Lee _saw_ their work; the man who had gone through the green
hells of the Pacific gave a low moan of horror. The other man who had
seen everything of mangled human form which goes onto an operating
table, the great Scriven he, too, had turned an ashen grey. They had
expected blood; they had expected some thing of a nasty nature, but not
this ... thing:

There was no Gus Krinsley, there was not even any part of him resembling
that of a human being; and yet the parts were there. "They must have
clamped him into some mock-up," Scriven murmured. "And then moved his
body all along the line. Hope he was dead when they started giving him
the works."

Lee's gaunt body shook. "I'm certain that Gus was _not_ dead when these
monsters worked on him!" he said.

Stiff-legged, like automata themselves, the two men stepped to the top
of the line. The circular saws, designed for the cutting of steel bars;
now they gleamed red with the blood of severed human limbs. There were
these purplish streaks and spatterings all the way down the line inside
the casings of the multiple drills, in the curved hollows of the sheet
metal presses, on the hands of the Robots, in their dumb faces--splashed
over and turning blackish on their stainless steel chests. And at its
end the line had spilled some shapeless, greyish things; there was
nothing human in them, as little as there is anything human in the rusty
bowels of a junked automobile. And these things they had been.... Lee
confronted Scriven with fury blazing in his eyes:

"Dr. Scriven, I suppose you know as well as I do what's been going on in
here and outside The Brain as well. Mass murder, chaos, reign of
terror.... Now that my friend has come to this monstrous end I demand to
know when are you going to stop The Brain?"

Like a tiger challenged to battle the surgeon raised his mighty head:
"Calm yourself Lee. We cannot afford emotional outbursts. Not here, not
now. The situation is far too serious for that. I know he was your
friend; he must have made a false move, given the wrong command; a
tragic mistake...."

"That's a rotten lie, Scriven, and you know it!" Lee snapped. "Accident,
hell! The disappearance of the President, the deaths of the
representatives, the train wrecks, the plane wrecks all of them Brain
controlled--were those too accidents? You're the head of the Braintrust,
You stand responsible; your duty is plain. Cut off the power and kill
this thing."

The muscles over Scri