The next few days are a blur of housework and cooking (for you) and remembering (for Mr. Brennan) to do item lists. For all his meticulousness when it comes to work, you realize more and more that Mr. Brennan can be a bit scatter-brained when it comes to keeping up with domestic tasks. As you learn about the proper functioning of a human household—his household in particular—you gradually allow yourself to take a more active role in overseeing it. You also query Mr. Brennan about the details of your shared life together more often, which he encourages. You never run out of things to say to him, and you often find yourself taking the initiative in activities. (Like the first day you tried to take his hand while walking, for example.) Though you were rebuffed and he still maintains a strict policy regarding gratuitous physical contact, Mr. Brennan seems to enjoy these little experiments with "becoming more human", as he puts it.

By the end of the week you are fairly confident you have his trust and affection. You're not sure if he is 'comfortable' with you, or if he is just satisfied with your progress. But either way, you feel that this has to be the way. There is no way he could ever truly love you, but you can provide the best thing an android can give: companionship. A durable relationship with Mr. Brennan will be a step up for you, a promotion. You will be more than happy with that.

The weekend arrives, and with it, a change of routine. Saturday is the day of your weekly maintenance check, your first since moving here; furthermore, Mr. Brennan informs you that you are to do all of your shopping today, because he will not allow you to leave the house tomorrow, except for minor errands and recreational outings. You think you have a good idea why this is the case, but hold off on asking why for now.

Before grocery shopping you go to your appointment. For the first time, you are inspected by a person other than the governmental technician to whom you were assigned: an older human woman with a severe haircut and a grim expression comes to check on you. She is dressed in a plain white coat, and her manner is brisk and businesslike.

"Hello," she says, as she looks you over. Her eyes flick over you, taking in every detail. "I am Dr. Gossey. I'm here to make sure that everything is running smoothly."

"Hello, Dr. Gossey," you reply. You stand quietly as she goes through the familiar inspection method. "You seem to be doing well," she says after a while. Her glance is cool and assessing. You wonder if it's permissible to ask her for specifics about your condition, but she does not give you the opportunity.

"Let's test a few things," she decides, taking a small metal case out of a pocket. You know exactly what it contains—and what it will be used for. Dr. Gossey puts the case on the ground near you, and hits a button. A coldness seeps into your artificial skin as you feel your circulatory system is interrupted for the test...

"What’s happening now?" you ask, after a few minutes have passed and the test has gone on for longer than you expected. Your face feels numb, and you can no longer feel your feet. "We're undergoing nuclear inspection," Dr. Gossey says, with a slightly bemused expression, apparently baffled by your even needing to ask. "It's standard procedure for your type. I have to deactivate some of your functions temporarily, so I can check."

"Is this necessary?" you ask, frowning. "I mean, are you not able to evaluate me without doing this?"

"It is for your safety," Dr. Gossey says. She takes out another case, and cracks it open. Inside is a silvery, mercury-like liquid. She pours some of it into your silent mouth. "Drink," she commands. You do so, though it feels unbearably hot as it goes down your throat. "Good," Dr. Gossey nods.

"Dr. Gossey, what is the meaning of this?" you finally ask, when it seems like enough time had elapsed for her to render her verdict.

"Just running a quick test to make sure that everything is working as it should. It's very important that we keep you safe, after all," she says. "So many of the others... accidents happen."

"Accidents?" you ask. "What are you talking about?" A few moments later, the liquid's effects are over. Dr. Gossey surveys the figures fluctuating on a digital read out, making sure you're not heating up from the inside out. "There," she says. "Stress test complete." She picks up the case and turns away, walking over to her desk and taking a seat in a swivel chair. Her eyes scan a fresh column of results on her monitor. She pauses. She glances at you, then back at the monitor. Her eyes flick back in your direction, then at the monitor again. Her brow creases, a veritable network of lines. "You're..." she begins, then stops.

"Dr. Gossey?" you ask nervously. "What is it?"

She meets your anxious gaze with a flat expression. "You're still intact?"

You blink. "I-I'm sorry?"

"You haven't been manhandled in any way? Not even a single hair out of place?" she asks. "This is extremely rare."

"I don't understand," you say. She looks at you with a strange expression; then, she abruptly asks a question that leaves you feeling like you've been slapped. You replay the words in your mind in disbelief. You stare at her, your mouth slightly ajar. She looks at you expressionlessly. "Well? Yes or no? Has your husband—"

"—H-He has not!" you finally stammer, shocked by her assumption. You look at her, and your anger builds. "Why would you say such a thing?"

The doctor studies you under her glasses. "Is your lack of intimacy..." she asks slowly, "... due to impotence?"

You stare at her in disbelief. She stares back. Her expression is one of pity. "For the purposes of this inspection, I must assume the worst," she says. "I must assume that this abnormal state of affairs is due to a medical condition on his part, if all your systems are properly functioning. Am I mistaken?"

You make no answer.

"Just so we're clear," she says, "I'm not here to discuss your husband. I'm just here to inspect you and make sure you're up to regulations. If your sexual functions aren't defective and the issue lies on his end, then I can give you a certificate of approval. Do you have any technical malfunctions to report?"

"No. Everything's working fine," you say, forcing out the words.

"Good," she says. She stands and briskly strides to the door, opening it wide and motioning you out. There are other androids waiting in the lobby. "Then, we're finished here. You can go. Dr. Tanner will receive you next week for your next session; I'll be away on vacation."

"Where to?" you ask faintly, allowing your civility module to take over.

"The Bahamas." She nods. "Have a good day." You step out of her office, and she shuts the door behind you. You stand in place for a moment. Eventually, you force yourself to turn and walk away.