It gave her a full
afternoon of happy, busy labor.

* * * * *

The next day a large open truck came around and the street echoed to
the appeal for contributions. Festival spirit was running high
everywhere and when the neighborhood crowd saw the young robot porters
carry Eric out there was a loud cheer of appreciation.

"My husband decided on a major contribution right away," Marie
announced to them.

"It's the least we could do," he said modestly.

Many onlookers, swept away by their example, rushed indoors to bring
out additional items of sacrifice. But only two others gave up their
robots. The rest clung to them for private Holy Night ceremonies. Soon
Eric disappeared under the renewed deluge of egg-beaters and washers.

"The best collection I have seen today," said the inspector
accompanying the truck. "You people are to be congratulated for your
exceptional patriotism."

"Destroy!" they shouted back joyously. "Make work!"

At dawn the Central Plaza was already crowded and new hordes kept
pouring in from outlying areas. Wendell and his wife had been among
the first to arrive. They waited, impatient in their separate ways, on
the borderline five hundred yards from the ten-story pyre.

Martial music roared from loudspeakers, interrupted by the
mellifluous boom of a merchandising announcer: "New product! Better
models! One hundred years of High Holy Days! New! New! NEW!"

"Destroy!" came the returning shout. "Make work! Work! Work!"

All the sounds echoed back and forth until baffled away by the open
area across the Plaza, where one large structure had already been
destroyed. Three others were slated for collapse today.

"The biggest Holy Day ever," a restless old woman said to Marie. "I've
seen all nine of them."

"Eric's in there," Marie chatted back, superficially sad, deeply
happy.

"Who?"

"Our house robot."

"Imagine that! Did you hear that?" People gathered round them and
cheered. The good-natured jostling continued until someone said: "Five
minutes to go!"

Wendell checked his watch. Somewhere in the pile at least one element
was coming to life, a metal arm reaching out for brother metal to
engulf in its cybernetic sweep.

"They're coming!" A line of six shiny new slaggers came rumbling into
the open with military precision. They moved along slowly, prolonging
the pleasures of anticipation, then broke rank, each seeking its
assigned point around the pile o