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"
Only
one
of
its
kind
,
before
or
since
.
A
mistake
,
-
,
somewheres
-
"
Alfred
Lanning
lit
his
cigar
carefully
,
but
the
tips
of
his
fingers
were
trembling
slightly
.
His
gray
eyebrows
hunched
low
as
he
spoke
between
puffs
.
"
It
reads
minds
all
right-damn
little
doubt
about
that
!
But
why
?
"
He
looked
at
Mathematician
Peter
Bogert
,
"
Well
?
"
Bogert
flattened
his
black
hair
down
with
both
hands
,
"
That
was
the
thirty-fourth
RB
model
we
've
turned
out
,
Lanning
.
All
the
others
were
strictly
orthodox
.
"
The
third
man
at
the
table
frowned
.
Milton
Ashe
was
the
youngest
officer
of
U.
S.
Robot
amp
;
Mechanical
Men
,
Inc.
,
and
proud
of
his
post
.
"
Listen
,
Bogert
.
There
was
n't
a
hitch
in
the
assembly
from
start
to
finish
.
I
guarantee
that
.
"
Bogert
's
thick
lips
spread
in
a
patronizing
smile
,
"
Do
you
?
If
you
can
answer
for
the
entire
assembly
line
,
I
recommend
your
promotion
.
By
exact
count
,
there
are
seventy-five
thousand
,
two
hundred
and
thirtyfour
operations
necessary
for
the
manufacture
of
a
single
positronic
brain
,
each
separate
operation
depending
for
successful
completion
upon
any
number
of
factors
,
from
five
to
a
hundred
and
five
.
If
any
one
of
them
goes
seriously
wrong
,
the
'
brain
'
is
ruined
.
I
quote
our
own
information
folder
,
Ashe
.
"
Milton
Ashe
flushed
,
but
a
fourth
voice
cut
off
his
reply
.
"
If
we
're
going
to
start
by
trying
to
fix
the
blame
on
one
another
,
I
'm
leaving
.
"
Susan
Calvin
's
hands
were
folded
tightly
in
her
lap
,
and
the
little
lines
about
her
thin
,
pale
lips
deepened
,
"
We
've
got
a
mind-reading
robot
on
our
hands
and
it
strikes
me
as
rather
important
that
we
find
out
just
why
it
reads
minds
.
We
're
not
going
to
do
that
by
saying
,
'
Your
fault
!
My
fault
!
'
"
