New Bobs were increasingly voicing an unwillingness to hang around and help humanity. On top of the tendency to use dismissive language, it told me that there was some kind of shift in psychology going on. Then I admitted to myself that I might be the one out of step. I’d been holed up at Epsilon Eridani for fifty years, with only second-hand exposure to humanity. It was easy for me to have an attitude. Bobs cloned from Riker’s tree might just be getting heartily sick of people. Anyway, there were still enough interested Bobs to keep things rolling. I decided not to worry about it. I could
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