Patience’s anger seemingly dissolved just as Mike was getting into bed. By that time he had decided that he was looking forward to robot make-up sex. It turned out that it was just as fantastic as sex always was with his robot wife, but not any more fantastic. He fell asleep pondering the possibility that he had missed his only chance at angry robot sex. He woke up the next morning to find her lying next to him, lightly snoring.
“Oh, wake up.”
“Good morning,” she said, jumping to her feet. “What would you like for breakfast, a vegetable omelet?”
“Wait a second. Don’t we need to talk? We’ve just had our first fight.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Now that I think about it, that has to be some kind of record— five years before a married couple has a fight.”
“I didn’t come programmed to be a wife,” said Patience. “I’m learning as I go along.”
“That’s only natural. It… wait a second. Are you saying that you programmed yourself to get angry?”
“Of course,” she replied. “If I never got angry then I wouldn’t be able to fight with you.”
“Why would you want to fight with me?”
“We’re married, Mike. Married people fight.”
“That’s what all the literature says.”
“And how did you know how long to stay angry?” he asked, climbing out of bed.
“One mustn’t go to bed angry, Mike. I’m not sure why.”