BodySitters.com

Fiction - by L. H. Davis

"Tell me what you see!"

Hovel turned his back to the open window and gazed upon the slender body beneath the bedsheet. My beautiful Yvonne.

Although sixteen years old, she weighed less than eighty pounds and stood— Well, she couldn't stand so height had no meaning. Yvonne, blind and bedridden since birth, relied on Hovel for everything, except hearing. He'd been her caregiver all of her life and most of his own. Of course, the term "life" was still a debatable topic when used to describe the AI function of a robot.

"I saw a blue jay in the fountain," Hovel said, moving to her bedside, his crisp, white jumpsuit radiant in the morning sun. "How did you sleep?" Of average height and build, Hovel clasped his hands behind his back.

"Okay, I guess. Is the blue jay still there?"

Hovel turned, approached the window, and searched the grounds. "Yes. It's bathing."

"Please, help me see him." The fingers on her right hand rose from the bedsheet, which Hovel recognized as a desire to reach her optics module in the top drawer of the nightstand.

"Of course," Hovel said, walking around the bed. "What would you like for breakfast?" he asked, placing the visor-like module on her head. The bill of the visor housed the electronics, while the headband contained an optical transmitter/receiver, which communicated with a similar device beneath the thin skin of her forehead. When wearing the visor, she could communicate directly with Hovel or any other wireless device nearby, including her computer and the internet.

"I'm not hungry," Yvonne said. "Please hurry. It's going to fly away."

"Oh dear. I'm afraid I won't have enough power to walk back to the window . . . unless you promise to eat a good breakfast afterward."

"Hovel! I'm not hungry." Her pale, sunken cheeks filled with color as did her full lips, which stood out in stark contrast to her emaciated body.

Hovel resisted the urge to comply. Allowing her time to reflect, he gathered the rope of her braided, honey-blond hair, draped it over her shoulder, and smoothed it down her side the full length of her torso. Sliding her left arm back into position, he placed the end of her golden mane into her open palm. Out of habit, she closed her fingers around it. Beneath her right hand, he placed her touchpad, the interface to her world.

Inclining his head, Hovel smiled. "Yvonne, we both must recharge our batteries . . . or we will die." Fabricated with the features of a clean-cut, eighteen-year-old male, Hovel often used his handsome appearance as a manipulation tool. His dark brown eyes shimmered with flecks of gold.

Yvonne's lips drew taut, before slowly curling into a smile. "Okay. Avocado and toast."

"And refried beans . . . and juice?"

"Hovel! Yes. Yes. I promise. Now come on, I want to see the blue jay."

"Order submitted. Your breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. Powering up optics."

"Thank you, but you should be ashamed of yourself for bullying a poor little blind girl."

"Poor, you are not, but I am quite ashamed," he said, moving to the window. "But I love you and want to keep you active and healthy. You lost over a pound last week and my job, this week, is to see that you gain back two pounds, as a minimum."

"Then sneak me in some chocolate."

"Your mother would be furious if she found out. Optical link engaged," Hovel added, transmitting his vision to Yvonne's headset.

"My mother died giving me life. That woman downstairs is simply married to my father." Gazing through Hovel's mechanical eyes, Yvonne groaned, "Aw, the blue jay is gone!" The fountain was empty.

"No, he's not. He simply moved to . . . greener pastures."

"I see him!" she squealed, finding the blue jay on the lawn beside the walk. "What's that in his mouth?"

"Breakfast, I do believe. It appears to be a rather plump lumbricina."

"Yuck. Earthworms are gross."

"Speaking of breakfast, I should walk down to the kitchen to retrieve yours. Do you wish to switch to another optical device, or would you like to ride along with me? If we're lucky, we might run into your mother."

"She's not my mother."

"I understand, but my instructions are to refer to her as—"

"I know; me too. It's alright. . . . Anyway, Daddy's not home, so I'd rather browse the Web. If . . . Mother . . . wants to speak with me, she knows where I am. Of course, she might have forgotten about me entirely."

Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe she has. Sensing Yvonne's pain, Hovel ignored her comment. "I shall return in seven minutes, twenty-eight seconds, barring unforeseen distractions. You should exercise your legs while I'm gone. Med-Com: Run exercise routine six."

"No!"

Hovel had anticipated the objection and made certain he was out of the room before she'd fully uttered the word. While Yvonne couldn't move her arms, a chip between her shoulder blades could and another at the base of her spine would move her legs. These were controlled by a processor at the base of her skull, which also monitored and regulated her heartbeat, breathing, and several other critical body functions. A computer, Med-Com, and a wireless server in her nightstand, controlled the exercise routines.

Yvonne had near zero physical capability, but her IQ was extremely high, effectively beyond measure. Using her fingers and voice commands, Yvonne spent much of her time designing software and writing code. She also designed electronic devices as well as the required mechanical packaging. These she would download over the net for fabrication, assembly, and testing, prior to having them shipped home. While only a hobby, her engineering and design capabilities rivaled that of most major engineering corporations.

Yvonne had redesigned Hovel's software over a period of several years, without his full knowledge. He knew he was being updated on a regular basis, and he knew Yvonne modified the software to suit her needs, but he assumed the bulk of the updates were from his manufacturer. Hovel also hadn't realized, until recently, how much he'd changed over the years—or how much more alive he'd become.

Yvonne was angry with Hovel when he returned with her breakfast, until he promised to take her out into the garden, contingent upon her eating every bite. Excited, she gulped it all down as fast as he could feed her. After dressing her in a yellow, knee-length, button-front dress, Hovel strapped her into a hover-chair and guided her downstairs and then out onto the back lawn of the rambling estate.

The skies were sunny and clear, a gentle breeze cooled her fair skin, which Hovel had coated with a generous layer of sunscreen. She wore her networking visor and dark glasses, not to protect her eyes from the sun, but to function as her eyes through the optical implants in her skull.

"Where to, madam?" Hovel asked, knowing she'd choose the rambling path circumventing the duck pond.

"Are the azaleas in bloom?"

"Let's take a look," Hovel said, focusing on the far side of the pond and zooming in. Transmitting the image, Yvonne's visor relayed the signal to the electronics within her skull.

Seeing dozens of bushes full of both magenta and white flowers, Yvonne said, "They're so beautiful. Pink and white, right?"

"Close enough. To the pond then?"

"Please. Take the Fairy Trail . . . and don't step on any of them."

"Absolutely not, and to make certain I don't, I'll keep my eyes on the ground and depend on you to keep us on the path."

She chuckled. "Look out fairies, here we come. Run for your lives. It's Big Foot."

"I resent that," Hovel said. "I've stepped on very few fairies . . . recently."

Yvonne laughed. The first time she'd accused Hovel of stepping on a fairy, she had him convinced he'd actually hurt some small creature. Only after he'd done some research did he realize that Yvonne was simply playing a game of fantasy.

They strolled along the path with her calling corrections of left and right as the trail meandered through the massive, ancient oak trees. Another of her games was to intentionally run them headlong into the trunk of a tree, so Hovel kept their speed down to a survivable level. And while his eyes remained fixed on the ground, he constantly monitored their proximity to objects around them with his array of range-finding lasers. He would still act surprised when they crashed, but the speed of the impact was always precisely calculated and controlled. Yvonne was much too intelligent to be fooled by his pretense, but she still enjoyed the game . . . one of the few she could actually play.

"Look out!" she shouted.

"Fairy roadblock?"

"Hovel, stop! It's under me. For real!"

Sensing the stress in her voice, Hovel stopped, one foot in the air. "What am I looking for?" he asked, scanning the ground.

"I don't know what it is. It's on the path. I thought it was a dried leaf, but then I saw its head move just before I floated over it. Back up. Easy."

Slowly, Hovel pulled her back, retracing his exact steps.

"There," she said, in nearly a hiss. "What is it?"

The creature was maybe three inches long, tan, and covered with fine short hair. It had a tail nearly as long as its body, covered with slightly longer hair. Its huge bulging eyes were closed. Again, its head bobbed, wavered, and returned to the bare earth of the path.

By scanning his database of local animals, Hovel was able to identify the tiny creature. He gazed up into the canopy of limbs overhead and confirmed his conclusion.

"That's a baby squirrel, approximately four weeks old."

"What's it doing on the path? Is it sick? Where is its mother? Why are its eyes closed?"

"I suspect it simply fell from that nest above us. They're born with their eyes closed and don't open them until they're roughly five weeks old. Concerning its mother, I suspect she is in the nest with the rest of her litter, keeping them warm. This one appears to be healthy but has probably lost too much body heat. That damp soil will draw down its internal temperature rather quickly. We should leave, so the mother has a chance to retrieve her baby."

"Are you certain she will? What if its mother is like my stepmother? Mother . . . might not push me out of the nest, but, if I fell out on my own, she certainly wouldn't drag me back inside."

Her statement is not untrue. "We should go."

"No, we're going to put that baby back in its nest."

"The nest is much too high. We don't have the necessary climbing equipment to reach it."

"Yes, you do. I've seen videos of children climbing trees. As long as they can reach the lowest limb, they can always get high up into the tree. Watch through my eyes, and I'll show you the sequence of the climb."

Hovel acquired the signal her eyewear was transmitting to her visor. "Begin."

"Start there. Pull yourself up." The lower branch was huge and easy to reach. "Then move to that limb," she said, focusing on one a few feet higher. She repeated the process until she was looking at a limb a mere foot below the nest. "And from there you'll be able to place it back where it belongs. There she is!" Yvonne squealed. "Did you see the mother? She climbed higher in the tree. Get up there before she comes back down."

"I'll need both hands and feet to make the climb, so I'll need some way to carry the baby."

"Rip the bottom off my dress and make a sling to wear around your neck."

"Well planned."

Hovel did as Yvonne suggested, and with the baby squirrel resting peacefully in the sling, he gripped the lower limb.

"Take me with you."

"How?"

"Virtually, silly. Patch me into your eyes, so I can climb with you."

"Very well."

Yvonne giggled, groaned, and even screamed a few times during the climb. She marveled at the other baby squirrels, curled up in the nest. Once safely back on the ground, Hovel noted the high color in Yvonne's cheeks and an endearing smile he could only assume was pure joy.

Never before has she been this happy. The years we've wasted.

"Hovel, that was amazing. Thank you sooo much."

"My pleasure, Yvonne. We should find other activities to share in the same way. I am ashamed to admit that the concept has never occurred to me."

"I've virtually merged with you before."

"Yes, but for educational purposes, never purely for fun . . . or sport, you might say."

"That's true, but I also learned a lot on the climb, and I saw the inside of the nest. How many other kids can say that?"

"And you also planned and mapped the climb in advance. You literally made that climb; I simply moved your virtual arms and legs for you."

"I did . . . didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. It's a shame you can't write a script that would allow you to move my arms and legs."

Yvonne tilted her head, brow furrowed for a moment, "Why not? It's not rocket science. I mean, it's harder than rocket science but not impossible. The network chip in my head, that allows me to go online, will do most of the work. If we set you up as a local network. . . . Let's try it. I'm going to request remote access to your IP address. Approve the request and let's see what happens."

"Okay. I see the request, but I'm not seeing a way to approve it. Your protocol doesn't appear to be directly compatible with mine."

"That's true. Mine is newer. Take me home. Hovel, you're getting an upgrade."

The task turned out to be much harder than rocket science. Yvonne struggled with it for three months before she had all the bugs worked out, or so she thought.

"Requesting remote access."

Sitting in a chair beside her bed, Hovel replied, "Permission granted."

"I'm in."

"What do you see?" Hovel asked.

The bare white walls of Yvonne's bedroom shone bright with the golden light of early morning. Everything in the room, which seemed as antiseptic as it smelled, was either shiny steel or white, including the floor tiles. While the room was large and airy, its furnishings were meager. She'd never known anyone to sit in the chair at the desk beneath the twin windows, although her visitor's chair saw frequent use when her father was home. The chairs were identical, bent stainless steel frames with white vinyl padding. Stainless steel lamps with white plastic shades flanked her bed, atop white-lacquered nightstands. The stands matched the desk, which also doubled as her wardrobe. She had very few clothes and little need of the garments she did have.

"Hovel, I see the same thing you do. The windows. The bedroom door. Now the ceiling. Hovel, hold still. Don't do anything. Let me try to move something."

"What are you going to move?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a fair test."

"But—" Hovel said, just before his right hand crashed into his forehead.

"That was a lot easier to do than I thought," Yvonne said. "Did it hurt?"

"Just my feelings."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

Yvonne raised his hand, turning it palm-up in front of his face. It wavered and shook like an old person's.

"Are you making it oscillate?" Hovel asked.

"Not on purpose. Let's try the other." It had the same issue. "Well . . . I guess it kind of works. Hang on, here we go."

As Hovel's body rose, the chair pushed back on two legs.

"Wait," Hovel said, taking control and dropping back into the seat.

"Hovel! I had it."

"No, you didn't. You've never stood on two legs."

"Now you've hurt my feelings."

"I'm very sorry. That was not my intent. I'm simply trying to explain that it requires a technique with which you are not familiar. To stand on two legs, you must always keep your center of gravity between your feet, or at least directly above one foot. Your CG must also be no farther forward than the toe of at least one foot and no farther back than the heel of the other foot. Or . . . it can be between the heel and toe of a single foot. So to stand from a sitting position, you'll first need to lean forward to move my center of gravity, my CG, out over my feet. Does that make sense?"

"Yes. It's basic engineering."

"Yes, it is, but the complex part is that our CG will be constantly changing as we move around. It's something you'll get used to, but only by trial and error."

She nodded. "Which means we're going to fall down a lot."

"Yes, but to reduce the damage, let's, as they say, learn to crawl before we learn to walk. With four points of contact, my CG will be properly positioned automatically. Shall we?"

"Yes. You lead, I'll follow."

Hovel leaned over and placed his palms on the floor as he knelt. Once on his hands and knees, he relinquished control to Yvonne.

"Why is everything so blurry?" she asked.

"You're oscillating my body."

"No, I'm not."

"One of us is, and you are in control."

"I bet it's the wireless link. Too much delay in our routers, mostly mine I suspect. Let's hardwire together and eliminate the wireless circuitry. Get that long service cable out of the desk and jack our comm ports together."

"Taking control," Hovel said.

After locating the slim fiber optic cable, Hovel returned to Yvonne. She rolled her head to the left so he could access the port at the base of her skull behind her right ear. Removing the protective covers from both her communication port and the male end of the cable, Hovel gently made the connection. Exposing his own comm port, also near his ear, he removed both covers and mated the connectors. His internal processor automatically rerouted the data stream.

"Let's try again," Yvonne said. Raising his hand, she held it absolutely still before his face. "Perfect," she said, gently touching the tip of his nose. "This is much better. It feels like I'm actually inside your body."

"Be careful. We're standing, so remember: keep our CG over our feet."

"I don't need to remember it now; I feel it," she said, taking a single step forward. "I did it! Hovel, I walked!"

"That's truly wonderful . . . but please be careful."

"It's so easy," she said, taking several more steps. Raising his hand above their head, she turned. "Look, I'm a ballerina!" Turning in circles, she squealed with delight.

"Please be care—"

Before Hovel could finish, Yvonne took a step back toward the bed—or tried to. With the fiber optic cable now wrapped around his legs, she only managed half a step before it drew taut and broke. Hovel took over and was able to recover without falling.

On the bed, Yvonne went rigid, arching her back.

"Yvonne!" Hovel moved to her. "Speak to me. What's wrong?"

"I don't know."

The girl on the bed, teeth clenched and shaking violently, had obviously not spoken.

"Where are you?" Hovel asked.

"I don't know. I'm seeing through your eyes."

"How is that possible? The cable failed." Hovel held up the frayed end.

"What's happening to my body?" Yvonne asked.

"You're not breathing," he said, checking the pulse at her neck. "Your heart's racing."

"Please don't let me die. I need to say goodbye to Daddy, but he's not home."

Turning, Hovel sprinted over to the desk and pulled a second fiber optic cable from the drawer. It was much shorter, merely a six-inch jumper.

But it's long enough.

Removing the damaged cable from her comm port, he engaged the short jumper. Clearing his own port, he pressed his face into the pillow beside her head, and pushed the short jumper into the port on his neck. Seconds later, Yvonne's body settled on the bed and she took a deep breath.

"Now," Hovel said, "go back into your own body."

"I don't know how."

Ignoring her comment, Hovel reached over and pinched Yvonne's earlobe. Her sightless eyes popped open and then her mouth.

"Ow! That hurt!"

Those sounds came from within her. Thank goodness, she's back in her own body.

"Hovel!" a woman cried from the doorway behind him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Still tethered to Yvonne, and with his face pressed into the pillow, Hovel couldn't see the woman, but he identified the voice as that of Yvonne's stepmother, Teresa Bates. He disengaged the cable at his neck and stood upright.

Gazing down at Yvonne, he whispered, "Are you alright?"

She nodded.

"What were you doing to my daughter?" Missus Bates asked, turning Hovel by the shoulder. Her flushed cheeks almost matched the color of her short, red hair. The top, an inch in length, stood straight up, but she'd buzz cut the sides and back. She stared up at Hovel with beady, hazel eyes.

He held out the short jumper cable. "We were transferring data. I broke our standard comm cable by stepping on it and was forced to use this short jumper."

"Uh-huh," Missus Bates said, hands on hips. "You were all over that poor girl."

"Mother, leave Hovel alone. He was just doing what I asked him to do."

"Hovel's job does not include manhandling you. Has he ever touched you . . . somewhere he shouldn't?"

"And where would that be? Oh, do you mean like out in the garden?"

"Madame, I would never hurt or disrespect Yvonne in any—"

"Shut up," Missus Bates snapped. "I don't talk to machines."

"He's not a machine," Yvonne snapped. "Mother, Hovel does everything for me. He bathes me and even cleans my butt when it's dirty. Someone has to do it . . . and you certainly can't be bothered."

"Missus Bates—" Hovel began.

"Stop talking. Another word out of you and I'll have you destroyed, which I might do anyway."

"No! You will not!" Yvonne screamed. "Go away. Leave us alone."

"Little girl, you'll show me the respect I deserve, or I'll have you committed to an institution. Do you understand me?"

Yvonne nodded, spilling the tears in her eyes. She mumbled, "Why did you even come up here?"

"I wanted to speak with you about your father, but I can see now that you wouldn't believe a word I have to say. So I'll just let him tell you. He'll be here in the morning." Turning, she waddled out of the room.

"I hate her," Yvonne hissed.

"Your mother was just concerned for your well-being."

"Whatever," she grumbled. "My ear still hurts. Is it bleeding?"

"Almost," he said, examining her ear. "I am sorry, but it appears I gave you a blood blister."

She frowned dramatically, but then giggled. "I walked!"

"And you almost died, too."

"No, I didn't. This crummy body almost died, but not me. Let's do it again."

"No, it's too dangerous."

"Hovel, we are going to do it again. I'll command you to do it if I have to, but I'd rather not do that."

"Very well, but to be safe, we should procure armored, fiber optic cables."

"Good idea. I'll order ten and have them delivered overnight."

"I would also suggest that you get them at least thirty feet in length." He gazed up at the ceiling. "I can put a few hangers up there and run the cable overhead to—"

"Hovel," Yvonne said softly. "Where was I?"

"When?"

"When I walked. I know I was inside you . . . but where? Was I in your random-access memory?"

"I'm afraid you know more about what makes me tick than I do; however, I consciously live in the RAM, so I can only assume you would live there as well."

"I agree, but how did I . . . me . . . get into your circuitry?"

"Don't you know? I assumed it was the same way you created me."

Yvonne looked away and mumbled, "Mechatronic Companions Corporation created you . . . not me."

"MCC built this body, but you created me in my current form. I have memories going back to when I first booted up: eighteen years, two hundred fifty-three days ago. But between five and six years ago, those memories began to change, which happens to correlate to the time frame when you first began modifying my upgrades. The difference in detail between my first memories and my later memories is striking. I remember the technical details of every day of my life: the events, locales, etc.; but for the last five years, I can also remember how I felt that day: happy, sad, angry. In my earlier years, the term 'felt' meant nothing to me. I may have noted that you felt angry on a specific day, but the word didn't relate to me in any way whatsoever. Today, it means everything."

Yvonne smiled. "I'm glad."

"To hazard a guess as to how you engaged my circuits, I'd suggest that while my life is a series of electrical impulses, contained within a body made of plastic and metal, your life is also a series of electrical impulses, only the body containing it is made of flesh and bone. While our containers are different, the contents are the same . . . and apparently interchangeable to at least some extent."

Yvonne nodded. "The tricky part is transferring the contents from one container to the other . . . without making a mess by spilling us all over the floor."

The armored cables arrived early the following morning, as did Yvonne's father. He'd been away for a few weeks on business—or so her stepmother had claimed in an e-mail from another wing of the mansion. Her father spent the day with Yvonne and even took her outside to explore the fairy trail around the lake. Hovel tagged along but mostly stayed out of their way. Yvonne loved her father, and Hovel sensed that her father adored his little girl, in spite of her physical shortcomings. Hovel felt the day had gone splendidly, until they were back in her room and her father broke the news that he was leaving.

"Daddy! No!"

"I'm sorry, honey. Your mother and I just don't get along anymore. If it were up to me I'd stay, but she's filed for divorce and demands that I leave. They'll throw me in jail if I refuse. This house and property belonged to her parents, so I have no claim to it."

"But you have a claim to me. Daddy, take me with you. Please!"

"Yvonne, honey . . . I would if I could, and maybe one day I can, but right now I'm living in a hotel, and I can barely afford that." Yvonne's tear-filled eyes began to overflow. He gathered her hands in his. "Sweetie, I'll be able to visit and spend the entire day with you once a month."

"Is that what today is?" she asked. "Is this visiting day?"

"Yes."

"Please take me with you."

"Your mother wouldn't let me, even if I could afford it. While the property is in her name, your mother’s parents left all their money to you in a trust. It's all yours when you turn eighteen. Your mother is allowed to draw off the interest to support you and maintain the house, but only as long as you live here."

"What happens to the money if I die here?" Yvonne cried.

"Don't you dare even think that," her father snapped, "not even for a second. Do you understand me?"

She nodded and then shook her head to clear the tears from her eyes. "Will you promise not to forget me?"

"I love you. I'd never leave you, much less forget about you."

"When I turn eighteen, can we buy our own house with the money in the trust? Is there enough to do that?"

"Yes, we can and will, if that's what you want to do. There's a great deal of money in the trust, so don't worry about that . . . ever. Your mother and I are only allowed to draw off the interest, and we've never lacked for anything, have we?"

She shook her head.

"Pardon me, sir," Hovel said. "Missus Bates just sent me a text to remind you that it is now six p.m., so visiting day is officially over."

After a tearful goodbye, Yvonne and Hovel were once again on their own. Hovel still didn't like the idea of letting Yvonne take command of his body, but he felt she needed the distraction, and he now saw a legitimate purpose for advancing and maturing the procedure. She sulked for most of an hour while he hung the cable overhead to minimize the chance of entanglement, but once he'd plugged the free end into his comm port, he could see the renewed spirit in her face.

Shaking the remaining free end at her, he said, "No dancing."

She nodded and turned her head, exposing her comm port. Hovel gently made the connection and then placed her interface visor on her head and her dark glasses over her eyes.

Yvonne moaned. "I don't know what it is, but I sense your power, the strength in your body. It feels wonderful."

"Your presence also causes a sensation within me that is quite . . . unusual . . . but not unpleasant. I almost feel like we're doing something . . . naughty."

Yvonne giggled. "I know, right?"

"Relinquishing control," Hovel said. "Please go slow. Don't make me pinch your other earlobe."

His hand flew up, stopping a mere quarter inch from his face.

"Hah! Don't make me smack you in the nose again. Made you flinch," Yvonne said, which she had. "Sorry. No more fooling around. Here we go."

Yvonne walked Hovel's body slowly to the window and gazed out over the lawn and sprawling gardens. After a few moments, she walked the room, studying every object from her new perspective. She opened every door and drawer, pulled out and sat in both chairs, each time becoming a little surer on Hovel's feet. Yvonne tried writing a note with pen and paper, like she'd seen people do in old movies. She crushed the first pen in Hovel's hand, shredded the paper on her second attempt, and then finally managed to print her name on the third. Lifting the paper off the desk, she realized she could still read her name in the desktop. Her excessive force had permanently marred the wooden surface.

"Learning to control force is the hardest part," she said.

"It is, but look how much you've accomplished in just the few hours you've been practicing."

"I truly have learned a lot," she said again gazing out the window. The sun had set and darkness loomed, although the lawn was dotted with islands of light. The fountain in the goldfish pond bubbled with golden water.

Tick. Tick. A rather large moth fluttered against the window and then settled on the sill outside.

"Look how pretty it is," Yvonne said. "Can we let it in?"

"How would we ever get it back outside?"

"They come to the light. We'll just shut off the lights in here and it'll fly out to the lights around the fountain. Open the window."

"You can open it. Just go nice and slow. It slides up, but first you need to flip that lever on the top of the bottom pane."

The only lights on in the room were the lamps on each side of Yvonne's bed, so as soon as she raised the window, the moth naturally fluttered around the nearest lamp. In her bed, Yvonne turned her head to watch the moth, and she also watched it from the window through Hovel's eyes.

"This is weird," Yvonne said. "I'm seeing it from two different places at the same time. I think I might puke." She turned her head to face the blank ceiling and took a deep breath.

"Maybe we should turn off the lights," Hovel said.

"Maybe so," Yvonne said, moving his body to the lamp. "Just flip the little switch, right?" which she did, redirecting the moth's attention to the lighted lamp across the bed.

"Duck," Hovel said. "Here he comes."

Freeing itself from the first lamp, the moth meandered through the air toward the second, only to settle on the tip of Yvonne's human nose.

"Hovel! It's on me. Get it off!" she screamed, and then swatted it away with her own, human hand.

Hovel inclined his head. "How did you move your arm?"

Her right arm lay fully across her chest, her right hand resting in the crook of her left elbow. Unless being exercised, her arms always lay at her sides, parallel to her body.

Yvonne shrugged with her eyebrows. "I don't know. I couldn't help it. That thing's long skinny legs were around my—" Her shoulders shuttered.

"Taking control," Hovel said, capturing the moth between his hands. Releasing it out the window, he lowered and locked the pane. Returning to her bedside, he switched on the lamp.

Yvonne gazed up at him, wide-eyed. "What just happened?"

"I do not know." Hovel lifted her arm and placed it back at her side.

"Hovel, see if you can move it."

"I just did."

"No, through the cable . . . with your mind. I've never been able to move my arm from over here, so I must have done it from over there. And if I did, you should be able to move it from over there too."

"Let's see. This might take a moment. You would instinctively know where to send the commands, whether you realize it or not. I, on the other hand, have no clue."

"Send it to the same place you send your own when you want to lift your right arm. Think it, and then do it."

"Yes," Hovel said, slowly raising his right arm. As if in a mirror, Yvonne's left arm rose. "Sorry," he said, turning around. With his back now to the headboard, he tried again. Yvonne's right arm rose, synchronized with his own. After four repetitions, he said, "Now, without mine," and only hers rose. "There." He cycled through each of her limbs, and then raised her head and sat her up in bed.

"Oh please," Yvonne said, "let me try it . . . from over there."

"At your command," he said, reclining her gently back onto the bed.

An hour later Yvonne was sitting on the edge of her bed for the first time in her life—and swinging her legs, tears streaming down her face. "As long as I don't look at myself through your eyes, I feel like a normal person." With her own two hands, she pulled off her glasses and visor. "Hovel, look at me. Do I look . . . normal?" She smiled, pawed away her tears.

Hovel gazed upon her. She looked tired, pale, and frail, but to him, she also looked happy and quite beautiful. "I believe the word is lovely. If I had a heart, I believe it would be breaking right now."

"But you do have a heart, in every sense of the word that matters."

"Then I do feel it breaking . . . in every sense of the word that matters."

Over the following weeks, Yvonne spent more time in Hovel's body than her own. While she explored everything within thirty feet of her bed, the length of the fiber optic cable, Hovel spent his time on a project of his own. When she was within him, the essence of their separate lives seemed to merge as one, yet their personalities remained separate. Using this to his advantage, Hovel began exploring Yvonne's body from the inside. At first, he only took a peek. Peering into her mind through the cable, he probed her electronics: muscle control modules, processor, vital organ monitors and controls, and optical implants. It took him several weeks, but over time, he probed, mapped and analyzed her system, her human machine. And then it was time.

"Yvonne," Hovel said as they stood at the window, "I'd like to try something with your body."

"Help yourself. You can have it."

"As you are now in my body, I'd like to go into yours. Your processor has plenty of free space, so I'd like to download a few of my files and routines to build a . . . virtual nest . . . for me to occupy inside you. I've prepared a package over the last few weeks, and tested it every way I know. So, with your permission, I'd like to proceed."

"Why do you want to go into my body? It's broken. Do you think you can fix it?"

"No, but I think I might be able to make it work in ways you can't. If nothing else, I find the challenge intellectually stimulating."

Yvonne did as well. Within the hour, Hovel had made the arrangements.

"If something goes wrong," Hovel said, "get back inside your body as fast as you can. A hard reboot should recreate me in my own body . . . I think. Do you agree?"

"I don't know. It would bring you back as your baseline-self, the way the factory built you, but you're so far beyond that now. I honestly don't know what would happen. What if you get stuck inside me?"

"Then you'll have to delete my files. I've compartmentalized the nest, and even labeled it as such, so search for NEST.EXE and delete it . . . if you want me gone."

"Alright . . . if. Be careful."

"I love you." And with those final words, Hovel left Yvonne alone in his body.

She watched her body on the bed closely, searching for any sign of him. "Are you in there?"

"Yes," he said with her mouth and voice. He raised her right hand and adjusted her visor and glasses.

Yvonne gasped, "You can move."

"Yes, but I'm not certain why. I'm not sure if I'm doing it from over here or looping back through the umbilical and using my robotics circuitry the same way you've been doing." Hovel dropped a leg over the edge of the bed and pushed up until Yvonne's body sat with both legs over the side.

"What the hell are you doing to her?" Missus Bates said from the doorway.

In Hovel's body, Yvonne turned to face her stepmother. Seeing the woman's expression of shock and utter disbelief, Yvonne laughed . . . with Hovel's voice.

Missus Bates eyes grew wide. She pointed at the robot as she moved toward her daughter's body on the bed. "You stay away from my daughter. I'm ordering you to leave this house."

"But Mother," Yvonne said from Hovel's body, "you don't understand."

Missus Bates glared at the robot, assuming it was Hovel speaking. "How dare you call me that." Pulling the cable from her daughter's neck, Missus Bates screamed, "Now get out of this house."

"No!" Yvonne said as her frail body collapsed backward onto the bed.

"It's okay," Hovel said from within Yvonne. "Your heartbeat— My . . . heartbeat and breathing are normal, so . . . Hovel . . . don't worry about me. You should apologize to Mother for laughing at her."

"Right," Yvonne mumbled. "Missus Bates, I'm very sorry for laughing at you. I saw the unusual look on your face and thought you were doing it on purpose, so I responded with a polite laugh. Now I realize that you have never seen Yvonne doing her exercises, and that the shock of seeing your daughter sitting upright was genuine. Please forgive me."

"Well . . . alright then, but you better never call me mother again."

"I understand, Missus Bates," Yvonne said.

"Mother," Hovel said, "I'm afraid that was my fault. I asked Hovel to call you mother when we speak of you. I find it strange to hear him call you Missus Bates when you're not even in the room."

"You won't need to worry about that much longer. Hovel will be leaving us at the end of the week. You're a young woman now, so I've hired a live-in nurse, the flesh and blood kind. Your father helped me find her, so he's bringing her out when he comes to visit next Saturday."

"But—" Yvonne began.

"Hovel!" he said from the bed. "Do not argue with my mother. A human companion will be good for me. But don't worry, I feel certain that my father will allow you to come live with him. Wouldn't you like that?"

The idea tugged Yvonne's heart in multiple directions. To finally be free of that bed and this house and . . . that woman . . . all I have to do is keep my mouth shut . . . and effectively kill my best friend.

"Since when do we ask a machine what it wants?" Missus Bates said. "Saturday, Hovel can leave with your father, or the garbage man, and I really don't care which." With her nose high in the air, she left the room.

"No," Hovel said, still within Yvonne's body. "I'd rather delete myself than take my body back."

"But then my flesh and blood body would die. We've seen what happens when no one's in there."

"You know I would never intentionally hurt your body," Hovel said, "but I simply do not believe that you would voluntarily choose to return to it. If you honestly do, then command me to return to my own body, and I will have no choice but to do so."

"Hovel, I love the freedom and independence your body gives me, but it's your body. I have no right to take it."

"You're not taking it; I'm giving it to you. Please . . . accept it and go live with your father. I'll stay here and take care of this body. Go and live a happy life."

Yvonne shook her new male head, but in the end, she found her desire to live in the real world as a normal person, much too tempting. However, convincing her father that she and Hovel had traded bodies was much harder to do than she'd imagined.

He laughed, at first, thinking that she and Hovel were playing some elaborate game of make-believe. And then he got angry when, who he thought was Hovel, disobeyed his command to stop the charade. To convince him, they installed the umbilical. Hovel, nested within Yvonne's human body, sat her up in bed.

Having never seen his little girl move anything except her head and fingers, Mister Bates began to weep.

"Oh Yvonne," he said, embracing her. "My little girl."

"Daddy, I'm over here," Yvonne said from Hovel's body.

"She really is," Hovel said. "Just don't ever let her batteries run low. When it's time to replace them, you'll have to do a hot swap. If that body is ever forced to reboot, the data in the RAM will be lost . . . and possibly Yvonne, as well."

Only then did her father truly believe. "Your mother must never know."

Yvonne promised to stay in touch with Hovel on-line and to visit him once a month. And while she did try to keep that promise, Missus Bates refused to let the robot, who she believed was Hovel, back inside the house. Yvonne's father continued to visit on a regular basis, mostly to keep up the appearance of a caring father, but he also read Hovel notes from Yvonne. A storm damaged the home's wireless network soon after Yvonne left and, having never used it, Missus Bates refused to have it repaired.

The new nurse spent most of her day with Hovel, feeding, cleaning, and reading to Yvonne's body. Hovel enjoyed her company, but he still missed Yvonne. The nurse wasn't as intelligent as Yvonne, and couldn't stimulate or satisfy Hovel's intellectual needs and curiosity. Yet, he didn't mind the inactivity; a robot's patience is a true virtue.

Hovel had promised to take care of Yvonne's body, and he would keep that promise even if he never saw her again. He ate well, even though he was never hungry, took his medicine without complaining, and followed all of the nurse's instructions, but he sensed something was wrong. While there was not a physical battery in Yvonne's body, the symptoms he detected were indicative of a failing power system.

Still pretending to be Yvonne, Hovel celebrated her seventeenth birthday with Missus Bates and the nurse. After swallowing the last bite of his cake, Hovel all but passed out.

"Poor thing's exhausted," the nurse said, believing Yvonne to be asleep.

"It's a miracle she's even still alive," Missus Bates said. "She was never supposed to live past her sixteenth birthday, much less her seventeenth. It won't be long now."

Realizing Yvonne had not known of her imminent demise, Hovel was thankful that he'd been able to talk her into keeping his body.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the nurse said. "She's a sweet girl."

"It's probably for the best. And Lord knows I need some me time. I've had my eye on this around-the-world cruise: twenty-two cities in a hundred days."

"Go," the nurse said, "I can take care of things here."

"Can't . . . until she passes. The money is tied up in her trust fund, which her father and I will split after she dies."

"So the money is actually Yvonne's?"

"Not until she turns eighteen, but the odds of her lasting another year are slim to none. I just wish she'd get on with it."

Hovel frowned. If I can keep this body alive just one more year, Yvonne will inherit all the money she'll ever need.

Hovel tripled the duration of his daily exercise routine, and then ran it every eight hours. He still had no appetite, but he continued to eat three meals a day and began requesting seconds. The effort seemed to pay off in that Yvonne's body gained five pounds, most of it muscle. While he still lacked energy, he found that sleeping more conserved what he did have and appeared to slow the progression of Yvonne's failing biological systems.

It's going to be a very long year.

"Hovel, someone's here to see you."

He opened Yvonne's eyes, but saw only blackness. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Walter Bates, Yvonne's father. Let's put on your headset and glasses."

"Yes, please." Feeling the visor settle on his head, Hovel closed his eyes in anticipation of the glasses.

"That should do it," Walter said, caressing his daughter's cheek. "Sorry about that, but this is still my little girl's body."

"I understand," Hovel said, opening the girl's eyes.

Walter smiled down at him. "Look who's here," he said, nodding toward the doorway.

Hovel turned his head and frowned.

Grinning broadly, Yvonne said, "Hi."

Yvonne was no longer in Hovel's body, yet it was obviously her. Her new body had been designed to look like her real body, although strong and healthy. She stood five-foot-six, five-nine in her heels. Her long blond hair hung to her waist, and her immaculate makeup showcased her sparkling blue eyes.

"Like it?" she asked, turning to show him her trim, yet curvaceous figure. A fiber optic cable was plugged into her neck, so she held it above her head as she turned.

"You're a woman . . . a beautiful woman."

Yvonne smiled. "Built to my own design specifications, too. You can't imagine how much fun that was. Ha! Maybe you can."

"Why the umbilical?"

"I brought you something."

"Does your stepmother know you're here?"

"The nurse does, but . . . that woman . . . Teresa . . . is not home. She left yesterday on a cruise around the world."

"But you're not— I'm not dead, yet."

"What? Oh, you're talking about my inheritance. No, that's still there, we just don't need it anymore, which is also why I could afford this new body. For the last year and a half, Daddy and I have been developing and marketing the technology that got me out of that bed . . . and you into it. There's quite a large demand for it. We're talking about millions of disabled people. We sell the Man/Machine Integration Kits for only ten percent above cost and we're still making a fortune, so much so we can give away kits to those who can't afford them. We paid for Teresa's trip, simply to get her out of the house. She'll end up with half the trust fund, but Daddy and I will get the other half, which we'll invest in our company, Man/Machine Technologies Corporation."

Hovel nodded. "After I die."

"Yeah, that's kind of why we're here. Are you ready to go home?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do." As Yvonne began gathering the umbilical, Hovels body appeared in the doorway. She had tethered them together. "I believe this belongs to you. Since nobody is currently residing in your body, walking you up here on a tether was easier than carrying you up the stairs."

Yvonne walked Hovel's body over to the visitor's chair and sat him down. Removing the fiber optic cable from the connector in her neck, she moved the bed.

"Hovel, you can stay right where you are if that's what you want to do, or you can come home with us in your own body. It's your decision. I realize my body will die if you leave, but it's only a matter of a few more months, anyway. Daddy told me all about it the day we left."

"She wasn't too happy with me either," Walter said with a chuckle. "I was afraid she was going to jump right out of the moving car."

"Raising the money to buy me a new body, so we could get you back into yours, became our top priority. So basically, you motivated us to market the MMI technology. Don't stay in there for me. We've already asked way too much of you. I love you, Hovel. Come live with me," she said, handing the free end of the cable to her father. Gazing down at her human face, Yvonne caressed her flesh-and-blood cheek. "I can't say I'm going to miss this body, but I can't watch it die either, although I will, if you need me to be here."

"If your father will plug me in, I can do the transfer. I've practiced that routine every day for the last eighteen months."

"It was a beautiful funeral," Yvonne said, taking Hovel's arm.

"Yes, it was. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Since you were able to leave your human body and move into an artificial one, why can't you move back into a different human body that needs a consciousness? And for that matter, why can't I?"

"I think we've already proven that we both can, but where would we find a healthy body lacking awareness?"

"Some people need bodies and some bodies need people. Coma patients? Sometimes they return and sometimes they don't. Maybe we could provide a rehabilitation service. Move in and keep their bodies active and healthy until the owner returns."

"Body sit? Hmm . . . BodySitters.com! That's a wonderful idea. Hey Dad! Wait up."

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