"Well- No, I don't. It should work both ways."
"In dealing with the law and with people I have found a vast difference between 'should' and 'is.' I've lived with Anita longest of any of us; I've learned to live with her little ways. What you may not realize is that she is the glue that holds the family together."
"How, Brian?"
"There is the obvious matter of her custodianship. As manager of the family finances and businesses she is well-nigh irreplaceable. Perhaps some other one of us could do it but it is certain that no one wants the job and I strongly suspect that no one of us could approach her competence. But in ways other than money she is a strong, capable executive. Whether it is in stopping quarrels between children or in deciding any of the thousand issues that come up in a large household, Anita can always make up her mind and keep things moving. A group family, such as ours, must have a strong, capable leader."
(Strong, capable tyrant, I said under my breath.)
"So. Marjie girl, can you wait a bit and give old Brian time to work it out? Believe that I love Ellen as much as you'do?"
I patted his hand. "Certainly, dear." (But don't take forever!)
"Now, when we get home, will you find Vickie and tell her that you were joking and that you are sorry you upset her? Please, dear."
(Wups! I had been thinking about Ellen so hard that I had forgotten where this conversation started.) "Now wait one moment, Brian. I'll wait and avoid annoying Anita since you tell me it's necessary. But I'm not going to cater to Vickie's racial prejudices."
"You would not be doing so. Our family is not all of one mind in such matters. I agree with you and you will find that Liz does, too. Vickie is somewhat on the fence; she wants to find any excuse to get Ellen back into the family and, now that I've talked to her, is willing to concede that Tongans are just like Maori and that the real test is the person himself. But it's that strange jest you made about yourself that has her upset."
"Oh. Brian, you once told me that you had almost earned a degree in biology when you switched to law."
"Yes. 'Almost' may be too strong."
"Then you know that an artificial person is biologically indistinguishable from an ordinary human being. The lack of a soul does not show."
"Eh? I'm merely a vestryman, dear; souls are a matter for theologians. But it is certainly not difficult to spot a living artifact."
"I didn't say 'living artifact.' That term covers even a talking dog such as Lord Nelson. But an artificial person is strictly limited to human form and appearance. So how can you spot one? That was the silly thing Vickie was saying, that she could always spot one. Take me, for example. Brian, you know my physical being quite thoroughly-I'm happy to say. Am I an ordinary human being? Or an artificial person?"
Brian grinned and licked his lips. "Lovely Marjie, I will testify in any court that you are human to nine decimal places... except where you are angelic. Shall I specify?"
"Knowing your tastes, dear, I don't think it's necessary. Thank you. But please be serious. Assume, for the sake of argument, that I
am an artificial person. How could a man in bed with me-as you were last night and many other nights-tell that I was artificial?"
"Marjie, please drop it. It's not funny."
(Sometimes human people exasperate me beyond endurance.) I said briskly, "I'm an artificial person."
"Marjorie!"
"You won't take my word for it? Must I prove it?"
"Stop joking. Stop this instant! Or, so help me, when I get you home I'll paddle you. Marjorie, I've never laid an ungentle hand on you-on any of my wives. But you are earning a spanking."
"So? See that last bite of tart on your plate? I am about to take it. Slap your hands together right over your plate and stop me."
"Don't be silly."
"Do it. You can't move fast enough to stop me."
We locked eyes. Suddenly he started to slap his hands together. I went into automatic overdrive, picked up my fork, stabbed that bite of tart, pulled back the fork between his closing hands, stopped the overdrive just before I placed the bite between my lips.
(That plastic spoon in the crèche was not discrimination but to protect me. The first time I used a fork I stabbed my lip because I had not yet learned to slow my moves to match unenhanced persons.)
There may not be a word for the expression on Brian's face.
"Is that enough?" I asked him. "No, probably not. My dear, clasp hands with me." I shoved out my right hand.
He hesitated, then took it. I let him control the grasp, then I started slowly to tighten down. "Don't hurt yourself, dear," I warned him. "Let me know when to stop."
Brian is no sissy and can take quite a bit of pain. I was about to slack off, not wishing to break any bones in his hand, when he suddenly said, "Enough!"
I immediately slacked off and started to massage his hand gently with both of mine. "I did not enjoy hurting you, darling, but I had to show you that I am telling the truth. Ordinarily I am careful not to display unusual reflexes or unusual strength. But I do need them in the work I am in. On several occasions enhanced strength and
speed have kept me alive. I am most careful not to use either one unless forced to. Now-is there anything more needed to prove to you that I am what I say I am? I am enhanced in Other ways but speed and strength are easiest to demonstrate."
He answered, "It's time we started home."
On the way home we didn't exchange a dozen words. I am very fond of the luxury of horse-and-buggy rides. But that day I would happily have used something noisy and mechanical-but fast!
For the next few days Brian avoided me; I saw him only at the dinner table. Came a morning when Anita said to me, "Marjorie dear, I'm going into town on a few errands. Will you come along and help me?" Of course I said yes.
She made several stops in the general neighborhood of Gloucester Street and Durham. There was nothing in which she needed my help. I concluded that she simply wanted company and I was pleased by it. Anita is awfully nice to be with as long as one doesn't cross her will.
Finished, we strolled down Cambridge Terrace along the bank of the Avon and on into Hagley Park and the botanic gardens. She picked a sunny spot where we could watch the birds, and got out her knitting. We talked of nothing in particular for a while, or simply sat.
We had been there about half an hour when her phone buzzed. She took it out of her knitting bag, put the button to her ear. "Yes?" Then she added, "Thank you. Off," and put the phone away without offering to tell me who had called her. Her privilege.
Although she did speak of it indirectly: "Tell me, Marjorie, do you ever feel regret? Or a sense of guilt?"
"Why, I do sometimes. Should I? Over what?" I searched my brain as I thought that I had been unusually careful not to upset Anita.
"Over the way you have deceived us and cheated us."
"What?"
"Don't play innocent. I've never had to deal with a creature not of God's Law before. I was not sure that the concept of sin and guilt was one you could understand. Not that it matters, I suppose, now
that you are unmasked. The family is asking for annulment at once; Brian is seeing Mr. Justice Ridgley today."
I sat up very straight. "On what grounds? I've done nothing wrong!"
"Indeed. You forget that, under our laws, a nonhuman cannot enter into a marriage contract with human beings."
VIII