Narration: Trurl rolled up his sleeves and in three days had put together an Ecstatic Contemplator of Existence,
Narration: a machine whose consciousness, cathodes all aglow, embraced whatever came beneath its gaze, for there was nothing in the whole wide world that wouldn’t give it pleasure.
Narration: The Contemplator, resting on three metal legs, slowly swept the room with its telescopic eyes, and whether they fell upon the fence outside, or a rock, or an old shoe, it oh’ed and ah’ed with delight.
Trurl says: Klapaucius will say of course that oh’ing and ah’ing and swaying from side to side in themselves prove nothing”, thought Trurl, uneasy. “He’ll want evidence, data . . .
