She went to school. She had nothing better to do at home, other than watching Glenn do the chores, and no friends to play truant with around the dome. And besides, she approved of the switchover to android instructors: they were objectively better at teaching than humans were. They had the state-of-the-art educational programs; they never grew tired or overworked; they didn’t play favorites or throw books at gum-chewing mouth-offs. Plus, they made students too afraid to cheat: their eyes had the infrared sensors, the cameras. They could ruin your life if they wanted to, or if anyone got ahold of the footage in their heads—so their presence kept students on the straight and narrow. Delinquency decreased around the biodome. It was a general improvement for everybody—except the fired teachers.

Park wanted to show her support for the change, so she kept going to class, Glenn in tow as always. In those days it was still considered childish for a girl of her age to walk to school with her android chaperone, to be picked up by him. Such a thing was for small children, who were bound to get lost or kidnapped by flesh-traders, but by now Park was tall and light-boned, and she was beginning to develop breasts. Still, she hardly cared what her classmates thought of her, their stares as she walked past them with Glenn carrying her schoolbag. She pretended not to notice their tiny smirks. Once, Glenn commented seriously, “It seems that you amuse your peers.”

“I wouldn’t call it amusement,” Park said.

“What would you call it, then?”

“Ignorance,” Park replied. “Or the Freudian impulse to hate what’s different from you.”

Glenn was silent at this. Usually he could keep up with her; Park didn’t know who had developed his positronic brain, but whoever it was had made Glenn so close to human that sometimes she didn’t recognize him in a crowd. If she wasn’t looking closely, the eyes that gazed calmly back at her could have been anyone’s. His body was both warmly familiar to her and as unremarkable as a stranger’s. He seemed to process things just as anyone did—or faster. She couldn’t remember if he’d always been like this, or if he was evolving.

But he didn’t quite understand Freud. Not yet, anyway.

Before the protests, Glenn would pass Park her bag and watch from the gate as she ascended the front steps to school. Sometimes he would stay at his post until class was over; other times he wandered off into the city to run errands or pick up supplies. At least, this was what Park assumed he did: Glenn was mostly self-directing. She didn’t leave him any lists. Things just got done.