It was examining the heap of tungsten. The bait had drawn its first bite.

"Fish," Ferine said thickly. "The line moved. I think the sinker dropped."

"What the hell are you mumbling about?" Morrison grunted. And then he, too, saw the search-bug. "Jesus," he whispered. He half rose to his feet, massive body arched forward. "Well, there's one of them. Now all we need is a unit from the other factory. Which do you suppose it is?"

(Search robots from 'Autofac' by Philip K. Dick)

O'Neill located the communication vane and traced its angle. "Pittsburgh, so pray for Detroit… pray like mad."

Satisfied, the search-bug detached itself and rolled forward. Cautiously approaching the mound, it began a series of intricate maneuvers, rolling first one way and then another. The three watching men were mystified — until they glimpsed the first probing stalks of other search-bugs.

"Communication," O'Neill said softly. "Like bees."