Pero ya lo ve, no se pueden hacer diferencias entre un robot y el mejor de los humanos. - Isaac Asimov

He also said that nothing had to be true, but everything had to sound true.

It was a ribbon world – of which the Galaxy boasts sufficient, but among which, the inhabited variety is a rarity. It was a world, in other words, where the two halves face the monotonous extremes of heat and cold, while the region of possible life is the birdling ribbon of the twilight zone. Such a world invariably sounds uninviting to those who have not tried it, but there exists spots, strategically placed – and Radole City was located in such a one. It spread along the soft slopes of the foothills before the hacked-out mountains that backed it along the rim of the cold hemisphere and held off the frightful ice. The warm, dry air of the sun-half spilled over, and from the mountains was piped the water – and between the two, Radole City became a continuous garden, swimming in the eternal morning of an eternal June.

To him, a stilted geometric love of arrangement was “system,” and indefatigable and feverish interest in the pettiest facets of day-to-day bureaucracy was “industry”, indecision when right was “caution”, and blind stubbornness when wrong, “determination.