His smile was faintly apologetic. It seemed to say that the women's
clubs had many votes, but that Wilson should understand, Wilson's own
vote would be appreciated too. Wilson watched the two re-enter the
helicopter and rise into the morning sunshine. He kicked the dirt with
his shoe and turned to find Socrates behind him. The metallic voice
spoke.
"You are tired. I suggest you go home and rest."
"I'm not tired. Why can they be so blind, so uninterested in the
children?"
"It is our job to teach the children. You are tired. I suggest you go
home and rest."
How can you argue with metal? What can you add to a perfect mechanism,
designed for its job, and integrated with a hundred other perfect
mechanisms? What can you do when a thousand schools are so perfect they
have a life of their own, with no need for human guidance, and, most
significant, no failures from human weakness?
Wilson stared soberly at this school, at the colossus he had helped to
create. He had the feeling that it was wrong somehow, that if people
would only think about it they could find that something was wrong.
"You are tired."