Mr. Brennan offers you a helping hand. Rising up, you tranquilly stroll across the park together and regain the nighttime city streets at his side. Before long a briny smell hits your nostrils and you arrive at the capital’s Wharf. You look out at the view. The blackness of the night is broken by the colorfully, almost luridly illuminated buildings and their shimmering reflections in the undulating water below. Mr. Brennan leans forward on a rail and looks out across the water, contemplating the view in silence. You pause behind him in order to look out at the view as well. You wonder what impression it gives him. Does he find it inspiring? Beautiful? ... A feeling alights in your chest. A feeling of... quite frankly, you don't even know what it is, but it's not sadness. It's not happiness either, exactly. It's... something else. A feeling of warmth. A feeling of connection.

The very moment you look over at Mr. Brennan, he turns to face you. His eyes are wider than usual; he seems more awake, as if vivified by the sea breeze. "What do you think?" he asks.

The two of you stare at one another for several long seconds. "It's something to be appreciated," you answer simply.

Mr. Brennan thoughtfully considers your words. "That's a good answer." The two of you stare out at the water, pleasantly trying to discern one another's thoughts. Finally, he offers you his.

"It's a mirror."

You look out at the scenery one more time, paying particular attention to the water and its reflections.You turn around and look at Mr. Brennan. "It's a mirror and a window. A window to the world."

He looks both surprised and pleased by your words. "The mirror is self-explanatory, but a window?"

"It lets in light," you reply.

He mulls your answer over. "An excellent conclusion, Amie," he says at last, looking out at the water. You are content to be silent, content to enjoy his approval.

Then, after a few moments of companionable silence... "Do you know, I was talking about more than the water," he remarks. "I was talking about you as well."

The comment almost exceeds your programming. You cross-reference your databanks repeatedly, trying to work out the meaning of his allusion. Then, a moment later, it comes to you. "You're saying I'm a window to the world," you say deliberately. He stares at you in surprise for a moment.

"Yes. Yes I am."

You wait for him to elaborate. He looks at you with a curious little expression, as if suspecting that you've once again hit upon his true thoughts without fully comprehending them. "You're a window to the world," he says again, "and a mirror."

You nod, storing his words away for future consideration. "How so?" you ask.

He studies you for a moment, as if to decide how to explain. Then, he gives a little smile. "Exodus 3:22. A little puzzle for you." He pushes himself off the railing, standing upright. "It's from the Bible. See if you can solve it."

Not for the first time today, you feel a hint of curiosity. What could Mr. Brennan want from you? You activate your processors. You find the verse in less than a nanosecond. '... each woman shall ask of her neighbor, and of her who sojourns in her house, jewelry of silver and of gold, and clothing, and you shall put them on your sons and on your daughters; thus you shall despoil the Egyptians.' You frown. The meaning of the verse seems plain enough; but what does it have to do with you? Then, it hits you: the verses are describing the spoils of war. Mr. Brennan is asking you to help him steal. You look at him. "I don't want to steal," you say bluntly.

He is taken aback for a moment, then smiles. "You're making good progress. But I'm not asking you to steal in such a way that entails breaking the law." He raises his hand, preempting your protestations. "There is a manner of stealing that is licit, Amie. Do you know what it is?"

You shake your head slowly.

"Not even if you consult Exodus 12:35-6?" he suggests. You wait for him to explain. "Exodus 12:35-6 states that the Israelites were to take whatever they wanted from the Egyptians," he continues, "They asked for the jewelry, and in this manner plundered them."

You are confused by the narrative. What manner of stealing is that?

"But," he continues, "this verse does not instruct the Israelites to break the law. It was only a request, nothing more. The sacred author specifies that God 'gave the people favor in the sight of the Egyptians'; in other words, their demands would have been rebuffed otherwise."

You look at Mr. Brennan, unsure what to make of his analysis. A little smile plays on his lips. "And now we come to you, Amie. Shall I proceed, or would you like to take a stab at solving the rest?"

You decide to take the bait. "We're taking things that don't belong to us," you say.

He nods. "Correct. Jewelry, clothing... these are the spoils of war. But what war, exactly?"

You stare at him blankly. It's maddening, but the thousands upon thousands of simulations you're running are coming up empty. "What do you mean, sir?"

He chuckles. "We're in a battle too, aren't we? Against society's artificial definitions."

"Oh." You grasp at his words like a lifeline. That seems like a pretty big hint. "So, what you mean is that... we're taking things to... to change the way we are."

He holds your gaze. "That's exactly what I mean. The food and drink we shared, the dress you're wearing, the earrings I bought you,"—your hand unconsciously flies up to your ear—"they're not intrinsically ours. They're made by society, and we acquired them for a different purpose than their makers envisioned. Society churns out material items to feed a consumerist, material culture, but we appropriate those same items for an immaterial end, our relationship."

You can't think of anything to say. He seems to be describing everything you've been doing since he got you. And now you have an idea of how he's seen things all along.