Cyborgs -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Space ships -- Fiction; Space travelers -- Fiction
She was a trim figure in a simple gray suit. Not beautiful, not
extraordinary nor spectacular except in that individual way every human
being is extraordinary and different from all others. She was in her
middle thirties, even plain by some standards. But she was Jane, which
was somehow important to Bell.
"It's all right," she said calmly, standing straight and firm, unafraid
of the things time and change can do to love, or to other human
relations.
"Don't hurry it," Bell advised. "Just remember that whatever you want
is all that really matters."
"You're changed," she said rapidly. "Different in ways that I can't
understand. Maybe I'll never understand. It may be pretty difficult but
we'll worry about details later. You're still you, I think. Welcome
home."
Much later Hastings joined the pair and was introduced. He made no
comment worthy of record but while Jane attended to some formalities of
disembarking on Luna the men were left alone.
Bell fixed his robot stare on Hastings. "Tomorrow we start Project
Power," he promised. "Still with me?"
"All the way," Hastings agreed. "I guess that settles everything but
the Jackpot Question."
For once, Bell's face-plate achieved the miracle of a completely human
expression. Puzzlement.
"Is there another?"
"I think so. What _are_ you going to do with Humanity?"
Bell laughed, the sound full of murmurous, metallic overtones.
"I haven't quite decided...."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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