The Silver Metal Lover by Tanith Lee

of the room to cinders.
    “See you in court, then,” said Clovis.
    Inanely I said, “Austin came up. I said you were at the beach.”
    “I think I am,” said Clovis. “Certainly there is a distinct notion of sand underfoot. Shifting, I surmise.” His face was still surprised. He turned from me and walked back to Silver, glanced at him, walked by him, and reached the door. “You know where everything is,” Clovis said to me. “And if you don’t, now is the time to find out. Jesus screamed and ran,” added Clovis. The apartment door slammed behind him, jarring its mechanisms. And I was alone. Alone with Egyptia’s robot.
    I had to force myself to look at him. From the boots to the long legs, and across—one hand, two hands, loosely at rest by his sides. Arms. Torso. Shoulders with the hair glowing against the blue shirt. Throat. Face. Intact. Whole. Tiger’s eyes. In repose. And yet, what was it? Was I inventing it? The ghost of something, some disorientation, the look on the face of someone who has been sick and is convalescing… No, imagination.
    Did he know the legal position, who owned him, who was borrowing him? Did I have to tell him?
    His amber eyes went into a long, slow blink. Thank God they worked. Thank God they were as beautiful as when I’d first seen them. He smiled at me. “Hallo,” he said.
    “Hallo,” I said. I was so tense I scarcely felt it. “Do you remember me?”
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t know what to say to you,” I said.
    “Say whatever you want.”
    “I mean, do I say: Please sit down, won’t you? Will you have some tea?”
    He laughed. I loved his laugh. Always loved it. But it broke my heart. I was so sad, so sad now he was here with me. Sadder than I’d been at any time, a sadness beyond all tears.
    “I’m quite relaxed,” he said. “I’m always relaxed. You don’t have to work at that one.”
    I was thrown, but now I expected to be thrown. I had to say something to him, which I kept biting back. He saw my hesitation. He raised one eyebrow at me.
    “What?” he said. Human.
Human
.
    “Do you know what happened? What they did to you?”
    “They?”
    “Electronic Metals.”
    “Yes,” he said. No change.
    “
I saw you then
,” I said. It came out raw and harsh.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “That can’t have been very nice for you.”
    “But
you
,” I said. “
You
.”
    “What about me?”
    “Were you unconscious?” I said.
    “Unconscious isn’t really a term you can apply to me,” he said. “Switched off, if you mean that, then partially. To perform the check, at least half of my brain had to be functioning.”
    My stomach knotted together.
    “You mean you were aware?”
    “In a way.”
    “Did it—was it painful?”
    “No. I don’t feel pain. My nerve centers react by a method of alarm reflex rather than a pain reflex. Pain isn’t necessary to my body as a warning signal, as it would be in a human. Therefore, no pain.”
    “You heard what he said. What I said.”
    “I think so.”
    “Are you incapable of dislike?”
    “Yes.”
    “Of hate?”
    “Yes.”
    “Of fear?”
    “Maybe not,” he said. “I don’t analyze myself the way a human does. My preoccupations are outward.”
    “You’re
owned
,” I said. “You belong to Egyptia. You’ve been
lent
to me.”
    “So?”
    “So, are you angry?”
    “Do I look angry?”
    “You use the ego-mode: ‘I’ you say.”
    “Yes. Rather ridiculous if I spoke any other way, not to mention confusing.”
    “Do I irritate you?”
    “No,” he laughed again, very softly. “Ask whatever you want.”
    “Do you like me?” I said.
    “I don’t know you.”
    “But you think, as a robot, you can still get to know me?”
    “Better than most of the humans you spend time with, if you’ll let me.”
    “Do you want to?”
    “Of course.”
    “Do you want to make love to me?” I cried, my heart a hurt, myself angry and in pain and in sorrow, and in fear—all those things he was spared.
    “I want