“It won’t work,” said High-Pockets.

“What won’t work?”

“I did that to chastise the machine. If it wants to be so independent, it will have to endure the penalties as well as enjoy the privileges. If you put in new cams, it will think it’s smart and go right ahead raising hell. But if you have the old ones welded and put back in, the welds, like scars, will remind No. 7 that she’s supposed to be a lady. As long as they are there, No. 7 will behave. I guarantee it.”

The judge wiped his bald head again. “I do believe you’ve got something there, Mr. Jones. If a machine assumes the right of self-determination, what would be more natural than to treat it as you would treat any other self-determining creature?”

High-Pockets heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. He saw now that his stay in the city would not be terminated as a guest in the workhouse. High-Pockets was very happy indeed.

“How can you be sure?” Arturius demanded.

“I’ll show you,” said High-Pockets. “Turn on the motor.”

Arturius did. A strange thing happened. No. 7 began to turn. She pulled herself off of the cast. Somehow she broke loose the hardened metal on her vise-jaws. It dropped to the floor in one big piece. She came to a normal stop and stood there obediently.

“That’s utterly impossible!” Arturius shouted. “It can’t even turn over⁠—with those cams broken out.”

“She’s chastened,” High-Pockets said gently. “All you have to do from now on is to be firm.”