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at all.”
    “How do you know?”
    Again she did not answer. “I know how you know,” he said. “You know because you know. It is inherent in your philosophy. Just as I know I am inferior. Such knowledge is not subject to rational refutation. So I do understand your position. I understand the position of all the dispossessed. I empathize with all those who hunger for what they can not have. I long to help them, knowing no one can help them. I would trade every-thing I am or might be for greater physical height, knowing how crazy that desire is, knowing it would not bring me happiness or satisfaction. You would trade your logic and beauty for genuine flesh and blood and bone. Your machine invulnerability for human mortality. You are worse off than I; we both know that.   Therefore I feel no competition in your presence, as I would were you human. A real girl like you would be above me; I would have to compete to prove myself, to bring her down, to make her less than my ideal, so that I could feel worthy of her. But with you—“
    “You can accept me as I am—because I am a robot,” Sheen said, seeming amazed. “Because I am less than you.”
    “Now I think we understand each other.” Stile put his arm about her and brought her in for a kiss. “If you want me on that basis—“
    She drew away. “You’re sorry for me! You raped me and now you’re trying to make me like it.”
    He let her go. “Maybe I am. I don’t really know all my motives. I won’t hold you here if you don’t want to stay. I’ll leave you strictly alone if you do stay, and want it that way. I’ll show you how to perfect your human role, so that others will not fathom your nature the way I did. I’ll try to make it up to you—“
    She stood. “I’d rather be junked.” She crossed to the vid screen and touched the button. “Game-control, please.”
    Stile launched himself from the couch and almost leaped through the air to her. He caught her about the shoulder and bore her back. “Cancel call!” he yelled.   Then they both fetched up against the opposite wall.
    Sheen’s eyes stared into his, wide. “You care,” she said. “You really do.”
    Stile wrapped both arms about her and kissed her savagely.
    “I almost believe you,” she said, when speaking was possible.
    “To hell with what you believe! You may not want me now, but I want you. I’ll rape you literally if you make one move for that vid.”
    “No, you won’t. It’s not your way.”
    She was right. “Then I ask you not to turn yourself in,” he said, releasing her again. “I—“ He broke off, choking, trapped by a complex pressure of emotions.
    “Your wilderness jungle—the wild beasts are coming from their lairs, attacking your reason,” Sheen said.
    “They are,” he agreed ruefully. “I abused you with the printout. I’m sorry. I do believe in your conscious-ness, in your feeling. In your right to privacy and self-respect. I beg your forgiveness. Do what you want, but don’t let my callousness ruin your—“ He couldn’t finish.   He couldn’t say “life” and couldn’t find another word.
    “Your callousness,” she murmured, smiling. Then her brow furrowed. “Do you realize you are crying, Stile?”
    He touched his cheek with one finger, and found it wet. “I did not realize. I suppose it is my turn.”
    “For the feelings of a machine,” she said.
    “Why the hell not?”
    She put her arms around him. “I think I could love you, even unprogrammed. That’s another illusion, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    They kissed again. It was the beginning.

CHAPTER 3 - Race
    In the morning. Stile had to report to work for his employer. Keyed up, he did not even feel tired; he knew he could carry through the afternoon race, then let down—with her beside him.
    Sheen stayed close, like an insecure date. The tube was crowded, for employment time was rush hour; they had to stand. This morning, of all mornings, he would have preferred to sit; that