No way to know without trying it. She tested the vital connections, then touched a switch. Something sizzled briefly, making her jerk back in the chair. She adjusted a connection, tried the switch again. This time there was no extraneous flash. 109

109

Carefully she slipped one bundle of fiber-optic filaments into what she hoped was still a functional self-sorting contact socket. A red digital readout on the test unit nearby immediately went from zero to between seven and eight. As she threw another switch the numbers wavered but held steady.

The android’s remaining intact eye blinked. Ripley leaned forward. ?Verbal interaction command. Run self-test sequence.?Then she wondered why she was whispering.

Within the battered artificial skull something whined. Other telltales on the test unit winked encouragingly. A garbled burbling emerged from the artificial larynx and the collagenic lips parted slightly.

Anxiously she reached into the open throat, her fingers working inside. The burbling resolved itself as the single eye fixed on her face.

?Ripley.?

She took a deep breath. She had visual, cognition, coordination, and memory. The external ears looked pretty good, but that signified nothing. All that mattered was the condition of the internal circuits.

?Hello, Bishop.?She was surprised at the warmth in her tone. After all, it wasn’t as if she were addressing a human being. ?Please render a preliminary condition report.?

There was a pause, following which, astonishingly, the single eye performed an eloquent roll in its socket. ?Lousy. Motor functions are gone, extracranial peripherals nonresponsive, prospects for carrying out programmed functions nil. Minimal sensory facilities barely operative. Not an optimistic self-diagnosis, I’m afraid.?

?I’m sorry to hear that,?she told him honestly. ?I wish it could be otherwise.?

?Not as much as I do.?

110

Alan Dean Foster

?Can you feel anything??

?Yes. My legs hurt.?

Her lips tightened. ?I’m sorry that-?

?It’s okay. Pain simulation is only data, which from the rest of my present condition I infer is probably inaccurate. Confirm??

?I’m afraid so.?She managed a weak smile. ?I’m afraid that your legs, like most of the rest of you, has gone the way of all flesh.?

?Too bad. Hate to see all that quality work lost. Not that it matters in the scheme of things. After all, I’m just a glorified toaster. How are you? I like your new haircut. Reminds me of me before my accessories were installed. Not quite as shiny, though.?

?I see that your sense of humor’s still intact.?

The eye blinked. ?Like I said, basic mental functions are still operative. Humor occupies a very small portion of my RAM-interpretive capacity.?

?I’d disagree.?Her smile faded. ?I need your help.?

A gurgle emerged from between the artificial lips. ?Don’t expect anything extensive.?