The play begins in a factory that uses a chemical substitute for protoplasm to manufacture living, simplified people called robots. These mass-produced workers are depicted as efficient but emotionless, incapable of original thinking.
Apollo struck the strings of his lyre. Tmolus at once awarded the victory to Apollo, and all but one agreed with the judgment. Apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer and said, “Must have ears of an ass!”