This reasoning tended to confuse her, and she tried to push the thoughts from her mind. It was done, and that was all that mattered, she told herself. Pangs of conscience might plague her now, but afterward the soothing balm of money would ease the pain. They'd never gotten along, so what difference did it make. She forced her thoughts away from that and wondered how they'd do it. She hoped suddenly that it wouldn't be violent, and then she recalled that a double indemnity clause would give her twice the hundred thousand--less the ten percent, of course, for services rendered. At least, she hoped he wouldn't suffer. He'd suffered enough during his lifetime, just for being an android. It must have been horrible, she thought, having to go through life knowing you're less than human, or at least in having people think that. Even if humans accepted you as an equal (which they didn't, despite any laws), you'd have to live with the knowledge that you evolved from an artificially produced embryo under conditions simulating normal birth. Artificial growth, she thought disgustedly, like the hydroponic production of vegetables. She felt a sudden sorrow for him, a sympathy that was as far from pity as it had ever been. Perhaps it was even for his own good, she tried to rationalize, to do this. And yet she was still not certain. George came down the aisle toward her, and she looked away hastily. She felt the seat depress beside her. "The subspace drive will be ready in a few minutes more," he said. "Then we'll really be on our way to Arcturus." "Yes," she said quietly, not looking at him. She wanted to say something sarcastic, something to make him squirm, something that would give an aura of normality to her actions. Yet the words stuck in her throat, refusing to come. He has only a few moments, she told herself, let them be pleasant. She was surprised that the thought put her in a bad light, almost admitting that it was her fault that they didn't get along; yet it was difficult to be patient with someone who always seemed to be thinking grave thoughts, as though constantly reminding himself he was an inferior. But there was a time, she remembered, when he had not been grave. When they had first met, for example, and during the courtship that had followed. A smile touched her lips as she thought about the little things, the picnics and the sudden drenching rainstorms that inevitably came after the ants were finished with their food, the 'copter trips over the scenic wonderlands of Earth, the first accidental brushings of their hands that had led to a kiss and then to another. But that was before she had known he was an android. She felt suddenly ashamed that the word "android" could mean so much. "George?" She reached out and touched his hand. It felt warm and human. He turned, bewilderment in those android human-looking eyes. He smiled at her, rather nervously, she thought. "Yes?"