|
so:text
|
'Do you never work? Does nobody work?' I asked Clytassamine.
'Oh yes - if he wants to,' she said.
'But what about the unpleasant things - the things that must be done?'
'What things?' she asked, puzzled.
'Well, growing food, providing power, disposing of waste, all that kind of thing.'
She looked surprised.
'Why, naturally, the machines do all that. You wouldn't expect men to do those things. Good heavens, what have we got brains for?"
'But who looks after the machines - keeps them in order?'
'Themselves, of course.' (en) |
