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From: "Pyeknu" <fherriot@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Deanna's Surprise" Part 4 "Bryce" (Herm (2)/Fembot, rom, oral, first time, SciFi, ASFR)
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Date: Sat,  6 Aug 2005 06:10:02 -0400
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Deanna's Surprise
Part 4:  Bryce
by Gorgo (pyeknu@hotmail.com)
**** **** ****
With C&C from D.B. Story (DB_Story@att.net)
**** **** ****

WRITER'S NOTES:

This part of the story takes place three weeks after Part Three.  It is
written in first person with Deanna's POV.  Bryce's POV will be
displayed in italics (in HTML format) or framed with six asterixes at
the start and end of the section (in TXT format).

Fred Keller is the lead character in D.B. Story's "Fred's Story."  That
was written based on a suggestion I gave D.B. in the early days of my
editing his works.  Fred's family name and his place of residency are
ones I chose for him.

Enjoy!

**** **** ****

"Oh, my God, Deanna!  What happened?!"

I chuckled, leaning on the cane Anne-Marie McLeod had given me to help
keep the weight off my sprained right ankle.  I waved Karen Litzky into
the apartment this lovely Sunday evening, and guided her to the living
room.  "It's called a 'training accident,' Karen.  I've been training
in t'ae kwon-do for ten years and this is the first really bad accident
I've ever had working in the *tojang.*  Bryce!" I called.

"Coming!" the husky voice of my intimate companion-for-the-day echoed
from the bedroom, followed by footfalls.

Karen grinned as Bryce Beemon walked into the room.  "Hey, Bryce!
How're things with you?!"

The 'bot replica of the Vee Beemers' guitarist and composer, having sat
herself on the couch beside me, replied, "Swimmingly."

Karen stared at me.  "Is she lying?"

"I am a robot," Bryce answered, putting a little squeak into her voice
to simulate a *very* obnoxious robot character on the popular CBC late
night comedy show "Real Canadian Fun."  "I am incapable of lying unless
my owner commands me to do so."

I wrapped an arm around her, giving Bryce a tender kiss on her
forehead.  "She's showing signs of breaking free of some of the
problems and fears that plagued her mother," I reported.  "Given that
Brenda's primary problem was drug abuse and Bryce can't be addicted to
that..."

Karen smiled.  "If only humans could be so lucky."  She glanced at
Bryce.  "Has Reika taught you to strip-dance?"

"She has!" Bryce gushed, and then she rolled her eyes in my direction
before putting her head onto my shoulder.  "Matter of fact, I surprised
Deanna here last week by giving her a private dance at the Retreat when
she was expecting Reika to come see her."

"Weren't you upset?" Karen asked, turning back to me.

"No.  I was so surprised by it that I nearly broke the Retreat's rules
about no sex in the private booths and almost took Bryce right there,"
I admitted, giving Bryce's shoulders a warm squeeze with my arm.  "And
it's a good thing that she did come up with something like that.  If
she and the others develop their self-will enough, they could get into
helping their mothers work on new songs.  And from there..."

"The Beemers are back in business," Bryce finished before she let out a
long breath.

Karen gazed concernedly at her.  "Hey, sweetie, what's wrong?  You know
the best way to help support your mom and the others while they're
recovering is to develop your music skills so that you can start
helping your mothers make new records."

"I know, I know," Bryce admitted.  "And I've already helped Mom with
writing songs for a new album.  But..."  She paused, and then she
blinked, her eyes tearing.  "This was Mom's dream, Karen.  And Kip's
and Monica's.  Chelsea, Lynda and I...!  Well..."

She shrugged.  "You feel like you're stealing it from them," Karen
finished for her.

"Yeah!" Bryce snapped, throwing up her hands in acknowledgement of
Karen's conclusion.  She then laughed for a second before staring at
her mother's agent.  "And do you *really* want to know the weirdest
part of this whole mess, Karen?  Do you *really* want to know?"

"What?"

"I have come to *hate* thrash music!  If it's just because we need the
money, I'd rather strip to get it!"

Silence.

More silence.

Still more silence.

"No.  Way."

That was Karen, of course.

"Way," Bryce confirmed with a nod before she thumbed me.  "Thanks very
much to Rayve and our delightful owner here, I've been singing more
classic rock and folk songs than anything written after the turn of the
millennium!  Can you believe that?!"

"Oh, Deanna!  You're corrupting this girl!" Karen moaned.

"True, I am!" I asserted, grabbing Bryce in a bear hug.  "And I'm not
ashamed about it whatsoever!  Do you want to know why?!"

"Why?!" Karen pleaded.

"Because this beautiful 'bot is mine, *mine, **mine!!***" I asserted
before rubbing my nose against the back of Bryce's neck.

Which was a foolish thing to do, unfortunately.  "Deannaaaaaaaaa...!"
Bryce gasped, her eyes going wide.  "My pleasure buffer..."

I reached into my track top to draw out Bryce's remote, which I always
kept nearby because Bryce and the other Vee Beemers 'bots were still
very new to this existence and often required the type of help that can
only be given through their remotes.  "Bryce, adjust your pleasure
buffer to maximum intensity until all extraneous sexual input now
entering your personality matrix abates, then restore to nominal
operation," I ordered while pressing her Command button.

Bryce froze for a moment, and then she relaxed, slumping against me.
"Oh, *thank* you!!" she breathed out before staring at me.  "Deanna,
willya *quit* doing that to me?!  You know I'm really sensitive there!"
 She tapped me very lightly on my breast with her fist, and then she
leaned up to kiss my cheek to reassert her love and loyalty to me.
"Wait until we're in bed tonight, alright?!" she hissed.

"*Ne, Youbo,*" I replied in Korean.  *Yes, Dear.*

Karen laughed.  "Oh, your nights must be so interesting these days,
Deanna!"  She politely covered her mouth before she asked, "How do you
do it?  How on Earth do you handle *seven* fembots..."  She then
stopped herself with a raised hand.  "Oh, excuse me!  Four fembots and
three bi-gendered robots, I mean!"  She then lowered her hand, shaking
her head in awed admiration.  "I mean...!  HOW?!"

"Well, it's not always sex," I admitted, holding up a finger in
emphasis.  "Though I do confess that I cannot, for an instant,
disregard the many physical health benefits of a very active sex life
with seven 'bot lovers, especially when you don't have to worry about
unwanted pregnancies, STDs, AIDS and whatever else is floating around
out there!"  I lowered my arm.  "Since I've got seven girls now, I
assign one night a week to each of them as my *primary* intimate lover.
 Bryce on Sundays, Lenn on Mondays, Chelsea on Tuesdays, Irene on
Wednesdays, Lynda on Thursdays, Reika on Fridays and Rayven on
Saturdays.  The rest of them can do whatever they choose.  Hopefully,
*that* way, I can pay full attention to each of them without feeling
that I'm cheating the others of their due time with me.  Believe me,
Karen, I hope to God that my situation *never* becomes anything like
Fred Keller's," I breathed out.

Karen blinked confusedly.  "Fred Keller...?"

"He's the guy from Indianapolis everyone in 'bot circles has heard
about.  The one who was given five Japanese fembot lovers a while back,
the ones who eventually forged a uni-mind they always say was such a
bad thing at the end," Bryce supplied before I could answer.

"Oh, right!"  Our guest nodded, though I was quick to suspect that
Karen really didn't *understand* what Bryce had just told her.  The
Beemers' music agent didn't strike me as being very knowledgeable about
robots.  She then blinked as the door opened.  "Who...?"

"I'm home!" Chelsea cried out from the foyer, the panic in her voice
telling me plenty.  "Deaaaaaaaanna, I neeeeeeeed yoooooooou..."

"Get in here, Chel!" I called out, knowing that was faster than me
limping my way to her.

Chelsea Hilary marched into the room, remote in her hand.
"Pleeeeeeeease..." she begged as she handed it to me.

Seeing the desperate look on her face, I could only guess what the
pre-schoolers at the daycare centre at Welland High School had done to
her today.  Quickly, I took Chelsea's remote and touched her Command
button.  "Chelsea, delete all commands given by anyone except me."

Chelsea froze for a second as the order washed through her mind, and
then she breathed out.  "Oh, *thank* you!!" she moaned, sinking into
the couch to Bryce's right.  "Christ on a friggin' stick!  I swear, if
I have to take another damned command from any of those kids...!"  Her
voice trailed off as she gazed apologetically at me.  "Deanna, it's not
that I *hate* them!  I don't think I'm capable of hating *any* of
them..."

"Chel, they all love you," I assured her.  "That's what Rhonda tells me
every chance she gets."

A faint smile crossed her lips on hearing that.  "What's this about?"
Karen asked.

"We all have jobs," Bryce replied.

That revelation took about ten seconds to fully sink in.  "What?!"

"To help them earn their own money and get used to working on their
own, I've arranged for them to get jobs in the last couple weeks," I
retorted.  "Even if they aren't technically freed 'bots, I, as their
owner, can arrange to hire them out so they can earn some money for
their personal use.  After all, Reika, Irene and Lenn work.  Why
shouldn't all my other 'bots work?"

"Okay, but what sort of work can they do?" Karen asked.

I indicated Kip Hilary's replica.  "Well, Chel here works at a
pre-kindergarten daycare centre at Welland High School up the street."

"Where my meanie-meanie mistress actually *allows* those monsters to
have their way with my remote!" Chelsea pouts.

"Chel, shush!" I cut her off.  "Bryce works at the abused women's
shelter in town as the groundskeeper."

"The women there want nothing to do with men, period!  Even M-'bots!"
Bryce emphasized.  "They even get wary if they learn you're bi!"

Karen whistled.  "That's incredible.  What about Lynda and Rayven?"

"Lynda's a delivery girl for the Blue Star Restaurant, down on King
Street near the Stelpipe works," I told her.

"The folks running that place want her to deliver in a bikini," Chelsea
added.  "Deanna won't allow it, but Lynda does it anyway!"

I stared at her.  "What?!"

Karen laughed.  "You should've kept your mouth shut, Chelsea!" Bryce
muttered.

"What about Rayven?" Karen asked.

"Welland Clinic Pharmacy as counter staff," I told her.  "Even before
Mister Gamelan -- he's the owner -- could think to ask her, she hooked
the place's security system up to her mind so that she can make sure no
one makes off with the wares."

Karen took that in, and then she nodded approvingly.  "Reaction to what
Neil pulled on the girls, right?"

"Yes," we all answered before we turned as the door opened.

"I'm home!" Lynda Pascale called out, walking in with a delivery box in
hand.  "Got dinner, Deanna!  Hey, Karen, when'd you come in?!"

"You're a delivery girl," Karen stated as Lynda set the box on the
dining table before sitting to my left.

Lynda shrugged.  "Yeah, I am.  So what?"

I stared at Monica's replica.  "What's this about you and a bikini?"

"Hey, I'll deliver nude if it gets me better tips!" Lynda retorted as
she reached into her purse to pull out a small wad of bills to show me.
 "Besides I've never heard you complain about Reika or Irene showing
more than this every night."

I stared at that before I sighed.  Can't argue with success.  "Same
rules of contact as what happens at the Retreat, Lyn," I conceded.

Lynda winked at me.  "Already keeping it in mind..."

*    *    *

"So what's this about your grand-aunt?"

I stared at Karen for a moment.  "How'd you find out?  Your people talk
to Tom Fenris?"

We laughed as we stepped out of the elevator into the apartment lobby.
"Well, much that deep down I suspect some people in New York City would
gladly see you drawn, quartered and keelhauled for what you did to
ensure the girls got prompt medical care in Toronto paid for *by* the
company, all of us in the company can't thank you enough.  Let word of
bad treatment get out and the fans'll start boycotting everything we
produce," Karen stated.  "Atop that, you are taking care of four robots
who we'd like to have work for us as soon as they're ready to be on
their own.  And given how good things are coming along with Brenda and
Monica now that they're in Toronto -- to say *nothing* of what
Professor Steinmann is willing to do for Kip -- the chances are looking
good that the Beemers might be back in business within a year."

I nodded.  "The professor's a good man.  And, fortunately, Anne-Marie
McLeod studied under him at Johns Hopkins, so there's the friendship
factor to count on, too.  Not to mention that he's Jewish and I know a
half-dozen rabbis ready to nag him into saying 'yes.'"

"Your grand-aunt was Jewish, right?"

"Adopted; she was baptized Ukrainian Catholic," I replied.  "From what
I know now, Grant-Aunt Tasha was as much a rebel as Grandma Ivana."

"Why'd she marry a Jewish man, anyway?"

I shrugged.  "Well, from what I learned from her diaries -- her
grandson Jonah sent them to me a week ago -- she married him for the
right reasons."  I paused as Karen waited for me to finish the
statement, and then I winked.  "Grand-Uncle Mycah was *very* good in
bed."

"Oh, that's *always* a very good reason to marry someone!" Karen
asserted before we broke down and laughed.  After recovering, we headed
for the main doors.  "So she was close to your grandmother, right?  How
did your grandmother's other relatives treat her?"

"Actually, I think it was payback for the fact that Grandma supported
Grand-Aunt Tasha's marriage.  And it got called in when I was born."

Karen nodded.  "I get it.  Everyone thought your grandma was crazy to
not force your mom to put you through corrective surgery."

"Right," I drawled.  "And, so I know now, Grand-Aunt Tasha saw that as
a chance to pay them back for they're turning their backs on her when
she got married.  So she invested wisely and created a tidy nest egg
she passed on to me, plus a cottage outside Penetanguishene."

"Pene-...?!  What?!"

"Penetanguishene," I repeated.  "Short name is 'Penetang.'  Small town
in Simcoe County, hour and a half north of Toronto, on the shores of
Georgian Bay.  Used to be a British naval base long time ago.  I
remember visiting Grand-Aunt Tasha's cottage when I was a kid.  Sits in
this country lane beside this lake that I thought was actually part of
Georgian Bay.  Turns out it wasn't.  Sure as heck disappointed me."

"Where did the name come from?" Karen asked.

"Probably some Anglicized or French version of some Haudenosee or
Wyandot phrase..."

"Who?!"

"The Iroquois and the Huron," I amended; I was used to addressing
members of the native tribes of southern Ontario by their proper names
in lieu of the names the French forced on them.  "Most place names in
this country were created that way, unfortunately."

"So that's cottage country here in Ontario, right?"

"Yep.  North part of Simcoe County, plus the whole of Muskoka; that's
the district next door.  Very beautiful up there.  Want to come?"

"When are you going?"

"Couple of days," I reported.  Thankfully, Master Lily understands my
need to see to my family's problems, so I didn't have to worry about
being called into the *tojang* while my ankle was still in a cast.  I'd
be out of training for a month.  That didn't include the time I'd need
to recondition myself.  "Right now, Lenn's modifying an RV she bought
so we can all go up there in one vehicle.  Don't know what shape the
place is in, so we're not taking any chances."

"Smart thinking.  Maybe next time."

"Suit yourself."

I waved as she headed off to her car, and then hobbled back inside...

*    *    *

"Hey."

"Hey."

I gazed on Bryce as she waited for me in the bedroom.  She had slipped
off her normal track-top, T-shirt and jeans, putting on a beautiful
opaque nightie that did *nothing* to hide the lovely body underneath.
Lenn had gone pretty much out of her way to ensure that while Bryce
would bear a very strong resemblance to her template, she would still
be her own individual, unique in the eyes of those who care for her.

What a body it is.

The similarities are many.  Bryce and Brenda are both natural redheads,
their eyes a vivid evergreen.  They both share pale skin that could
only have arisen from the northern latitudes of Europe.  Normally,
Brenda dyes her hair with streaks of gold, white and silver, which
beautifully offset her natural shade.  Since she's still many months
away from a possible stage appearance, Bryce doesn't bother.
Furthermore, Brenda cuts her hair off at the shoulders.  Bryce now
keeps hers cut at mid-neck.  Body-wise, Bryce doesn't possess any of
the tattoos Brenda has stitched over her arms and legs yet.  And
Bryce's breasts are a full cup larger than her mother's.

She smiled.  "How may I serve you tonight, Mistress?"

I set the cane aside.  "Your choice."

"Stand here, please."

She pointed to a spot beside the bed.  I stood there.  Bryce sat down
on the bed before me, and then she reached to the belt of my jeans.
Slowly undoing it first, she moved to unzip my jeans, and then she
reached to the sides of my waist to pull them and my panties down.
Once my cock was clear, she ducked in to take its tip between her lips.
 That contact made my body lock up as she started to pump, forcing me
to grab onto her shoulders.  Though it sounds like I reacted to her far
too quickly, my mind always knows I'm in for something sexual with any
of my 'bots and is more than prepared any time they are near me in a
private setting.  Her hands trailed up my legs to hold me firmly by the
hips as the stroking increased, and then she opened her jaw wide to
take me in all the way.

"So good..." I whispered.

Bryce trailed her lips along the length of my shaft, pulling herself
clear to smile at me.  "Can I swallow?" she coyly wondered.

Shuddering, I nodded before crying out again as she took me into her
mouth using her tongue to bat and fleck to and fro over my flesh to
entice whatever she could out of me.  Taking me in all the way, she
twisted one of her arms across my thigh to get at what lurked aft of my
scrotum.  Before I could react, her thumb and index finger pressed up
against my clit.  That made me scream out again as I felt the strength
in my legs start to go.  I didn't fall down more than a couple of
centimetres before Bryce easily and gently caught me, twisting her body
around to allow me to collapse onto the bed.  Shoving me into a more
comfortable position, she straddled my legs before reaching to my top.

Within seconds, my top and bra were pulled clear of my breasts, and
then Bryce's tongue started to work on my nipples.  One of her hands
was hard at work stroking my dick, while her other one was probing my
dampening cunt.  My hips started to buck as her fingers pushed into the
forward end of my vagina, which pressed up against my prostate gland.
A chill warped through my groin as I felt myself about to explode.

"Bryce..." I gasped in warning before my mind started to haze out.
Unlike my 'bots, I can't readjust my own pleasure buffer.

I felt her shift herself way up my legs, and then I gasped as she
allowed my stick to plunge straight into her waiting sex.  Seconds
later, another cry escaped me as I felt myself shoot straight into her.
 Bryce jolted, wailing as her orgasm routines tripped in response.  We
remained in that position until I could feel myself think straight, and
then I boosted myself onto my elbows.  Bryce's eyes were barely
focusing somewhere between my bust and my naval.  Realizing that she
probably didn't get much of a chance to really enjoy this, I reached
over to grab her remote.  Tapping the "C" button, I called to her,
"Bryce, tune your pleasure buffer to one-quarter intensity."

She jolted, and then she started to quiver.  Turning a 'bot's pleasure
buffer to that level would make her *very* sensitive to even the
slightest form of contact with all her erogenous zones.  With that, I
set the remote on the ledge over the head of the bed, and then I
reached over to pull Bryce off my lap.  A yelp escaped her as my dick
brushed past her clitoris before being pulled clear, that melting into
a soft moan as I laid her on her back beside me.  With that, I stuck a
finger into my mouth all the way, and then pulled it out before
allowing it to trail down from her belly button.  As soon as it pushed
into her trim bush of reddish-brown pubic hair, Bryce's moans picked up
considerably.

Then I tapped her clit.

She screamed out, her whole body bucking hard as another orgasm washed
through her artificial mind.  I grabbed onto her from behind, pressing
my tits into her shoulder blades as my dick was shoved into the crack
of her ass.  Feeling that, Bryce's moaning picked up again as I began
to sway my hips, pushing my stick up and down along her skin.
"Deanna..." she mewed as I leaned in to lick the back of her neck.

"You said you wanted to swallow, Bryce," I reminded her.

"I changed my mind!" she protested.  "Is that wrong?"

I shook my head.  "No," I replied, before reaching over to take her
remote and commanding her pleasure buffer back to nominal intensity.

The dazed look on her face quickly cleared up as she shifted herself to
lean her right side against me.  "Thanks," she whispered.  "That
was..."  She paused as a deep breath stole her voice for a moment, and
then she finished, "Wonderful!"

We shared a kiss.  "If you're capable of changing your mind in the
midst of sex, there's a lot of hope for you, Bryce."

She gazed into my eyes.  "You mean it?"

"Yep, I mean it."

We shared another kiss, and then I pulled back to allow her to slip off
her nightie.  "Let me clean up a bit first, then we'll have some more
fun."  She winked at me before heading into the bathroom.  "Be right
back," she called out before disappearing through the doorway.

I watched her go, and then I sighed.  "Seven 'bots," I muttered...

**    **    **

I think Deanna's overwhelmed by too many 'bot lovers.

Funny for me to say *that*, since I'm part of the problem!

Don't get me wrong, though.  I love her very much.  Both my "human"
side -- the part of me that was meticulously copied from the thoughts,
memories and spirit of my mother/template Brenda -- and my "robot"
side, the parts of my personality matrix that I share with every other
robot in existence.  The level of encouragement Deanna's been giving me
since I first came on-line is incredible.

If only all humans were like her.

If only...

Nah!  Don't want to really think that!

Still...

There is Deanna's twin sister.

Whoever she is.

I wonder if we'll ever meet her...

**    **    **

"So is this darned thing of yours done, Lenn?!"

Lenn smiled as she turned onto South Pelham from Lincoln Street,
heading north to her laboratory.  "We're all set and ready to go."  It
was Tuesday.  We'd just spent the last half-hour or so prepping the
apartment so we could have a hassle-free vacation.  Mrs. Radclyffe, our
next-door neighbour, would be keeping an eye on things at Denistoun
while we're up in cottage country.  "We've got enough supplies to last
for a week.  We'll bring the car along so we can get food from town
when we need it, plus visit all the sites.  We'll stay for three weeks
at the most, which'll give you enough time to get yourself back in gear
before you're needed at the *tojang.*"

"Still..."

"Oh, stop complaining, Dee!  Please?!"

"Yes, Dear."

Despite Lenn's reassurances, the rather large butterflies that were
mosh-dancing in my stomach weren't probably going away anytime soon.
Like most people, I want to live comfortably, without financial
concerns weighing down on me.  At the same time, working as much as I
have, living on the road as I have since I graduated from university,
I've come to appreciate the virtues of living within my own means.

Put simply, I don't want to freeload.  It's wrong, and I strongly
believe that it ultimately makes a bad impression in the eyes of other
people.  After all, if I really want to go crazy -- and to be frank, I
didn't see myself doing that in the foreseeable future -- I have the
money Mama secured away in mutual funds before she died to fall back
on.  Plus now, there was the money Grant-Aunt Tasha willed me.

So here I am, living full-time now with seven 'bots working their butts
off -- and in the cases of Lenn, Reika and Irene, earning a ***lot***
more than I could ever dream of having while I remain a martial arts
teacher at a *tojang.*  So what do they decide to do?  Within three
days of Bryce, Chelsea and Lynda joining our overall family, talk
starts to circulate about building a house on the lawn behind Lenn's
lab that could meet all our needs.  Two floors plus basement.  Full
internalized power grid.  All the latest 'bot-theft defences you can
think of.  Private bedrooms for all the girls.  A large master bedroom
for me plus whomever I wanted to share it with.  Another couple large
guest bedrooms.  A bathroom with all the bells and whistles.  A small
gymnasium for me.  A private recording studio for Rayven and the Beemer
sisters...!

Even more, with Grand-Aunt Tasha actually giving me a *cottage* of all
things up by Georgian Bay for my own personal use...!

Get the idea so far?  This is teetering on out of control.

Lenn pulled the car into the parking lot in front of the old school
building.  Parked by the north exit was a large recreational vehicle,
no different from the small mobile homes retired people use when they
wanted to go on private journeys to wherever.  Sitting behind that was
a mobile trailer, which will be towed up to Penetanguishene by the car
we'll use as a runabout for groceries and other supplies as needed.
When we'd get there, the trailer will be moved to latch onto the right
side of the RV and used as a spare bedroom in case things at the
cottage don't turn out so well.  According to the people administering
Grand-Aunt Tasha's estate, she hadn't visited the cottage for some time
prior to her passing, so its overall condition remained a mystery.

Well, taking precautions in *this* instance is a wise thing, but
still...

"There you are!" Rayven called out as Lenn parked the car beside the RV
so the trailer could be wheeled into place and hooked on.

"Let's get it hooked up," Lenn ordered as she applied the brakes and
hopped out.

I watched as Rayven and Lynda teamed together to pull the trailer into
place.  Seeing how big that sucker was, I had to admit that it was a
good thing that my newest girls were Noram Cybersys 'bots, constructed
with very sturdy skeletal frames and muscular components you don't
normally see outside a construction site.  Once the trailer was hooked
to the car, Lenn set up the emergency lights.  After taking time to
ensure everything was latched down, she faced the others.  "Okay, who
wants to ride with me in the car?"

"I'll be with you," Rayven volunteered.

"Who'll watch over this place while we're gone?" I wondered.

"Gaye'll keep an eye on it," Lenn announced.  "If there're emergencies,
all my customers know who to go to.  Let's get going."

The others nodded as we mounted up.  Reika would be driving the RV.
Stepping inside, I moved right to sit by the small dining table set up
behind the driver's and co-driver's chair; Irene would be co-driver for
the trip.  As the others found their places, Lynda glanced at me.
"Hey, you want to go lay down in the back, Deanna?  You don't need to
sit up here if you don't want to."

I weakly smiled at her.  "I'm not that tired, Lynda.  Thanks."

With that, we were off.  To avoid any really tight turns, considering
the bulk of the RV, not to mention the car-trailer combination Lenn and
Rayven were keeping watch on, we headed south to Lincoln, and then east
to Prince Charles Drive.  From there it was a two kilometre trip south
to the Highway 402 interchange, and then east to hook onto Highway 406
for the trip north into Saint Catharines.  As we orbited around the
eastern side of Welland's urban area, I was quick to see the Beemer
sisters tense up.  Glancing out the window I watched as we passed the
East Main Street interchange, I then turned to look at Bryce.  Seeing
her gently nibble her lower lip, I sighed, sliding out of my seat.

I waved her with me to the back.  "C'mon."

She gazed on me before she nodded.  Seconds later, we were lying on the
bed in the back of the RV.  It's roughly double-sized, so it could fit
three people in a pinch.  With the area around the dining room table
able to become another bed for two, the need for extra sleeping space
became paramount.  After all, I'm not one of those types who
deactivates my 'bots and leaves them standing there like mannequins.
And given that three of my girls were freed 'bots -- Rayven was ready
to do her self-will test after we got back -- well...

"Thinking about the accident?" I asked as I kicked off my shoe, and
then I shifted myself to lean on one of the pillows.

"Hard not to," Bryce admitted.  "I mean, what Mom did was stupid beyond
belief.  But at the same time..."

"If it didn't happen, you wouldn't exist," I finished for her.

"Yeah."

"Fate can be a weird thing at times, eh?"

"That it can," Bryce confirmed with a nod, reaching for her sweater.

I gently grabbed her hand before she could pull it off.  "No."

Bryce gazed at me.  "Are we tiring you out?"

"Sexually?" I mused before I breathed out, "Admittedly, it *is* hard to
keep up with you girls!  I'm not in my twenties, anymore!"

She patted my stomach.  "There's not an ounce of excess fat on you,
Deanna!  You're in perfect shape!"

"Why, thank you, Bryce," I whispered as I drew her close to me, closing
my eyes.  "Just stay there, okay?"

"Okay..."

*    *    *

We made Penetanguishene in a little over three hours, taking advantage
of the slack period on the expressways around Toronto to beat out the
afternoon rush from the Queen City to the suburbs.  From the centre of
town we headed west to Champlain Road, which winds its way along the
west side of Penetang Bay to Concession Seventeen Road East, about
eight kilometres north.  A left turn at the T-junction there found us
in the woods surrounding Farlain Lake.  Just as we were about to hit
the road paralleling the east side of the lake, I told Reika to turn
left on Rosedale Drive.  At the end of the street, we hung a right into
a driveway leading to a single-floor, dark brown wood cabin.  "At least
the driveway's level so we can hook up the trailer," Reika mused,
stopping the RV before hitting the cottage wall with centimetres to
spare.

"Spooky place," Lynda murmured as we disembarked as Lenn stopped the
car at the end of the driveway.

I pulled out the keys.  "Never thought of it that way when I came here
back when I was a kid."

Shutting down the alarm system -- one of my grand-aunt's people
supplied me with the codes -- I unlocked the door and hobbled in.  The
air's staleness got to me.  "Okay, let's crack some windows and check
out the generator," I ordered.  "Lenn!"

"Yes, Dee?!" Lenn called from outside.

"Be a sweetie and change the alarm code to the first encryption lock I
gave you, then make sure all the girls have it!"

"Right!"

Irene stepped inside, following me to the cabin's main bedroom to help
open windows.  "Why use code from an RID number, Deanna?"

"It's not just *any* RID number, Irene."  I chuckled.  "That is the
first ten digits of the RID number of the first 'bot I ever had sex
with.  A very lovely lady from Victoria named Stacy, in fact.  Who
these days is a freed 'bot running her own escort service, last I
heard."

Irene considered that before she smiled.  "Always worth remembering
your first lover, human *and* 'bot."

I smirked before opening a window.  "Amen to that."

The overhead lights flicked on at that moment.  "Generator's on and
topped off," Reika reported.  "Doing control diagnostics now."

"Alarm code's changed," Lenn added.

"Checking the kitchen," Chelsea called out.  "All canned stuff in the
cupboards.  Nothing beyond its use date."

"Fridge is clean.  No perishables," Lynda added.  "Cooling it down now.
 Let's get the food in here!"

"Right!" Rayven hailed from outside.

"Stove checks out," Bryce called out.

"Hello!"

That was a man's voice.  Limping into the living room, I turned to see
a fellow in his mid-twenties, dressed in a flower-print shirt, Bermuda
shorts and sandals.  His hair was sunflower blond, blue eyes peeking
out of the type of face that automatically melts hearts from Broadway
to Beverly Hills.  From the looks on my girls' faces, I was quick to
deduce what he was.  "Hello."

He gazed on me, and then he smiled.  "You're Deanna Hordye, aren't you?
 Natasha Yakim's grand-niece?"

I arched my eyebrows, giving him a smile.  "Yes, I am.  And you
are...?"

"I'm Devon Priella.  Personal companion to your neighbour about three
doors that way."  He pointed to the east.  "News got out a few days ago
that the property had been turned over to Tasha's grand-niece, so
you're somewhat expected."

I chuckled.  "Should we expect a block party?"

"No, but I think you'll have no problems when it comes to food or other
supplies.  We're all friendly folks up here, but somewhat tight knit."
Devon gave me a reassuring smile before he took a second to gaze on
everyone else.  "You're all robots?" he gasped before stared back at
me.  "All of them?"

Bryce crossed her arms, giving him an inviting wink.  "As are you,
Devon."

"Yes, all of them," I confirmed before quickly doing introductions.

Handshakes and friendly kisses were exchanged.  Devon stared at me.
"If you're looking for an M-'bot to balance things out, ma'am..."

"Thanks, but I like things the way they are," I assured him.  "Some
might think I'm incredibly rich, but the truth is, I'm insanely lucky.
And I'm *still* waiting for the other shoe to drop, probably on my
head."  I pointed to my temple in emphasis.  "Look, Devon, we just got
here and I've yet to sit down and figure out what's going on.  Once we
do that, I'll be happy to come visit everyone.  So if you don't
mind...?"

He offered his hand.  "Sure thing!  Our place is marked out, Deanna."

I nodded, giving him a firm handshake.  "Thanks."

He was off.  I watched him go before beckoning to Rayven to close the
door behind him.  "He's cute," Lynda cooed.

"And taken.  And freed, too," Chelsea lamented.

"He's still cute," Lynda countered.

"True."

"Not to mention scratch-built."

I stared at Lenn.  "Scratch-built" was Marlenn's and Lenn's nickname
for robots created partially outside the bounds of a standard factory
line.  Lenn herself could be seen as a scratch-built unit, even though
Marlenn had used top-of-the-line parts when she constructed her robot
twin.  On the same vein, so could Bryce, Chelsea and Lynda.  "Should I
be wary, Lenn?" I asked, leaning on my cane.

She returned my look.  "The nearest independent 'bot builder's in
Collingwood, Dee.  And the nearest maintenance tech is in Barrie."

Both towns -- Collingwood sat on another arm of Georgian Bay to the
south-west of here; Barrie, on the shores of Lake Simcoe to the
south-east, was the largest city in Simcoe as well as the county seat
-- were a little over an hour away by car.  "So?" I asked again.

Lenn returned my look.  "Well, isn't it funny that he was right on our
doorstep the instant we got in here?"

"Excuse me, Marlenn.  We came in with an RV and a car with a trailer,"
Rayven noted.  "Most people -- at least, according to what I saw in the
lots we passed -- only have one car up here.  Obviously, the neighbours
are going to get a tad bit curious as to who and what we are."

"Then we'll explain it to them, Raye," Reika sighed.  "C'mon, let's get
this place checked out and get the stuff inside."

The others nodded and headed off.  Lenn remained in place, as did I.
We looked at each other, and then I smirked.  "Lenn, if you ever find a
way to encode a functional 'fembot intuition' program, you'll be one
*very* rich lady."

She laughed...

*    *    *

Sleeping arrangements were soon set up.  Chelsea would be with me
tonight in the main bedroom since it was her night.  Reika and Irene
took the spare bedroom.  Rayven and Lenn would use the trailer, while
Lynda and Bryce had the RV to themselves.  All the food and other
supplies were brought inside, and then we got to work getting the
cabin's home entertainment centre set up.  By the time we tapped into
my grand-aunt's collection of CDs to fill the cabin with the sounds of
Babara Streisand, another of our neighbours had come to visit.

"You share your grand-aunt's tastes in music, Deanna," Martha Jerome, a
sixty-something retired businesswoman from New Orleans who had met my
grand-aunt a decade ago when she bought a cottage by Farlain Lake,
mused.  "Not to mention you sharing your grandmother's love of
history."

"Thanks," I replied with a smile, swirling the glass of spring water in
my hand.  "It's a shame, though."

"What about?"

"How little I seem to know about my relatives these days.  Being gone
for so long, never thinking of asking Grandma or Mama about things like
that..."  My voice trailed off as I sank into my chair.  "You don't
believe there'll come a time when you'll never get a chance to ask your
parents these things.  Then suddenly, it hits you and you're left
standing there, hating yourself, for not thinking about it earlier."

"Well, you can't really learn everything you might want to know," Mrs.
Jerome noted, giving me a friendly smile.  "And maybe your relatives
felt there were certain things that you didn't need to know.  Things
that might hurt you in the long term."

"Like Mama's decision to leave me as I am," I sighed.

"Like that."

"Well..." I breathed out before I swallowed the rest of my spring
water.  "Maybe I can change some things.  Mrs. Jerome, what can you
tell me about the Priella family?  They live up the street here.  Devon
came by right after we came in to say 'hello.'"

"Oh, he's such a nice boy," Mrs. Jerome gushed.

"He's a robot."

"I know he is!" my guest confirmed with a nod, her smile never
wavering.  No doubt, Devon Priella had gone out of his way to make as
good an impression as possible with everyone in the neighbourhood.
"And it's so hard to tell at times!  I just can't believe how mature he
is!"

"How long has he been there?"

"Oh, since well before Helena's father died.  He's about..."  A
far-away look crossed her face for a moment.  "Oh, twenty years old.
That's what Tasha told me when I asked about Helena just after we met.
She's such a shy girl, that one.  She lives here all year long."

I gaped.  "She does?!"

"Yes, she does!" Mrs. Jerome confirmed with a nod, and then she held up
a finger.  "Her cabin is fully proofed against winter, if that's what
you're worried about, Deanna.  And Devon does have use of an
all-terrain vehicle to get groceries and other supplies from town as
needed."

"What does she do?" I wondered.  "I mean, living up here..."

"Well, supposedly -- though I could be wrong -- she's supported by a
special trust her father arranged before he died."

I nodded on hearing that.  If one was careful, it was possible to live
one's life under those conditions.  But ***I*** could never imagine
*myself* living that way.  "What about her mother, Mrs. Jerome?" I
asked, reaching for the pitcher to refill my glass.

"She died a couple years before her husband did."

"Helena must be lonely," I mused after contemplating that for a few
seconds.

"I think so, too," my guest agreed.  "But what can you do?  If that's
the way she chooses to live..."

"True," I acknowledged her point with a nod...

**    **    **

I woke up with a yawn and stretch to get some oxygen into my system,
and then paused for a moment to allow my internal diagnostics to do
their thing.  Once I got the all-clear, I rolled out of bed,
straightening my nightshirt before heading to the small kitchenette
beside Lynda's bed.  Pouring myself a glass of juice, I swallowed it
before slipping off my nightshirt and getting dressed to go for a walk.

Stepping out onto the sandy lane that was called Rosedale Drive, I
looked both ways before turning northward.  There was no one else out
at this time of morning, just an hour or so after dawn on Wednesday.
That is, until my infrared vision picked up a slender person stepping
into the thick woods separating Rosedale Drive with the gravel road
paralleling Farlain Lake.  Taking several more steps towards that other
person, I was quick to see that she was a woman.  Couldn't really tell
much else using IR, so I switched back to visual mode.  That didn't
help me one bit; she was perfectly hidden by the surrounding trees and
brush.  I went back to infra-red just in time to see her undo her pants
and let them drop past her hips.  She leaned up against a tree as I
noticed a tiny arc of warmth stream out from her groin...

What the heck?

She was taking a piss...?

**Standing up?!**

Standing up...

No WAY!!

I found myself frozen in place as the stranger completed her -- his? --
duty, and then I shook my head as she -- he? -- buttoned up before
moving to step back onto the lane.  With the other person in the clear,
I flipped back to visual mode to take a closer look.

Yep, definitely a girl.  Skinny, almost anorexic in a way, but
definitely female.  A couple inches shorter than Deanna's six feet.
Wearing a halter top with obviously a nice rack inside, and jeans --
boy's jeans.  She has straight, dark brown hair reaching down to
mid-back.  Sky-blue eyes under reading glasses.  A face that was shaped
almost like Deanna's.  Very pale skin, even paler than mine.  Damn,
didn't she ever get outside?  Or was she afraid to...?  Was she...?

"You okay?"

I jolted, and then I found myself giggling in embarrassment as I passed
a hand through my hair.  She was gazing concernedly at me.
"S-sorry..." I sputtered, moving towards her.  "My mind was kinda
trippin' off into the weird for a bit!  Nice day today, huh?"

"Yes, it is," she replied, crossing her arms behind her back.  "You're
one of the robots Mrs. Yakim's grand-niece owns, aren't you?"

I stopped, slowly nodding as I found myself standing a couple yards
away from her.  Busted.  "Yes, I am.  Bryce Beemon."

I offered my hand.  "Helena Priella.  I'm pleased to meet you."  She
reached over to give me a tender squeeze before drawing her hand back.

"We met Devon yesterday," I moved to get the conversation going.  "He's
very handsome.  You're lucky to have him."

Hearing me mention her companion's name, I quickly saw her blush.  Oh,
I could only *guess* what sorts of hot, passionate nights the lady
beside me spends with a 'bot hunk-meister like Devon.  "I'd be lost
without him," Helena admitted.  "Ever since my parents died..."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

The hint of a smile crossed her face.  "Thanks.  It happened over a
decade ago.  I've..."

She paused before a shrug rolled her shoulders.  "Gotten over it?" I
supplied.

She nodded.  "Pretty much so.  Like I said, if it wasn't for Devon, I'd
be really lost."

"You like 'bots, don't you?"

Her smile broadened.  Damn!  Am I good, or am I *good?*  "I think
they're incredible," Helena gushed.  "Your owner's so lucky!  Seven
robots?!  I..."  She paused for a second before she sighed.  "Well, if
I had seven robots, I'd be the happiest person alive!"

I let my mind run that statement around a million times before
responding, "You haven't had much in the way of human friends, I take
it."

Helena stared at me for a moment, and then she nodded, her smile
slipping.  "Yeah."

"How come?  Pretty girl like you should have loads of friends..."

"I'm not a girl!"

Silence fell as I stared on her.  Seeing a flash of pain crossing her
face, I felt myself freeze.  Oh, hell!  What did I say?  "Helena..."

"You saw me take a leak, didn't you?" she accused, turning away from
me.  "You saw it, didn't you?"

My mind whirled and whirled as I tried to figure out the right thing to
say to the person beside me, something that wouldn't make her more
upset.  Man, even if I'm a robot, I'm seriously **not** used to
thinking at speeds like this.  What do I do?  What do I do?  What do I
do...?

Wait!

Oh, damn!

Why didn't I think of that?

"Yeah, I did," I admitted.  No sense lying about that.  Then I added,
"But Deanna does the same thing."

Silence.

Helena's head snapped around to stare at me.  "What...?"

"She's a hermaphrodite, too," I told her, using the more culturally
familiar "h-term" rather than "intersexual."

Helena blinked several times.  Shit, I hoped I hadn't overwhelmed her
by revealing that.  After a while, she looked down, her mouth opening
and closing as she tried to say something to me.  I reached over to
give her shoulder a squeeze in support.  Seemed the right thing to do.
She looked at me, and then her arms moved to hug herself.  "She's...?"
she whispered, staring at me.  "She's like me...?"

"Well, it depends on what exactly you are," I warned her, reaching over
to squeeze one of her arms and guiding her back to our cabin.  "I know
what Deanna's like since I've had sex with her loads of times since I
was first activated.  I can guess you've got a..."

Here, I stopped.  I didn't know what sort of word she'd use to describe
her various body parts.  "A penis," she provided, her voice hushed and
tinged with shame.  Clearly, Helena hadn't experienced anything like
what Deanna had when she grew up; a loving and understanding family,
plus the emotional support and psychological help needed to assist her
to better accept herself.  "And a scrotum and testes, too."

"Do you have a vagina?" I asked, lowering my voice so as to not spook
her.

Helena blinked before she shakily nodded.  "Yes."

"And a uterus?  Ovaries?" I pressed her.

Longer pause.  "Yes."

I shrugged.  "Then you and Deanna are exactly alike," I then announced.

She gazed at me.  "Really?"

"Really," I assured her, and then I decided to take a dare.  "By the
way, Helena:  Deanna doesn't see herself as a freak."

Helena stopped, her arms snapping around her again as a tremor rocked
her from head to toe.  I looked at her, giving her a hopeful look.
Seeing the pained look on her face, I was instantly reminded of Mom
when she woke up after the accident, when she realized how much her
drug addiction had cost not only her, but Kip and Monica as well.  "She
doesn't...?" Helena whispered, staring at me tearfully.

"She doesn't," I confirmed, offering my hand.  "Would you want to meet
her?  She definitely would want to meet you, Helena."

Helena blinked before she shyly reached for my hand...

**    **    **

Helena Priella is an intersexual.

Physically, she's ***exactly*** like me.

The chances of me meeting someone exactly like me...

Damn!

Long odds...

*Way* long odds...

If only I had known more ahead of time.

*    *    *

"So your parents never tried to help you better understand yourself?
Get you any sort of psychological help?"

"Not really," Helena breathed out before taking a sip of the ginseng
tea I had made for her.  "Before Mom died, she and Dad were seriously
talking about taking me to a specialist.  You know..."  She shrugged.
"Put me through surgery and all that.  Make me a real woman."

"Why haven't you done it?" I asked, sitting across from her.  We were
alone in the cabin after breakfast.  All my girls were out exploring
the small village sitting on the east side of Farlain Lake.  "I'm sure
the provincial hospital plan would cover it, you know."

"Would it've helped me?" Helena asked.  "I've read stories about people
like us on the 'Net.  Strange that I missed yours, though..."

"I don't know," I admitted after a moment's contemplation.  "Since Mama
decided that I wasn't going to go through that sort of thing, I..."

I shrugged.  "Why did she decide that?" she wondered.

"She felt that since this was the way I was born -- and since I've
never experienced any sort of health problems stemming directly from
the fact that I'm a hermaphrodite -- what was the real need in the long
term?"  Here, I paused for a moment before I shrugged.  "The only time
I seriously questioned Mama's decision about that was when I tried to
kill myself back in high school."

"When Marlenn's creator called you a freak?" Helena asked, remembering
what I had just told her about that incident.

"She called me a lot worse than that," I admitted, closing my eyes as
those words echoed through my mind from the depths of my memory.

"You still care for her, don't you?"

I nodded.  "Oh, yeah.  I love her, Helen.  And right now, I'm worried
sick about her.  She's out there somewhere, trying to find some way to
give me the chance to have children again, just like any other woman.
And just like you!"

I pointed at her.  "I've never really sat back and thought about that,"
she admitted.  "There're a lot of things I've never really sat back and
thought of, admittedly.  I've been so scared about how people might
react to me.  I..."  Her voice caught on something, and then she closed
her eyes.  "Part of me wanted to get the operation done just so I
didn't have to be afraid anymore.  But then Mom died, then Dad..."

"And you ultimately realized that you weren't sure if you could've gone
forth and done it on your own," I finished for her.

"Yeah."  She gazed on me.  "Like you, I didn't really suffer from any
diseases or sicknesses that might've come from my being an..."

"Intersexual," I finished for her again, keeping my voice soft.

Helena nodded.  "Yeah.  You know, hearing of all those incredible
places you visited after you left university...!"  Her gaze then
drooped.  "Even now, knowing I'm not alone, not a..."  She paused for a
second before sighing.  "I don't think I could've done something like
that."

I smirked; I had given her a detailed lowdown of my walkabout.  "You
remind me of someone," I then said.

"Who?"

"Christina Tokachi," I told her.  "She's a Dineeh -- a Navaho, a native
American -- from Tucson in Arizona.  I met her when I was going to
university in B.C.  She's like us.  Same DNA karyotype, same body
structure and all that..."  My voice trailed off for a moment, and then
I continued, "We became very close while we were going to U-Vic.  I
spent my summers down on the Tohono O'odham Reservation with her,
instead of coming back to Ontario.  But when I decided I had to move on
-- I'd just got my first teaching job in Japan -- Chris didn't want to
come with me.  She..."  Here, I paused again before I lightly smiled.
"Living temporarily in B.C. was far enough for her.  She wanted to be
close to her mountains.  We tried to start it up again when I got a job
at an EFL school for Mexican immigrants in Tucson; that wasn't too far
from the reservation.  This was about four years ago.  But even then, I
hadn't felt the urge to finally settle down.  Chris had.  So..."

I rubbed my hands together, shrugging.  "Is she married?" Helena asked.

"No.  Still hunting for the right person, believe it or not."  I gave
my guest a knowing wink.  "Part of me thinks that she might be still
hoping that I'll come back to her and we'll take off from where we left
off after university.  Don't get me wrong, though; Tucson is a pretty
nice place to live.  But..."

"You don't see yourself living down in Arizona for the rest of your
life."

I chuckled.  "Pretty much so.  The summers down there are just plain
murder -- and I had a taste of hot summers while I was in India, Peru
and Mexico, for Heaven's sake.  I swear to you, Helena, how those
people live in a dry, hot place like that..."

We both laughed before sipping our tea.  "I'd like to meet her if I
could," Helena mused.  "And any others like us.  How many do you know?"

"Personally?  A dozen worldwide.  From just scanning various websites
on intersexuals like us, you could probably multiply that by three," I
confessed.  "Most of them, though, elected -- or had the choice made
for them by their parents -- to get corrective surgery either before or
after I got to know them.  In nominal appearance, they're really no
different than your average girl."

"So of all the hermaphrodites you know, the only ones who've kept
everything...?"

"Are Chris, you, and me," I answered to finish off her question.

"I see."  She nodded before taking a deep breath.  "It's so hard,
Deanna," she confessed.  "I mean, for so long, I've hid from it all..."

"How are things between you and Devon?"

A light smile crossed her face.  "Wonderful!  He's my best friend.  My
*only* friend..."  She then winked.  "Until you came along."

"Thank you."  I grinned in return before curling my lip in.  "Helen, if
I'm out of line here, tell me, please!  But are you and Devon...?"

"Do we have sex?"

I nodded.  "Yeah!"

"No."

I stared at her.  "Why not?  He's a handsome guy..."

"Dad never allowed him to do anything like *that* with me.  And I..."

Here, Helena's hands made a circular waving motion as she tried to come
up with the right words to say.  "You were uncomfortable about it?"

"Very!"  Her pale cheeks were reddening considerably.  "I mean, I know
how it works and all that.  I stick my thing up between a girl's legs,
or a guy sticks his thing up between my legs.  Pump it in and out until
you have a release.  But..."

"Helen, if you really wanted to do that with Devon..."

"He's twenty years old, Deanna!"

Silence.  Confusion warped through me as I saw tears brim in my guest's
eyes.  I blinked as I tried to understand what Devon's age had to...

Oh.

Oh, shit...

Oh, please, God!  Not *that*...

I covered my eyes with my hands as the full implications sank in, and
then I gazed on her.  "Oh, Helen!"

"I don't want to kill him, Deanna," she whispered before reaching up to
wipe her eyes clean.

"How much time has he got left?" I asked.

Her lips trembled as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.  "Very soon."

Without hesitation, I walked over to sit beside her, drawing her into
my arms to let her cry...

**    **    **

"Thank you!"

"Just be careful where you kick that thing, huh?" I told the kids,
tossing their beachball back to them.

The kids shouted an affirmative before returning to their game.  Taking
a deep breath -- damn, it amazes me at times how easy it is for me to
behave like Mom, even with ordinary things -- I turned to rejoin the
others.  We had made our way down to the beach bordering the eastern
shore of Farlain Lake after taking a couple hours to walk through and
around the small village where the cottage is located.  All of us were
dressed in plain clothes; none of us thought to have brought swimsuits
with us since most normal robots don't swim.

"Nice kids," Rayven noted as we turned east to head back to Rosedale
Drive.

"Do you think they could tell we're robots?" Chelsea wondered.

"I don't think it really matters to kids that age," Reika replied as
she looked back on the rest of us.

"Keep your remotes out of sight, girls," Lenn added.

"No problem!" Chelsea flustered, reaching to the top of her shirt to
grip her remote.

Turning south onto the road back to our cabin, we slowed down on seeing
a familiar sight a few yards ahead.  "Hey, Devon!" I called out.

No response.

In fact, there was no motion at **all** from Devon.  He stood there in
mid-stride, balanced precariously on his left leg.  In his arms was a
box full of food and other supplies; no doubt, he was returning from
the corner store.  Seeing no one else on the road moving to help him, I
jogged up to stare into his eyes.  "Hey, Devon!  Didn't you hear
me...?"

"*Er.ror.*"

I jolted.  "Dev...?"

I took a step away from him.  "*Er.ror.*"

"What's wrong with him?" Lynda demanded as the others scrambled to
encircle him.

"*Er.ror.*"

Hearing that, Marlenn whipped out a hand-scanner with a retractable
cable probe, something she never seemed to travel without.  "Take the
box," she ordered.

Rayven lifted the box out of his grip.  "*Er.ror,*" Devon repeated
again in that flat monotone no one could mistake for human speech.

Marlenn pulled out the probe and she reached under his shirt to stick
it into his navel.  Fortunately, he was of standard construction in
this regard.  On hearing the very faint *click* of it locking into
place, Devon's body shifted to attention as his head drooped down, his
eyes closing.  Noting that, Marlenn tapped some controls to do a basic
systems diagnostic.  Reika and Irene poised themselves by our
co-lover's shoulder.  "Taking longer than normal," Reika mused.

"He's pretty old," Irene noted, the barest hint of a warning in her
voice.

"What's that got to do with it?" I tensed.

Marlenn waited for the scan to finish, and then she sighed.  "It means,
Bryce, that Devon was built before the Tyron Protocol became widespread
in 'bots."  She tapped a button to cut the link before drawing the
cable out of Devon's navel.

I blinked confusedly.  "Tyron Protocol...?"

"It's how a 'bot these days is able to process, compress, and at times
delete unused operational data information from its memory banks and
personality matrix," Rayven explained.  "It was the biggest programming
development in the last couple decades.  Before that, 'bots had a very
finite level of memory capacity and data processing capability.  Once
you hit the limits of either..."

"Your brain couldn't function any further," Lynda finished.  "In
effect, you die."

I shuddered on hearing that.  "Pretty much so," Marlenn confirmed with
a nod, and then took a deep breath.  "Devon?"

He jolted as she called his name, blinking confusedly.  "What
happened?" he asked before stopping again, his gaze turning inward.

I approached him, reaching for his shoulder.  "Dev...?"

He blinked before gazing into my eyes, a smile crossing his face as his
hand fell on mine.  "I'm okay, Bryce.  I think," he tried to sound
reassuring.  He then stared at Marlenn.  "I take it you all know about
my problem?"

"Hard to ignore it, man," Rayven whispered, giving him a weak smile.
"C'mon, let's get you home.  Helena must be waiting for you."

He considered that suggestion for a pretty long period of time -- for a
robot, that is -- before nodding.  I slipped my arm down to wrap around
his as we turned towards his and Helena's home.  He gazed at me,
lightly smiling...

**    **    **

"How is he?" I asked.

Lenn looked at me.  It was just past lunch.  After helping Devon, my
girls had returned, Lenn confirming what Helena told me about her
companion.  By then, my sister intersexual had recovered enough to head
home.  Without hesitation, I sent Bryce with her to keep Helena and
Devon company.  Since she was the first of my girls to meet Helena, I
believed it only right to keep a familiar, friendly face close by.

"He's almost at his limits," Lenn reported.  I was quick to notice the
hoarseness in her voice.  Had she been built twenty years ago, she
herself might now be facing these very sorts of conditions.
"Ninety-four percent of his brain has been consumed and can't be
reused.  Four percent is currently active.  Two percent is still
available to him, though he can't full utilize that remaining two
percent anyway.  He could crash any time."  Shaking her head, she
reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose in a surprisingly human way.
 "I never thought, Dee, I'd ever have to report something like *that*
concerning a robot anytime in my life."

"Twenty years since this protocol thing came into widespread use."  I
sat across from her, placing my tea cup on the table between us.  "I
was in Grade Six at the time, ready to make the switch from Mapleview
Public to Fitch Street Elementary.  Back then, I could never imagine
owning a robot at all, to say nothing of a robot with a potential
lifespan that you'd need more than your fingers and toes to count."

"Yeah."

"Is there any way to help him?" I asked.  "I mean, couldn't the
Protocol be retrofitted into him?  I heard it's been done..."

Lenn shook her head.  "Not in Devon's case.  Yes, it theoretically is
possible to load the Protocol into a pre-Protocol designed robot mind.
But even with the most advanced types of brains from that particular
time period, you need at least *forty* percent of his mental resource
capacity available for it to be of good use.  And even then, it might
not latch on well enough to have given him more than a few years more.
 From what I've seen of him so far, his creator went out of his way to
prepare Devon for almost any social problem concerning Helena."

"His creator?  Helena's dad?"

"Yes."

"What do you know about him?"

"Very little," Lenn confessed.  "I confirmed through public sources
that Elam Priella did possess an independent robot construction license
for the period around the time Devon was built.  And Devon was properly
registered to him, that registry having been turned over to Helena on
Mr. Priella's death.  Other than that, it's a total blank.  Maybe we
should call Drew and have him dig around for a bit?"

"I'm tempted," I breathed out.  "How long?"

"If nothing bad happens, I'd give him two weeks," Lenn reported.

"What about making a memory copy of him?"

She considered that for a moment.  "It's possible.  But it'll have to
be done before his brain freezes up.  Afterward..."

"Right."  I grimaced before turning to look toward the door.  A memory
copy of a frozen mind would only result in another frozen mind upon
restore.  "Chelsea!  Lynda!"

A moment later, the beautiful, and now concerned, fembots in question
stepped inside.  "Something wrong, Deanna?" Lynda asked.

"How'd you two like to work with Bryce and stay close to Helena and
Devon?" I asked.

Chelsea and Lynda exchanged a look before they gazed once more on me.
"If you feel it's right," the former mused.

"But what could we do in this case, Deanna?" the latter asked.

"Spend as much time as you can with Devon," I ordered.  "Find out all
the legal, financial and other arrangements concerning Helena.  I've
got a strong feeling that before he passed away, Helena's father made
sure that Devon could take care of things on his own without Helena
having to be involved about it.  When he dies, Helena's gonna be left
high and dry.  I don't want that to happen to her.  Okay?"

"You got it," Lynda replied as both girls nodded.

"And try to keep him calm.  Run his errands and try to take care of
anything that needs taking care of," I added, hoping that anything that
reduced Devon's activities would slow down the consumption of his
remaining resources and prolong his existence.

**    **    **

"So he was mostly involved in stock investment and mutual funds,
right?"

"Pretty much the same things Mrs. Yakim was involved in," Devon said,
his hands dancing over the keyboard.  We were relaxing in his small
bedroom.  Helena was working in the kitchen preparing a late lunch.  "A
lot of the initial programming Mr. Priella gave me before I came
on-line dealt with properly managing Helena's stock portfolios.
Believe me, making sure the money keeps coming in takes a lot of my
time every day."  He tapped a place on the screen before him.  "Okay,
this looks good," he mused before going to work on the keyboard.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Investing into a new bio-tech start-up I've been keeping an eye on for
the last couple months.  If it takes off like people've been
predicting, it'll earn Helena a load of money.  Maybe enough to not
need me anymore.  They just got listed on the TSX..."

"TSX?"

"Toronto Stock Exchange."

"Ah!"

I fell silent as Devon made the necessary transfer of funds.  I wanted
to know how long he'd known his time was limited.  I couldn't bring
myself to ask, though.  Once that was done, he scanned through various
performance reports for those stocks he had invested in Helena's name,
and then he glanced at me.  "She's worth quite a bit."  Devon smiled
before quoting a dollar figure.

A very *high* dollar figure.  "Whoa!" I breathed out.  "She's really
set for life."

"That she is," he confirmed, sitting back in his chair.  "But is it
enough?" he added, leaving me more confused on why he had to work so
hard everyday chasing the last dollar when they were already so well
off.

I gazed on him.  "What do you mean?"

Devon stared at me for a moment, and then he looked away.  "Ever since
I began to realize that my existence might come to an end much sooner
than would be good for Helena, I've..."  He paused for a moment.  "I've
wondered if I've done the right thing for Helena.  When he built me,
Mr. Priella ordered me to do everything to ensure Helena could be safe
and happy.  I've done my best to obey that command."

"But now, you're not sure if you've made the best choices for her," I
whispered.

"Choices according to what Mr. and Mrs. Priella would -- as far as I
understood them -- have seen as right and wrong," he augmented.  "There
were times when Helena wanted to go out and meet friends, be part of
society as a whole.  But how would people react to what she really is?
There are so few like her in the world today.  How would 'normal'
people react to her?  Could someone form a relationship with her?  And
not hurt her afterwards?"  Here, he paused again before he shrugged.
"From what I've learned from the research I've done over the Net, her
chances weren't good."  He then held up a hand.  "But then again, I
could be mistaken.  The Net might be a vast resource, but it doesn't
cover everything."

"Nowhere close," I agreed, shaking my head, and then I considered what
Devon just told me.  "You know, you've done a lot of good for her even
if you've pretty much sheltered her from what's out there, Devon.  You
should be damned proud of yourself."

A smile crossed his face.  "Thanks, Bryce.  I..."

His face suddenly froze as his body became very still.  It didn't take
me more than a couple seconds to realize that something in his mind had
locked up.  With the decreasing level of usable space in his brain, his
systems had to spend more time scavenging space to carry out their
various functions as efficiently as possible.  Committing the resources
to do that took away from everything else.

Considering that, I couldn't imagine what it must've been like for
'bots of Devon's generation and earlier.  How could they live?  How
could they advance themselves?  How could they gain independent
thought, develop their own self-will, if their personality matrixes and
memory chips couldn't be periodically recycled?  To believe that
breakthrough only happened twenty years ago, when Mom was just a
child...!

He jerked twice, blinking several times before he stared at me.  "I
blanked out again?"

I bit my lower lip.  "Yeah.  Aren't you scared, Devon?"

He considered that for a moment, and then he shook his head.  "Not for
myself.  More for Helena."

"I'd be scared," I admitted, the very human part of my implanted
personality reacting to that thought.  That left me with the
interesting question of what it is like to have only been a robot for
all of your memories.  For the first time, I realized that even my
fellow robots can be very different from each other.  And that brought
another question to mind:  "After all, what happens when a robot dies?"

Devon nodded.  "Interesting question..."

**    **    **

The remainder of the week passed by in a blur.

To be extra sure about Helena's parents and what they might have
arranged concerning her -- I strongly believe it's better to be safe
than sorry.  Especially when it comes to potential surprises your
deceased parents might have kept hidden from you "for your own good" --
I contacted Drew Keir back in Welland and asked him to do a detailed
background check on both Elam Priella, and his wife Sadira.

He promised an initial summary as soon as he started getting results.

I then spent some time talking to Mrs. Jerome.  With Helena's
permission, I passed on the news of Devon's problem to our neighbour
from Louisiana.  What I told her saddened her greatly.  As I realized
when I first met my grand-aunt's friend, Devon had made quite an impact
on the entire cottage community.  Without hesitation, Mrs. Jerome
arranged for a village-wide meeting to pass on the news to all
concerned.

That evening, I got my girls -- save for Bryce, Chelsea and Lynda, who
were still staying with Devon and Helena -- together to brainstorm ways
for Helena to hang onto what she could of Devon.  The only logical way
to do that, we soon realized, was to create a robot, and then program
it with all of Devon's knowledge and memories.  Converting the old
pre-Tyson Protocol matrix coding to post-Protocol coding was easy
enough to do, Lenn stated.  It would just take a good chunk of
processing time, and some equipment she'd need to go back and retrieve,
or have sent up.  All we really had to decide now was what sort of
robot we would make as Devon's "child," and get his consent.

I was immediately for an M-'bot, building him with a mixture of Devon's
and Helena's to make him a symbolic "son" of them both.  Even if there
had been nothing in the way of intimate relations between them, they
had lived pretty much as a family since her parents died.  If Devon had
been given sexual programming -- that he *hadn't* still shocked the
hell out of me even now, though that lack might have contributed to him
as long as he has managed otherwise -- their relationship would have
developed pretty much as any other relationship between a 'bot and
human.  Building a "child" for them both would acknowledge that.

Rayven disagreed, proposing that we use a bi-'bot -- even better, a
herm-'bot -- and construct her in such a way so that she would be
Devon's "child" only, with no physical resemblance to Helena.  Given
her lack of any sexual experience, not to mention the long-festering
fears she possesses when it comes to being intimate with anyone else,
dealing with someone like her would be the best course to take.  That
Helena deserved the chance to break out of her emotional shell and
experience the world beyond the cocoon Devon had constructed for her
was a given, Rayven believed.  Our responsibility now was to help her
gain the best experience possible before possibly running into the bad
stuff.  To do this meant that Helena required a companion who could
emotionally relate to her in every way possible.  An M-'bot, even with
all the best social programming available, simply wasn't up to the task
in the long run.  A bi-'bot or herm-'bot was.

Hearing that suggestion from Rayven, who technically didn't have any
"real" human experience to draw on, really surprised me.

Reika and Irene agreed to that without hesitation.  Given their
bi-gendered nature and their experience being intimate with each other,
I could understand that.  Soon understanding the logic of Rayven's
argument, Lenn also agreed...

*    *    *

First thing Thursday morning, another of our new neighbours, a
conservative radio talk-show host from Philadelphia named Jamie
Lawrence -- he was currently enjoying a two-month vacation from his job
in the City of Brotherly Love -- came by to see me.  Like Mrs. Jerome,
Jamie -- as he insisted that I'd call him; he's only in his mid-forties
-- had long come to like Devon.  He'd also met Helena in passing and
like the others who owned cottages up here, felt it was wrong for the
poor girl to isolate herself from society like she had.  Taking a dare,
I told him about Helena's true sexual state.  That information shocked
him for a second, and then he sighed.  "You'll help her better
understand herself, won't you, Deanna?" he asked me.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation.

He nodded before breathing out, "Good.  It's sad when people are forced
to make choices like that, isn't it?"

"What would you have her do?" I asked, sensing he was talking about
Helena possibly facing corrective surgery to make her a "real" girl.

"What I'd propose...?"  His voice trailed off for a second as he
considered my question, and then he chuckled.  "It doesn't matter what
I'd propose or suggest.  The choice is ultimately Helena's in the end.
What I would want to make sure of -- for her sake -- is for her to make
an *informed* choice before either going to have corrective surgery, or
living as she is now.  That's what I preach on my shows.  I may agree
or disagree with what you think on a certain topic, what your politics
are, what your view on social issues are.  But I will *never, **ever***
disrespect your right to hold those opinions.  I fight for everyone to
have the right to make informed decisions.  Ignorance has killed a lot
of things in the past.  I want to make sure that doesn't happen again."

I had to admit, I was impressed with Jamie.  I didn't detect any of the
well-disguised misconceptions people seemingly like him tended to
sprout over the airwaves in the mini-speech he just gave me.  "Give me
the Buffalo station that carries your show," I told him.

He winked at me.  "You bet..."

*    *    *

"I thank you all for coming to our village meeting tonight," Mrs.
Jerome announced in opening to the meeting at the seasonal corner
store/coffee shop that sat at the corner of Concession Seventeen and
Farlain Lake Road East.  Nearly fifty people were present.  The
Priellas weren't here.  Neither were Bryce, Chelsea or Lynda.  I was a
little wary about not cluing Helena in on the meeting, but Mrs. Jerome
had waved me off.  She believed it was best for everyone to hear the
story at once so that a unified response can be made to Helena when the
time came.  "Before we begin on the main topic of tonight's meeting,
I'd like to welcome Natasha Yakim's grand-niece, Deanna Hordye, to our
small community.  And as many of you are probably aware, she didn't
come alone tonight.  Four of her lovely robot companions have
accompanied her."

Everyone applauded as I stood up, giving the people around me a series
of graceful *kyoungnye* bows.  Lenn, Reika, Irene and Rayven did the
same.  As soon as things quieted down, Mrs. Jerome sighed.
"Unfortunately, I've some sad news concerning someone we've all pretty
much taken into our hearts over the last decade and more.  I'm speaking
about Devon Priella.  We know who he is, what he is, and whom he lives
with.  Sadly, this morning, Deanna's companions learned of a very
severe problem with Devon.  To best explain this, I'll ask one of them,
Marlenn Ioanis, to come up and give us the whole story.  Marlenn,
please?"

We watched as Lenn walked up to the podium.  After quickly introducing
herself, she began.  The explanation took about ten minutes.  Watching
the crowd around us, I noted the shocked looks crossing many faces.
For most of the female residents, there wasn't a dry eye in sight.  The
male residents all looked as if their best drinking buddy had just
contracted a terminal illness.  One particular fellow, a man in his
fifties sitting close to Jamie Lawrence, blurted out, "You mean to say
that the man who saved my grandson's life is *dying?!*"

Lenn nodded.  "In effect, yes."

"Can't you stop it?" a woman off to my right wondered.

Lenn shook her head.  "No.  Even if we shut down all his systems and
freeze him in place, we're just delaying the inevitable.  I can't
predict if technology will come along soon that could help us in this
case.  No one versed in 'bot technology could make a call like that,
ma'am.  If we decided to wait it out, how long would we have to wait?
And what would happen to Helena while we waited?"

"What about augmenting his memory capacity?" another man behind me
asked.

Lenn sighed.  "Not in this case.  The Tyron Protocol forced a
fundamental change when it became widespread.  Before the Protocol, it
was impossible to insert extra memory into a 'bot's mind anymore than
you can to a human mind.  After the Protocol, it became possible, but
it can't be retroactively applied to pre-Protocol 'bot hardware.  I..."
 She paused before taking a deep breath.  "In this case, the only
option for Devon is having a memory copy performed.  What would that
mean for Devon?  I can't answer that.  I have my beliefs when it comes
to 'bots and their souls, but that's me.  As to what all of you choose
to believe, that's up to you as well.  What it'll mean for Devon in the
end..."

"Only he can know that," Jamie finished.  "Because it is his journey to
take."

"Exactly."

"What do you think, Ms. Hordye?" the fellow who spoke about Devon's
saving his grandson asked.

I looked at him.  "I'm not sure what to say," I admitted.  "I've only
known Devon really for a day.  One meeting with him when we first
arrived here in Penetanguishene, then I learned more about him from
Helena and my girls.  I can tell that you all care for him very much.
I'm glad for that.  Really, I am.  If it were up to me, I'd offer
whatever I could so that his spirit can continue to touch us, all of us
here, even if he himself leaves this life for the next."  I paused
before taking a deep breath.  "But I have to remind you that the final
decision about this matter lies with Helena and Devon.  If they want
our help, we will be there for them.  I'll be there for them.  But we
should keep in mind that they may choose to let things progress as
Nature allows.  We must respect that, too."

"You mean Devon might decide to...?" Jamie's voice stuttered.

I nodded, gazing his way.  "He might."

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Jerome breathed.

The possibility of that happening quickly had almost everyone
chattering away within seconds.  As soon as things quieted down enough,
I carried on, "Let me talk to Helena about this," I offered.  "We still
have some time left before we'd have to make some hard decisions."

Nods responded...

*    *    *

"I never realized how much everyone else cared for him.  It's
heartening to know that out in the country where people are just
people, they easily accept 'bots as beings in their own right."

Helena handed me a cup of coffee.  It was late in the evening, some
hours after the village meeting ended.  Devon had taken Bryce, Chelsea
and Lynda on a late-night tour of the area around Farlain Lake, leaving
us alone in the Priellas' cabin.  "They do.  When he goes, they'll miss
him a lot.  Almost as much as you'll miss him."  I kept my voice
respectful, so as to not set Helena off.  Even if I could relate to her
on many levels, I really didn't *know* my host.  "You know, Helen,
there is a way to..."

I felt my voice trail off.  A flare of hope appeared in her eyes.
"Save him?"

I breathed out.  "Not save him.  But to preserve his memories and
knowledge.  You know about IP tech, don't you?"

She nodded.  "It's how four of your robots were created.  Bryce told
me," she added quickly, and then she stared at me.  "You mean make a
copy of Devon's memories?"

I nodded, sensing that I was making progress.  "Yes.  It wouldn't
really be him, though.  We're talking about getting a modern 'bot body
and brain, with all the latest programming improvements.  This version
of Devon would live a lot longer than the original..."

"It wouldn't really be him, in other words."

I stared at her, sighing.  Many 'bots, Lenn told me once, believed
memories in and of themselves constituted a 'bot's very "soul."  To
copy those memories in an attempt to preserve that "soul" within this
life, in essence, meant that a 'bot really wouldn't "die" in the human
sense of the term.  I didn't accept that theory, though.  Considering
the sheer differences between Devon and his soon-to-come "child" and
how that would affect that "child's" very life from the moment she was
first activated...!

"No," I answered, shaking my head.  "It wouldn't be him."

Helena gazed at her hands for a moment, and then she shook her head.
"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I...!  Well..."  Her voice started to break, and then she threw up her
hands as she bolted up, moving to pace in the clear area beside the
armchairs and the coffee table.  "I don't know, Deanna!  I just don't
know!  I don't want to lose him, but..."

"You'll lose him no matter what, Helen," I warned her.

"I know that!" she snapped, hugging herself as she shivered.  "I know!
I know..."

I got up, walking over to draw her into my arms.  She grabbed me
fiercely, burying her face into the crook of my neck.  As she began to
sob, I reached up to gently stroke her hair.  I whispered reassurances
into her ear as I shifted her back to a chair, allowing her to sit in
my lap as she continued to weep.  For what seemed an eternity, we
stayed there, her crying for her dying friend and companion, I
remaining as still as I could, being an emotional rock for her to cling
onto as she vented out her innermost heart and soul at the unfairness
of the Universe.

Before I knew it, Helena had shifted her head around to place a tender
kiss on my cheek.  Taken by surprise, I remained frozen in place as she
started to trail kisses toward my lips.  I reached up to cup her cheeks
as our lips touched, and then shifted her around in my lap so we could
gaze right into the other's eyes.  My thumbs stroked dry her damp
cheeks, and then I allowed her to lean in.  We kissed again, pulling
ourselves closer to each other as I allowed my mouth to open.
Instinctively, Helena's tongue probed past my teeth to tap my own.  I
suckled on it for a moment, and then I pushed my tongue into her mouth
to do the same.  Helena moaned.  We then pulled apart, allowing me to
gaze once more into her eyes.  Seeing the desperate delight in those
sky blue orbs, I realized that she might actually *not* be ready for
this.  Okay, time to put on the brakes gently, let her down slowly and
cautiously.  At the same time, I had to make sure she didn't feel at
fault.

"Helen...?"

"Deanna," she breathed in, and then she blinked, her eyes falling down
to my navel.  "Oh, wow..."

"Do you want this?" I whispered.

She looked at me, her surprise at my question clearly evident.  "I
dunno," she admitted before breathing out, "No.  I do know.  I want
this.  But..."  She sniffed as fresh tears started to flow down her
cheeks.  "It's not you, Deanna.  I like you.  But..."

My eyebrows arched.  "You'd prefer your first time to be with Devon,
right?"

"Yes!!" she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.  "But I can't!  Not with
him!!  It's not fair!  He doesn't even know how!!"

She slumped against me.  I quickly drew my arms around her...

**    **    **

"Create a memory copy of me?"

"It's the best way to go, Devon," Marlenn sighed.  The 'bots were all
sitting together in the living room of Deanna's cabin.  Our owners were
still in Helena's cabin.  Hopefully, Deanna would be able to convince
Helena to go along with this idea after we hashed it out with Devon.

I stared at our hunky guest as he considered what Marlenn had just
proposed.  I couldn't tell if he was having problems trying to
comprehend what was being offered or not.  Finally, he breathed out,
"It'd be like having a child."

"Everything that was you will be part of her.  Or *him,* if you'd want
us to use an M-'bot in lieu of a bi-'bot," Rayven emphasized.  "All
your programming.  All your knowledge.  All your feelings, opinions and
beliefs.  They'd all live on through her or him."

"Helena wouldn't be alone," Irene added.  "And all your neighbours
would have something to remember you by, too."

"Someone to still call a friend.  Someone who makes them feel safe,"
Reika continued.  "Granted, you were built to serve and protect Helena,
but you've made an impact with a lot of people up here, Devon.  They'll
be hurt almost as badly as Helena when you go."

"Do you want to do that to them, Dev?" Lynda asked.

He shook his head.  "No, of course not.  But would it be right for my
'child' to continue to shield Helena like I've done all this time?
Will Helena continue to accept that?"

"She's gotta make that choice in the end, Devon," Chelsea noted.  "Now
that she knows Deanna, I think she'll be inspired to get out there and
see the world for what it really is.  The bad stuff *and* the good
stuff, too.  And if she has your kid at her side as well as Deanna..."

I reached over to give his hand a squeeze.  "She'll probably feel a lot
more safe.  You'll still be there in spirit, man."

He returned my look, lightly smiling.  "Well, why not?"

We all relaxed.  "Okay, let's make some preliminary plans," Marlenn
announced.  "I'll put out proposals as to what our newest sibling will
be like.  We'll all vote on it, but Devon will have the right to make
the final decision in the end.  Okay?"

"Okay," the others and I replied, many of us nodding.

"Alright, then.  First decision:  what type of 'bot will it be?"

"M-'bot," Lynda proposed.

"Bi," Rayven countered.

No other suggestions.  "All in favour for an M-'bot?" Marlenn asked.
Chelsea, Lynda and I voted "yea."  "All in favour for a bi-'bot?"
Reika, Irene and Rayven voted "yea."  "Devon?" Marlenn then looked at
the lone M-'bot in the room.

"Can a herm-'bot be built instead?" he asked.

"That's a very specialized type of robot," Marlenn replied.  "It can be
done, but to get the right sort of chassis and component parts will add
to the expense.  A lot of companies offer bi-'bot chasses and parts for
a much cheaper price.  Same function, but with something extra."

He considered that.  "Bi."

With a nod, Marlenn made a notation on her PDA.  One of the many human
quirks my creator possessed as part of her birthright, she always kept
the PDA around to make work notes to reference later when or if they
were needed.  "Bi it is, then.  Okay, let's go for what she'll look
like."

Deciding *that* took almost an hour by my internal clock.  Devon didn't
want us to create someone that bore any sort of strong resemblance to
him.  He believed that even if his "child" would inherit all his
knowledge and programming so she could serve Helena as well as he had,
Helena certainly didn't deserve to look on someone who directly
reminded her of him.  So we elected on a brown-eyed girl with light
brown/blonde hair that would be about the same length as Helena's.  She
would be taller, the same height as Deanna.  Nothing exaggerated when
it came to her boobs or anything.  A solid, dependable girl who'd have
some extras to use with those she'd sleep with.

"There's one more thing," Marlenn then announced.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Will she be circumcised or not?  Helena is Jewish, remember?"

We all looked at each other before laughter filled the room...

**    **    **

Friday morning was grey and bleak; a cold front from Manitoba was
sweeping across Lakes Superior and Huron to crash into a warm front
coming north from the Gulf of Mexico.  Result:  Noah's deluge over most
of southern Ontario.  Almost everyone in the village stayed indoors for
the day.  Save Jamie Lawrence, as Reika was quick to notice.  Seeing
him through the living room window, I noted he was draped in a
raincoat, his fishing gear in one hand.  I walked over to call out
through the front door, "Jamie, where the hell are you going?!"

"What does it look like?!" he replied with a laugh, holding up his
fishing rod.  "It's the best time to get them!"

I shook my head before moving to head back inside when I spotted
someone running toward my cabin.  It was Helena, an umbrella hovering
over her head.  "What are you doing coming here?" I demanded, stepping
inside so she could come in without getting soaked too much.

She ducked in, folding the umbrella outside before allowing it to
dribble over the floor.  Reika quickly took it and placed it in a
nearby bucket.  "I wanted to stay with you and the others today.  Would
you mind?"

She gave me a hopeful look.  "What about Devon?" I wondered.

"I shut him down for the day," she told me.  "He looked like he really
needed the rest."

I slowly nodded, waving her to a chair.  "Some tea please, Reika?"

"Right away," Reika replied before heading into the kitchen.

"Thanks," Helena called out as she ran a hand through her hair, and
then she stared at me.  "Deanna, about last night..."

"Don't apologize."  I shook my head before taking a deep breath.
"Helen, while we were together, the girls and Devon had a meeting..."

"About creating a bi-'bot programmed with his knowledge and memories,"
she finished with a grin.

"He told you?"

"Yes, he did.  I..."  Helena then stopped as she considered what to
say, and then she continued, "If you're willing to do this for me,
I..."

I waved her off.  "You deserve it.  I'm just glad you're not angry
about it, considering our talk last night.  My girls felt it had to be
his decision too, since knowing he would soon no longer be able
satisfying his function was hurting him greatly."  I shrugged.  "All we
have to do now is choose a name for her."

"A name?"  Helena blinked.  She then hummed for a moment before staring
once more on me.  "Andrea."

"'Andrea?'"

"It's my middle name.  Helena Andrea Priella."

"Ah!"  I perked, nodding.  "That's a good name."

Helena gave me a grateful smile before she stared at me.  "Now all I
have to do is decide what I'll need to be doing with her now."

"Well, you'll definitely need Andrea to manage all the investments your
father made to support you," I warned her.  "And if you intend to stay
up here indefinitely, you'll pretty much need her to fall into the same
role Devon's done for you in the past."

"I should start to learn some things," she admitted.

"I know," I acknowledged that comment with a nod.  "But you can do it,
Helen.  It all starts by believing in yourself."

She blushed.  "Thanks."

The video phone rang.  "I got it!" Irene called from the bedroom.  A
moment later, she called out, "Deanna?!  It's Andrew!"

"Right!"  I hobbled over to the bedroom, sitting down before the phone
to gaze on Drew Keir's image.  "Hey, Drew!  What's up?!"

"Got some information on the Priellas," he stated.  "Professor Elam
Priella and his wife, Doctor Sadira Priella."

My eyes went wide.  "'Doctor?!'"

"Medical doctorate in genetic therapy," Drew reported.  "Elam Priella
had a PhD in nano-medical sciences."

"What's nano-medicine?"

"The use of nanites in various aspects of human medicine," Lenn's voice
spoke up from behind me.  "Everything from micro-surgery to gene
therapy.  Even getting into the more forbidden sciences like gene
manipulation.  He must have been involved in it right from the very
beginning.  Hello, Drew."

Drew nodded.  "Hey, Lenn."

"Get Helena in here," I told Reika before turning back to Drew.  "So
what were they doing together?"

"They made a nice fortune on several patents stemming from research
into nanite applications in various medical disciplines, mostly in the
fields Lenn just mentioned now," Drew explained.  "Once they retired,
they moved to Penetang and invested their fortune."

"To support their daughter," I finished.

"To support their *adopted* daughter," Drew amended.

I blinked.  "Adopted?"

"What's this about adoption?"

I spun around to see Helena standing at the doorway to the bedroom.
"Didn't you know?" I asked.

"Know what?!" Helena demanded.

"You're adopted, Miss Priella," Drew answered.

Silence fell as Helena took that in, and then she shook her head.
"That's not possible," she stated, moving to sit on the bed to my
right.  "Believe me, if I was adopted, I'm sure my parents would've
told me about that!  How'd you find this out?!  With DNA testing so
common these days...!"

"Special precautions were taken in your case, Miss Priella," Drew
explained.

"When's your birthday?" I asked.

"August the fifteenth," Helena answered.

"That's actually the day your adoption was officially registered by the
province," Drew warned.

I spun on Drew.  "How old?!"

He gazed right into my eyes.  "Thirty-four years ago."

My mind seemed to blank out on hearing my guest's age.

*My* age.

"Yes, I'm going to be thirty-four this year, but that still..."

My guest's age.

My age.

We're the same age.

"You actually are thirty-four right now, Miss Priella."

We're the same age.

My age.

My...

"Her real birthday is July seventeenth," I spoke up.

Helena looked at me.  "What?"

Drew nodded.

I blinked, reaching over to grasp my guest's...

"Born at Welland County General Hospital?" I asked.

Drew nodded again.

Seeing that, I looked into my guest's...

No.

My *sister's* eyes.

Helena froze for a second, and then her eyes went wide before she
looked on the video phone screen.  "You mean...?"

Drew nodded.  "That's right.  Your real father, who gave you up for
adoption almost immediately after you were born, is Sander Josef
Hordye.  Your real mother, who was led to believe that you had died
shortly after birth by your father and a sympathetic doctor -- this is
the story I got from Sander some weeks ago -- is the late Brenda Alanna
Hordye, *nee* Melanko.  She died two years ago.  And they're also..."

"My parents," I finished.

Helena blinked, and then she turned to gaze into my eyes...

**    **    **

"I never knew about this, Helena.  Your parents never told me
anything."

I tried not to wince too much as Helena paced to and fro in her own
living room.  The mixture of shock, anger and disbelief on her face
spoke volumes about her mood.  I strongly suspected that if someone
ever showed up and claimed to be my template's parents, Mom would react
pretty much in the same way.  "He never told you?!" Helena demanded,
spinning on Devon.  "Nothing at all?!  **Nothing?!!**"

Devon shook her head.  "Nothing.  If I'd found out about this, I
would've told you right away, Helena.  That's the truth!"

Helena tensed, no doubt ready to scream out something.  She then
paused, taking several deep breaths to calm down.  Sinking into her
chair, she allowed her forehead to rest against her hands before
looking at me.  "Would Deanna's grand-aunt have known about this?"

"Can't say," I replied, shaking my head before walking over to sit
beside her.  Giving her hand a warm, supportive squeeze, I then added,
"But if Mrs. Yakim knew you were a hermaphrodite, virtually the same as
Deanna -- and the same age! -- she might've suspected something.
But..."

"Did Deanna's grandmother know?" Helena wondered, shaking her head.
"Damn, she's *my* grandmother, too!  And Mrs. Yakim was..."  Her voice
trailed off before she slumped back in her chair.  "Why?!  Why did they
lie to me like that?!  Why?!"

I couldn't answer that...

**    **    **

My sister.

I'd finally found my twin sister.

A fraternal twin obviously (given the difference of our looks), but
still my twin.

Damn, as soon as Drew mentioned that I had a *twin* sister, I should've
suspected that she'd *also* be an intersexual.

But...

Damn you, Father!

Why?

Why'd you abandon Helena like that?

Why...?

*    *    *

"Dee?"

I looked up from making lunch to see Lenn gazing worriedly at me.
"What is it, Lenn?" I asked.

"Do you want us to go ahead with building that new 'bot for Helena?"

I blinked confusedly before I remembered what the girls had decided the
previous night.  "Oh, right!"  I sighed.  "Go ahead."

"Alright," she replied, turning to leave.  She then stopped before
gazing back at me.  "Are you going to be okay, Dee?"

"Hard to say," I replied.  "Eventually..."

*    *    *

"Hi."

"Hi, yourself."

Helena and I turned to walk toward the lake.  The storm had finally
abated.  The late afternoon sun now shone down on us from the west,
framed by light, fluffy clouds.  "How do you feel now?" I wondered,
reaching over to gently hold her hand.

"Confused," she admitted.  "And angry, too.  How many times did your
parents bring you up here to see your grand-aunt?"

"Don't exactly recall," I replied.  "Five times.  Maybe six.  When did
you start living up here full-time?"

"After I turned ten.  That's when my parents retired.  I mean, my..."

"They're still your parents, Helen," I assured her before shaking my
head.  "To believe..."

"He's still alive, isn't he?"

I stared at her.  "Our father?"  She nodded.  "Yeah.  He moved out on
Mama after I graduated from university.  Lives with his new wife in an
apartment block in Welland, just up the street from where we used to
live.  I..."  I paused before breathing out, "Well, the day he dies, I
won't be going to his funeral, that's for damn sure.  Walking out on
Mama, abandoning you, never telling me about you, *lying* to Mama..."

Helena gazed on me.  "She never knew?  Never suspected?"

"No, she..."  I paused for a second.  "Hell, I don't know!"  I
shrugged.  "According to what Drew and I got out of him, Father
convinced Mama you were so sick that the chances of your surviving
infancy were next to nil.  We were delivered by Caesarean section, you
know.  Mama was unconscious throughout the whole thing, stayed that way
for a few days afterward.  I guess that's when it happened.  Still..."

We turned onto the lane leading to the beach surrounding Farlain Lake.
"What do we do now?" Helena wondered.

"Be a family, of course," I chuckled.

She considered that for a moment.  She then shrugged, a smile curling
her lip.  "I'd like that."

**    **    **

"Feeling a little better?" I asked.

Helena stared at me for a second, and then she slowly nodded before
sinking into her armchair.  "Somewhat," she admitted.  "Where's Devon?"

"Sleeping," I replied, handing her a cup of ginseng tea before sitting
across from her.  "He was looking at the performance of some stocks he
invested in just after you left to see Deanna, then he just froze for a
half-hour."  I shuddered.  "It was scary."

"Something you'll never have to worry about."  She smiled at me before
sipping her tea.

"Unless someone hacks my remote command codes and tries to force-feed a
virus into me," I warned her.  "That's always possible."

"Don't you have programming defences against that?"

"Yeah, I do.  We all do.  But you gotta remember:  if someone can
invent it..."

"Someone can invent something that can work *against* it," she
finished.

"Yeah!"

We both laughed.  Helena drank her tea.  I stared at her, a content
smile on my face as elements of my personality matrix began to focus on
all the physical similarities between this lovely woman before me and
the equally lovely woman I look on as my owner.  Helena and Deanna.
Fraternal twin sisters.  *Twin sisters,* for Heaven's sake!  Separated
at birth.  Why?  Hell, don't ask me.  The only one who does know the
whole story -- the bastard who did it in the first place -- gave some
lame excuse for it, one that told Deanna shit-fuck-all.

Yet, it amazed me that both Deanna and Helena had turned out so well in
the long run.  One raised by her birth family, blessed with great
friends, and then given the chance to go out and chart her own path.
The other abandoned, rescued and raised by an adopted family, having
lived pretty much isolated from society as a whole, yet having come out
of it pretty well, too.  And now they knew each other.  And wanted to
forge the family their father denied them.  And soon, we'll all be
living together down in Welland.

Twin sisters.

Both hermaphrodites.

I love Deanna.

Can I love Helena, too?

Should I...?

Hell, why *not?!*

Rising, I walked over to the home entertainment centre, scanning
through Helena's collection of CDs.  Finding a song I liked -- it's one
of Mom's favourites, too -- I loaded it into the player and hit PLAY
before slinking back over to Helena.  She stared at me curiously,
blinking as I took the tea cup from her.  "Bryce, what are you...?" she
began to ask.

I put the cup on a nearby table, and then I placed a finger on her
lips.  "Shush," I whispered.  "And enjoy."

With that, I began to sway to the music.  Helena's jaw dropped into her
lap as I flecked open the buttons of my shirt, exposing the tank top I
wore underneath.  "A strip dance..." she whispered.  A glance to her
crotch revealed that her little "friend" was now VERY interested in
what I was doing.  Seeing that sent a torrent of sheer pleasure into my
brain as I got to work on my jeans.  Success in every endeavour always
affects me this way.

Helena's eyes went very wide as I allowed them to drop to my knees,
revealing the plain panties I had on underneath.  Yeah, yeah, I know!
I'm a robot.  And yes, I know that robots normally don't wear
underwear.  We don't need it like humans do, especially girls when
their time of the month wheels around.  Well, I'm sorry, but walking
around with nothing between my outer clothes and my skin just doesn't
feel right.  Another part of my human memories.  Besides, it added to
the excitement Helena was feeling as I gave her my impromptu strip
show.  And her feelings are what counted now.

Tossing my shirt aside, I gently slinked onto her lap, trailing my
breath around her face as I slid my hands along the sides of her legs.
Straddling her thighs, I pushed my chest into her tummy, and then I
slid up, allowing our breasts to mash against each other's through our
remaining clothing.  My hands grabbed hers to bring them to the bottom
of my tank top as I stood up in her lap.  She got the hint quick
enough; as I thrust my hands up to the ceiling, she pulled my top up,
exposing my breasts for her.  I leaned into her face as one of my hands
whipped my top clear, and then I gently drew them around Helena's head
as I guided her quivering lips toward one of my very hard nipples.

Again, she didn't need much of a hint as to what to do next.  I gently
turned and twisted my body to the song as Helena licked and suckled
away on my tit.  As this went on, I wondered if my breasts had been
built with the ability to lactate like a normal woman's.  My internal
diagnostics quickly responded to that in the negative.  Oh, darn.
Well, at least my cunt juices were responding properly.

How would Helena react to that?

One way to find out, I guess.

Reaching for her hand now holding me on the left side of my hips, I
shifted those fingers under my panties and between my legs.  They
hesitated on touching my pubic hair, and then I was able to push them
further, allowing them to brush over my nether lips.  Automatically,
one of them curled in to tap my clit, and then it pushed a little way
into my hole.  I let out a faint moan as a storm of ecstasy began to
overwhelm my pleasure buffer and flood my matrix.  My fingers guided
Helena's on, allowing her to explore me as much as she wanted to.

Finally, she pulled her lips away from my breast, gasping for air.  I
sensed her other hand reaching down to do something to her crotch.  No
doubt, she needed to adjust herself so she'd be more comfortable with
her clothes on.  Well, I knew of something better for her.

Would she go along with it?

One way to find out.

Sliding off her legs, I knelt before her.  Helena stared quizzically at
me.  Her eyes went wide again as I reached for her belt buckle.  She
didn't resist however as I undid her belt and unzipped her jeans.  Even
better, her own hands shakily joined in as I pulled her jeans down past
her knees.  Underneath them were a pair of boy's boxer shorts.
Obviously, Helena didn't know of the supplier Deanna relied on to get
specially-made panties that could accommodate her dick and balls while
remaining tight against her cunt.

Already, Helena's own stick -- yep, she's circumcised -- was peeking
out of her boxers.  Gently, I slipped them clear, my mouth and cunt
both dripping at the possibility of having **that** inside me soon.
Breathing on it, I got a cry of shock from Helena.  After pushing her
boxers and pants down to her ankles, I stood up.  One flick of my hand
later, my panties were on the floor nearby.

Now...

Oh, decisions.  Decisions.

Where should it go...?

Eh!

I cried out as Helena bolted up, grabbing me by my shoulders.  Before I
could try to say or do something in response, she shoved me into the
chair she just vacated.  Her hands pushed my legs apart.  She then
stopped, blinking confusedly.  I remained still, my brain still trying
to catch up with what was going on.  Finally, she reached over to grasp
my shoulders firmly.  I opened my eyes to see her staring at me.

"First time?" I whispered.

She jerkily nodded.  "Yeah."

I clicked my tongue, reaching down.  "Okay..."

Helena shuddered as I grabbed her shaft, and then I tenderly guided her
inside me.  As her tip tapped my clit, I yelped, and then bit down hard
so I didn't scare her too much.  Even if I am a 'bot, it **is** her
first time.  She's nervous enough as is, you know.  I...

I...

Oh, maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan...

That feels so goooooooooooood...

(I should mention that my mother was never able to enjoy this like I
can.  I just don't have the worries that always had to concern her
about possible after-effects...)

**    **    **

Saturday morning revealed that Bryce had stayed overnight with Helena.
Watching my sister and Brenda Beemon's replica walk hand-in-hand to my
cabin for breakfast, I couldn't ignore the beautiful afterglow in
Helena's face that good sex brings.  I didn't need three guesses to
ascertain what happened to them.  "Pleasant evening?" I asked after
opening the door for them to step inside.

"Very pleasant," Helena coolly replied, though she couldn't hide her
reddening cheeks.

"Where're Marlenn and Rayve, Deanna?" Bryce asked, noticing that the
two robots in question were missing.

"They left yesterday afternoon to get Andrea's body from a dealer in
North Bay," I reported as Irene and Reika carried in snack trays full
of goodies.  "Lenn also needs more equipment to perform the transfer."
North Bay is a fair-sized city sitting on the shores of Lake
Nippissing, an oval-shaped bit of water poised between the northeast
corner of Georgian Bay and the Ottawa River serving as the border
between Ontario and Quebec.  A trip from Penetanguishene to North Bay
would normally take three to four hours.  "I told them to take it easy
coming back here.  They probably stopped at a hotel overnight..."

The video phone rang.  "I got it!" Chelsea called out as she ducked
into the bedroom.  A moment later, she yelled, "Deanna!  It's Marlenn!"

I rose, hobbling into the bedroom to stare at her image.  "Where are
you, Lenn?"

"We'll be back in an hour," Lenn reported.  The background around her
told me she was calling from the car, it on the move down some highway.
 Rayven was holding the phone for her.  "Some of Rayven's fans spotted
her at a rest stop on Highway 11 and mobbed us for autographs."

"And other things," Rayven's voice echoed from off-screen.

"Did you get some good sex?" Bryce hooted.

"*I* gave her the sex, Bryce!" Lenn answered over Rayven's laughter.

"How does Andrea look?" I wondered.

"She's beautiful, Dee."  Lenn winked at me.  "Helena will love her."

"We're waiting," I cooed.

"I know, I know..."

*    *    *

Lenn and Rayven arrived just before lunch.  Andrea's body, wrapped in
heavy shipping cellophane, was stored in the trunk.  Lenn quickly moved
her into the trailer, and then she sent Rayven to Helena's cabin to
fetch Devon.  Seeing my girl walk him over a few minutes later, I
winced on seeing the dazed look on his face.  "Hey, Dev, how're you
doing?" I asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder just as
Rayven was about to walk him into the trailer so Lenn could get to work
on copying his memories and programming to Andrea.

He stared at me for a moment, clearly trying to muster the mental
resources necessary to give me a proper response.  His lips then
quirked into a smile.  "Take care of her please, Deanna," he whispered
before turning to follow Rayven into the trailer.

I watched him go, a chill racing through me.  Oh, shit!  What the
hell's going on...?

*    *    *

The rest of Saturday passed by very slowly.  My sense of dread
concerning what was happening to Devon inside the trailer didn't abate
as the clock ticked away the minutes and the hours.  Since it was
Rayven's day to spend with me, I kept her close by.  Most of the time,
we spent in the living room with her cradling me in her arms.  The
others sat around us, all staying quiet.  I barely noticed their
presence.  Every once in a while, Reika or Irene would step outside to
look in on Lenn, Devon and Andrea inside the trailer.  No news was good
news.

I knew how much more than a simple memory copy was involved here.

That changed around five-thirty in the afternoon.  Irene walked into
the cabin, a sad smile on her face.  "Deanna, I want to get Helena."

"Go," I ordered her, my frustration in the amount of time this was
taking showing in my voice.  Fortunately, Irene never minds that.

A couple minutes after he left, Martha Jerome came by.  "What's
happening?" she wondered after Lynda welcomed her inside.

"Marlenn's programming a replacement robot with Devon's memories right
now, ma'am," Bryce told her.  "Devon..."

Her voice broke at that moment, she turning away.  I couldn't blame her
for feeling that way concerning Helena's companion.  "Oh, dear!" Mrs.
Jerome gasped, covering her mouth.  "Deanna, let me get Father Peter.
He lives up the street here."

"Can he do Jewish rites?" I wondered.

She nodded in assurance before leaving.  Helena came to the cabin two
minutes after, Irene at her side.  "What's happening, Deanna?!" she
pleaded on seeing me, and then she stumbled toward me as I rose to
embrace her.  "What's happening to Devon?!"

"Helena."

That was Lenn.  I turned to the doorway.  We watched as Lenn stepped
aside, allowing a lovely brown-haired woman my height to walk inside.
Helena turned to stare wide-eyed on Andrea as the latter held up her
right hand.  Sitting in her palm was her remote, the simple two-button
necklace design my own robots had.  Helena blinked, and then she
reached over to take the remote in hand.  Someone had clued her in on
what to do next.

Helena tapped the Activate button, that action making Andrea's body
freeze.  "*Are you this unit's owner, Helena Andrea Priella of the town
municipality of Penetanguishene, county municipality of Simcoe,
province of Ontario?*" the beautiful lady asked in the bone-chilling
monotone 'bots used at times like this.

"Affirmative," Helena confirmed, and then her thumb switched to the
Command button.  "Change permanent residency of owner to read 'city
municipality of Welland, regional municipality of Niagara, province of
Ontario,'" she then ordered before flashing me a smile.

"*Acknowledged,*" Andrea replied.  Then, after Helena's thumb twitched
back to the Activate button, she carried on, "*This unit has been
pre-programmed with special datafiles and programming.  Initialize all
special datafiles and programming or abort?*"

"Initialize."

"*Acknowledged.*"

Silence fell as Andrea's mind incorporated the large database --
Devon's entire life experiences -- into her new thought matrix.
Finally, her face cleared up.  Helena's finger pulled away from her
Activate button as she moved to hang the remote around her new robot's
neck.  They stared at each other for a moment, and then Andrea
whispered in a lilting tenor, "He doesn't have much time left, Helena.
I don't know what's wrong wi-..."

"Am I in time?"

We looked to the doorway to see a Jesuit priest in his late fifties
standing there, Bible and other vestments in hand.  Mrs. Jerome stood
behind him, a hopeful smile on her face.  "You just might be, Padre," I
replied, hobbling over to take his hand, and then I waved to Helena.
"I hope you can help Devon and Helena."  My hand then turned to Andrea.
 "Not to mention Andrea."

He took that in, nodding.  Lenn walked my sister and her new companion
out of the cabin.  Father Peter fell in behind them as Mrs. Jerome
stepped inside to wait with the rest of us for the inevitable...

**    **    **

Devon Priella died twenty-two minutes after Andrea Priella first came
on-line.

She and Helena were at his side when he went.  It was very peaceful and
quiet.  Father Peter Collins, a Jesuit who normally works at the
Martyrs' Shrine church outside of Midland, the town closest to
Penetanguishene, administered final rites.

Given the suddenness of his brain shutting down, Marlenn -- with
Helena's permission -- did a quick autopsy of his central brain to see
what went wrong.  She was quick to discover two things that no one, not
even Devon himself, knew about him.

**One**:  Helena's adopted father had programmed him to shut down
finally should a replacement robot programmed with his memories be
activated.  Any reasons for this were not included in any accessible
memory files.

**Two**:  There was a small memory chip placed inside his brain in a
very obvious location.  It was not connected in any manner with the
remainder of his personality matrix.  In that chip was loaded a simple
text message addressed to Helena **and** Deanna.

*    *    *

"So Helen's dad hoped that when the chance came, she'd go out and find
Deanna," I mused.

"Yes," Andrea replied.  We were busy preparing dinner for Helena, the
day after Devon died.  A funeral for Devon was being arranged by the
people living in the village.  It would be held Wednesday morning.  A
rabbi would be there to administer the ceremony with Father Peter also
in attendance.  "It's strange that Professor Priella would take *this*
approach when it came to Helena reuniting with Deanna.  Why didn't he
just come out and tell her?"

"I dunno," I admitted.  "My brain was loaded with the memories of a
human before I was first activated.  This is *way* beyond me."  I
paused to consider that, and then I shrugged.  "Still, maybe some of
Helena's anger at never being told she was adopted will abate when she
learns that he really did intend to tell her at some point."

"Strange."  Andrea pursed her lips, and then she breathed out, "What is
Deanna doing with Marlenn tonight?"

"It's a Dineeh ceremony called the Enemy Way," I explained.  "It's
meant to chase away any evil spirits -- the Dineeh call them *chendi*
-- that might've been in Devon's body after he died, making sure only
the good spirits remain close to Marlenn because she did the autopsy on
his brain and all that."

Andrea stared at me.  "Will I have these evil spirits?"

"I don't think so," I assured her.  "But if you do, Deanna should be
able to make them go away."

"That's good."  Andrea nodded as she turned back to what she was doing
before she glanced once more at me.  "Bryce?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Will you help me test my sexual programming tonight?"

I blinked.  "Why?"

A smile crossed her face.  "It's best to make sure all's well before
presenting myself properly to my owner, don't you think?  I have a lot
to learn here.  And besides, you are the only one who knows what she
really likes."

I considered that.  It was completely robotically logical of her.  Then
I grinned, my body shuddering in anticipation of what will soon happen
between us.

"That's a good idea..."

*** To be continued... ***

-- 
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