With the realization, tears began to roll down her cheeks. Tears, she thought, real tears—I can feel them. I'm getting arms and legs, and I can shed tears. But I still have no eyes.
But maybe they're growing in.... From time to time I seem to see flashes of light. Maybe he's making them develop slowly, and he put the tear ducts in order first. I'll have to tell him that my eyes must be blue. Maybe I never was beautiful, but I always had pretty eyes. I don't want any different color. They wouldn't go with my face.
The next time the Doctor spoke to her, she told him.
"You may have your way," he said good-naturedly, as if humoring a child.
"And, Doctor, about finding the ship again—"
"Out of the question, as I told you. However, it will not be necessary." He paused, as if savoring what he had to tell her. "I checked with our records department. As might have been expected, they searched your shattered ship thoroughly, in the hope of finding information that might contribute to our understanding of your race. They have the stereos, about a dozen of them."
"A dozen stereos? But I thought—"
"In your excitement, you may have forgotten that there were more than one. All of them seem to be of yourself and your husband. However, they were obviously taken under a wide variety of conditions, and with a wide variety of equipment, for there are certain minor differences between them which even I, with my non-human vision, can detect. Perhaps you can tell us which one you prefer us to use as a model."
She said slowly, "I had better talk about that with my husband. Can you have him brought in here, Doctor?"
"Of course."