They had come to pass judgement on him. He had violated their law--wilfully, ignorantly, and very deliberately.
"I don't care about your fool people," said Rankin. He squinted at the cloud of dust getting bigger and closer beyond the wall of kesh trees that surrounded the rolling acres of his plantation. "That damned new neighbor of mine is coming over here again."
He gestured widely, taking in the dozens of robots with their shiny, cylindrical bodies and pipestem arms and legs laboring in his fields. "Get all your people together and go hide in the wood, fast."
"It is not right," said the robot. "We were made to serve all."
"Well, there are only a hundred of you, and I'm not sharing you with anybody," said Rankin.
"It is not right," the robot repeated.
"Don't talk t
On a distant planet an unprincipled Earthman exploits the local robots to grow and harvest his crops. There's nothing wrong with that--robots are built to serve--but the day comes when the Clearchan Confederacy arrives to pass judgement on him.
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