"Sir... where is God in all this?"

Her vivid blue eyes are probing, not accusatory. You're struck by the impression of seeing a little child try to make sense of a confusing adult world. Amie continues to search for an answer in your eyes as she waits for you to reply. Her face is a portrait of guileless yearning for an answer to a question that even the most elevated of saints and mystics found themselves grappling with, at some point in their lives.

Despite yourself, you find yourself smiling fondly. You imagine how a father might smile at his daughter when she asks him why the sky is blue. For, cold, calculating man that you are, no amount of evil in the world, however great, no amount of human suffering, could ever cause the faintest shadow of doubt to obscure your faith, now that you have acquired it. The government's persecution could intensify to the point that every priest could have a bullet put in his head; every mother could be sterilized, every infant torn out of its parents arms and rent limb from limb, every last believer exterminated with the exception of yourself, and that would not succeed in phasing you in the slightest. The 'problem of evil', in your book, is quite simply a non-issue.

But you don't want Amie to see things quite the way you do. If she were human, her faith would be a rare, resplendently shining jewel to cherish and hold dear. As it stands, even though she's an android whose beliefs only bear a superficial resemblance to childlike piety, they're something you want to preserve.

How should you answer her?

A distant approximation of a smile touches your lips. "Why, everywhere. And nowhere is His action most clearly seen than in the actions of our enemies."

Amie's eyes widen in acute surprise. "What do you mean, sir?" she asks, bewildered.

"Your programming. It was carried out by people who, shall we say, are not particularly well-disposed toward me and my ilk. But let's not attribute to malice what we can to incompetence. Your reaction from earlier smacks of puritanism, of a lazy, cut-and-paste job. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if some of your parameters were one for one equivalents taken straight from one of the earlier Evangelical modules."

Her brows knitted in thought as she tries to anticipate your meaning, Amie thinks back to the documentary from earlier, and how your reaction to it had differed from her own. "So... you believe that my reactions to certain things are... inauthentic?" She looks at you worriedly, her eyes imploring you to reassure her.

You meet her gaze steadily, your expression sincere. "Not inauthentic, no. In fact... if you were a human being, I would say that your reactions are those of a child."

Amie considers this, her lips pursed in a slight 'o' of surprise. "A child..."

"Yes. A human child, with all the wonder and none of the cynicism of adulthood." Your eyes are sharp as you look at her, but your voice is gentle. "Of course, this wasn't the intention of your makers. They simply programmed you along the same lines as the earlier and less sophisticated androids for Protestants. You're supposed to be a demure, virginal maiden, an object for me to put on a pedestal—and squeamishness concerning bodily functions or nudity is part of the package, presumably. Fortunately for us, the carelessness of your programmers works in favor of your pursuit of personhood. If they had bothered to tailor your reactions to be more specific to the events of the documentary, you might not have reacted as you did."

Though glad that her reaction was not outside your expectations, Amie is evidently wondering how this relates to her quest for personhood, and articulates her concern. To it you reply, "Don't you see, Amie? Your reactions were those of a human child. And this applies to more than that one nature documentary: consider a human child who watches a video about childbirth and is fascinated, but also a little frightened. Your apprehension was just as evident, if not to the same degree. But the most important thing is, you were like a child. A human. A person."

The implications of your words seem to wash over her, and she stares at you, a dawning wonder in her eyes over the progress she's made. "So... so I was acting more like a real human then, right?"

"Right." You smile at her, more easily than usual, and she smiles back, a true smile that lights up her whole face.

"I'm so glad. I was afraid..." She stops, relief evident on her face.

You know what she's thinking. She was afraid you would announce that her programming was so obviously patchwork and defective that there was no sense in trying to make further progress. But you are not going to do that. You're going to proceed slowly, testing her responses to various stimuli, and see just how far you can take her.

You have high hopes for this project. High hopes for Amie. You don't know what impression she'll have on the mayor, but you're becoming increasingly confident that he won't dismiss her out of hand. Not when she's made this much progress.

And then, rousing you out of your optimistic speculations...

"Dear sir? I have a question..."

You look at Amie. Though reassured by your words, she's looking at you with a curious, hesitant expression.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I was just wondering... you said that my reaction was humanlike, but if that's the case, why did it differ from yours?"

"Ah." You almost forgot about that. "Well, our reactions didn't differ as much as you seem to think. I can't say I made a point of looking at the screen myself."

"You didn't?" Amie's surprise is written on her face.

"Yes. Though my reason for not wanting to watch the chimps' mating admittedly diverged from yours. To be quite candid, so far as diversions go, I can think of more aesthetically pleasing alternatives to nature documentaries," you remark dryly.

"I see." She pauses, and you know what she's going to ask next. "What was it that motivated you, then?"

"My hubris." You answer without hesitation.

"Your hubris?" She tilts her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

You don't answer right away. In truth, you're a little fatigued from your recent exposition. You don't feel as sharp as usual, and it's as if there's an oppressive, stuffy atmosphere in the living room; you want to throw on a coat and go out for a walk, to take in deep draughts of the cold night air and feel the biting wind against your face. To leave the android behind and have some time to yourself... but, you realize ruefully, that would be mere indulgence on your part. Moreover, you feel an odd, niggling sensation, like a feather-light voice whispering in your ear that this conversation is important, that you shouldn't cut it short. In fact, you feel…

That it's time you told Amie about yourself.