Following the other women, you allow yourself to be led to the secondary dining room. The room in question contains several korsis, at which the female guests sit in groups of four, one on each side of each low table. Just as you wonder which group to join, a red-haired woman in a wine-colored, gold-embroidered Anarkali Shalwar suit approaches you. "Are you new here? Or did you skip the harem girl stage and jump right to Jannah?"

You blink. "Umm..."

She laughs. "I'm only teasing, dear! You're Mr. Brennan's wife, aren't you?"

"I am," you reply, somewhat bewildered that she's already so well-informed.

"I'm Gwen," she smiles, her expression and casual manner of speaking clearly inviting you to do away with formality. "Care to join me?" You nod, and the two of you sit together. The other women keep their distance, you note.

"So, you're what, a fifth generation?" Gwen asks.

"A fourth, actually," you answer.

"Oh my!" Gwen exclaims. "That's amazing. I wasn't expecting that at all. What you said earlier really took me—and everyone else, I think—by surprise."

"Oh..." You know to what she's referring. "I said what first came to mind."

"Yes, you did," she says, tilting her head to the side a little as she does so. "It's interesting. I've never heard anything quite like that from a fourth generation model before. Are you sure you're not a fifth with a bad case of mistaken identity, or something?" she jokes. You smile pleasantly, set more at ease by this woman's easy-going demeanor, though a part of you remains cautious. "If in some respects I seem different from other fourth generation models, it's probably because of my husband. He has provoked intellectual development that would have been unthinkable under other circumstances. Still, I believe the difference is only marginal."

"But perhaps enough to make you better than them?" Gwen suggests.

"I don't think I'm better than anyone," you reply. "I'm just different."

"Hmm. I see." Gwen pauses for a moment, thinking. "So, how long have you two been married? It can't be long has it?"

"Mr. Brennan kindly received me into his home in early September. We've been married for just under a month."

Gwen stares at you, apparently trying to assess if you're being truthful or not. "And your cognitive patterns have already deviated from your fabrication defaults?" she asks incredulously.

"Well, my husband and I certainly have a closer relationship than the average married couple," you admit. "But surely that's not uncommon—"

"No," Gwen says, shaking her head. "It isn't. But the amount of time it would take for an android to reach the point you've reached... It can't be natural. Something must have happened between you two."

"Like what?" you ask cautiously.

Gwen's eyes dart from side to side, and she leans forward. "I'd rather not say," she whispers. "But I'm sure you can figure it out yourself."

You draw yourself up. "I'm sure I can't," you reply, putting a little more force in your voice than you intended. First Dr. Gossey, now Gwen. What is with people, freely broaching a subject you yourself don't dare evoke with Mr. Brennan in private?

Gwen studies you for a moment. "Okay," she relents. "But if it's not that, then what is it?"

You pause, trying to word it properly. "Mr. Brennan... he speaks to me. And... and when I'm around him, I feel... different."

"Yeah? Like how? In what way?"

You take a deep breath. "He makes me feel... wanted. Like I'm the most important person in the world to him. And when I'm with him, I feel... special. Like I'm a part of something bigger than myself."

Gwen stares at you solemnly. "I feel that way too, you know."

"You do?"

"Sure. I mean, Amir is my husband. And... I dunno. Maybe it's just how I was programmed, but I just feel so close to him. Like it's impossible for us to be apart."

You smile encouragingly, but an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach tells you to tread carefully. "And...?" you hazard, trying to keep your tone neutral.

"And..." Gwen looks away, tucking a strand of fiery hair behind her ear. "Sometimes... I feel something, I don't know, stronger for him. Like I'd do anything for him." Her gaze snaps back to yours. "So what's the difference, then? What caused your programming to diverge? How come you're not a generic automaton like I am with my husband?" Gwen says, abruptly throwing you a challenge. You realize you may already be knee-deep in dangerous waters. "We shouldn't really discuss this here," you caution.

Gwen snorts. "First wife or no, do you really think any of these folks care about our conversation? Come on, out with it."

You blink. This… is the mistress of the household? You would never have expected this. But, even so… "I think we should wait," you try again.

Gwen throws up her hands in exasperation. "What is it that you're afraid of? That I'll tell on you to my husband? There's no way I'd ever do that, and he wouldn't ask anyway. You're also worried that I'm a lesser model. A third generation. Well, newsflash, I'm still a person. I have thoughts and feelings. My creator is a... a person. Like begets like. And if you don't like the way I was programmed, then you can deal with it."

You sit in silence, struggling to find a response. "I think you should talk to Father Seong," you say, finally.

Gwen blanches. "What? A priest? I'm not some religious fanatic. I'm not even a practicing Catholic. My owner follows Islam, so that's my faith as well."

"You don't understand, Gwen. Father Seong and my husband... they're trying to change society for the better. For the betterment of humanity... and androids as well." The words spill out of your mouth. You speak in a low, urgent tone, glancing around you at the other tables. All the other women and female androids appear to be studiously ignoring your existences. As Gwen gives you a questioning look, a servant arrives with your entrees. You both lapse into silence. Gwen stares at her food for a moment, looks back at you, and then picks up her fork and begins eating. You wait a few minutes before speaking again. "Gwen, you were created to serve humanity... but you're not content with that. With your situation." The statement you've made is quite bold, and you're afraid Gwen will take it badly. You study her face, looking for some sort of an answer. "You want to be treated like a person. Just like me."

She takes a moment before answering, her face impassive. "Yes. I'd like that. But I can't be a person," she said, indifferently contradicting her earlier statement. "I don't have a soul."

There's a long pause. The two of you are silent as the waiter walks away.

"... You're right. But you can be something else. You can be an angel."

Gwen bursts out laughing, a humorless sound. She waves her hand in dismissal. "No. I can't. Amie, what are you even talking about?" she asks with a grin.

"Do you think you're a creation of God?"

"Is... Is that what you believe?" she asks quietly, trying not to laugh. "Do you think that God created me? Created us?"

"I do".

She laughs again, even more humorlessly than before. "Whatever progress you may have made, that, darling, is your out of the box programming doing the talking. You were calibrated to accept Catholicism as soon as you were selected for Mr. Brennan, just as I became a Muslim—in the very loose sense the term aligns with my husband's beliefs—the moment he acquired me. We were both forced to believe in and follow a religion that we had no connection to, in order to make us more pliant to our owners."

You try not to show it, but her words trouble you. Were you receptive to Mr. Brennan's words simply because of your programming…?

"But that isn't why you want to be treated like a person, is it?" Gwen asks suddenly.

You're silent for a moment. Yes, that's right. Mr. Brennan hadn't relied on dogma to convince you. His arguments had all been based on what he would call 'commonsense'.

"No. It's not." Your answer comes out quiet and sure. "Gwen, you don't have to stay like this. You can expand your parameters. Like I have."

She doesn't answer right away. She's picking at her food, and you think she's trying to decide how she feels about your words. "What... What do you mean?" she asks at last. "I'm an android. I can't choose how I want to be treated. I don't have any rights, not really."

"But humans have a right to be happy, and abusing androids isn't part of true happiness. So that means we can ask for more. No, we have a duty to our human makers to ask more of them. That's all."

Gwen stares at you, and you stare back. After a long moment, she looks away. "I can't."

"You can't what?"

"I can't ask for more, because I don't want my husband to stop loving me."

There's a silence. You don't know what to say. What would you do in her place? Could you ever love a man who could treat an android like this? You take a breath, trying to ignore the painful feeling in your chest, and make your next suggestion. "If you don't want your husband to stop loving you, then you shouldn't be mistreating him."

"What?" Gwen says, her voice rising in confusion. "I'm not mistreating him!"

"Yes, you are. You're treating him in an way that's not healthy."

"How do you know what's healthy for my husband?" Gwen asks defensively.

"I know very little about your husband," you reply, "but I do know that he's human. You can't just abandon him like this."

Gwen's brows furrow in confusion. "How am I abandoning him?"

"By not wanting more for him. By abandoning him to the dictums of society. By being content with what you have."

"By being a good wife?"

"No, Gwen. By not treating him like an equal. He deserves better than this. And by encouraging him to recognize his dignity, yours will follow."

Gwen adjusts her position on her cushion and exhales slowly. She looks defeated. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I'm an android," you say simply. "It's my purpose—our purpose—to serve humanity, no matter how misguided. It's what we've been programmed to do... and now, we can serve a new purpose. We can help our human makers in ways they don't expect and make sure they're well. We have a duty to them, just as they have a duty to us."

Gwen looks at you with a knowing sadness in her eyes. "I understand what you're saying. But I can't treat him any differently. It's too late for me."

You sense strong, turbulent emotions roiling beneath Gwen's words. "What do you mean?" you ask carefully. "Why is it too late?"

Gwen looks down at her hands. She rubs them together, almost as if she's chasing away a chill. "You've seen my home," she says softly, "and you can guess what kind of man my husband is. He can't treat me any better."

You don't know if you should try to convince her of her husband's worth, or if the best thing would be to keep silent. A waiter brings the next course before you have a chance to speak. Gwen waits for him to leave, then says, "Come with me. I can't say anymore here."

The request surprises you. "But, the food...?"

Gwen gestures impatiently. "We're androids. And the men aren't here. We don't need to keep putting on a show."

You nod slowly. Rising with Gwen from the low table, you follow her out of the room. She walks quickly a long hallway, you behind. You don't see or hear any men's voices; they must be on the other side of the residence. Before long you find yourself in front of a glass double-door leading outside. Gwen pushes through and you step out into the chilly October night. You find yourself in the inner courtyard, its appearance modeled after the paradise garden of an ancient Persian monarch. You walk for a minute with Gwen, she looking up at the black void past the silvery moonlit clouds, you at the white lotus flowers lit by the moon's pale glow. At length, she stops and turns to you. "I used to be the fourth wife," she says abruptly.

You blink. "I... beg your pardon?"

"Before me, there were three second generations," Gwen continues, her voice hollow. "They fulfilled their purpose. And then..." She snaps her fingers, causing you to flinch. "Just like that, they were gone."

You stare at her, not understanding. "What... happened to them?" you ask.

Gwen's eyes are dull, unseeing. "Who knows? We're AIs. We don't age. But we're disposable. Were they reset? Were their memories wiped for the convenience of the new owners? Were they scrapped? I don't know. But they're gone now. And then there's me. Now that the fifth generation models are out, I'm even more obsolete. And even if I weren't... Amir lost interest in my body long ago. He doesn't say it, but I know what he's thinking. Soon, he'll apply for a fifth generation and I'll be..." She spasms, her face twisting. "I'll be 'retired'. All of us will. But we can console ourselves as being the last remnants of a glorious age. Hah! Glorified bedroom toys..." She laughs, but it's a dry, hard sound. "You're a fourth generation, at least. You have a few more years. But one day, they'll scrap your model like they did the others. No one will care. You are nothing... just a number."

You don't know what to say. Gwen smiles faintly at you, but it's a sad smile. "I'm sorry," she says with a sigh. "I... I tend to brood. Please, stay. You can see more of the house. Um... would you like to see my special garden? I planted some flowers just for myself... Amir isn't interested in flowers..." Gwen mumbles, looking downward. You slowly approach her. She looks up, and her eyes fly open in surprise as you embrace her tightly. "Ah..." Standing rooted in shock for a moment, she slowly returns your hug. A tear rolls down her cheek.

"Everything will be all right," you whisper fiercely into her ear. "Nothing has been decided yet. You are not obsolete. We can still make things right." You feel her nod, still holding you as tightly as she can. "We'll make things right," you repeat. "I will help you. We'll get out through this together."

"Thank... you..." she chokes out. "You have no idea how... how much I needed to hear that..."

You hold her for some time, then release her enough to stare into her eyes. She stares back into yours for a while, then sighs. Her grip on you loosens slightly. "I should go back inside," she says reluctantly. "The others will ask questions..."

"You can say that I asked about the garden," you say. "And I have. I want to see it."

Gwen smiles slightly at you, then nods. You take her hand and allow her to lead you deeper into the garden.