"Take off your clothes."
Rhoda unbuttoned the housecoat and slipped it off. That strange excitement showed in her eyes now.
The android pointed. "Take those off."
As she unhooked her brassiere, Rhoda said, "My head aches."
"Your head does not ache."
"You are right, my head does not ache."
She slipped out of the panties and stood naked. The android regarded her. "You are different."
"Of course. I am a woman."
"I want to make love." As Rhoda stood motionless, helpless, he spoke very positively. "You make love on the bed. We will go into the bedroom ..."
Later, she was never able to recall any details of that next half-hour. In defense of her own sanity, she was able to block the incident from her mind. But as she lay naked on the bed, looking up at the man she knew as John Dennis, she thought of her mind as being in two sections. One section, the part of her consciousness that clung to reality, kept saying, I want to cry. If I could cry, everything would be all right. Why can't I cry?