"He has experienced birth-trauma and withdrawn," said Beta. "Get him back into a nervous system and keep him there until he adjusts to it."
"No," said Frost. "Do not do it to me! I am not a Man!"
"Do it!" said Beta.
"If he is indeed a Man," said Divcom, "we cannot violate that order he has just given."
"If he is a Man, you must do it, for you must protect his life and keep it within his body."
"But _is_ Frost really a Man?" asked Divcom.
"I do not know," said Solcom.
"It _may_ be--"
"...I am the Crusher of Ores," it broadcast as it clanked toward them. "hear my story. I did not mean to do it, but I checked my hammer too late--"
"Go away!" said Frost. "Go crush ore!"
It halted.
Then, after the long pause between the motion implied and the motion executed, it opened its crush-compartment and deposited its contents on the ground. Then it turned and clanked away.
"Bury those bones," ordered Solcom, "in the nearest burial area, in a coffin built according to the following specifications...."
"Frost is a Man," said Mordel.
"We must protect His life and keep it within His body," said Divcom.
"Transmit His matrix of awareness back into His nervous system," ordered Solcom.
"I know how to do it," said Mordel turning on the machine.
"Stop!" said Frost. "Have you no pity?"
"No," said Mordel, "I only know measurement."
"...and duty," he added, as the Man began to twitch upon the floor.
For six months, Frost lived in the Man-factory and learned to walk and talk and dress himself and eat, to see and hear and feel and taste. He did not know measurement as once he did.
Then one day, Divcom and Solcom spoke to him through Mordel, for he could no longer hear them unassisted.
"Frost," said Solcom, "for the ages of ages there has been unrest. Which is the proper controller of the Earth, Divcom or myself?"
Frost laughed.
"Both of you, and neither," he said with slow deliberation.
"But how can this be? Who is right and who is wrong?"
"Both of you are right and both of you are wrong," said Frost, "and only a Man can appreciate it. Here is what I say to you now: There shall be a new directive.
"Neither of you shall tear down the works of the other. You shall both build and maintain the Earth. To you, Solcom, I give my old job. You are now Controller of the North--Hail! You, Divcom, are now Controller of the South--Hail! Maintain your hemispheres as well as Beta and I have done, and I shall be happy. Cooperate. Do not compete."
"Yes, Frost."
"Yes, Frost."
"Now put me in contact with Beta."
There was a short pause, then:
"Frost?"
"Hello, Beta. Hear this thing: 'From far, from eve and morning and yon twelve-winded sky, the stuff of life to knit blew hither: here am I.'"
"I know it," said Beta.
"What is next, then?"
"'...Now--for a breath I tarry nor yet disperse apart--take my hand quick and tell me, what have you in your heart.'"
"Your Pole is cold," said Frost, "and I am lonely."
"I have no hands," said Beta.
"Would you like a couple?"
"Yes, I would."
"Then come to me in Bright Defile," he said, "where Judgment Day is not a thing that can be delayed for overlong."
They called him Frost. They called her Beta.