him back in bed, but let him go. Maybe he'd be better off at his shop than at home.
'Dave's gone?' Helen did have that martyred look now.
'Yeah. I got him to eat, and he's gone to work.'
'I'm glad he ate.' She slumped down in a chair as if she were worn out, though how a mech could be tired beat me. 'Phil?'
'Well, what is it?'
'Do you think I'm bad for him? I mean, do you think he'd be happier if I weren't here?'
'He'll go crazy if you keep acting this way around him.'
She winced. Those little hands were twisting about pleadingly, and I felt like an inhuman brute. But I'd started, and I went ahead. 'Even if I cut out your power and changed your coils, he'd probably still be haunted by you.'
'I know. But I can't help it. And I'd make him a good wife, really I would, Phil.'
I gulped; this was getting a little too far. 'And give him strapping sons to boot, I suppose. A man wants flesh and blood, not rubber and metal.'
'Don't, please! I can't think of myself that way; to me, I'm a woman. And you know how perfectly I'm made to imitate a real woman... in all ways. I couldn't give him sons, but in every other way ... I'd try so hard, I know I'd make him a good wife.'
I gave up.
Dave didn't come home that night, nor the next day. Helen was fussing and fuming, wanting me to call the hospitals and the police, but I knew nothing had happened to him. He always carried identification. Still, when he didn't come on the third day, I began to worry. And when Helen started out for his shop, I agreed to go with her.
Dave was there, with another man I didn't know. I parked Helen where he couldn't see her, but where she could hear, and went in as soon as the other fellow left.
Dave looked a little better and seemed glad to see me. 'Hi, Phil— just closing up. Let's go eat.'
Helen couldn't hold back any longer, but came trooping in. 'Come on home, Dave. I've got roast duck with spice stuffing, and you know you love that.'
'Scat!' said Dave. She shrank back, turned to go. 'Oh, all right, stay. You might as well hear it, too. I've sold the shop. The fellow you saw just bought it, and I'm going up to the old fruit ranch I told you about, Phil. I can't stand the mechs any more.'
'You'll starve to death at that,' I told him.
'No, there's a growing demand for old-fashioned fruit, raised out of doors. People are tired of this water- culture stuff. Dad always made a living out of it. I'm leaving as soon as I can get home and pack.'
Helen clung to her idea. 'I'll pack, Dave, while you eat. I've got aPple cobbler for dessert.' The world was toppling under her feet, but she still remembered how crazy he was for apple cobbler.
Helen was a good cook; in fact she was a genius, with all the good Points of a woman and a mech combined. Dave ate well enough, after 'e got started. By the time supper was over, he'd thawed out enough to admit he liked the duck and cobbler, and to thank her for packing. In fact, he even let her kiss him good-bye, though he firmly refused to let her go to the rocket field with him.
Helen was trying to be brave when I got back, and we carried on a stumbling conversation about Mrs. van Styler's servants for a while. But the talk began to lull, and she sat staring out of the window at nothing most of the time. Even the stereo comedy lacked interest for her, and I was glad enough to have her go off to her room.
She could cut her power down to simulate sleep when she chose.
As the days slipped by, I began to realize why she couldn't believe herself a robot.
I got to thinking of her as a girl and companion myself. Except for odd intervals when she went off by herself to brood, or when she kept going to the telescript for a letter that never came, she was as good a companion as a man could ask. There was something homey about the place that Lena had never put there.
I took Helen on a shopping trip to Hudson and she giggled and purred over the wisps of silk and glassheen that were the fashion, tried on endless hats, and conducted herself as any normal girl might. We went trout fishing for a day, where she proved to be as good a sport and as sensibly silent as a man. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and thought she was forgetting Dave. That was before I came home unexpectedly and found her doubled up on the couch, threshing her legs up and down and crying to the high heavens.
It was then I called Dave. They seemed to have trouble in reaching him, and Helen came over beside me while I waited. She was tense and fidgety as an old maid trying to propose. But finally they located Dave.
'What's up, Phil?' he asked as his face came on the viewplate. 'I was just getting my things together to —'
I broke him off. 'Things can't go on the way they are, Dave. I've made up my mind. I'm yanking Helen's coils tonight. It won't be worse than what she's going through now.'
Helen reached up and touched my shoulder. 'Maybe that's best, Phil. I don't blame you.'
Dave's voice cut in. 'Phil, you don't know what you're doing!'
'Of course I do. It'll all be over by the time you can get here. As you heard, she's agreeing.'
There was a black cloud sweeping over Dave's face. 'I won't have it, Phil. She's half mine and I forbid it!'
'Of all the—'
'Go ahead, call me anything you want. I've changed my mind. I was packing to come home when you called.'
Helen jerked around me, her eyes glued to the panel. 'Dave, do you . . .are you—'
'I'm just waking up to what a fool I've been, Helen. Phil, I'll be home in a couple of hours, so if there's anything—'
He didn't have to chase me out. But I heard Helen cooing something about loving to be a rancher's wife before I could shut the door.
Well, I wasn't as surprised as they thought. I think I knew when I called Dave what would happen. No man acts the way Dave had been acting because he hates a girl; only because he thinks he does—and thinks wrong.
No woman ever made a lovelier bride or a sweeter wife. Helen never lost her flare for cooking and making a home. With her gone, the old house seemed empty, and I began to drop out to the ranch once or twice a week. I suppose they had trouble at times, but I never saw it, and I know the neighbors never suspected they were anything but normal man and wife.
Dave grew older, and Helen didn't, of course. But between us, we put lines in her face and grayed her hair without letting Dave know that she wasn't growing old with him; he'd forgotten that she wasn't human, I guess.
I practically forgot, myself. It wasn't until a letter came from Helen this morning that I woke up to reality. There, in her beautiful script, just a trifle shaky in places, was the inevitable that neither Dave nor I had seen.
Dear Phil,
As you know, Dave has had heart trouble for several years now. We expected him to live on just the same, but it seems that wasn't to be. He died in my arms just before sunrise. He sent you his greetings and farewell.
I've one last favor to ask of you, Phil. There is only one thing for me to do when this is finished. Acid will burn out metal as well as flesh, and I'll be dead with Dave.
Please see that we are buried together, and that the morticians do not find my secret.
Dave wanted it that way, too.
Poor, dear Phil. I know you loved Dave as a brother, and how you felt about me.
Please don't grieve too much for us, for we have had a happy life together, and both feel that we should cross this last bridge side by side.
With love and thanks from,
Helen.
It had to come sooner or later, I suppose, and the first shock has worn off now. I'll be leaving in a few minutes to carry out Helen's last instructions.
Dave was a lucky man, and the best friend I ever had. And Helen— Well, as I said, I'm an old man now, and can view things more sanely; I should have married and raised a family, I suppose. But... there was only one Helen
