“Menheer Mundy,” Storquel said hotly. “I bought that unit from the war office. It was nothing but a repository of data. And for years, it was my assistant. It did not complain. It did not demand its rights. It was a tool, a machine. That’s what they are. Except, owing to some catastrophic misjudging on the part of your people,” a finger jabbed at Mannec, “someone decided the things were people, and it waltzed off with decades of my research and now has the gall to claim itself an equal.” His beard actually bristled, visibly. “And it was only with the help of those women that the things broke
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