Written in an unusual manner to me, and yet I ask you to finish reading to the end. This is a curious experiment, and I felt something while I was writing this). Of course, you say that fiction is not mine. And there is. But after all, this story is not originally mine. The idea belongs to my reader. The basis was a story written a long time ago by one famous writer, and the idea was that I put my pen on it and make it something that my readers like so much. And although I do not particularly like fiction, but the idea seemed interesting to me. And with all the more sophisticated gadgets for sex, which are part of our life - also relevant).

Tony was tall, dark, dark-haired, with aristocratic features of a beautiful face. Claire Belmont looked at him through the slightly open door, dying of fear and anxiety.

- No, I can not, Larry! Stay with him at home - I can not!

She frantically tried to find words that would convince her husband, but could not think of anything. She could only whisper again:

- I can not...

Larry Belmont looked at his wife disapprovingly. She was so afraid of this expression of impatience on his face.

“Claire, we agreed,” said Larry sternly. - It’s too late to refuse. After all, it is only for this reason that they send me to Washington, which, as you understand, means promotion. What are the objections?

Claire sobbed:

- Just goosebumps running around. No, I can not be with him.

- Well, that you, silly, he is the same person, as you and me. Almost the same. Okay, stop fooling. Come on.

He patted her on the back, pushed her toward the door, and she herself did not notice how she was in her own living room. This one stood there and looked at her with a polite-assessing gaze — he looked at his mistress for the next three weeks, and Dr. Susan Rye sat in the chair with an absent look. Her eyes, as usual, were cold and impenetrable - it seemed that the level of iron in her blood had greatly increased from long work with machines.

“H-hello,” Claire greeted awkwardly, without addressing anyone individually.

Larry tried his best to smooth out the awkwardness.

- Well, here, Claire, meet. This is Tony, great guy. Tony, old man, and this is my little wife, Claire.

Larry’s hand fell amicably on Tony’s shoulder, but he didn’t react to this familiarity.

“How are you, Mrs Belmont?” - he asked and Claire started; she didn’t expect that the car could have such a pleasant, velvety, low voice. The voice was as smooth and immaculate as a haircut and skin on a robot face.

- Oh my God! - burst out from her against her will, - you talk!

- Why not?

Claire only managed that sour smile in response. She herself did not know what, in fact, expected. She looked away, then peeked over at Tony. His hair was black, smooth, shiny, like polished plastic. And his skin is covered with an even tan - does it end where the body is covered with a conservative cut with clothes?

Susan Rye's icy voice interrupted Claire's thoughts and brought her back to the ground.

“Mrs. Belmont, I hope you understand the importance of this experiment.” Your husband informed me that he introduced you to the project in general terms. I, to the Chief Psychologist of Robots & Mekenikl M Corporation, would like to give you some details.

Tony is a robot. His serial designation is "TN-3", but he used to respond to the name "Tony." It is not a mechanical monster and not a primitive calculating machine, which were developed during the Second World War, that is, a hundred years ago. He has an artificial brain, almost as complex as ours. Figuratively speaking, his brain is a huge telephone switchboard, the connections in which are made at the atomic level, and there are several billion connections in this switchboard.

Such a brain for each model of the robot is created by a specific technology. Each robot has a given set of parameters, depending on what kind of work it is intended for. But every robot knows at least English.

Until now, our company was limited to the release of robots intended for use in those industries where it is dangerous or undesirable for a person to work, for example, in ultra-deep mines or under water. But we strive to conquer the city, home life. To achieve this, we need to make the most ordinary, ordinary citizens - men and women, began to relate to robots without fear. I hope you understand that there is nothing to fear?

“It's not scary, Claire,” Larry added encouragingly. - Believe me. He is completely unable to do you any harm. Otherwise, I would never leave you with him.

Claire sneaked a look at Tony and whispered:

- And if I angry him?

“Absolutely no need to whisper,” said Susan Rai calmly. - He is not can get mad at you my dear I told you that his brain has specified parameters, and the main one is your safety. That's the way all robots work, and Tony is no exception. No circumstances can force a robot to harm a person. And most importantly, you must understand, Mrs. Belmont, we need you and Tony to clarify the details that need to be worked out. The experiment will continue for exactly three weeks - that is, all the while your spouse is in Washington and negotiate for official government approval for such experiments.

- Do you ... mean it is ... illegal?

Larry cleared his throat nervously.

- Not quite yet, but it doesn't matter. Tony will not leave the house, and you should not show it to anyone. That's all ... Claire, understand, I would stay with you, but I know too much about robots. And we need a completely unprepared person left with the robot - this will ensure the purity of the experiment. This is extremely necessary, understand.

“Well, well,” Claire murmured. - What can he do? - Suddenly she asked.

“Homework,” said Susan Calvin, briefly, “You'll like it, I assure you.”

She rose, and Larry opened the door for her. Claire watched them go, full of longing, and accidentally saw her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. She immediately turned away. How she herself hated her little mouse face and liquid, dull hair! Suddenly, she caught Tony’s eyes on herself, and a forced smile passed over her face, but she immediately remembered ...

After all, he was only a machine!

On the way to the airport, Larry caught a glimpse of Gladys Cleffern. She was one of those women whom she usually caught sight of. Immaculately dressed, tastefully made up - too brilliant to look at her for a long time.

Her subtle smile, ahead of Gladys herself, and the fragrance of expensive perfumes — everything breathed with appeal. Larry, feeling that the earth was slipping from under his feet, hastily raised his hat and sped past.

And, as usual, he felt a vague irritation. If only Claire would try to join Gladys, how could this help him to advance! But what's the point ...

Claire! This little silly every time she meets Gladys seems to be numb. No, Larry has long left any illusions. Experimenting with Tony is his only chance, and even that depends on Claire. Here come the case in the hands of someone like Gladys ...

The next morning, Claire awoke to a quiet, delicate knock on the bedroom door. She was all cold with horror. All the previous day she avoided meeting with Tony, and if he came across to her somewhere in the house, she smiled tightly and tried to slip past.

- Is that you, T-toni?

“Yes, Mrs Belmont.” Can I come in?

Apparently, she did say yes, since he was immediately in the room - suddenly and silently. Her eyes and nose simultaneously reported on the contents of the tray in his hands.

- Breakfast? She asked

- If you wish.