"Little People that have been around all the time, watching us? Shucks, even my Irish grandmother knew that! So we're gonna become wonderful, artificial critters! Homo ex Machina! Well, well!... Okay--take me--I was always one for improvements!" Yes, it went something like that. And when people first truly knew, their reactions were mild, curious, and friendly. One incident I remember particularly. * * * * * Jan and I and Doc and a very pretty girl were walking in a quiet street near the University. The girl was someone I had known from a picture. She _looked_ like the picture, again, now. That is, she had become like Doc. For the sake of youth and beauty, women can be more bold than men. She was Irma Tandray Lanvin, Doc's former wife--returned. And maybe she'd learned something about her man--that her rival, science, was part of him, and that she'd better take him as he was. Maybe he'd also learned the need of being attentive to a woman. Anyway, they both looked devoted, now, and I hoped it was so. But what I meant to tell about was our neighbors. First we met Corbison, the mechanic, saying: "Hi, Professor Lanvin. A fella'd hardly know you." "It's still me," Doc answered. Others gathered around as we paused to talk. "How do you feel, Doctor?" asked an elderly woman. And when he replied, "Fine!" she said, "Think of it! I'm glad!" There was even a pooch, who began with a prolonged sniffing at Doc, which progressed to a puzzled yelp, a wrinkling of brow above soulful and humorous brown eyes, then a licking of his hand, and a caper. In my mind the thought sprouted that a dog could become android, too. "Wouldn't the word be 'canoid?'" Jan teased, knowing me well enough to be sometimes almost clairvoyant. "Ah, the language struggles to keep up with progress!" a bookish youth commented lightly. One of two small boys with their father fumbled with my fingers. "Aw, it feels just like anybody's hand, Mister," he growled, disappointed. "That's a case of mistaken identity, young fella," I pointed out. "I _am_ anybody--yet." Irma Tandray Lanvin took his grubby mitt, and laughed. "Is that the same, Joey?" she questioned. "It shouldn't be, but I'll bet it is." The kid looked as if his leg was being pulled. There was just friendly interest and wonder among all those people, then. "What they reminded me of," Irma said later, "was some kind of simple natives on a lost island, being shown a mirror for the first time--before they think of black magic. Is that what we all are, basically, at first? Simple? Trusting?" "That's a good question," Jan commented.