Part 17 (1/2)

”So you postulate that the ability to love is the difference between machines and humans'”

Annie didn't like the way James looked at her, the way his voice lowered, as he asked the question.

”Humans can form permanent attachments,” she said carefully, trying to find support for her position. ”We marry. We form communities. I don't believe we do that just because of chemicals floating around in our

blood.”

”No. You do it because of instinct. Humans are basically social creatures.”

”Well, there you go,” Annie said. ”You don't have instincts.”

”No. I have programming. Which one could also argue is much the same thing.”

”How do you figure'” Kay said. She seemed reluctantly fascinated by the topic. ”Your instincts provide you with a kind of template, a guide to which you revert in certain situations. My programming, at the basic level, serves much the same function. I can deviate from it with conscious effort, but I do not find it easy to do so.”

”So you're saying that your mechanical functions are a.n.a.logous to human biological functions,” Kay said. ”I believe so, yes. I base my conclusions on over thirty years of observation of humans, since it is of course impossible for me to know, in any meaningful sense, what it feels like to be human. Then again, it is not possible for humans to know what it feels like to be a humanoid, either.”

”So you think androids'sorry, humanoids--aren't inferior to humans, just different.” James paused a long moment. ”I am certain of it,” he said at last, with quiet conviction.

Kay looked at him a long moment, then snorted. ”Forgive me, but you haven't really provided much support for your position.” The corner of James' mouth quirked up in an ironic smile. ”Neither have you,” he pointed out.

Chapter 13.

At midnight Annie was still awake. She lay in Kay's guest bedroom, her brain's switch apparently stuck in the on position, staring at the patterns the bright moonlight made on the ceiling. She had been trying to get to sleep for two hours now, but there were way too many thoughts swirling around in her mind.

She was pretty sure she was never going to sleep again.

At last she got up, yanked on a T-s.h.i.+rt and shorts, and headed for the living room.

James was asleep on the couch. She could see him clearly in the moonlight that slanted through the blinds. He had taken off his s.h.i.+rt, exposing the broad expanse of his chest, but he was still wearing jeans. Kay's black leather couch wasn't much bigger than Annie's, and he looked just as uncomfortable as she had expected. His legs were curled up rather tightly and he looked precarious, as though he might fall off at any moment. His long hair, silvery in the moonlight, spilled over the cus.h.i.+ons. With his eyes closed, he looked young, and touchingly vulnerable.

”Can I talk to you'” she said in a whisper.

He did not stir.

”James,” she whispered.

Evidently he was programmed to wake up at the sound of his name, for his eyes flickered open instantly.

He sat up and stared at her. In the moonlight his expression was unreadable.

”Annie,” he said warily.

She looked at him a long moment. Now that she had woken him up she didn't have the foggiest idea

what she wanted to say to him. ”Do you really sleep'” she said at last, cursing herself for the idiotic irrelevancy of the question even as it left her mouth.

”Conscious minds require down time,” James said in a chilly voice. ”Humans refer to it as sleep.” The calm disdain in his voice made her want to sink through the floor. She stared at him a moment longer, then made a helpless motion with her hands. ”Can I sit down'”

He said nothing, but s.h.i.+fted to the side slightly in acquiescence. She sat down on the far end of the couch and stared at the coffee table. ”I've been thinking.”

”How unusual.” At his cool rejoinder her head snapped up, and she blinked at him for a long moment, feeling the odd impulse to burst into laughter. He was obviously annoyed with her, and he was as capable as a human of making snide remarks. It was, she thought, exactly the sort of comment an angry human male might make under the same circ.u.mstances. It was yet another indication that he really was a person.

”James,” she said quietly, ”I'm sorry about what I said to you.”

His eyes narrowed. He looked both suspicious and hopeful. ”What, precisely, are you apologizing for'” ”I said some rather unpleasant things. I'm not really proud of the way I acted.” ”I see. So you are apologizing for calling me a walking, talking--” She interrupted hastily. ”I'm apologizing for the way I reacted, James. That's all. I was--” She hesitated.

”Pretty rude about it.” She sensed a slight thaw in his att.i.tude. ”It is all right,” he said stiffly. ”I am, after all, only a machine.” ”You are more than a machine. You said so yourself.” There was a long heartbeat of silence. ”I got the impression you didn't believe me.” ”I was wrong.”

James studied her thoughtfully. She could sense his suspicion. ”You seemed rather certain that I was a machine earlier. What caused you to change your mind'”

Annie stirred uncomfortably. ”I've done a lot of thinking, James. It's obvious that the humans of your time realized you were more than a machine, no matter what they claimed. Look at Dekka. She hates you and she wants you to suffer. People don't hate machines, and they definitely don't bother to hurt them, because they know machines can't really be hurt. Dekka knows you can suffer. She knows you're a person.”

”I see.”

”Anyway'.” Annie struggled to explain her logic. ”I think it's pretty obvious you're a person, really. I mean, you act just like a human. You obviously--” She felt a blush heating her cheeks and continued doggedly. ”You obviously feel things. You obviously have emotions. I don't really have a lot of doubt that you're more than just a machine.”

Hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand, curling her fingers around his. He stared down at her hand for a long moment.

”Annie,” he said at last, softly.

”What'”

”Go back to bed.”

She glanced up quickly, seeing the sharp edge of wariness in his expression. He had, she realized, no reason to trust humans, not even her. Perhaps especially not her. She tightened her grip on his fingers and moved toward him, so close her thigh pressed up against his.

”I don't want to,” she murmured.

She could see she was having some sort of effect on him. The icy wariness was melting away and a gentle warmth was beginning to eddy in his eyes. ”Annie,” he said at last, in a rough whisper. ”Annie, you aren't thinking clearly.”

”I wasn't thinking clearly earlier, James.” She squeezed his fingers so tightly that a human male would have winced. ”But I am now.”

He turned his hand over, wrapping his fingers around hers. Slowly he bent his head and brushed his lips across her forehead.

”I am grateful to know you no longer think of me as some sort of monster,” he said in a quiet voice. ”And I wish to apologize too.”

”You don't have anything to apologize for, James.”

”Yes, I do. I apologize for lying to you, and for my ' overreaction. Your response when you discovered my true nature should not have surprised me. I believe I expected too much of you. If the humans of my time were unable to believe that I was sentient, it was irrational of me to expect someone of this era to accept me so easily. I am at fault too.”