So why was a robot delivering breakfast in bed? Purely a trial run, with an imitation breakfast. Food was too scarce to waste on a simulation.
And if this was a trial, X-HB-9 was doomed. Dar frowned. "But I don't understand. All you had to do was wait until the door was open. Fess!"
"Yes, Dar?" A humanoid robot stepped into the room. His head was a stainless steel sphere with binocular lenses, an audio pickup, and a loudspeaker, positioned in a rough semblance of a human face. His body was a flattened tube, big enough to have some storage capacity for tools and spare components; his arms and legs were sections of pipe with universal joints. His gait was a bit awkward, like that of a gangly adolescent.
"What did you see in the kitchen?"
"X-HB-9 came up to the autochef, waited for its chime, then reached up to crash into the door. The enamel on the autochef is chipped, too."
Dar sighed. "One more fix-up for me to get to. Damn! This whole shelter's put together with chewing gum and baling wire!"
"It is still more salubrious than a PEST prison, Dar—especially when you consider that no one is torturing you to reveal psionic powers that you do not have."
"Yeah, but it doesn't work! Why didn't the autochef open its door?"
"Because X-HB-9 has no provision for cueing it to do so."
Dar lifted his head slowly, eyes widening. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"
Fess tactfully forbore to comment; from contextual analysis, it could tell Dar's question was rhetorical.
"I was so chirpy about getting the take-out-the-tray part of the program right, that I forgot to program X-HB-9 to open the door!" Dar slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. "All these details that I keep overlooking. Where the hell is Lona, anyway?"
Fess was unexpectedly silent.
"No, no!" Dar said quickly. "The PEST immigration authorities might trace the radio signal. Don't try to contact her."
"I am merely attempting an extrapolation of her activities, based on past records, Dar."
"Back when you used to take her there, you mean." It still rankled that Lona had only started leaving Fess with Dar after she had made herself a new guidance computer that did even better piloting than Fess had.
"After all, he's just a general purpose robot," she had explained. "GAP is built to do guidance and piloting only—of course he's better at it! And I really do need a specialist. PEST has tightened security around Terra again, and it takes some very careful astrogating to slip through their net."
"No argument." Dar held up a hand. "The important thing about sending you away, is to get you back. Just seems kind of poor of you to dump good old Fess just because you've got a new one."
"Oh, he won't mind. He really won't, Dar—he's a machine": You keep forgetting that. Computers are just machines; they don't really think, and they don't have feelings."
"I know, I know! It's just that… well… I wouldn't have expected it of you, that's all."
"But you shouldn't care." Lona swayed a little closer. "Or do you identify with him, darling? You shouldn't, you know."
"Yeah. After all, I never get to go to Terra with you, at all."
"But you did—vicariously. As long as I was taking Fess with me. And now you're feeling rejected. Is that it?"
"What can I feel, when you keep going off and leaving me? I know, I know, you don't have any choice—but you don't have to be so damned happy about it."
"Poor darling." The sway turned into a snuggle. "I know you feel left out—but honestly, it wouldn't make sense to put us both into danger of being arrested, and I'm the one who has the contacts."
"You didn't, the first time you went."
"No, I had one—Lari Plandor."
Dar felt a stab of jealousy. "Yes, just a close friend left over from your college days."
"And that's all he ever was, too. Mind you, I'm not saying he didn't want to be more—but I didn't."
"Yeah, I know. And you didn't want to be cruel, so you stayed friendly. Aloof, but friendly."
"Yes, and it came in handy when we decided to start up our own business. A friend in the purchasing department of Amalgamated Automatons was just what we needed."
"Still do, I suppose," Dar sighed. "And are you still aloof to him?"
"Well, I can't be, now, can I? When I'm trying to get him to place an order for a thousand new components. I mean, I have to be a little warmer."
"Just so long as you don't get him fired up." But Dar felt his stomach sinking; how could any man not get fired up when he looked at Lona?
"I can't control what he feels."
The hell she couldn't. "Let me amend that—'just so long as you don't get interested in him.' "
"Silly! Do you really think I could feel amorous with anybody but you?"
Do lady kangaroos have pockets? Dar carefully noted that she had avoided the direct answer. "What've I got that he hasn't got?"
"Me," Lona answered. "All my clients have are my order forms. After all, I don't feel toward them the way I feel toward you."
"Oh? And how do you feel toward me?"
"I'm in love with you," she murmured as her lips met his, and her body curved into his.
Dar shook his head with a sigh—it had been a wonderful way to say "good-bye." He couldn't understand his luck—her clients had status, wealth, influence, sophistication, looks—but, true to her word, he had her.
On the other hand, two hours later, she'd been space-borne again, heading for Terra—and he'd stayed here to watch the factory, with her discarded robot. It still rankled.
But not too much—it had been very lonely whenever she had taken off for the fleshpots of Terra, and Fess was good company.
Fleshpots—the thought sent a shiver through Dar. What was she up to, down there in Sin City? Which, as far as he was concerned, meant the whole planet. What was she up to, and how many times had she been unfaithful to him?
Not that it mattered. Or at least, he knew it wouldn't when he saw her again, live and vibrant, before him. She always came home with stars in her eyes and contracts in her hands. So who was he to criticize?
"Her husband, that's who," he muttered.
"Not officially," Fess corrected.
"Does it matter?"
"Certainly. Your current status is only that of business partners."
"Yeah, business partners who've been living together for seven years!"
"Still, that is only a matter of convenience and mutual pleasure," Fess said primly. "Neither of you is legally bound to the other."
"Well, fine. You talk about the legalities, but I have to live with the actualities."
"You are free to leave, Dar."
"Yeah, and she keeps all the patents." But Dar knew that was only the smallest part of it.
"You have become so skilled an engineer that you could earn a living anywhere in inhabited space, Dar."
"Yeah, but she wouldn't be there." Fess wouldn't say it, but Dar knew he had a problem with his self-image. It resembled nothing so much as a large, multicolored lollipop. "Come on. If I'm such a hotshot engineer, I gotta be able to figure out how to make a simple little housecleaner deliver breakfast, don't I?"
"Yes, Dar. After that we can move on to the really interesting program—enabling it to wash windows."
Dar thought of the chipped enamel and shuddered. He glanced at the skylight. "Well, we've got time—a good two hours till the next sunrise. Come on, X-HB-9." He headed for the shop.
They finished the next (successful) test just as the first ray of sunrise fingered the skylight dome. Dar looked up at it, swallowed his toast (well, it had been time for tea), and said, "Go stand in the corner, X-HB-9."
"Yes, sir." The little canister turned, rolled over to the corner, plugged itself in to recharge, and went immobile.
"I'll meet you at the airlock," Dar called. He took a last swallow of tea, wiped the cup, dropped it into the dishwasher, and headed for his pressure suit.