Asir stared at the lumbering creature and realized for the first time that it was not alive, but only a machine built by the ancients to perform specific tasks. Despite the fresh redness about his hands and jaws, Big Joe was no more guilty of Slubil's death than a grinding mill would be if the squat sadist had climbed into it while the Marsoxen were yoked to the crushing roller.
Perhaps the ancients had been unnecessarily brutal in building such a guard--but at least they had built him to _look_ like a destroyer, and to give ample warning to the intruder. Glancing around at the machinery, he vaguely understood the reason for Big Joe. Such metals as these would mean riches for swordmakers and smiths and plunderers of all kinds.
Asir straightened his shoulders and addressed the machine.
"Teach us how to kindle the Blaze of the Great Wind."
"_Teaching is not within the designed functions of Big Joe. I am charged to say: the renewal reaction should not be begun before the Marsyear 6,000, as the builders reckoned time._"
Asir frowned. The years were no longer numbered, but only named in honor of the Chief Commoners who ruled the villages. "How long until the year 6,000?" he asked.
Big Joe clucked like an adding machine. "Twelve Marsyears, technologist."
Asir stared at the complicated machinery. Could they learn to operate it in twelve years? It seemed impossible.
"How can we begin to learn?" he asked the robot.
"_This is an instruction room, where you may examine records. The control mechanisms are installed in the deepest vault._"
Asir frowned and walked to the far end of the hall where another door opened into--_another anteroom, with another Big Joe_! As he approached the second robot spoke:
"_If the intruder has not acquired the proper knowledge, Big Oswald will kill._"
Thunderstruck, he leaped back from the entrance and swayed heavily against an instrument panel. The panel lit up and a polite recorded voice began reading something about "President Snell's role in the Eighth World War". He lurched away from the panel and stumbled back toward Mara who sat glumly on the foundation slab of a weighty machine.
"What are you laughing about?" she muttered.
"We're still in the first grade!" he groaned, envisioning a sequence of rooms. "We'll have to learn the magic of the ancients before we pass to the next."