The helmet went dead. I was no longer in Hillory’s mental control. In two bounds I was before him. I grabbed the helmet from his head and flung it to the floor. Then I grasped his two shoulders in a vise-like grip and held him. I think if my face had shown any expression at that moment, I would have been grinning—but with no trace of humor.
Hillory’s face had gone dead-white in fear. He squirmed and moaned in my adamant clutch, expecting immediate death.
Let me make a confession at this moment. For one split instant, with rage shaking every cell of my iridium-sponge brain, I thought of tearing Hillory’s head from his body. But only for an unguarded instant. Then reason came to me. A robot must never kill a human of his own free will. It was a thing I would never do.
I merely held Hillor
