"No," she said. She hesitated and said it again. "No."
"I'm sure I brought it home. Well, the only thing to do is mark it as lost, and have another order made out tomorrow. No real hurry I guess. Only one more receptionist to be replaced."
She had stolen it. She had hidden it. She would never never use it of course. That would be impossible, too risky, too frightening even to think about actually doing. But it was there to dream about. She was good at dreaming. When you stand alone in the dark of a dark, dark closet every night, and when you're alone almost all the time of the day or night, dreaming becomes an art, a necessary art. It becomes the shield against dying inside, losing the soul, being the robot you were originally designed to be.
It was there, hidden in her closet. She stood alone with it at night in the dark closet, and with the dream—a piece of paper, an order blank—she was not so much alone....
Kelsey stood under the perfumed deodorant spray for three minutes. He ran out to the sink and sprayed his mouth with Noffend. And then he held his mouth open while Alice brushed his teeth carefully with Ivory-Glo. He zipped into his lounge suit of coral pink and ran to the Mirror.
"Well?" he asked.
"Very saleable, Kelsey," the Mirror said.
Kelsey sat down in the living room to wait for his favorite love.
Alice watched Kelsey's love, who didn't seem to see Alice at all when she came in, but then domestics had no meaning to anyone but their Masters. Gloria—golden flesh; warm and human love of Kelsey; love in a transparent gown tight and clinging to the flesh; warm and waiting love. Love-kissing and kissing—but Alice tried not to look at love.