I, robot.

-I´ve finished- the robot said quietly- And so I´ve come to talk to you. I´ve been thinking for two days about who made me. I can´t believe that you two humans made me.

Donovan turned angrily towards Cutie, but Powell put out his hand.
-Why do you say that, Cutie?

Cutie laughed. It was an inhuman laugh, sharp and regular.
-Look at you! The material you are meda of is soft and weak. You depend upon food like that- he pointed at Donovan sandwich- to give you energy. Each day you need to sleep and while you are asleep you can do nothing. And if the temperature varies too much, you can´t work. You are a very inefficient and short-lived piece of equipment- the robot paused- I, on the other hand, am a perfet and efficient machine. I use electric energy directly. I´m made of strong metal. I never sleep. And I can work in any temperature. You can´t possibly have made me. Obviously no being can create another one much higher quality than itself.

Donovan jumped up.
-All right, you piece of metal, if we didn´t make you, who did?

-Very goog, Donovan- Cutie said seriously- That was in fact the next question. My creator must be more powerfull than myself, and so there was one possibility.

Donovan and powell looked puzzled.

Cutie continued.
-What is the centre of the solar station? What do we all serve?

Donovan looked at Powell, surprised.
-I think that this metal fool is talking about the Energy Converter.

-I´m talking about the Master- came the cold, sharp answer.



I, robot.
Isaac Asimov