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present?” their father asked.
    “What present?” the twins cried.
    “We can give it to them early,” their mother said. “But dinner first. Our food is getting cool.”
    They ate with Louise wondering what their parents might have gotten them. She could almost hear the capital P in “present” that indicated that it was expensive. Her father had taken the car out and picked it up today, so it was something too large to carry home on the subway. Her father obviously thought it was a wonderful gift and that they would love it. Her mother was more reserved; the twins might not like it as much as their father expected them to. Which parent was right? What could they possibly have gotten the girls? What did they want? Jillian would want a camera to replace the one they’d blown up. A camera wouldn’t have required the car. Louise would want a dog or a pony or a monkey, but those were all impossible since their father was allergic to animal dander.
    Judging by the looks that Jillian was giving her, Jillian couldn’t guess, either.
    Finally the meal was judged over and their father went back down into the basement garage. Soon he was back, empty-handed.
    “Where is . . .” And then Louise saw it and squealed in pure excitement. It was a dog! A pony-sized dog! For a moment she was filled with shimmering, bright, pure joy, and in her delight, missed the first clues.
    Then Jillian said quietly, “Oh, Lou.” And Louise knew that something was horribly wrong with the gift, and as her excitement drained away, she saw that the dog wasn’t real.
    “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Their dad had missed her crash and burn. “You really have to look closely at it to see that it’s a robot.”
    “Yes.” She forced herself to agree. It was a big, square dog, nearly as tall as the twins, with pure white legs and belly. A creamy gray poured over its back. Its tail, face, and ears were black, with just a little white around its nose and muzzle. Its tail curled tight into a loop of gray that ended with a tip of white. If it had been real, it would have been the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
    Jillian was watching her closely, bottom lip quivering in sympathy for her disappointment.
    “What kind is it?” She pushed the words out, glad that she managed to sound happy. “I don’t recognize the breed.”
    It stood waiting, more impassive than a real dog would ever be. That was the problem with robots. They were either too hyper or too still. Apparently the programmers had decided that with such a big facsimile, they would err toward still.
    “It’s an American Akita,” their father said.
    Because her mother was watching her closely, Louise went and petted the dog. The fur was a little too soft. Its tail wagged in perfect imitation but it didn’t sniff at her hands or lean against her touch or look about the new room with curiosity.
    “It’s so big,” Louise said.
    “But why a dog?” Jillian joined her in petting the robot.
    “We’ve never been comfortable with how much time you spend alone,” their mother said. “The explosion really made us rethink your safety.”
    “It’s a nanny-bot?” Jillian looked pained. “We’re nine.”
    “Going on twenty,” their mother said. “And Seda Demirjian let us know that she and her husband are getting divorced and they’re putting their house up for sale.”
    “Oh,” Louise said as understanding dawned on her. “Vosgi won’t be going with us on the subway anymore?”
    “No.”
    Vosgi was sixteen and had acted as their transportation babysitter for the last year. Before that it had been Carl Steinmetz, but he’d graduated. None of their other neighbors attended school in Manhattan.
    “We’re going to be commuting alone?” Jillian said.
    Their parents shared unhappy looks. “Until we can think of a better solution than a nanny-bot, yes,” their mother said.
    “So, what do we call her?” their dad asked.
    Louise didn’t want to call the nanny-bot