A Borrowed Man by Gene Wolfe

wonderful work you did a century ago.”
    â€œThey’ll burn me! If nobody checks me out, they’ll burn me.”
    I put my arm around her, and she pressed her face against my chest. We sat like that until three ’bots came to clear the table and made us leave.
    Arabella stepped away. “I got your shirt wet.”
    I told her it would dry.
    â€œI know. But it won’t be comfortable until it does. Will you take it off?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œYou’re afraid they’ll punish you. We’re not supposed to do those things.”
    â€œThey wouldn’t do anything serious, just make me put it back on or bring me a new one. But…”
    â€œWhat? What is it, Ern?”
    â€œWe’ll fight. Or I’m afraid we will.”
    â€œI’d like that. Fighting, I wouldn’t be so down, just mad. Mad’s a lot better. ‘Great wit is unto madness near allied.’ Who said that?”
    â€œShakespeare probably. It sounds like him.”
    â€œHe’s lucky.” It sounded serious.
    â€œBecause he can’t be recloned?”
    Arabella nodded, her black curls dancing. “They’ll burn me. You’ve been checked out how many times? Honestly now.”
    â€œThree.”
    â€œOnce for forty days. You said that.”
    â€œI was lying. It was really ten days. One and a half weeks, if you want to look at it like that.”
    â€œAnd now you’re separated. You’ve lost the woman who checked you out.”
    I nodded. “She left me behind in a hotel room.”
    â€œThat’s not as bad as being burned. I can’t bear to think about that.”
    â€œThen don’t. Someone will check you, probably several someones. And before they burn you, the library will offer you for sale at a very low price. Somebody will surely buy you then.”
    â€œAnd have me burned as soon as I begin to show my age. You’re not a woman! You don’t know. We do!”
    â€œThis is the fight I knew would start. I wish you’d come up onto my shelf, so we could fight up there. This is terribly public.”
    Arabella hung her head. “They’d tell me I was going to be burned. They’d only mean it a little bit, but it’s a little bit more every time they say it. Oh, Ern! Can’t you get me out of here?”
    â€œI’ll try. You probably know what I’m going to tell you now, but I’m going to tell you anyway. Maybe reminding you will help. The world population is down to about one billion, but a lot of people want it lower still—a few hundred million. Reclones add to the population. Not a lot, but we’re different and stand out. There’s political pressure against recloning. To escape the pressure as much as possible, the libraries have to treat us like things, like books or tapes, and destroy us in some fashion when we’re no longer useful. Burning is painful, but quick. They could starve us to death or see to it that we died of thirst.”
    â€œYou’re taking their side!”
    â€œNo, I’m explaining why they act as they do. If we want to live, we’ve got to understand why it is they think we’ve got to die. All right if I change the subject?”
    â€œThat depends on—the library will open in a minute or two.”
    â€œAnd a ’bot will come around to shoo us onto our shelves, but you won’t be shooed if you’ll join me on mine.”
    â€œI won’t!”
    â€œThen I’ll join you on yours.”
    â€œDamn it! I—I knew this was going to happen. I’m terribly, terribly sorry that it happened so soon. We’re not married anymore.”
    â€œArabella…” I tried to find words. Maybe I said something sensible. If I did, I can’t remember what it was.
    â€œI know what you want, Ern. Our divorce is final, and you’re not going to get it.” She turned and walked away fast, heels clicking on the floor tiles.
    I