“What can it do?” J.J. said brusquely. “I’m very pressed for time.”

Brian’s knuckles whitened as he made hard fists. He tried to keep his anger from his voice. “For one thing, it can talk.”

“Let’s hear it.” J.J. glanced obviously at his watch.

“Robin, who am I?” Brian said.

A metallic Ms opened in both of the erect metal spheres. Tiny motors hummed as they turned to face Brian. They clicked shut.

“You are Brian,” a buzzing voice said from the speakers also mounted on the spheres.

J.J.’s nostrils flared. “Who am I?” he asked. There was no response. Brian spoke quickly.

“It only responds when it hears its name, Robin. It also would probably not understand your voice, since it has only had verbal input from me. I’ll ask. Robin. Who is this? Figure next to mine.”

The diaphragms opened, the eyes moved again. Then there was a faint brushing sound as the countless metallic bristles moved in unison and the thing moved toward Beckworth. He stepped backward and the robot followed him.

“No need to move or be afraid,” Brian said. “The current optic receptors only have a short focus. There, it has stopped.”

“Object unknown. Ninety-seven percent possibility human. Name?”

“Correct. Name, last, Beckworth. Initial J.”

“J. J. Beckworth, aged sixty-two. Blood type O. Social Security number 130-18-4523. Born in Chicago, Illinois. Married. Two children. Parents were…”

“Robin, terminate,” Brian ordered, and the buzzing voice stopped, the diaphragms clicked shut. “I’m sorry about all that, sir. But it had access to personnel records when I was setting up some identification experiments here.”

“These games are of no importance. And I am not impressed. What else does the damned thing do? Can it move?”

“In many ways better than you or I,” Brian replied. “Robin, catch!”