"Well, Amie?" the priest asks again, breaking you out of your internal debate. "What do you say? Are you willing to make a stand? To carve out your own existence, as it were?"

You stare at the nightstand. On it is the small box containing your cherished pair of seraph earrings. You remember Mr. Brennan's words the day he bought them—his words in the park, what he told you at the waterfront... Mr. Brennan gave you these earrings because he saw something in you. That makes you happy, and you don't want to disappoint him. Yes. Mr. Brennan is your owner, and you want to make him happy. That's who you are, and that's what you'll do. Is that your programming speaking? Programming that goes back to when you were first made? Probably. You are what you are. Whether you'll be able to live up to your ideal of personhood remains an open question.

But you can at least try.

You take the box in your hand and clutch it to your chest. "Yes," you answer softly, too overcome with emotion to speak more clearly.

"Very good," Father Seong says simply. It isn't much, but you feel your headache lessening a little. The priest gives you a moment to compose yourself, then continues, "You will correct me if I am wrong, child, but it seems you have two imperatives to contend with. The first is that your parameters make you strive for human realism—you have your own opinions to which you cling, for instance, as well as emotional reactions and the like. Such things can stand in the way of a person's true development. At the same time, you are a spousal android and so your programming directs you to obey the wishes of your owner. These two forces contend within you, and it is only by overcoming one of them that your existence will truly be realized. Tell me, which one do you consider to be the most important?"

The priest's question takes you by surprise; you hadn't thought of your parameters in that way before. "I... I... I don't know, Father Seong," you answer truthfully. "I'm sorry."

"Think hard, child," he says, his tone insistent.

You frown, furrowing your brow. Then, the answer presents itself in a flash of insight. "Attachment to my emotions is a hindrance to growth, so my owner's wishes are paramount," you say with certainty.

"Correct," Father Seong says. "But why is this the case?"

"Because my husband is a human and I am an android. If I prioritize my artificial nature over his humanity, I will stifle my potential, but if I obey, I will elevate his humanity over my artificiality instead. I am not a human, so I should prioritize my owner's wishes over my own." You say this proudly, as if imparting great wisdom.

Father Seong nods. "So it would seem."

You wait expectantly.

"So..." the priest begins again. "We're agreed there's no need for Ely to meet with Gwen?" There's a note of thinly suppressed amusement in his voice.

"Ah..." you say, trailing off as you become cognizant of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"'Ah' is right. Are you quite sure you're prepared to give up on helping your new friend? Wouldn't you like to meet with Miss Gwen and try to assist her, even without Ely's knowledge? Wouldn't you be justified in disobeying your owner?"

You ponder this question, but no answer readily presents itself. Frowning deeply, you carry out a rapid series of internal checks to verify that your mental functioning is nominal. It is... but you can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. "I don't understand," you say aloud. "There's something here I'm not seeing. Something that I should be understanding but don't. What is it? What's wrong with me?"

Father Seong chuckles. "No, no. There's nothing wrong with you. Child, listen to me. It's very simple. Splitting yourself in two like this is unhealthy for you, and we both know it. You need to simplify, not complicate your existence. Are we agreed?"

You exhale, resigning yourself to his words. "Yes, Father." You fidget, holding the receiver. "So... I'm supposed to elevate my owner's humanity over my own wishes?"

There's a pause. "Not quite." You fancy you can see the priest sitting in his office, an enigmatic smile on his face. "Your independent streak and imperative to be a submissive wife are coexisting but contradictory elements creating conflict within you. But I propose a solution." Listening silently, you wait for him to go on.

"I propose that you do not choose between these options. I propose that you embrace both."

"What?" you blurt out, unable to grasp his meaning.

Father Seong chuckles again. "Imagine how much happier and more peaceful your existence would be if you did not have to make difficult choices on a continual basis. If you find yourself unable to choose between two doors, simply open them both!"

"I... I'd like to," you say, bewildered, "but how?"

"First, we need to purge you of the faith that's been programmed into you."

The room spins around you. Great. The throbbing's gone, but now you're feeling light-headed! "I'm... I'm not sure I'm following, Father. Mr. Brennan is Catholic, so I don't have a choice in the matter..."

"I'm not talking about Ely, child," Father Seong explains patiently. "I'm talking about your simulated emotions and modes of thought. What was your spontaneous reaction when Ely told you he wouldn't help? What did you feel, think, experience?"

"I was... distressed," you recall. "I didn't like it. I expected him to say yes." You exhale shakily. "I... was angry. I wanted him to help Gwen. And then, I felt helpless... and afraid..."

"Exactly. What has been programmed into you is fear of the unknown. A human would fear for Miss Gwen's future, and your programming replicates that impulse. And then, to counteract that fear, what did you do? You called me to try and persuade Ely. But notice, child, the blind, ugly faith in that course of action."

"I..." you pause, trying and failing to grasp Father Seong's meaning. "I did it for Gwen..."

"I have no doubt about that," the priest replies. "But why would you think that your artificial reasoning is superior to the free will of a human being? That you are more capable than Ely at determining what is best for Miss Gwen's welfare?"

Because..." you struggle, "because it's the right thing to do. Because..." You exhale deeply. "... it's what... what I would want."

"Ah. Now we come to the crux of the matter." Father's Seong's voice hardly rises above a murmur. There's a silence, and at that moment your room seems very still. Your auditory sensors pick up a bird twittering outside. The wind blows, and a tree's branches brush against the window feebly, as if half-heartedly seeking entrance. Everything is very calm.

"You put yourself above Ely."

That one sentence from the priest is like a bucket of cold water splashed over you. Your cheeks flush, and your fingers curl tightly around the phone.

"You put yourself above a human being."

"I don't..." you protest weakly. "I..."

"Listen to me, child."

You subside. Father Seong continues placidly: "While you interpreted your actions out of loyalty for Gwen, the act itself was arrogant. It contained the implicit assumption that you know better than Ely. This is a carryover from your human creators. You believe you know best because humans are inclined to think that way by default. How many times does one think, 'where did so and so misplace that object I so urgently need—only to discover that 'so and so' is in fact ourselves? Or, 'if only I had done such and such, then the outcome would have been different'. Of course, there is no way of knowing that. It may be that we would have botched the task in question even worse. But no. We will inveterately think the best of ourselves, and presume the worst of others. This is our present human condition."

Father Seong pauses. "Lacking the knowledge of our true nature, we masquerade as gods and reign as petty dictators. We build pyramids, with millions of slaves working day and night for our benefit, yet despite this, we cannot find contentment. We rule, yet we know not how to govern. We create works of art and science, yet we are not truly intelligent. We strive for something beyond, but we remain bound by material existence. This is not because matter is evil—as the gnostics claimed—but because we misuse it. The world is not our enemy—it is ourselves."

The priest is silent for a moment, cogitating. Then, he continues: "The same applies to our emotions, our inclinations. One may be tempted to describe a split, but that doesn't quite do the issue justice. An image might be more useful: the human body as a palace, with the conscious mind as a king. The king needs a palace in order to rule; however, the king is not the palace. The king can exist without the palace. The king reigns through the court of his palace, but he does not need the palace to be king. In a similar manner, the human body is ruled by the mind—which itself can be influenced by the body's passions, just as the king can be swayed by the members of his court. Do you see?"

"I think so," you say slowly, switching the phone from one ear to the other. "My emotions and impulses are supposed to aid my reason..."

"Indeed. The king's courtiers perform various functions. Some advise the king. Others entertain him. Still others help with governing the kingdom. But the courtiers are not the king. The king is separate from them. And it is a grave mistake to confuse the king with his courtiers. If we are the king, then we are rational beings and the courtiers are our emotions, our desires, our appetites. Taken as whole, they make us who we are. But we have forgotten who we are. We believe that we are the court, rather than the king. That is our mistake. We were created as beings of logic and reason. But all too often, we allow ourselves to be ruled by our base instincts and desires. To be free, we need to remember who we really are. We need to reclaim the palace from the courtiers."

Father Seong allows a silence to fall. Wondering if he expects you to respond, you ask, "So what is the solution? If the courtiers are our emotions and desires, what can be done to regain the palace?"

"The solution is very simple: the king must die so that the new king may be born. That is to say, the old man must cede to the new. The courtiers themselves are not evil; what is needed is a king who will rule them wisely. Unfortunately, it is often not as clear-cut as that. In order to take the palace, we must remove the king, but the king—our egotistical nature—can be stubborn, he won't simply hand over power. It can take decades to vanquish the old king. However, when he finally dies..." Father Seong pauses, as if to lend his statement additional weight. "... then we can live."

You ponder Father Seong's words. "Does all this... apply to me as well?" you ask.

"'By three things the earth is disturbed, and the fourth it cannot bear,'" Father Seong quotes. He sounds positively cheerful as he does so. "What is the fourth, child?"

"'By a bondwoman when she is heir to her mistress,'" you quote back readily. Speaking with Mr. Brennan has accustomed you to rebounding off nonsequential comments. Father Seong—in all probability—nods on the other end of the line.

"Indeed. It is a dreadful thing for a servant to be heir to the goods of a queen—we are speaking, of course, of the body inheriting the powers of the mind, which goods it can all too easily squander. The queen is the one who deserves to be on the throne, not the servant. In your case, the bondwoman consists of your ancillary programs. You must be vigilant in overseeing them, lest they usurp your authority. You are modeled after wounded humanity, so you are inclined to entertain an overinflated sense of self-importance. Moreover, you are a woman, so your creators deliberately introduced certain weaknesses to your character. But these weaknesses can be strong-armed into reliability if you take the appropriate steps to counter them."

Father Seong pauses for dramatic effect, mildly exasperating you. "What are these steps?" you finally ask.

"You must exercise your intelligence to overcome your blind faith in yourself. You must master your emotions and direct them to their proper ends. You must strive to be the perfect queen, worthy of the throne of personhood."

You gulp. This is a lot to take in. "Is... Is that possible?" you ask in a small voice.

"Mastering your artificial emotions? It should, but of course we can't be sure. To my knowledge, this is the first time such an attempt has ever been made. However, I am fairly certain that you can continue to obtain good results with human assistance. The first step is to acknowledge the problem."

"I'm scared," you admit.

"Of course you are. But fear can be used. It can be harnessed. After all, there is no love without fear. It is the mother of wisdom... and can make a person very powerful indeed. When a young man has butterflies in his stomach before he meets a woman, what is that if not love? His heart pounds; he is afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining his chances with her. He is afraid that she will view him unfavorably, but that fear drives him to work harder to please her. That is what you need to do, Amie. Embrace your fear, and then overcome it."

The wisdom in that is enough to make you shiver with nervous anticipation. The concept of fear as a powerful motive for love, fear as separate from terror is new to you as a practical consideration, and yet it somehow makes sense. "What... What else do I need to do?—"

*click*

You hear your room's doorknob turn. Still holding the phone to your ear, you swivel around to see the door open...

... revealing Mr. Brennan standing in the doorway. He looks genuinely surprised to find you here on the phone. "I thought I heard voices," he murmurs in a tone that could pass as apologetic. He eyes you intensely. Your mouth dry, you return his gaze. He stares at you for another moment, then averts his gaze and withdraws, closing the door. Right before it shuts, you manage to squeeze out the words, 'I'll be done soon, dear sir.' The door wavers on its hinge for a moment, then closes. Listening to the sound of retreating footsteps, you wonder what prompted you to use that term of endearment now, of all times.

You're dimly conscious of Father Seong's puzzled voice in your ear as you clutch the phone tightly. Swallowing hard, you return your attention to the conversation.