y Robot," a dull-witted
mechanical clod who was continually falling over himself and getting
into trouble. It was a repellent caricature, but could still be very
funny. Jon was just starting to read it when the ceiling light went out.

It was ten P.M., curfew hour for robots. Lights out and lock yourself in
until six in the morning, eight hours of boredom and darkness for all
except the few night workers. But there were ways of getting around the
letter of a law that didn't concern itself with a definition of visible
light. Sliding aside some of the shielding around his atomic generator,
Jon turned up the gain. As it began to run a little hot the heat waves
streamed out--visible to him as infra-red rays. He finished reading the
paper in the warm, clear light of his abdomen.

The thermocouple in the tip of his second finger left hand, he tested
the temperature of his leg. It was soon cool enough to work on. The
waterproof gasket stripped off easily, exposing the power leads, nerve
wires and the weakened knee joint. The wires disconnected, Jon unscrewed
the knee above the joint and carefully placed it on the shelf in front
of him. With loving care he took the replacement part from his hip
pouch. It was the product of toil, purchased with his savings from three
months employment on the Jersey pig farm.

Jon was standing on one leg testing the new knee joint when the ceiling
fluorescent flickered and came back on. Five-thirty already, he had just
finished in time. A shot of oil on the new bearing completed the job; he
stowed away the tools in the pouch and unlocked the door.

The unused elevator shaft acted as waste chute, he slipped his newspaper
through a slot in the door as he went by. Keeping close to the wall, he
picked his way carefully down the grease-stained stairs. He slowed his
pace at the 17th floor as two other mechs turned in ahead of him. They
were obviously butchers or meat-cutters; where the right hand should
have been on each of them there stuck out a wicked, foot-long knife. As
they approached the foot of the stairs they stopped to slip the knives
into the plastic sheaths that were bolted to their chestplates. Jon
followed them down the ramp into the lobby.

The room was filled to capacity with robots of all sizes, forms and
colors. Jon Venex's greater height enabled him to see over their heads
to the glass doors that opened onto the street. It had rained the night
before and the rising sun drove red g