — with Venus — perhaps."

"Venus is right, Venus Experimental — there are only twenty-two of us in the family. We have waterproof, pressure-resistant bodies for working down on the ocean bottom. The basic idea was all right, we did our part, only there wasn't enough money in the channel-dredging contract to keep us all working. I bought out my original contract at half-price and became a free robot."

Dik vibrated his rusted diaphragm. "Being free isn't all it should be. I some — times wish the Robot Equality Act hadn't been passed. I would just 1-love to be owned by a nice rich company with a machine shop and a — mountain of replacement parts."

"You don't really mean that Dik." Alec Diger clamped a heavy black arm across his shoulders. "Things aren't perfect now, we know that, but it's certainly a lot better than the old days. We were just hunks of machinery then, used twenty-four hours a day until we were worn out and then thrown in the junk pile. No thanks, I'll take my chances with things as they are."

Jon and Alec turned into the employment exchange, saying goodbye to Dik who went on slowly down the street. They pushed up the crowded ramp and joined the line in front of the registration desk. The bulletin board next to the desk held a scattering of white slips announcing job openings. A clerk was pinning up new additions.

Venex scanned them with his eyes, stopping at one circled in red.

ROBOTS NEEDED IN THESE CATEGORIES. APPLY AT ONCE TO CHAINJET, LTD., 1219 BROADWAY

Fasten

Flyer

Atommel

Filmer

Venex

Jon rapped excitedly on Alec Diger's neck. "Look there, a job in my own specialty — I can get my old pay rate! See you back at the hotel tonight — and good luck in your job hunting."

Alec waved goodbye. "Let's hope the job's as good as you think, I never trust those things until I have my credits in my hand."

Jon walked quickly from the employment exchange, his long legs eating up the blocks. Good old Alec, he didn't believe in anything he couldn't touch. Perhaps he was right, but why try to be unhappy? The world wasn't too bad this morning — his leg worked fine, prospects of a good job — he hadn't felt this cheerful since the day he was activated.

Turning the corner at a brisk pace he collided with a human coming from the opposite direction. Jon had stopped on the instant, but there wasn't time to jump aside. The fat man jarred against him and fell to the ground. From the height of elation to the depths of despair in an instant — he had injured a human being\

He bent to help the man to his feet, but the other would have none of that. He evaded the friendly hand and screeched in a high-pitched voice.

"Officer, Officer — police. . help! I've been attacked — a mad robot… help!"

A crowd was gathering — staying at a respectful distance — but making an angry muttering noise. Jon stood motionless, his head reeling at the enormity of what he had done. A policeman pushed his way through the crowd.

"Seize him officer, shoot him down… he struck me. . almost killed me…" The man shook with rage, his words thickening to a senseless babble.

The policeman had his.75 recoilless revolver out and pressed against Jon's side.

"This man has charged you with a serious crime, grease can. I'm taking you into the station house — to talk about it." He looked around nervously, waving his gun to open a path through the tightly packed crowd. They moved back grudgingly, with murmurs of disapproval.

Jon's thoughts swirled in tight circles. How did a catastrophe like this happen, where was it going to end? He didn't dare tell the truth, that would mean he was calling the man a liar. There had been six robots power-lined in the city since the first of the year. If he dared speak in his own defense, there would be a jumper to the street-lighting circuit and a seventh burnt-out hulk in the police morgue. A feeling of resignation swept through him, there was no way out. If the man pressed charges it would mean a term of penal servitude, though it looked now as if he would never live to reach the court. The papers had been whipping up a lot of antirobe feeling, you could feel it behind the angry voices, see it in the narrowed eyes and clenched fists. The crowd was slowly changing into a mob, a mindless mob as yet, but capable of turning on him at any moment.

"What's going on here. .?" It was a booming voice, with a quality that dragged at the attention of the crowd. A giant cross-continent freighter was parked at the curb. The driver swung down from the cab and pushed his way through the people. The policeman shifted his gun as the man strode up to him.