best interests in mind, not those of its human components.'
'I do not want to be a component in a machine,' she said.
'Then,' said I, 'listen in the quiet for the beating of your own heart.'
'It is hard to hear in the noise of the machine,' she whispered.
'But it beats,' I said. 'Listen.'
She kissed me, softly.
'You have been taught to function,' I said, 'not to be alive.'
'How wrong it is to be alive!' she wept.
'Perhaps not,' I suggested.
'I dare not be true to myself,' she said.
'Why not?' I asked.
'Because I think,' she whispered, 'deep within me, there lies a slave.'
'One day you will be awakened,' I said, 'and will discover that it is you yourself who are that slave.'
'Oh, no,' she said.
'Surely you have been curious about her,' I said, 'about that girl, your deep and true self.'
'No, no!' she said. Then for a long time she was quiet. Then she said, 'Yes, I have wondered about her.'
I put my hand gently on her head.
'Even as a girl,' she said, 'lying alone in bed, I wondered what it might be like to lie soft and small, perfumed, helpless, in the arms of a strong man, knowing that he would treat me as he wished, doing with me whatever he wanted.'
'It is uncompromising manhood which thrills you,' I said. 'It is found but rarely on your native world.'
'It is not useful to the machine,' she said.
'No,' I said, 'but note, interestingly, in spite of the fact that you perhaps never in your life on Earth encountered such manhood, yet you were capable of understanding and conceiving it, and longing for its manifestation.'
'How can that be?' she asked, frightened.
'It is a genetic expectation,' I told her, 'more ancient than the caves, a whisper in your brain bespeaking a lost world of nature, a world in which the human being, both male and female, were bred. You were fitted to one world; you found yourself in another. You were a stranger in a country not of your own choosing, a troubled guest, uneasy in a house you knew was not yours.'
'I fear my feelings,' she said.
'They hint to you of nature's world,' I told, her. 'They are inimical to the machine.'
'I must fight them,' she said.
'They are a reminiscence,' I said, 'of a vanished reality. They whisper of old songs. The machine has not yet been able to eradicate them from your brain. Such feelings, in their genetic foundations, lie at the root of women, and of men. They antedate the taming of fire. They were ancient when the first stone knife was lifted to the sun.'
'I must fight them,' she wept.
'Fight yourself then,' I said, 'for it is your deepest self of which they speak.'
'It is wrong to be true to oneself!' she said.
'Perhaps,' I said. 'I do not know.'
'One must always pretend to be other than what one is,' she said.
'Why?' I asked.
'I do not know,' she said.
'Gorean men,' I said, 'you will learn are less tolerant of pretense than the men of Earth.'
'They would force me to be what I truly am, and in my heart long to be?' she asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'I'm frightened,' she whispered. We did not speak for a time. 'Why are there no true men on Earth?' she asked.
'I am sure there are many true men on Earth.' I said. 'But it is much more difficult for them.'
'I do not think there are any men on Earth,' she said, angrily.
'I am sure they exist,' I said.
'What of the others?' she asked.
'Perhaps someday,' I said, 'they will cease to fear their manhood.'
'Is there much hope for those of Earth?' she asked.
'Very little,' I said. 'A reversal of the pathology of centuries would be required.' I smiled. 'The wheels are heavy, and the momentum great,' I said.
'The machine will tear itself apart,' she said.
'I sense that, too,' I said. 'How long can it continue to spread, to grow and devour? Stalemate will be achieved upon the ashes of civilizations.'
'It is horrible,' she said.
'Perhaps it will not occur,' I said.
'Perhaps the lies of civilization are preferable to the truths of barbarism,' she said.
'Perhaps,' I said. 'It is hard to know.'
'Cannot there be a civilization that makes room for the realities of men and women?' she asked.
'A civilization that makes room for life?' I asked.
'Yes,' she said.
'I do not know,' I said. 'Perhaps.'
'You are kind to talk to me,' she said.
'Once we were both of Earth,' I said.
'How can you talk to me like this and yet keep me a slave?' she asked.
'I do not detect the difficulty,' I said.
'Oh,' she said.
'One of the pleasant things about owning a slave,' I said, 'is the opportunity to converse with her, to listen to her, to hear her express herself, her feelings and ideas. One can learn much from a slave. Many slaves, like yourself, are highly intelligent. They can express themselves articulately, clearly, trenchantly and lyrically. It is a great pleasure to talk with them.'
'I see,' she said.
'Then, when one wishes,' I said, 'one puts them again on their knees.'
'You are cruel,' she said.
'Kiss me, Slave,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said, and kissed me, softly.
We were then silent for a time.
'Master,' she whispered.
'Yes,' I said.
'I begin to sense,' said she, 'what it might be like to be a true slave.'
'You are an ignorant girl,' I said.
'I have learned some things,' she said.
'Very little,' I said.
'I have learned to obey,' she said, 'and to call free men, 'Master. '
'What else have you learned?' I asked.
'Something which you have taught me,' she whispered.
'What is that?' I asked.
'I have learned to need the touch of a man,' she said.
'I will sleep now,' I said.
'Please do not sleep now,' she said. I felt her fingers tips at my shoulder.
'Touch me,' she begged. 'Touch me-as a slave girl.'
'Do you beg it?' I asked.
