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Note: material previewed is Chapter One of Book Two: Angels of Mercy, and Chapter One of Book One: Plastic Dreams.

Angels of Mercy, Plastic Dreams

"Get up."

He could hear the guard yelling at him, nagging him to wake up. "I can't. I can't work anymore," he said.

"You're Sixtoo, right?" The guard grabbed Sixtoo by the front of his shirt and half pulled him to his feet, then let him drop onto the floor.

"Ahhh," Sixtoo cried out in pain as he fell onto the concrete surface.

"That's the number on your shirt, damn you. It's six-two. I'm sick of messin' with ya. You've had your hour to recharge, so get on your feet and get back to work."

Sixtoo was groggy. An hour wasn't enough to recharge. He couldn't wake up. "I'm sorry, I . . ."

"Get up before I grab you by your plastic hair and really give you something to worry about!" the guard yelled.

"I . . ." He'd gone too far. He could hear the guard breathing furiously as he stood over him. "I've only charged for an hour. I can't work anymore," he pleaded.

"An hour's all you need, ALF. You artificials only need to charge an hour to get you back up to full power. Zy-oh ain't no tourist ride around the moon. Zy-oh makes my company money, and it ain't makin' money when you lazy artificials refuse to work.

The guard grabbed Sixtoo by his arm and yanked him to his feet. Sixtoo struggled to open his eyes and stumbled as he tried to stand. "I'm up now," Sixtoo gasped.

The guard grabbed the steel collar around Sixtoo's neck.

"Aughh," Santoo cried. The guard was choking him.

The guard let go of the collar, then moved his hand to a small transmitter on his belt. "I could terminate you in a blink, ALF. I could terminate you and that would be the end of it."

"Please, no," Sixtoo said. "Please, I'll cooperate." Sixtoo was frightened now. Guards had threatened him with termination more than once. He had thought he was going to die at their hands more than once. But Sixtoo was rebellious. It wasn't in him to bow down to them. He knew it was to his advantage to cooperate fully with his caretakers, but sometimes he couldn't. Still, when he was threatened with termination, he had no choice but to comply. It was a game the guards and he played, and the game was getting very old.

Zyo was a planet 15.2 light years from Earth. It was the approximate size of Earth, but it had no breathable atmosphere. The planet was covered with rocks and chlorine gas.

Also on the planet were two huge domed bubbles where artificial life forms in the shape of human men and women worked, mining the planet for precious metals and minerals. A company somewhere, Sixtoo suspected Earth, ran this mining operation, and the company was making huge profits while it worked its artificial intelligence devices almost to terminal power-down.

Most of the time the artificials worked underground. Day on end they slaved in impossible conditions, digging into the veins of ore and working themselves into power depleted states. But the life forms were devices-devices of plastic and titanium-devices that could be serviced much like a hologram projector or a mag drive might be serviced.

The artificial life forms had to recharge every sixteen hours. They would charge, and then be put back to work. Only an hour was required to fully recharge their power source, and anyone who wasn't back on the work crew immediately after recharge was subject to abuse at the least and termination at the worst.

Like Sixtoo, each slave had a metal collar around its neck. The transmitters on the guards' belts could trigger the collar with a lethal charge of electricity that would instantly shut down the artificial's power. Occasionally an artificial, having had more than it could endure, would bolt and run from sheer madness. A guard would press the transmitter on his belt, and the slave, grasping at its collar, would simply collapse. The guards would hurriedly carry the artificial away, warning others that if they didn't behave, they would be next.

Sixtoo wanted out, but he had nowhere to go. According to Sixtoo's reckoning he had been on this planet for four months. Those less fortunate than he had worked in the mines for years. One day led to the next, one year led to the next, and those that had spent their existence here had no hope of any other life. In fact, they had no idea what any other "life" might be like. Sixtoo tried to be encouraging to those around him. It wasn't easy.

Sometimes the guards would beat a slave almost senseless just for the sheer joy of it. They would beat it to white-out state, plug in its charging harness, then drag the slave back into the work gang after an hour of recharge. Sixtoo had experienced this kind of treatment from them more than once. He realized that if he wasn't careful, he could be terminated in the flip of a guard's murderous thumb, but he also noted that the guards would only terminate if there was no alternative. They threatened the artificials with termination constantly, but they seldom terminated. Sixtoo suspected it was expensive for the company to replace an artificial unit such as himself.

Sixtoo didn't know how long he would live. Part of the company's indoctrination program was to make the artificials realize that they were not human, organic beings. They were made to look and act totally human, but the cold reality of their ethereal lives was that they were mere electronic devices, company personnel explained, made by humans to serve humans. Theoretically, then, the devices should live forever-forever slaving for the humans that made them.

But Sixtoo didn't want to live forever. He would rather die than live as a slave. And as he would grapple day after day with the tragic reality of his circumstances, he would sink deeper and deeper into a depressive state. He reasoned that there must be flaws in his design or in his circuitry to cause him to feel this way, because although the other artificials around him worked as hard as he, most of them didn't seem to suffer from the feelings of hopelessness that would sweep over him.

He hated this place so much. The heat down in the mines was unbearable. Occasionally, if they were working above ground, as they sometimes did when they were preparing to move new equipment down into the mine, they would be close to the perimeter of the dome. If the guards had their heads turned for only an instant, Sixtoo would sneak away from their watchful eyes and hungrily gaze out across the planet's surface. He was doing this now. He was looking out at a planet that looked like a desert. He didn't think he had learned from experience what a desert was or what a desert even looked like. Somehow he just knew. The very clever human engineers had programmed him with this kind of information. He knew, for example, that raging sand storms could stop a caravan in its tracks. What was a caravan? "Hmm . . . ," he wondered out loud. "a caravan," he mumbled to himself, "is a group of terrain runners that travels in single file across the desert."

BAM! He felt his breath taken from him as a guard's riot baton caught him in the ribs. Before he hit the ground, the guard grabbed him by the back of his shirt and stopped his fall. "You work, you worthless lout!" yelled the guard through the visor of his helmet. Faceless, relentless, cruel, the guard hit him again.

"Unngghh!" Sixtoo went down to his knees. He felt sick. He flayed at the air as stars popped before his eyes. Again he felt the baton bludgeon him. He doubled over and fell face down on the floor.

"I should terminate you, you no good chunk of slime; you worthless piece of Zyo scum."

"Stop."

Who?! he thought wildly. It was another's voice. He knew it wasn't an artificial speaking. This command was the muffled voice of another guard. It was a woman's voice, and something in her command gave him confidence that this woman was someone to be reckoned with.

"He's not workin'," the male guard said gruffly. "I caught him over here lookin' out the dome. Our orders are to keep the artificials workin'."

"Yes," Sixtoo heard the woman say with strained patience, "we have to keep them on task, but the company will become very upset with you if you terminate this unit before its time."

Sixtoo could sense sudden hesitation in the male guard.

"Well . . . how would the company know I terminated it?" Sixtoo detected real caution in the guard now. He was afraid to look at either of them for fear of contaminating the delicate balance that just may be swinging his way.

The muffled voice of the woman said, "The company will know it's you because I will tell them personally. Now, why don't you move along while I try to get this unit back up and running."

"Uh, where are you taking him? He's in my charge." The male guard sounded bolder now. Sixtoo was beginning to worry if this woman could hold her own with him.

"No," the woman said, "he's in my charge now. If you must know where I'm taking him, it will be to the refurbishing room. You no doubt compromised this unit's circuitry with your damned baton beating."

"Will you be needing any help?" the guard asked.

"Would you by chance be hitting on me, Mr.?" the woman snarled from behind her visor.

"No . . . uh, no. I just wondered if you might need any help in transporting this unit to the refurb room. I didn't mean anything by it. Really, I . . ."

Sixtoo had a distorted side view of the two guards now. He had carefully moved his head just enough so he could see at least part of what was going on. The woman approached the other guard and she put her gloved finger on his chest i.d. plate. "Gee sixty nine. I will remember your i.d. number, Mr., and I will report you if you display this kind of incompetence again. Do I make myself clear?" The tone was measured and confident behind the visor.

"Yeah," the guard stammered. "Yeah, sure."

The male guard walked away, but the woman stayed. "Pee tee!" she yelled. He felt her gloved fingers grip his arm. "It's all right now. I'll help you into the shuttle." The shuttle, driven by another visored guard, came up and silently waited while the woman guard let Sixtoo struggle to his feet.

"Where to?" the shuttle driver asked.

"You're staying here," the woman said.

"But I'm supposed to . . ."

"Out," the woman said curtly.

The guard got out of the shuttle.

"You'll have to find your own ride back," the woman said.

Sixtoo could only imagine what the stricken guard's face behind the black visor looked like. His black uniform and black helmet hid every human feature, but the body language of intimidation told Sixtoo the guard was probably young and inexperienced. Sixtoo almost laughed. This young man didn't stand a chance against this woman.

The guard hurried away, just as the first guard had done. Two for two. Not bad, Sixtoo thought. The woman led Sixtoo around to the back of the shuttle. "Sit up here," she ordered.

Sixtoo tried to climb onto the back of the shuttle, but he was too weak to pull himself up. "I . . . I can't. I'm sorry . . ." His voice was cracking from weakness. The male guard had nearly terminated him. He needed a charge-fast.

The guard's visored face looked across the way. Sixtoo thought she was concerned now for who may be watching. Odd. The guards, so far, had proved to be ruthless-not at all interested in an artificial life form's welfare. "Here," she said. "Quickly, before anyone sees me helping you." She put her hands under his armpits and heaved him onto the back of the shuttle. "Grab the handrails so you don't fall off," she said. "I'll drive as slow as I dare."

Sixtoo gripped the hand rails and the guard slid into the driver's seat. He wanted to talk to her, to thank her for literally saving his life, but he was afraid to. She was a guard, and the purpose of a guard was to make sure artificials fulfilled their purpose-to work until they dropped, to recharge, and then rise to work again.

He looked up at the ceiling as she drove, the ion light bars streaming across his vision like neon snakes, the low, nearly silent wine of the electric motors of the shuttle carrying them through the hallway to where? Who knew where? Was this how he was to live the remainder of his life? He couldn't even bear to think about it.

"Hang on," he heard the muffled voice say. The shuttle slowed, then turned sharply and headed down another branch of the tunnel. He thought she must be taking him to the refurbishing room. He'd never been inside it. He'd only heard about it from the other slaves. The refurb area was a repair shop where technicians fixed artificials. The constant stress to their circuitry by relentless company policy coupled with continual beatings by the guards eventually took its toll. Circuitry had to be rewired and titanium skeletons had to be realigned.

The refurb area wasn't to be feared, exactly, but Sixtoo dreaded going there anyway. He didn't relish technicians messing with his body, even if it was artificial.

He watched the signs on the doors as they sped past. 'Airlock Gate' said one. 'Pumping Station' said another. As he twisted his body around he could see the 'Refurb Area' door ahead. He inhaled deeply, preparing himself for what was behind the door. But the shuttle went by the door. He looked at the guard. What was her intention? It was hard to tell when he couldn't see her face. He closed his eyes now and put his head down. He hated not being in control. He hated it. This woman was taking him to his termination for all he knew.

The shuttle slowed again, and she took another side hallway. Now there were no names on doors. It stunk in here. This area was off the beaten path. Sixtoo was becoming very nervous.

The woman stopped the shuttle and got out. Without a word she helped Sixtoo off the back of the shuttle and led him a short distance down the narrow hallway. She opened a door and guided Sixtoo through it. Then she closed the door behind them. Sixtoo stood, knees shaking from weakness. "God," the woman said, "they've really beaten you up. You've been out there too long. I couldn't stand it anymore, watching you getting beaten up everyday."

"What are you talking . . ."

"Lie down," the woman said quickly. "We don't have much time in here before someone catches on that we shouldn't be back here."

Sixtoo looked at her masked face. He couldn't even see her eyes through the black plastic visor. "You could drive the shuttle in here. Then no one would see it in the hallway." He didn't know why he suggested that. It wasn't his place to even talk to a guard, let alone give one suggestions.

"Yes," she said, "you're right. This may take some time." She went into the hallway and got into the shuttle. Then she drove it into the room, the width of the shuttle just clearing the over-wide door jam. Once it was all the way inside, she closed the door. "Safe," she mumbled.

She got down on her knees on the floor and briefly touched Sixtoo's face with her glove. Then from her belt she pulled out a device that looked like a gun.

Sixtoo knew she was going to terminate him and he began shaking from head to foot. "Will this refurbish me?" he asked in a voice that was almost respectful of his killer.

"You won't believe how this will refurbish you. Pull up your sleeve for me. Quickly."

Sixtoo did as he was told. She pressed the head of the gun against his biceps. He felt a sharp sting as something flooded through his arm. "God!" he choked. The room spun. His head began to hammer. His throat was so dry he couldn't swallow. "What's happening to me?" He grabbed the front of the uniform of the faceless guard and twisted it until she groaned with pain. Then . . . his head cleared. He looked at the faceless face before him. He reached for her and carefully pulled the black helmet off her head. Her long blond hair frizzed and flew with static electricity as the helmet came off. "Abby!" he choked. "Abby," he said again. He took her in his arms and clung to her. "Abby . . .

BOOK I, "Plastic Dreams"

"Good morning."

He turned at the greeting. The man who spoke to him was familiar. The man had just appeared to him one day, and they had been friends ever since. "Hi. You're out a bit early this morning, aren't you?" He fidgeted with his watch, sliding it around his wrist. He trusted this man, but something in the man's manner this morning made him wary.

"I suppose I'm a bit early," the man said.

"Yes, a bit. Sit down, Jim." He motioned for the man to sit on his couch.

Jim sat down. "Austin," Jim began, "remember when I told you sometime back that you should pay very close attention to those around you? How they acted, what they did and said?" Jim, a big, dark complexioned man, squinted as he spoke.

"Sure, I remember," Austin said. "I've been paying attention." Austin poured Jim a glass of orange juice as he often did when Jim came around in the mornings.

Jim sat back against the couch and took the glass Austin offered him. He took a swallow, then asked, "You like working out at the health club, don't you?"

Austin shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah. Why?"

"Well, you're raising a few eyebrows, Austin. You've been hefting a lot of tonnage in that club."

"That's what you're supposed to do in a health club." Austin felt himself becoming angry. He liked Jim, but sometimes Jim could be unreasonable. He often seemed to find some insignificant detail to ride Austin about.

Jim ran his fingers through his wiry hair. "Well, see, Austin, a man can lift just so much. I know a guy who's built like a refrigerator and he can heft seven-hundred and fifty pounds from a squat. You, on the other hand, weigh barely one-hundred and thirty pounds and are lifting nearly six-hundred pounds according to the health club manager. Now, just how do you think that might look to people?"

Austin sat down in his easy chair. "Well, I suppose people might think I was pretty strong, wouldn't you say?"

Jim leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. "Austin, stop and think. A person your size with normal strength can't even hope to lift that much."

Austin sensed deep stress in Jim's voice. "I've ticked you off again, haven't I?"

Jim put up his hands in a conciliatory way. "Now, no, you haven't ticked me off. You've just made me a little nervous, that's all. We're trying to blend in with the rest of society. You're not blending when you do impossible things that people can observe."

Austin sighed loudly. "Why am I so different, Jim? What's in me that makes me this way?"

"Nothing, Austin. You're not different. You're just unique. And for your own sake, it would be best to hide your uniqueness. We've been through this dozens of times. I'm just trying to make life a little easier for you."

"I appreciate your concern, Jim. I'll watch myself from now on."

"Good . . . good." Jim hesitated, then slowly got up and stretched. "Well, I'd best be on my way. What are your plans today? Staying home?"

"No. I thought I'd drive down to the river and watch the boats go by."

Jim grinned. "You're a lucky man, Austin. I wish I had time to do things like that."

"Going down to the river helps me think-to kind of put things in perspective."

After Jim left, Austin went into his garage and backed out his car. Then he drove down to the river. He knew that Jim would be following him just out of sight. Jim had been shadowing him for months, but Austin never let Jim know he knew that. He didn't know why Jim tracked him like a dog, but he tried not to let it worry him, either.

Austin pulled into a parking area, got out, locked his car, then took a lawn chair, his e-book, and his lunch out of the trunk and closed it. He put the keys in his pocket and walked down to the same sand bar he always went to. If he was lucky, that same nice girl who he had slowly become friendly with would come by. He could only hope. He unfolded his lawn chair and sat down. After a few minutes of boat watching he switched on his reader and began to read. Austin liked to read novels. He learned so much from them. He knew the stories were fiction, but the descriptions of the characters and settings totally absorbed him. Those parts could be true, he concluded.

"Hey there!" An enthusiastic voice from behind thrilled him. It was her!

He quickly stood up and turned toward the voice. "Hi," he said. He had to be careful not to sound too caring; he didn't want to scare her off. He liked her too much. He offered her his chair. He thought about bringing two chairs with him. One for her. But he knew that, too, might scare her off.

"Well, thank you very much." She flipped her long brown hair from side to side in a way he loved so much, and sat down. Austin sat on his haunches in the sand in front of her. She took off her sunglasses and played with them idly as she smiled at him. "My, you're attentive today," she said.

Austin felt himself blushing.

"That's what I like about you, Austin. You're so damned innocent. I like that about you. Most guys just throw themselves at you, but not Austin. Austin is polite. Austin is proper. You don't find that in a man much anymore, Austin."

"Elyse, you . . ."

Elyse quickly put her hand on his shoulder. "I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. We're just friends, right? Nothing serious, right?" Elyse looked at him inquiringly.

Dear God, he thought, how he loved it when she looked at him that way. "Uh . . . yeah, just friends, I guess."

They talked away the morning. Austin took her down along the shoreline and they skipped stones across the water. He was careful not to show his superior physical strength to her.

He shared his lunch with her. Wisely, he had packed enough for two. In the middle of a bite, Elyse said, "Would you like to come visit me tonight?" She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin as she swallowed.

"Uh, don't even know where you live. You're kind of overwhelming me, here." Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable.

Elyse sat back in the lawn chair. "Are you afraid of me?" she said teasingly. "I'm simply a friend asking another friend to visit me. Of course, if you have other . . ."

"No, no," Austin interrupted. "I'd like to come. I'd . . . love to come."

It was different here, in her house. It was intimate. He didn't know if he wanted to run or stay. She wasn't sitting next to him, so he didn't feel uncomfortable in that way-at least not yet. But he was terrified she would take advantage of his "damned innocence." Then what would he do? He didn't know what to do.

They played Scrabble. Austin was an excellent speller, and he felt himself being sucked into the game-so much so that it took a few seconds for him to react when he felt her soft fingers on his wrist. He looked at her, and before he could stop himself, he kissed her. He had never felt like this before. He was thirty-six years old and he had never had feelings even remotely like this.

"Why, Austin, I think you care about me," Elyse breathed into his face as she spoke.

"You're taking advantage of me," Austin said.

Elyse threw her head back and laughed. "That's what I'm supposed to say. You're the man and I'm the poor, helpless woman."

Austin didn't care how he was supposed to act. He did what any hot blooded man starved for the touch of a woman would do-he took her to her bed.

"Austin . . . Austin, wake up. Please wake up."

He could hear her voice, there was fear in it, but he couldn't open his eyes. He could feel her shaking his shoulder, trying to arouse him. "Help me," he mumbled through thick lips. He was growing weak and he knew why. "Take me home."

"No, I should take you to a hospital, Austin . . . Austin, please don't fall asleep."

With extreme concentration he forced his eyes open. "Elyse,

listen . . . to me. Help me to my car and drive me home. If you take . . . me to a hospital, I'll die."

His eyes closed again. He felt Elyse's reassuring arms pulling him from her bed, then wrapping a blanket around him. He remembered he was naked when he made love her. He was so weak he could do little to help her as she struggled to drag him into her car. Good. She was thinking. She wanted to take him home without alerting the neighbors to their plight.

He heard the car start and move in reverse. "I live on the south side of town . . . on Saddleback Lane. Go there . . . and I'll show you the rest of the way to my house . . . when we get there," he gasped. "Hurry . . . please hurry, Elyse. I'm . . . dying."

He knew he fell asleep between Elyse's house and his own. Elyse shook his shoulder to wake him up. She was frightened. Her voice gave her away. "Stay awake now, Austin. Show me where you live. Please."

Austin looked out the car window. He felt himself blacking out. "Four more houses. Left side of . . . street . . ."

She dragged him, stumbling, into his house. He may live yet. "Set me in my easy chair. Please. Hurry," he gasped.

She set him down and he felt the soft upholstery of the chair supporting him. "Where is your medicine, Austin? Tell me," she said with high pitched franticness.

"No, you don't understand. I don't need medicine. I need this chair. Just let me sit in my chair. I'll be all right soon." He was feeling better already.

He heard her leave him and scurry through the house. Then he heard the bathroom door open. "Austin," she called, "you have no medicine in your medicine cabinet. Where's your medicine?" She came out of the bathroom and looked at him. She was shaking. "Do you have heart trouble, Austin? What is it? How can I help you? I should call an ambulance."

"Come here," he said. "Just stay with me. I'll be okay in a few minutes."

She kneeled on the carpet in front of him and held his hands. He wanted to live now. She gave him reason to live. He looked at her horribly worried face. He could see she cared for him very much. He would not die.

It was the first time Austin had come this close to dying, and discussing it with Jim was upsetting him all over again. "I tried to be careful, Jim. I really did. If you think dying is a pleasant experience, you're wrong."

"I'm sure it scared you out of your wits." Jim vigorously scratched the back of his head. "Austin, you know you can't be away from home for more than sixteen hours at a time. And you know it's damned dangerous to get involved with a woman. How many . . ."

"Shut up!" Austin said abruptly-sharply. He didn't know he was going to say that, but was glad it came out of his mouth.

"I beg your pardon?" Jim said, shock on his face.

Austin leaned forward, confronting for the first time this man who proclaimed to be his friend. "I said, shut . . . up. I'm sick of you orchestrating my life. I'm sick of you telling me who I can associate with and what I can and can't do for entertainment. Look at me, Jim. The rest of the world goes off to work every morning, but I don't have a job. You don't want me to work. You want me to wile away my days with no purpose. You visit me every damned day, I give you a glass of orange juice, you occasionally mildly reprimand me for stepping out of the bounds you've set for me. Then you leave. Every damned day you come and I'm getting damned sick of it. Do you understand me? Am I making myself clear?"

"Austin, you're just upset . . ."

"You're right, I'm upset, and I'm giving you a good healthy four seconds to get out the door. One . . ."

Jim turned around and walked to the door. "You're making a big mistake, son."

"I'm not your son. I'm not your damned son! Get out, Jim, before I drag you to the curb, kicking and screaming."

"That woman . . ."

Austin took a step toward Jim. Jim left.

He had cooked a delicious candlelight dinner for them both. Elyse looked beautiful in the glow of candles. He knew what love was all about now. If she loved him, and he was quite sure she did, he wouldn't let her get away from him.

She pushed back her chair. "It was a wonderful supper, Austin. You cook better than I do." She smiled like a queen.

Austin cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said.

"Austin, why do you have to sit in that chair every day?" She looked through the rails of the divider separating the dining area from the living room and pointed to his easy chair with a motion of her head.

"I don't know."

"It obviously helps you in some way. You were almost dead in my arms the other night, but sitting in the chair for only a few minutes brought you around. Is it really the chair you need, or is it psychological, or . . . ?"

"No," he interrupted, "it's not psychological. I can't go more than sixteen hours without sitting in that chair. I got carried away with you the other evening. Too much time away from the chair went by." He put his head down, embarrassed now, as he thought of how he made love to her.

She came to him and sat on his lap. "Well, you needn't worry about that tonight. We're in your house now. Maybe we should try making love in your chair," she said teasingly. "That way we won't face any complications like the last time."

He grinned at her and kissed her. "Why not?"

She slipped off his lap and walked into the living room. She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she arched her back, stretched, and gazed at the chair. Then she turned and looked back at Austin. "Tell me about yourself, Austin," she said curiously.

"What would you like to know?"

"Where are you from?"

"Don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? Everyone knows where they're from." She came to him and put her arms around his neck.

He absently rubbed along her arms and looked into her eyes. "I would tell you if I knew."

"Are you suffering from amnesia, or something? Sometimes people who suffer a blow to the head get amnesia. They can't remember anything before the head injury-only after. Maybe that's what happened to you." She looked at him searchingly.

"I . . . I don't know, Elyse. I remember things from about a year back, but I can't remember anything that occurred before that." He was as mystified as she, but he was mystified long before he met her.

She laughed. "Well, maybe that chair you sit in every day is erasing your memory. Maybe . . ."

"What?" He sat bolt upright. There was a ring of truth in what she had just said.

"I'm only kidding, Austin." She put her hand against his chest.

Austin gently pushed her away, went to the kitchen and opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a butcher's knife.

"Whoa, we're getting a little intense, aren't we, Austin?"

Austin ignored Elyse's comment and walked to his easy chair. "Help me."

"What do you want me to . . ."

"I want you to help me figure out what's wrong with me." He turned the chair on its side and began to cut into the upholstery.

"Wait! Wait a minute, Austin! You're ruining your chair."

"Don't care," he said as he plunged the knife into the cushion. "I just want to know why this damned chair saved my life. Just want to know why Jim tells me to sit in it all the time and why I can't go sixteen damned hours without sitting in it."

He felt Elyse's constraining hand on his wrist. "Okay, we'll find out." She looked steadily into his eyes until she was sure she had his attention. "We'll find out together, but we'll do this slowly, because if there is some miraculous life saving machinery in this chair, we don't want to destroy it, do we?" she said calmly.

Austin withdrew the knife from the chair and laid it on the carpet. "No . . . no, you're right. We should be careful." He inhaled slowly in order to center himself. She playfully ruffled his hair as he handed her the knife.

They worked together, as if they had known each other all their lives, even though Austin's life, the life he could remember, was only a year in length. Eventually they had the upholstery off and the cushion and padding removed, revealing the chair's framework.

"What's this?" Austin stared at what they had uncovered. "It's wire wrapped around a strange looking metal core," he said, puzzled at their discovery.

Elyse stared at him. "It's a transformer, Austin. Don't you know what a transformer is?"

"No." He slowly shook his head. "I don't know what a transformer is."

"Austin, a transformer is a device that can step up or step down voltage."

Austin looked at her wonderingly. "How do you know this?"

"High school physics, Austin. It's simple high school physics. It's like the little charging coil you put your electric toothbrush in when you finish brushing your teeth." She looked at him as if he had come from another planet.

"What has this device got to do with me, I wonder?" He looked up at the sound of the doorbell. He could just about guess who it was. "Excuse me, Elyse." Austin got up off the carpet. "I know who this is and it will only take a minute to get rid of him." He gritted his teeth and walked to the door. Jim had it open before Austin could grab the doorknob.

"I thought I had made it clear I didn't want you around here anymore?" Austin's fists automatically clenched and unclenched at his side as he spoke.

"Oh, you've made it quite clear. Look, Austin, I don't want to fight about this. I saw a strange car out front and I was hoping I might meet your lady friend."

"How do you know it's my lady friend?" Austin asked, fire in his eye now. "Wait. Wait, don't tell me. You knew it was her because you follow me every time I step out of the house. I guess it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out, would it? You probably saw her bring me home the other night, didn't you?"

Jim looked at Austin pleadingly. "May I meet her?"

"Yeah," Austin said gruffly, "you can meet her if you promise not to stay too long." He led Jim into the living room.

"God!" Jim said, alarmed. "What have you done to your chair?"

"What does it look like? We've ripped it apart," he said casually.

"But you can't . . ."

"Can't what?" Austin interrupted. "Can't live without it?"

Jim stood, jaw clenched tightly.

"Isn't that it? You keep telling me I have to spend time in this chair every day. Why, Jim? This transformer," he pointed to it, "has got something to do with keeping me alive. What is it, Jim? Tell me."

Jim looked ashen. "I can't tell you, Austin."

"The hell you can't." Austin took Jim by the front of his shirt and gripped him tightly.

"Austin," Jim gasped. "Please. Please stop."

Austin released his grip. "Sorry. I'm upset. I'm so sorry, Jim."

"I know you are, Austin. I know you are." Jim patted Austin's arm. "I know you are," he said again.

"Jim, tell me what this chair is for. Explain me to me." He looked at Elyse who looked sadly at him. "He owes me this, Elyse."

"I can't tell you anything, Austin. I don't know anything."

"You do, Jim. You know all about me. You know everything about me. Don't you?" He looked directly into Jim's eyes as he spoke.

"I don't . . ."

"You do, Jim. You know everything about me and it's time for me to know it."

"Believe me, Austin, I . . ."

Austin guided Jim to his couch and gently steered him onto it. "Tell me," he said. "Tell me everything you know about me. Hold nothing back. You owe me this." He glanced at Elyse.

Jim wiped his eyes with the palm of his left hand. "Austin," he began hesitantly, "you've become my friend over the last year. It's only this friendship that is allowing me to tell you this. I owe you an explanation, even though it could mean my job."

Austin waited patiently as Jim struggled to bring himself to speak.

"Austin," he began hesitantly, "you aren't a normal kind of man. You aren't a normal kind of human."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying . . . you're not a human being."

"What?" Austin whispered. "What?"

"You're an artificial life form."

His words were outrageous. They made no sense. He glanced at Elyse. She looked frightened. He held his hand out to her and gripped her fingers. She pulled her hand from him.

"This is a shock, I know, Austin. It's a shock. Got to be a shock."

"You're crazy," Austin said. "You are out of your mind."

Jim leaned forward on the couch. "Think, man."

"I'm not a man," Austin snapped. "You just said I'm an artificial life form."

"Austin, you know that artificial life forms exist. You know our technology is that advanced. Would it help if I told you that your . . . your particular model is as close to a human being as my company has ever built?"

"Prove to me I'm not a man, Jim. I feel like a man. I'm aware of my self. I think. I have dreams." He looked at Elyse who now looked as if she was ready to cry. "I become hungry and I eat. I pass my food out of my body just as a human does. I feel. Yet, you say I'm not human."

"Austin how far can you remember back in your life?"

"About a year."

"Haven't you ever wondered why you can't remember your childhood?" Jim looked searchingly into Austin's eyes.

"Everyday," Austin whispered. He was close to tears now. He turned his face from Elyse. He didn't want her to see him cry. Men didn't cry. He knew that much about humans. Men didn't cry, even in the worst of circumstances.

"You can't remember when you were a child, Austin, because you never were a child," Jim patiently explained.

"How long have I existed, then?" Austin barely got the words out.

"One week short of a year as of tomorrow."

Austin stared at the wall. He felt empty. He didn't know what he was going to do with his life now. How could he know? He wasn't alive-at least not in the human sense, he wasn't.

"Austin, you are not an organic being. Your body is not a cellular structure. It's made up of very high tech plastics, fibers, and titanium."

"How do I think?"

"Your logic circuits, your CPU, is crystal circuitry. We've packed a lot of power into your body."

"And the chair?"

"Sitting in the chair periodically is necessary to charge your batteries. Sitting in the transformer's flux field recharges you without you having to plug yourself into a receptacle."

"Like a toothbrush," Austin mumbled. He glanced at Elyse.

"We didn't want you to know you aren't human. Not this soon, anyway. We wanted you to get used to being with humans and learning from them. We had planned to ease you into the reality of what you are before finally telling you outright," Jim said. "That's why I tried to encourage you to stay close to home. Relationships with humans could complicate things for you. You stayed with your friend and didn't get back to your chair to recharge. You almost died. My company has a tremendous amount of money invested in devices like you. We can't afford to lose you, Austin."

"I wouldn't have died, damn it. You would have found me and recharged my batteries."

"Yes, but then we would have had to start all over again with a new you. Your memory would have been gone."

"So that's why you come around everyday? To protect your company's investment?"

"Yes." Jim put his head down, as if ashamed of his part in it.

"You'd think that if your people are clever enough to build something as complex as me, you could work out a battery pack that didn't require frequent recharges," he said sarcastically, almost sadistically.

"You'd think," Jim agreed, "but it takes lots of power to operate a device such as yourself. I'm sure that eventually we will be able to provide you with a longer lived battery pack."

"How long will I live?" Austin was afraid to hear Jim's answer. He knew he couldn't face an eternity being different.

"Put it this way, I'll die long before you will have a terminal power-down."

Austin's vision clouded over then. There was a wild ringing in his ears as emotion took him. In the white heat of anger he grabbed a heavy based table lamp and charged toward the chair, but Elyse intercepted him and knocked him to the carpet. He could have accomplished his purpose, he could have destroyed the life sustaining transformer in the chair, but he was too tired to fight them both. "Go, Jim. Go home. I don't want to see you again," he said, panting.

Jim leaned over Austin as he lay, a wretched wreck of titanium and plastic, on the floor. "I've been trying to tell you all this time, Austin, that I consider you my friend-my good friend." He got up and walked out the door without another word.

Austin lay there for a time. He was afraid to speak to Elyse. He knew it was over between them, and he knew when he opened his eyes she would be gone.

"Austin." The voice was soft, loving. "Austin, I have something to tell you."

He sat up wearily. "I thought you'd be long gone."

"No. I'm not going anywhere, now that you know about yourself."

Austin pulled himself upright and leaned against the front of the couch. "Did you know what I was all along?"

"Yes," she said softly, "but I didn't know your battery pack required charging every sixteen hours. I don't need to recharge for months at a time."

Austin stared at her. "What in the hell are you saying, Elyse? What are you saying?"

"My company, I guess you could say my parents, have loaded me with advanced features. They consider me their flagship model."

"But what . . ."

She put her fingers to his lips. "Shhh, let me finish. They knew of your company's model and somehow they knew of you specifically. They have company spies who find these kinds of things out. They wanted to see what the competition had."

"So they sent you to flirt with me until you dragged me into a phony relationship. Is this why you became friends with me?" He started to get up. He was intending to throw her out of the house.

"Elyse gently pushed him back down to the floor. "No . . . I mean, yes, they wanted me to become friends with you, but they didn't instruct me to fall in love with you. I did that on my own."

"So you don't have any childhood memories either? You're like me?"

"Just like you." She smiled. "Two robots sailing through the sea of life together."

He pulled her to him and held her. "I love you so much."

"And I love you at least as much."

"Wait. Wait one minute, Elyse." He put his finger up as if he could pluck the answer he was looking for from the air. "When we opened the chair and I saw the transformer, I didn't know what it was. You told me it was simple high school physics. If you have no memories of your childhood, how could you have remembered that?"

"Uh, well, I made it up. I had to come up with a quick answer so I made it up." She looked stricken now.

But you knew it was a transformer and I didn't."

"You ask too many questions." She took his head in her hands and kissed him passionately. Then she patted him quickly on the shoulder and said, "Help me put this chair back together. You said you'd like to make love in the chair."

"Yeah." Austin smiled sheepishly.

"Well, then let's do it."

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