of the Human
Supremacy Party lived. First, Man was God. Second, no race could share
the plenum with Man. Had separate races still remained after the Atom
War, the HSP racism might have been more specific, but since there
remained only humanity en masse, all human beings shared the godhead.
Third, the artificial persons that streamed from the Creche were
blasphemy. Fourth, they must be destroyed. Like other generations
before them, the humans of this age rallied to the banner of the whip
and the rope. Not since the War had blood been spilled, but the
destructive madness of homo sapiens found joy in the word of the
Prophet, and though the blood was only the red sap of androids, the
thrill was there.

Thus had Sweyn Erikson, riding the intolerant wave of antirobotism,
come to the Creche. He stood now, in the long bare foyer, waiting.
Behind him lay the Party and the League. The Council of Ten was in
hand and helpless. Upon his report to the world, the future of an
entire robot-human culture pattern rested. This, he told himself, was
the high point of his life. Naked power to use as he chose rested in
his hands. The whole structure of world society was tottering. The
choice was his and his alone. He could shore it up or shatter it and
trample on the fragments....

The Prophet savored the moment. He watched with interest as the door
before him dilated. The Creche Director stood eyeing him
half-fearfully, half-defiantly, flanked by his wife and his assistant.
They were all three afraid for their lives, Erikson thought with
satisfaction.

"We welcome you to the Creche," Han Merrick said formally.

"Let there be no ceremony," Erikson said, "I am a simple man."

Merrick's lips tightened. "You haven't come here for ceremony. There
will be none."

"I came for truth," the Prophet said sonorously. "The people of the
world are waiting for my words. The mask of secrecy must be ripped
from this place and truth and knowledge allowed to wash it clean."

Merrick almost winced. The statement was redundant with the propaganda
that Erikson's nightriders peddled on every street corner. It
betokened an intellectual bankruptcy among men that was frightening.

"I shall do my best to allay your fears," he said thickly.

Erikson's eyes glittered with suspicion. "I need only a guide. The
decisions I shall make for myself. And mind that I am shown every
concealed place. The roots of this place must be laid bare. 'For God
shall bring eve