"What made you afraid, January?"
I began to cry. It was an act, but my condition made anything resembling crying come out authentic.
I felt his hands drop from my arms. Still blubbering as though completely broken, I slid slowly to the tile floor, letting my head drop.
"All right, I'll tell you," I said weakly. A chill shudder shook my body. I buried my face in my arms resting on my knees.
"No, January!" It was Paula's voice. My head jerked upright. She was standing in the doorway, the living image of anger. The doctor had turned toward her, irritation showing on his face. "Dad," she said, her eyes flashing blue fire at him, "if you don't stop I'll get the police."
Alarm coursed through me. She was endangering my plan. I dropped my head back in the cradle of my arms to hide my expression.
"Paula!" the doctor was saying in exasperation. "Leave us—"
"I was afraid," I cut in, making my voice sound utterly listless and defeated, "of what I knew I would do unless I stopped my experiments and destroyed them.
"I had transferred the mind of a dog into a robot duplicate of its own body. The dog was a pet. It didn't know it was no longer in its own body, the body that had died when the mind pattern in the brain was lifted out and transplanted into the colloidal dielectric brain. It didn't know what had happened, so although it was often puzzled by things, it didn't mind.
"But I knew what the next step would be!" I lifted my head and stared at the doctor, avoiding Paula's eyes. They were standing there, holding their breath, waiting for my next words. I let my head drop into concealment in my arms again.