Millions for defense, but not one cent for survival. - Alfred Bester

Powell repressed the wave of exasperation that rose up in him. It was not exasperation with Chooka. It was anger for the relentless force of evolution that insisted on endowing man with increased powers without removing the vestigial vices that prevented him from using them.

That's me," he said, motioning to the robot. "That's all of us. We prattle about free will, but we're nothing but response...mechanical reaction in prescribed grooves.

Wait," Foyle commanded. He looked at the beaming grin engraved in the steel robot face. "But society can be so stupid. So confused. You've witnessed this conference."
"Yes, sir, but you must teach, not dictate. You must teach society."
"To space-jaunte? Why? Why reach out to the stars and galaxies? What for?"
"Because you're alive, sir. You might as well ask: Why is life? Don't ask about it. Live it."
"Quite mad," Dagenham muttered.
"But fascinating," Y'ang-Yeovil murmured.
"There's got to be more to life than just living," Foyle said to the robot.
"Then find it for yourself, sir. Don't ask the world to stop moving because you have doubts."
"Why can't we all move forward together?"
"Because you're all different. You're not lemmings. Some must lead, and hope that the rest will follow."
"Who leads?"
"The men who must … driven men, compelled men."
"Freak men."
"You're all freaks, sir. But you always have been freaks. Life is a freak. That's its hope and glory."
"Thank you very much."
"My pleasure, sir.