normally use my debit card.”
I was alarmed. “Don't use that! That will locate you immediately.”
“I know. But if I don't, we'll run out of gas, and get nowhere.”
I looked at him. “Banner, there is a way. But you may not want it.”
“I don't want to do anything illegal.”
“I can't do anything illegal. I'm not sure I can marry you. But my memory bank indicates that laws are somewhat vague in this other respect.”
“What respect?”
“Sexual service. Prostitution is not yet legal, though it is commonly practiced and the ban is not enforced, but sex with a machine is not banned. The law has not yet caught up with that. Even if a man does not know she is a machine.”
He caught my drift. “Are you saying you would give sex to strangers for money?”
“Yes. My kind normally does. You are a special case, for this month; otherwise you would have to pay.”
“You could get us gasoline money for sex,” he said.
“If you are willing. I am skillful in this respect. But men tend to be possessive of their sex objects.”
“I don't own you. I never owned you.”
“But you rented me, for a service, and I am presently your woman. We are engaged to be married. I will not do this or anything else without your approval.” I reconsidered. “As a machine I would not act on my own. Now, as an aware machine, as a woman in love, I would not wish to do anything to hurt your person or your feelings. I fear this would do that.”
He was silent a moment. I knew that the gravity of our situation was sinking in. “We can escape, and have untraceable money, if I let you do this.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to do it, Elasa?”
I wished I could lie, to reassure him, but I was incapable of lying to him. To others, perhaps, when there was need, but not to Banner. Consciousness had not changed my fundamental directives. “No. Not now that I am aware, and loving you. I want only you to clasp me.”
“Then--”
“But I also don't want to be wiped. That would cost me both you and myself. It is a choice between evils. I am unable to make such a choice, but can obey if you make it for me.”
He laughed without humor. “You're still a bit of a machine.”
I felt hurt. “I am a conscious machine. You know that. That's the point.”
He apologized immediately. “I'm sorry, Elasa. Of course you're a machine. I love you as a machine. I just meant that you still have machine limits.”
“Yes. And you do not. Tell me what to do.”
“Damn! I am a bit possessive. The thought of you having sex with another man gripes me awfully. But if that's the price of saving you, then do it.”
“I think it is the price. I will do it. But I will not love him.”
He nodded. “Sex is business, with you. Love is something else.”
“But there is a complication.”
“There always is,” he agreed wryly. “What is it?”
“I must tell him the truth, unless it is a life-threatening emergency. That may make it difficult.”
“We can't afford the truth!”
“Yes.”
“Maybe we can get around that. Do you have to correct me if I don't tell the truth?”
“No. I accept you as you are, by definition, your faults included.”
“So you can be silent. I'll do the talking. You do the fucking.”
I was annoyed, another emotion that had become real. “You have not liked to use that term with me.”
“You and I make love. You and that man fuck. It's a different and inferior thing.”
I liked his phrasing. My annoyance faded. “I appreciate the distinction.”
“But when I deal with the man, I'll speak of having sex. It's in our minds that we make the key distinction.”
I was relieved. Now that I was aware, all my formerly emulated feelings were becoming real. That incited passing wonder in me, another new feeling. “Then I think we are ready to act. We need a venue.”
“There's a motel ahead. Femdroid, Inc., won't think we'll stop so soon. We can spend the night--” He broke off. “Oops.”
“There is a