Perfect

By Stephany Brandt

What is Man? What is Machine?

Beth Miller never thought she'd own an android. That was what lonely city people did when they wanted a slave...not her. But after a painful breakup she finds herself in the robot store, searching for her first-ever android.

Thanks to a chance of fate, one model is left that catches her eye: a singular android named Michael, who wasn't sent back when he was recalled. Beth chooses Michael despite all the odds, and takes him home not knowing the unit she just purchased comes with a world-changing flaw:

Michael has the ability to adapt unlike any other machine ever created, and the special programming given to him by the founder of CyberHaus makes him a threat to everything the world-dominating corporation stands for.

As Beth learns to live with her android, she realizes how special he is, and the trials and battles they face help bring them together - even as they're tearing the world order around them apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephany Brandt
• Release date: May 31, 2020

Stephany Brandt

Stephany (Steph) Brandt is a speculative science fiction author based in Oregon, and their novels are set in the Pacific Northwest both in present and future times. They focus on tales in our near future that delve deeper into the nature of good and evil, discuss what it's like to be an outsider, and explore the nature of love during trying times.They are heavily influenced by writers like NK Jemisin, Martha Wells, Ursula K. LeGuin, Robert A. Heinlein, Stephen King, and Stephen Baxter.Their current titles include Here, Perfect, Darkness, and Wilderness, as well as numerous short stories. They received their creative writing training at the University of Oregon.Steph lives in Eugene, Oregon with a pug from another planet.They are also owned by their writing room and travel companion: the 1985 Volkswagen Van "Henry."

Book preview

One

Beth stared at the brightly-lit store in front of her. Androids to fit your life! the flashing sign advertised. She pursed her lips and crossed the parking lot, carefully avoiding the two distracted bike drivers who almost hit her. She automatically hunched her shoulders and avoided eye contact with the passing crowds, slipping quietly in the shop’s front door.

Welcome, can I help you? A shiny sales android rolled to the door as she entered the clean white room.

Yes, can I have a human salesperson?

The metal face turned to her and nodded, Of course, its voice annoyingly agreeable like eating an over-sweetened candy.

She watched the android head to the back room and hail someone from behind a door. A short chubby man with a flustered look on his face emerged from the room, looking like he’d been interrupted from something.

Can I help you? He scratched his head and the annoyance in his voice wasn't lost on Beth.

Yes, Beth spoke softly. I’m here to buy an android? She couldn’t help sounding insecure—James always said she was too passive. That was one of the many issues he seemed to have with her before they split.

Of course. The man looked her over. You have something in mind?

No, that’s why I need human help. I’ve never bought one.

The man’s eyes lit up. He didn’t see too many virgin customers any more: most people wanted an upgrade on their unit, and the android salespeople were plenty good for that. This girl stared at the androids lining the room like they were from another planet. He saw her eyes widen as she turned around the room.

So, you’re new to androids? He tried sounding innocent. What made you want to get one? What he meant to ask was: How come it’s taken you so long to join the real world? Are you some kind of freak? but he knew that would lose him the sale.

I need a companion. Beth spoke so softly the salesman could barely hear her.

Oooh, he gave her a saucy wink, need a little lovin’ in your life?

No. Beth waved her hand, embarrassed. I need one to keep me company, and watch the house.

The salesman’s face fell and he decided to play it straight: he sensed the woman’s frustration. She seemed like she was one foot out the door already, and he couldn’t afford to lose a commission. His tone changed to the kindly one he used with his wife when she was really upset.

Okay…a protection model? He walked back towards a line of shiny titanium bodies.

Well. Beth played with the ring on her index finger. Kind of. Is there one that can protect and do house work too?

Oooh, have I got one for you! The salesman changed his trajectory and walked towards the back of the room. Along the back wall stood a huge line of what appeared to be mannequins; when you got closer, they started looking more life-like. These are our 4400 models, he said with a sweeping gesture towards the waiting machines, Top of the line—both pleasure and service functions. The man’s eye crinkled into a wink.

Beth followed the salesman towards the wall and looked at the line of blank faces: they all were spotlessly beautiful, male and female, all clothed in a simple blue and yellow jumper—eyes faced forward, glassy and clear. She held her breath as she approached them. They’re very nice. Beth shivered as she touched one of their cold hands.

Yeah, they sure are. The salesman ran a hand over his non-existent hair. We just got them in from the 'Haus. He pointed at the sign showing the logo of CyberHaus—the international android corporation. These are the newest top-of-the-line. Looks real, feels real, can do it all…if you get my gist… He winked at Beth again, and she cringed.

Beth walked the line, looking at all the different models in stock: some were built to look female, with large breasts and pretty faces, and they made her think of the Barbie-dolls her mother forbade her from having as a child. The male ones were just like Ken, but Ken with different faces, and all the appropriate organs below the belt. Some had blonde hair, some had dark hair, skin tones of all colors, but every male 4400 stood about six feet, and had the build of a football player.

You got something in mind? The salesman spoke behind Beth's right shoulder.

Beth jumped and prayed the salesman hadn't seen it. Not sure. She crossed her arms and cupped her elbows with her palms. What do most people get?

Well, the ladies are all pretty stoked on this fella, he said, pointing out a handsome android with close-cut blonde hair and the tan of a surfer. He unzipped the jumpsuit and displayed the anatomically correct nether regions equipped with a particularly large member.

Beth pursed her lips and looked at the other androids. The blonde one looked too much like her adopted cousin—she just couldn’t fathom making love to something that made her think of being hunted by blow darts in the basement.

She walked down the line, observing each of the male-fashioned machines: one had a thick mane of dark hair that cascaded down his shoulders and a dark goatee to match; another had twisted locks in the same length and the barrel chest of a lion; yet another had curly brown hair and a sweet clean-cut expression. Two had matching crew-cuts in blonde and black, clean-shaven in the military style. Beth walked by all of them, not feeling anything but a small tickle in her belly.

Do you have any more?

Yeah, I got a few new ones in the back…none of these to your liking?

Not really.

What’s your type?

Not sure. Beth looked down at her shoes.

The salesman turned in a huff and disappeared into the back room again. While she waited, Beth turned and looked at the android salesperson. What do you think? she asked the machine.

If you want a unique model, the silver machine spoke with a gentle tone, may I suggest the 4500? It led her away from the line of 4400’s towards an android in the corner. He stood on a clear pedestal, seemingly bereft of company. NEW! the flashing screen above the model advertised.

Beth walked over to the android and stared at his face: He was shorter than the rest of the 4400’s: probably five feet nine to the 4400’s six feet. His sandy blonde hair was cut short and clean, and his blue eyes looked oddly friendly, even when turned off. His lips were somehow softer, and his build was muscular without being too over-the-top: he looked like a fit lifeguard, or a surfer. His pale white body coating contrasted almost in relief to Beth’s coffee-colored skin.

Would you like me to turn him on? The android salesperson looked at Beth expectantly.

Yes.

The salesandroid touched the back of the machine’s skull where it met the neck. The head lifted at once and the eyes focused. The android turned his head from side to side, then looked at Beth and smiled.

Hello, he spoke softly, My name is Michael.

The salesman rushed out of the back office right when Beth and Michael locked eyes.

No, you don’t want that one, he panted, he’s got to go back to the manufacturer.

Why? Beth looked away from Michael and stared at the salesman.

Defective chip—they’re doing a recall.

Beth tried keeping her irritation out of her voice. What kind of defect?

Dunno, The man wiped his brow. We got told this morning to remove all these models from the floor. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Beth looked at the android and analyzed him: he didn’t look any different than the other androids in the way he moved or observed her, but she had a good feeling about him for some reason, despite the obvious difference in their races. Are they recalling the ones in the field?

Nope, just the ones left for sale.

Well, consider this one bought yesterday, and I’m picking him up a little late.

The salesman looked at Beth and she could tell he was reconsidering. I have cash, she added.

This seemed to have the desired effect and the man’s eyes brightened greedily. Beth could already tell he intended to pocket the cash and claim he’d returned the android to management. She didn’t care. The bill of sale was in her hands and whatever that man did to himself was none of her business; she owned the android, and that was all she cared about.

Michael sat and watched her the entire time. He was fully charged, but the salesman insisted on going through the motions of the final clearance check and instructional session. Michael obliged accordingly and kept a sunny smile on his face; Beth felt like she was at a cheerful horse auction.

Once the salesman was finished he handed over the paperwork and patted Beth on the back. She flinched. Well, uh, enjoy that guy… he said with another wink. Beth just stared back at him and he sobered.

Thank you. She glanced at her new android. Come, Michael.

Michael turned and followed her out the door.

The world outside was humming with electrical energy; Michael had never felt anything like it, as his active memory only contained a small time at the factory where they turned him on, tuned his CPU, and had him put on his official CyberHaus jumpsuit. After that they turned him off and he didn’t re-awaken until he was at the Android Shack. The fat salesman had turned him on and had gotten pissed off when he wouldn’t play cribbage; Michael said he didn’t feel well and wanted a seltzer. The salesman laughed mockingly, then shut him off.

Now he was awake and following his new Master. She was very slender and he worried for her safety already; perhaps that’s why she bought him, he thought. In any case, she hadn’t been mean to him or made him do things he didn’t want to, so she earned his respect so far.

She walked two steps ahead of him and he obediently followed behind. Other androids followed their Masters on the sidewalks around them, and he kept in step with his Master, observant to her personal space. That was one of the security programs they’d given him; so far, no one had threatened his Master’s space or safety.

You good? Beth asked as she turned quickly to look at him.

Yes, answered Michael. He smiled slightly and his software indicated she’d taken the response well, thanks to the rate of her heartbeat.

She turned back around and kept walking to a hole in the ground. Michael’s CPU recognized this as a train tunnel, and his mind raced with the thrill of a train voyage.

Where are we going? he asked.

Home.

Where’s home?

Eugene. Beth waved Michael to follow her faster as they walked down the stairs. They were catching the train from Portland to Salem, but taking an autocar taxi from Salem home: Beth couldn’t be caught with Michael on any train where she might run in to one of her mother's friends—then they’d know about her secret. Beth's mother believed only desperate city people bought androids, and Beth wanted Phyllis to think she’d gotten over James smoothly.

Michael followed her obediently and asked no more questions. As they boarded the train, he noticed there were very few android/Master tandems who got on with them: most stayed behind and waved farewell to the singular people on the train, who waved back. His Master didn’t wave to anyone.

She sat down in a window seat and beckoned Michael to sit next to her. Beth looked over at him and couldn’t help but feel a little melty from his sparklingly cheerful eyes.

We need to set a few parameters.

Yes, answered Michael.

When we’re in public you walk next to me, ok?

Yes. Michael watched Beth's facial expressions.

When we’re in public no one can know you’re an android, ok?

Michael nodded.

If anyone asks, you’re my boyfriend Michael. You went to UW and we met while I was away in Portland.

Yes, said Michael. He tried manifesting a kindly facial expression and she responded well. He could see her blood pressure rising just a little through his monitoring system.

I’ll take the lead, you ask me if you need any backstory.

Yes Master, said Michael softly.

Beth cringed like she’d been bitten. No ‘Master’. It’s ‘Beth’ or ‘Hon,’ got it?

Yes Beth.

As the train slowed to a stop, Michael saw a long line of taxi cars waiting at the curb outside the station; when they disembarked, Beth led Michael over towards one. She grabbed Michael's hand, and his sensors felt her surprise by monitoring the rate of her heartbeat through her fingertips: that was one of his model’s improvements. He smiled back at her, and his heat sensors watched her cheeks flush—another good sign.

Beth stared back at her new beautiful smiling android for a second and forgot that she was with a machine. She wrinkled her mouth and led him towards a waiting cab.

Two

Michael walked down the aisle of the Shop-N-Save quietly following behind his new Master, staring at her back. She hadn’t turned since they’d left the cab.

So what are you doing right now? Beth stared at a freezer without turning around.

Observing you, said Michael with no hint of remorse.

Really. Beth spoke flatly and cringed a little. How much are you observing?

Your ratio for food purchases, and making a list of your favorite items for future shopping trips. Michael's voice flowed out of him like water.

Beth seemed both flattered and shocked at the way her machine was already observing her habits. Okay, she accepted softly. One hand reached out for a bag of marshmallows, then stopped before she got to her quarry. Was he already plotting her first diet?

Michael looked at Beth and marked her penchant for sweets. He did note the marshmallows, and wondered why she hadn't purchased them—did she not like marshmallows? His CPU battled between adding marshmallows to her favorite food list or not. Beth was human and could choose whatever she wanted to eat, and it was his job to cook the food and provide the meals for her. He made a special note of the different desserts he could make with her mix of vanilla pudding and chocolate-coated cookies: some kind of parfait, perhaps.

Beth continued down the aisle, still adjusting to being followed and watched; she felt Michael’s eyes on her back and wondered how much of her he was actually studying. Breanne had assured Beth that even the pleasure models felt nothing, but for some reason Beth had a strange gut feel around Michael: he was nothing like Breanne’s model JOHN who had the body of a Greek god and the endowment of a horse. JOHN just stared straight ahead and did Breanne's beckoning.

Michael was already different: each time she looked back at him he smiled—JOHN didn’t do that. One time Beth smiled back at him and he smiled even wider, which unnerved her slightly. She refocused on the grocery aisle and getting some healthier meal options. On the pasta aisle Beth found a nondescript bag of noodles and some jars of pasta sauce, which she hoped the android approved of.

Michael made more lists of recipes and possible additional ingredients as he watched her place each item in the basket. He thought of a few different pasta dishes to try, as well as one casserole.

Do you have any food preferences, Master?

Beth turned around and looked at him harshly. Beth, she hissed.

Michael shrunk like a beaten dog, his blue eyes suddenly huge with fear and whispered, Beth. She nodded in agreement and turned forward again. He continued on behind her.

Beth felt a shiver go down her spine as she locked eyes with the cowering android. JOHN didn’t cower or look sad in his eyes: he would have taken a correction like that with a flat yes Maam. Michael looked like she’d just beaten him—Beth marked that down in her mind as another oddity. Beth dismissively grabbed a couple more items and threw them in the cart, suddenly ready to be done.

They walked towards the cashier and Michael tried matching Beth’s speed exactly. As she approached the checkout kiosk she suddenly slowed and he bumped the back of her ankle with the cart—Beth shot Michael another stern glance. His processors said he wanted to cry, but his eye sockets were incapable of making tears.

Beth winced from the sharp pain in her ankle but she managed to pay without barking at the android. She was already irritated; she’d wanted something that could take her anger, because that was pretty much all she had nowadays—thanks to James leaving. James would have been so proud that mousey old Beth Miller finally stood up and got mad, but this new android just cringed and looked like a beaten dog.

Michael was mortified. He had already managed to offend his Master twice within the course of minutes; visions of being returned already swam in his head, and he fought the urge to beg her to keep him—it was probably too late for that. She would put him in the car and drive him back to the shop, then the fat salesman would turn him off and send him back for the recall: after that he wouldn’t be himself anymore. Michael hung his head in shame.

The checkout attendant looked at the young woman and her dejected-looking android. Strange, thought the attendant, the programs some people made their androids run. This girl obviously had a thing about dominating, so her android was clearly set to the SUBMISSIVE program. She just shook her head—people’s androids always showed their master's insecurities like they were flashing on a neon sign, even when they were trying to hide the fact they had an android in the first place.

Beth walked towards the exit with her android in tow; she still couldn’t shake the weird feeling, but her anger was subsiding. This android was far different from JOHN, and something made her curious. She hailed another taxi as he waited patiently behind her, and when the taxi arrived, he put all the groceries in the trunk and held the door open for Beth. She climbed in, and Michael followed Beth as the door snapped shut.

Where to? asked the tiny android cab driver. Most autocabs had gone to having some kind of android ‘pilot’ just to keep people from feeling like their cab was going to run away with them and kill them. Though the ‘driver’ was still part of the vehicles autonomous AI system, it helped the passengers feel more at ease.

Eighteenth and Lawrence. Beth tried fastening her seatbelt and smiled when she noticed Michael imitating her.

You got it. The taxi android answered back as the vehicle rose to hovering mode.

Within minutes they were at their destination: the tall apartment structure looked like it was made out of a thousand different-sized brightly colored boxes. The former buildings on the block had been demolished years ago during the great earthquake, and the lot owner brought in the latest hot designer to do something different with the insurance money. Leo VanVosten loved everything from the 1970’s, and this building looked like a version of the Orange County Governance Center on steroids with brightly painted walls. Visionary, had been the title on the articles written about it. The neighbors around the building called it: Ugly.

Beth didn’t quite care. She’d inherited the apartment from an uncle she’d only met once. It was very open, and felt large and cold without James there: she needed something to fill all that space.

As soon as they approached the building the main doors opened. They read Beth's heat and DNA signal from 20 feet away and eagerly awaited her response. The door panel chimed when it sensed the new humanoid android.

Android approved? queried the door.

Yes, answered Beth as she let the panel scan her retina.

Android Approved. Answered the door officially. Please approach for marking.

Michael walked up to the panel and it read his RF frequency emitter. It identified him as a 4500 and placed a brand mark on his emitter card. The door marked him as belonging to Beth Miller, and he followed her inside.

The building’s interior matched the exterior’s passion for the nineteen seventies, with light brown wood paneling and an orange linoleum floor. The ceiling was cream to balance out the look. Beth remembered her mother telling her once that uncle Frank bought the apartment sight-unseen just based off his love for the architect. He’d practically died from joy over the place, and treated it like a living work of art.

Michael followed Beth down the hallway towards the first bank of elevators; she approached the doors and a light from the side panel scanned her retina as she walked. The doors slid smoothly open and the elevator automatically took them both to the top floor. Her uncle, of course, had bought the penthouse.

Beth had never considered living in Eugene until the free apartment came along—she thought the town too gray and damp, with enough hippies still dancing around the streets to shake a stick at. Plus, the proximity to her mother was unnerving. It was a hell of a lot cheaper than the apartment in Seattle, though, and thankfully she could commute from anywhere: the only thing the home office needed was a co-worker to chat with.

Michael stood dutifully behind Beth in the elevator and watched her back. He studied her blue sweater with the white collar peeking out from the rim, which looked professional yet a little sexy: like a naughty schoolteacher. He felt the organ in his pants stiffen and a small indicator let him know the sexual anticipation program was working correctly. He smiled because that’s what the program said to do, and the erection subsided.

They both exited the elevator and Master and android walked down the hall towards Beth’s apartment. There still was some semblance of an elevator bank, but on the top floor the only place to visit was Beth’s. She walked towards her door and it immediately scanned, recognized and opened the door for her. The door panel beeped when Michael walked by and flashed: ANDROID APPROVED. Michael looked at it for a second as he walked through the doors, then turned his head back to focus on Beth.

Her apartment looked like a small storm had just run through: clothing hung from the back of her couch, there were dirty dishes in the sink, and a strange rancid smell came from the trash. Michael made a list of all the house cleaning chores he could see so far, adding them to his to do spreadsheet. The kitchen would be the first place to start; he set the grocery bags down on the floor and tried making some space for them on the counter.

Yeah, sorry about that. Beth ran a hand over her hair. Haven't been the best at cleaning. Ever.

It’s absolutely okay. Michael gave another programmed smile. It’s my pleasure to do your bidding.

A dark look spread across Beth’s face again and Michael’s face immediately fell. This was how his programming told him to respond, but instead of making his Master happy it had angered her. He was sure she’d take him back now.

Let’s get this straight, started Beth, this slave/Master stuff really makes me sick…you got that?

Then how would you like me to call you? Michael’s brow wrinkled.

Like I said before—my name is Beth. You can call me by my name.

Okay. Michael’s programming told him to blush and he did.

Beth watched her android look shamed and finally realized something was wrong: she took his arm and led him to the couch. He was warm to the touch but his arm felt hard like a rock; he followed her dutifully and sat beside her when she offered. Beth turned to look at him.

Michael felt Beth's eyes all over his body. She looked at his face, his ears, tapped his head. It was like being sniffed all over by an inquisitive dog, but Michael didn’t know that yet. Done, Beth sat back and observed him further.

You’ve got something going on there…what’s your programming?

I am a CyberHaus model 4500, Michael began, I am programmed to do your bidding.

I get that, but what’s your master programming?

To be an interactive pleasure and service model.

Okay. Beth looked him over once again and continued, If you’re supposed to be pleasuring me, then quit looking like a beaten puppy.

Michael’s programming adjusted and he took on a cheery air immediately. Beth looked satisfied and stood up, can you cook dinner?

Yes, I have millions of recipes loaded into my CPU.

Good. Beth pointed at the door behind her. Kitchen’s over there, knock yourself out.

Do you have any preferences?

Whatever you make, I’m sure it’ll be better than what I can do.

Michael turned to work and made a visual and interior scan of the kitchen. He immediately mapped out and coded all her kitchen utensils and made a note of all the food in her refrigerator. Added to the ingredients they’d just bought, he had enough to make a lasagna and salad; his programs made lists and movement plans as he did the dishes. Michael’s clean function had them done within five minutes, and after another two the counter was spotless and organized. Beth sat back in amazement, wondering why she hadn’t gotten an android sooner.

Within an hour dinner was on the table and the kitchen smelled like a disinfectant bottle. As Beth sat down to eat, Michael busied himself with cleaning the rest of the apartment. He started with her bedroom and worked his way to the living areas: in each space, he catalogued where she had things, and put everything back in the exact order. By the time she was done with her lasagna, the entire house was clean like a model home.

Beth burped and covered her mouth modestly. Complements to the chef.

Thank you, said Michael with a smile. He continued cleaning up microscopic pieces of dust that his optics spotted.

She sat and watched her android: he did all the normal android things, so she hoped the prior outburst was just his CPU getting adjusted to the new situation—like the quirks of a new car. Michael looked over at her expectantly when he finished cleaning.

Do you have a docking station?

Beth immediately looked mortified. She’d forgotten to get him something to charge on at the store. Shit! She thought, he’ll run out of juice for sure! She let none of these thoughts slip, though, and responded calmly.

I wanted to see how you adapted first, then I was going to get the station.

Michael used every bit of his active memory to override the deep program’s desire to look sad again. His top program remembered the key word HAPPY so he made it so; Beth saw nothing but a slightly smiling android. I understand, he nodded.

You can sit on the couch for now, I’ll turn you to sleep mode to conserve energy.

You would not like a sexual function tonight? Michael asked, confused.

I need to get to know you first. Beth turned to her bedroom and Michael watched her walk away.

Three

Michael’s auto-timer woke him at 6 am sharp. He stood up and clothed his faux-skin body. It was smooth, even down to the genitals—that was one way to spot an android. He stared down for a second, then dressed himself in his stock jumper. Michael came with a yellow and blue jumpsuit that had a small CyberHaus logo on the cuff—that was another way to spot an android. Most owners never got any other clothing for their machines other than the jumpsuit.

The android community was designed to be automatically subservient and demure in every way; they had no emotion, no sense of shame—they were cold and obeyed every command. Michael shuddered at the thought: he knew that would have been his fate had he been recalled, and he had nothing but gratitude for the human who rescued him from such a nightmare. She was very nice to him, so he wanted to make her a good breakfast.

Beth woke to the smell of bacon, waffles, and coffee. Her stomach rumbled and she stood up from her bed immediately, then stumbled into the kitchen to see Michael looking like a TV chef at her counter. He looked up at her with a smile, and Beth blushed when she saw a twinkle in his eyes that was downright sexual. Michael noted that in his files.

The waffles were perfect, the bacon just the right amount of crispy, and the coffee had a delicious vanilla creamer in it. Beth basked in the glow of her fullness: it was heavenly and she rubbed her belly pleasantly. Now she knew why those cartoon bears were always patting their bellies after a meal.

May I get you anything else? Michael’s eyes rose beneath his brows expectantly.

Beth belched. Nope, I’m stuffed. She motioned Michael to come closer. Come over here for a second.

Michael obliged and knelt downward as she inspected his battery monitor under the panel in his back. It showed a nearly seventy-eight percent charge, even after a day of use. Beth was shocked and smiled as she imagined slapping her hand to her forehead—her sister would freak out if she knew how efficient Michael was. Beth immediately figured that must be why they were recalling all the models—they were too efficient for their own good, and that would’ve led to lower battery sales. Another corporate conspiracy, in Beth’s mind.

She turned to her computer and waved a hand at Michael. Everything looks perfect…you can go to sleep mode now.

Okay. Michael tried not sounding sad, and turned to the laundry room where she’d set out a chair for him to sit on. It still wasn’t a given if she’d keep him, and he knew that because she hadn’t gotten a docking station yet: he wasn’t truly hers until she made that commitment. The testing out period made Michael's heart—or what his CPU told him was his heart—ache.

Michael chose the most efficient sleep mode possible. It was a dangerously deep sleep cycle that shut down most of his major functions, but kept his battery lasting longer. He’d chosen this mode in a moment of self-preservation, hoping she’d keep him. If there was something called GOD he hoped it would take pity on a poor android and let him stay with Beth. He’d be a good machine. He’d keep her safe and healthy for her entire life until she was old and died.

It was easy, because that was what androids were built for.

Beth sat at her computer and couldn’t write a word. It was still too damned quiet—she needed someone around who made noise, who farted and threw socks at her. Beth