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the doll.
    Obediently, she hobbles over to me. I lean down and grab her dress, then yank it up over her head. It is a crazy thing to do. Everyone gasps to see her smooth, skin-colored plastic casing. She is like a doll, not anatomically correct. I wonder if I have gone too far. But I see Jun and then I laugh so hard that my face turns red. Jun and I are doubled over, cackling madly. The android turns in a circle, confused.
    Then Mr. Nomura comes scuttling onto the factory floor, bits of rice clinging to his mouth. He looks like a field mouse, with his eyes aimed at the floor and his head down. Mr. Nomura is on a beeline for the parts supply cabinet and he almost makes it past without noticing.
    Almost, but not quite.
    “Mikiko?” he asks, confusion on his rodent face.
    “Your Dutch wife has decided to join us for lunch,” I exclaim. The other floor workers titter. Stunned, Mr. Nomura’s jaw dips up and down like a hungry pelican’s. His small eyes dart back and forth.
    I step back as Mr. Nomura rushes over to the creature that he calls Mikiko. We spread out in a circle and keep our distance. Because he is crazy, nobody knows what he will do. None of us wants to be cited for fighting at work.
    Mr. Nomura pulls the dress back down, knocking Mikiko’s long graying hair askew. Then, Mr. Nomura turns to face us. But he still lacks the courage to look anyone in the eye. He runs one gnarled hand through his stiff black hair. The words that he says next still haunt me.
    “I know that she is a machine,” he says. “But I love her. And she loves me.”
    The floor workers giggle again. Jun begins to hum the wedding song. But Mr. Nomura cannot be goaded any further. The little old man’s shoulders slump. Turning, he reaches up to fix Mikiko’s hair, patting it with small, practiced movements. Standing on tiptoes, he reaches over her shoulders and smoothes down the back of her hair.
    The android stands perfectly still.
    Then, I notice her wide-set eyes move slightly. She focuses on Mr. Nomura’s face, inches from hers. He bobs forward and backward, panting lightly as he strokes her hair down. The oddest thing happens. Her face twists into a grimace, as if she is in pain. She leans forward, pushing her head toward Mr. Nomura’s shoulder.
    Then, we watch in disbelief as Mikiko bites off a small piece of Mr. Nomura’s face.
    The old man screeches and wrenches himself away from the android. For an instant, there is a small pink spot on Mr. Nomura’s upper cheek, just below his eye. Then, the pink spot wells with blood. A stream of red runs down his face, like tears.
    No one says a word or so much as breathes. The surprise of this occurrence is absolute. Now, it is we who do not know how to react.
    Mr. Nomura puts a hand to his face, sees the blood smeared on his calloused fingers.
    “Why did you do this?” he asks Mikiko, as if she could answer.
    The android is silent. Her weak arms reach out for Mr. Nomura. Her manicured, individually articulated fingers slide around his frail neck. He does not resist. Just before her squeezing plastic hands close off his windpipe, Mr. Nomura whimpers again.
    “Kiko, my darling,” he says. “Why?”
    I do not understand what I see next. The old lady android … grimaces. Her slender fingers are closed on Mr. Nomura’s neck. She squeezes terribly hard, but her face is contorted with emotion. It is amazing, fascinating. Tears leak from her eyes, the tip of her nose is red, and a look of pure anguish distorts her features. She is hurting Mr. Nomura and crying and he does nothing to stop it.
    I did not know that androids had tear ducts.
    Jun looks at me, aghast.
    “Let’s get out of here,” he exclaims.
    I grab Jun by his shirt. “What’s happening? Why is she attacking him?”
    “Malfunction,” he says. “Maybe the fluke set off another command batch. Triggered some other instructions.”
    Then, Jun runs away. I can hear his light footsteps scratch across the cement floor. The