Harry glowered. “Look a-here. Point you’re missin‘ is, they didn’t build no robots before we met ’em,” he said. “So it don’t matter, see?”

“But what about the next new race we discover?” asked Thumper, doing his best to preserve a calm demeanor. “Can we be sure they’ll build the same laws into their robots? And even if they do, will their robots recognize us as sophonts?”

“Damn it, there ain’t no alien robots,” growled Chocolate Harry. “If you gonna come around bustin‘ chops, I just might decide not to sell you any freakin’ purple cammy- and then when the renegade robots come bubblin‘ out of the underbrush with their eyes shootin’ sparks and their grasping mechanisms reachin‘ out for your little furry tail, you’ll be sorry. You bet your ass is gonna be sorry!”

Thumper decided he had time to make one more point. “But if the Three Laws are correct, then the only robots I need to be afraid of are alien robots…”

“Take your freakin‘ alien robots and put ’em where the sun don’t shine, bunny!” Harry’s voice was a full-throated roar, now. He stood up from his chair, looming over Thumper.

Wisely deciding not to finish his argument, Thumper made a rapid exit, quickly scurrying out the door and back to where Mahatma awaited him.

Mahatma pointed to the Supply depot, from which Harry’s voice could still be heard, using language that certainly qualified as flamboyant. He grinned broadly as he said, “Congratulations, Thumper. I believe you have succeeded in being a pain in the ass.”

“Mother, have you seen Beeker?” Phule said into the office intercom.

“That depends, sweetie. Do you mean have I seen him today?” said Mother. “Or recently today? Or just have I seen him?”