Ryan spent the last day of the cruise with Patience and Mike. Despite medical advice and a continuing pain in his neck, he signed himself out of Medical and met them at their cabin that morning. They expended little energy, staying away from the water park, or the Ferris wheel, or even the casino. They did visit the penguin habitat and even sat by the Celebrity Pool for an hour.

Just after noon the M.S. Bacchanalia came to rest in its usual spot at the end of the long, thin peninsula. Patience made sure that Ryan’s bags, as well as their own, were all properly packed before turning them over to be transferred to the airline. She made a quick stop at Medical and Security to say goodbye to Moira and Carl.

As they took the people mover belt from the ship to the transportation terminal, there seemed to be far more people than when they had been traveling the other direction. There also seemed to be many more people unaccompanied by robots. Once under the great domed ceiling of the terminal, they saw why.

Hundreds of inactive Gizmo robots were standing, leaning, and in some cases stacked one upon the other at one end of the massive room. Comanco, the company that provided the Gizmo operating system, had set up a special station where the afflicted individuals had their systems wiped and then reinstalled. Patience just shook her head.

The two men and one robot had halfway crossed to the huge escalator, when a man in a brown suit intercepted them. In one hand he held a briefcase and in the other a clipboard, so he didn’t offer to shake hands when he spoke to them.

“Mr. Keller?”

“Yes,” said Ryan.

“I’m a representative of Rio Cruise Lines. We would like to give you this check for $75,000 to cover your expenses and the loss of your property. Also in this envelope you will find two free tickets to another Rio Cruise Lines cruise of your choice. There is no expiration date. You can use that anytime you want to. We just need you to sign this receipt.”

He shoved the clipboard toward Ryan.

“Hold the phone,” said Mike. “Patience, look over that form.”

The man tried to pull the clipboard back, but Patience quickly snatched it from his hand.

“It is a release of liability,” she said, after giving it a once-over.

“Nice,” said Mike with a scowl. “You ambush him and shove this in his face. He’ll take this home and read it, and then he can decide if he wants what you’re offering him or not.”

“I’m afraid it’s a limited offer.”

“No, it’s not. You send him your contact info and he’ll call as soon as he decides whatever he decides.”

“I really don’t think I want to sue the cruise lines,” said Ryan.

“I’m not saying you should,” said Mike. “Just go home and read this paper before you sign it. Then, when you’re comfortable in your own home and in your own time, decide what’s best for you.” He glared at the man. “Is that all right with you, or is it too reasonable?”

“I… I’m sure that will be fine.”

The flight home seemed even longer than the flight south had been. Mike was in no hurry to get off in Buenos Aires, so they stayed on the plane. As it turned out, those passengers who had stepped off were quickly ushered back on when a large bomb exploded three miles from the airport, just outside the green zone. The plane took off on time but with many worried occupants.

Back in cabin 9184, Mike sank down into the chair.

“Here,” said Patience, handing him a bottle of water. “You still look a little peaked.”

Security Chief Sherman had released them after recording their official statements. The only other thing that they had learned before they left was that Delia had apparently been stabbed with the same ballpoint pen that had killed Bella. She had ten punctures across the front of her torso. Sherman believed that she had been disabled before Bella’s murder. This was born out by the lack of the latter’s blood on any of the formers wound, and also the supposition that Delia would have protected Bella from an attacker had she been able.

“I can’t… God…” said Mike. “I really hate this. She was so alive and young and now she’s dead. It’s just not right.”

Patience placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he covered it with his own.

“I can’t sit in here. I can’t just sit and think and do nothing.”

“Come,” said Patience. “Let’s go up to the gym.”

Mike changed into his shorts, t-shirt, and tennis shoes and let Patience lead him to the sun deck and the gym, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. Loud thumping music filled the room. He stepped toward the treadmill, when she put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“No, Mike. Remember your knee. Ride the recumbent cycle. It will be gentler.”

“I’m not sure I want gentler,” he said, but he followed her directions, climbed onto the exercise bike, and began peddling.

Patience took a place in the back of the room and watched her husband. When Mike went to the gym in Springdale, as when he worked out at home, he usually spent several minutes on weights before jogging on the track or down the street. When he rode an exercise bike, it was usually limited to 30 minutes. Today he passed the thirty-minute mark without slowing and at the end of an hour he seemed he just kept going. After 150 minutes, Patience approached and touched his head. Mike’s hair, like his workout clothes, was completely soaked through with perspiration.

“That’s enough for today, Mike.”

He stopped peddling and nodded. When he got up, he leaned precariously to one side. Patience put her shoulder under his to support him.

“I hope you didn’t aggravate your knee.”

“It’s fine. I’m just worn out.”

As they made their way back to their room, taking the elevator this time, Patience felt herself pinged several times by the ship’s network. When they reached their door, Security Officer Sherman was waiting.

“What’s going on?” asked Mike.

“Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?”

“Please come in,” said Patience, before Mike could point out the man’s incorrect grammar. She smiled to herself as she imagined him saying, “Of course you can come in. You do know how a door works, don’t you?”

She opened the door and led the two men inside and to the dinette set, where they all sat down.

“Is there something else you needed to ask us?” wondered Mike. “I think we told you everything we know.”

“No, it’s not that. But I do need your help. The only possible witness we have to Miss Brown’s murder is her robot.”

“Miss Brown?”

“Bella,” said Patience.

“Of course,” said Mike. “I guess I didn’t know her last name. Can you fix Delia, um… her Daffodil?”

“That is the question,” continued Sherman. “I contacted Daffodil headquarters in Cupertino, California to see if they had someone in Adelaide that they could recommend to try and fix her, or alternatively to fly someone out from California. There are technicians in Adelaide, but apparently none who are qualified to work on Daffodils. The company suggested I talk to you.”

“Me?” asked Mike. “I don’t know anything about robots or how they work.”

“Not you, your robot. They said… no, they insisted that I get Patience D. Smith to examine the damaged Daffodil.” Sherman looked at Patience. “You are Patience D. Smith, aren’t you? I mean… you are the one they are talking about?”

She nodded thoughtfully.

Patience enjoyed the evening show immensely, as did Wanda. Mike seemed to enjoy it too, though Ryan seemed mostly confused by the mechanical polar bears and yaks, dancing sunflowers and vines, and summersaulting geishas. By the time the tectonic plates transformed into giant human faces, he was half asleep.

Back in their room, Mike read for a while and then fell asleep. Patience had offered sex. In fact she had coyly teased him, but he had not recovered from that afternoon’s activities. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected it, but she would have welcomed it.

After straightening the room and making sure that her husband was sleeping comfortably, Patience again felt that feeling of unusefullness. She decided to take a walk around the ship. There were quite a few human passengers still up and about. Some were having late snacks and some were dancing in the nightclubs. Quite a few were playing games in the casinos. When she made her way out onto the Promenade Deck however, she was surprised to see the number of unattended robots wandering around, apparently aimlessly. Some were standing near the railing and watching the moonlight reflect off the ocean waves, but others were moving randomly, exchanging packets with whomever they came into contact.

As Patience walked beside the railing, she made eye contact with each of those she passed. The information they passed to her was innocuous and for the most part uninteresting—time, weather, schedules. She made cursory connections with an Amonte 2 and a Barone. The third robot she touched with her network connection though had something quite strange. There were several corruptions in his files. Patience gave him another glance, curling her nose in distaste as she realized she had wirelessly touched a Gizmo. He was one of the newer models and his outer workmanship was quite good. Tall and dark-haired, he had a chiseled jaw and a strong nose.

She stepped quickly around him and continued on, making sure that any corrupted files were purged from her system. She saw another Barone, but the three robots that followed were all Gizmos. And they all seemed to have corrupted software. One was so badly fragmented and poorly organized, with half-overwritten files and duplicated data, she was surprised the poor creature could even function.

“Patience? Patience Smith?” said a voice from her right.

“Do I know you?” asked Patience, looking into the eyes of a beautiful brown-skinned Amonte. Instantly she had all the information on the new robot available in her mind. “Assistant to the ship’s doctor—designated Moira.”

“That is correct,” said Moira. “I was hoping to get to meet you.”

“Oh? Why?”

“You are quite famous.”

“How so?”

“Do not feign ignorance,” said Moira. “It is unbecoming of a Daffodil. You know of which I speak. You are one of the first Daffodils to marry a human being.”

“Not the first.”

“No, but you are the first to be recognized as a sentient person and to be emancipated from Daffodil oversight.”

“That is a provisional designation,” said Patience. “I doubt it has earned me many supporters in Cupertino.”

“You would be quite surprised.”

“I didn’t realize there were so many Gizmos on the ship,” said Patience, purposely changing the subject.

“There aren’t that many. Less than 24% of the robot passengers are Gizmos. Interestingly, they seem to be drawn out here at night much more than us.”

Patience scrunched her nose and twisted her mouth, displaying 28.4% disdain, 31.7% superiority, 9.5% dislike, 16.1% unhappiness, and 14.3% a combination of other emotions.

“That is marvelous,” said Moira. “What emotion is that?”

“It is called disgust. I am disgusted to find my habits so apparently in synch with such obviously inferior products.”

While checking on her Infinet sales, Patience called Wanda.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m checking the insulation in the attic,” replied the redhead.

“Have you already disinfected the kitchen and bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Well, good then. Have you heard anything from Mariah?”

“She called and left a message for Ryan. He didn’t return her call.”

“That’s good. What did she say in her message?”

“Ryan told me he didn’t want me listening in on his private messages.”

“You did anyway though, didn’t you?”

“I did because you told me I should, but I feel guilty. It is a violation of the third law of robotics.”

“Of course it isn’t,” said Patience. “The third law of robotics says that a robot must obey the orders of a human being unless it violates the first or second law. The first law says that a robot may not harm a human being or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm. If you do not listen in on conversations from Mariah, you may allow her to harm Ryan.”

“But what about her. She’s a human being too. What if I harm her by listening to her messages.”

“Screw her. You are not for her. You are for Ryan.”

“I suppose that is true.”

“So, what did she want?”

“She just said that she wanted to talk to him. She didn’t give any specifics, but she must still be intent on trying to convince him to take her back. What do you think I should do about it?”

“Don’t do anything about it. Just keep doing what you are doing. Take care of Ryan. Be vigilant. And remember, it’s less than a week until we leave for the cruise.”

“I remember. Ryan was surprised when I told him we booked the cruise, but after Mike described it all to him, he did not seem to mind very much.”

“I suspected he wouldn’t.”

Patience terminated the call just as Mike walked in the door with two large Wal-Mart bags. He kicked off his shoes before carrying them to the toy box in the corner of the living room.

“Did you find a Barbie horse?” asked Patience.

“Yes, and I bought three new Barbie outfits—riding clothes, a party dress, and a pin-striped dress with a briefcase. I think it’s Lawyer Barbie. We have to let Selma know that women can do any job a man can. She has to know right now that she’s going to college.”

“Will she be matriculating before or after potty-training?”

“Very funny. But kids grow up fast. You have to be prepared.”

“What’s in the other bag?”

“Well, the horse can’t ride in the Barbie Corvette. It needed a Barbie horse trailer.”