You lower your glass and over its rim you see Amie gazing at you. The apparent sincerity in her eyes touches you despite yourself. "Thank you for this, Mr. Brennan," she says again, her voice a little less quiet. It carries more weight. "This... has been a good day."

"What do you think of the wine?" you ask, curious to know her impressions.

"Oh, it's good," she says, taking another sip from her glass. "But then, how could it not be? You're the one who put it in my glass."

You allow yourself a smile. Despite how unnerving some of the events of the day were, you feel at ease with Amie. And really, her little android phrasings, or androidisms, as you've come to think of them, really are droll. And not a little insightful, to a surprisingly frequent extent. "That's right, Amie. It's good because it's something we're sharing, because we've allowed the wine to act as a conduit of something greater than itself, our mutual sentiments. That would still hold true if this were a cheap, unsophisticated sort of wine, would it not?"

With a nod, she obliges. "Of course, Mr. Brennan."

"Recall the image of the man drinking alone. Let's say his wine is a high-class wine, worth hundreds of dollars. Would he be happier drinking it than us two sharing a cheap wine together?"

"No," she says decisively. "He wouldn't be happier. He would in fact be getting a cheaper, lesser product."

A smile plays on your lips. "Exactly. Through wine—and all manner of material intermediaries—it is possible for humans to communicate their sentiments. What is the man communicating by purchasing an expensive wine for himself? That he wishes to gratify his tongue or enjoy the 'buzz' of drinking, most likely. But those are simply physiological reactions. In other words, they occur in and remain limited to the body; they are not specific to humans. Animals have also been observed to enjoy alcoholic beverages offered to them."

"I see. So..."

"So, through the material intermediary of a cheap, objectively inferior wine, we can communicate that which is greater than mere matter. Greater than what man can see or touch. That is beyond animals. And, sadly, beyond many humans."

Amie stares at you. You can almost see the gears turning within her cold metal innards. "Doesn't... doesn't that mean that I'm... I'm human?" she asks. "If I'm doing something that many humans can't or don't do, communicating something greater than mere matter, shouldn't that mean I'm..."

"I won't answer that question for you today, Amie. At the very least, you are acting more human now than when we first met. You are cognizant of a difference yourself, are you not?"

Amie looks down at her half-empty glass, a reverential expression on her face. "Yes," she says softly. She seems suddenly to realize the change that has been wrought in her by the acquisition of new knowledge, and is bowled over as a result. "I'm... not the same person," she says. "I've changed."

"You have. And you'll change more and more as our bond deepens." You consider your options. This is probably as far as you can go before filling her head with unreasonable hopes. Best to stop here for now. You drain your glass. "I'm sorry we still haven't reached the subject of transcendence, but I really do need to get back to work. Will you be able to occupy yourself for the rest of the afternoon?"

"I can, yes," Amie replies. "I will go back to my room and...well, I'll be there." You're surprised to see that her eyes are glistening, but you think you can safely presume that this is due to positive rather than negative emotions. "Good. I'll see you tonight, then." You give her a friendly smile as you rise from the table, leaving her to ponder over your words with her remaining wine.

You lay down your pen and lean back in your chair with a sigh. It took a while for you to get your focus, but your latest project has come a long way. You're confident you can complete the rest of it within the week… so long as you succeed in blocking out any and all distracting thoughts. Thoughts of a certain android...

*knock knock knock*

Speak of the devil.

"Mr. Brennan?" asks a muffled voice before you can possibly respond.

"Come on in, Amie," you call out from your seat. The door opens a crack. Amie peeps through it. "I'm not bothering you?" she asks.

"Not at all. I had just finished before you knocked. Is something the matter?"

"No, sir. I was just wondering if you'd like to eat something soon. Oh, and I finished my wine," she adds as an after-thought, though her reason for doing so eludes you. You check your analog watch. "Half past six? Yes, I suppose it's time I started preparing dinner..."

Amie opens her mouth in protest of your words. "Oh no sir, you should leave dinner to me!" she exclaims. "It would give me great pleasure. I will start preparing everything now!" Before you can even think of a follow-up response, she quickly shuts the door. You hear rapidly retreating footsteps as she makes her way to the kitchen.

...Are all androids this free-spirited, you wonder? Or is it this model in particular? You shake your head. Whatever the case, you suppose you had better join her to ensure the machine doesn't set your house on fire.