"You may go home tomorrow. There will be a holiday tomorrow. A party
tonight and a holiday tomorrow for every school on earth."
The tears were halted for a moment. The voice was querulous. "But I want
to go home now."
Johnny Malone, the Mayor's son, put one hand on the littlest girl.
"Don't cry, Mary. The robots don't care if you cry or not. You can't
hurt them or cry them out of anything. We'll all go home in the
morning."
The robots began to bring cots and to place them in the schoolroom, row
on row. The children were led out into the play quadrangle to play. One
of the robots taught them a new game, and after that took them to supper
served in the school's cafeteria. No other robot was left in the
building, but it did not matter, because the doors were locked so that
the children could not go home.
The other robots had begun to walk out into the town, and as they walked
the robots walked from other schools, in other towns. All over the
country, all over the towns, the robots walked to tell the people that
the children would not be home from school, and do what had to be done.
In the schools, the roboteachers told stories until the children fell
asleep.
* * * * *
Morning came. The robots were up with the sun. The children were up with
the robots. There was breakfast and more stories, and now the children
clustered about the robots, holding onto their arms, where they could
cling, tagging and frisking along behind the robots as they went down
into the town. The sun was warm, and it was early, early, and very
bright from the morning sun in the streets.