"And so you tell me you're leaving me. Hardly the proper stimulus to cause me to suffer, Sheila. A celebration would be more in order." His grey eyes regarded her with the cold objectivity of a lab technician observing the death agonies of a new species of insect.
Impulsively, she moved around the table to him. "Craig," she began, and there was a note of entreaty in her voice, "what's happened to us?"
"Mental cruelty is the complaint you lodged, I believe." He didn't look at her now, but focused his attention instead upon the mechanism on the table. "Ridiculous phrase. The only real cruelty is mental of course. Physical suffering soon passes, but suffering in the mind, that endures."
She stared with loathing down at the thing on the table. "And now this ... this monster that you've made ... I suppose you mean for it to replace me in your life?"
Craig Stevens chuckled, "Nothing could take your place, Sheila. I shall always remember you as a most individual subject."
Suddenly, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself to him. "Listen to me, Craig," she begged. "You've got to listen. I can't leave you like this. I need you. You need me. Let's try again. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you haven't meant to hurt me."
Carefully, he disentangled himself and pushed her gently away. "Your luggage is packed, Sheila. You've made up your mind, and this is one time you're not going to be allowed to change it. I don't need you. I don't need anyone."
Her body shook with sobbing. "You loved me once."
He laughed, and the sound echoed from the cold stone walls of the laboratory. "Love!" The laughter mounted. "What a foolish notion, Sheila. You interested me once. You had spirit, and I was impelled to discover how much it would take to break that spirit."