Yes, you'll tell her about yourself.

However, before that...

"Amie, could you please let in some fresh air?" you ask, undoing your top collar button as you point to the window beside the television.

"Yes, sir." She gets up and walks over to it, sliding it open. You settle for this compromise, immediately feeling better as cold air rolls into the room.

"Thank you." You incline your head slightly at her, and she returns you a smile before returning to her seat. "Now, you were asking me about my arrogance."

"Yes, sir." She leans forward in her seat a bit, mirroring your own posture. "What did you mean when you said it motivated your reaction?"

You smile thinly. "I suppose I'll have to turn back the clock a bit to explain in full. And by a bit I mean... yes, about twenty-five years or so. I was eight years old in third grade."

Even those few words suffice to capture Amie's undivided attention. You've never divulged anything about your past to her before; all she knows consists of the data spoonfed to her shortly before she was assigned to you. She leans forward, her hands clasped together in her lap, eyes wide and attentive as you begin to relate an anecdote of your life.

In response to her curiosity, you gesture loosely with one hand to the television. "This incident occurred in science class. Though there weren't any of your beloved botos or primates, the teacher did show us a nature program. Or rather," you smile thinly, "she showed us the first half of a nature program. It mainly centered around mammals, with a narrator describing their habits and common characteristics. But then, disaster struck. The program began to depict the lives of rabbits."

Amie's lips quirk upward. "Rabbits, sir?" she asks, her voice tinted with amusement. "What could be so wrong with rabbits?"

You pause in recollection before continuing. "A video about rabbits, and how they care for their young in the springtime... perhaps you can guess what came next." Another pause ensues; her lips part, though she says nothing. She's probably figured out where you're going with this, but you proceed: "The video began to show, in graphic detail, how a doe dealt with the incursion of a predator near her warren. That is to say, she began devouring her offspring. One kit was hanging out of its mother's mouth as she chewed away energetically..."

Amie winces at your graphic description. You continue:

"I suppose the teacher didn't properly screen the video before showing it to us. I don't know what she expecting—it wasn't going to just be rabbits being cute and cuddly, after all; it was a documentary, uncensored and raw." You break off from your narrative to stare at the past.

"My classmates stared in mute horror; one girl, seated in the row in front of me, began crying. In a panic, Mrs. Higgins stopped the video. When she got everyone to calm down, several children asked the teacher why the mother rabbit would do such a thing. In an excessively solemn tone, Mrs. Higgins said, 'There are many things in this world that we will never understand. This is one of those things.'"

You shake your head at the memory. "I was incredulous. I knew the answer immediately. The mother ate her offspring because if she didn't, the predator would. By doing so, she deprived her natural enemy of nourishment and obtained nutrients for herself, improving her chances at surviving and passing on her genes. Nothing mysterious about it. It was completely logical... and not a little beautiful. Nature's logic is always beautiful... unfortunately, I had the misfortune of expressing my views to the class."

Amie has been listening attentively to your story. You lift your shoulders in a careless shrug as you continue. "Naturally, a great many of my classmates disagreed with me. My teacher was among them. That class was the first time I saw Mrs. Higgins lose her temper in front of me. She was generally a kind and patient woman, but on that day, those qualities weren't very much on display. After she dismissed us, I stayed behind to ask why she disagreed with me.

"'Ely,' she had responded, 'you may be right. I'm sure there are those who would agree with you. But that doesn't make it any less cruel. You need to respect the feelings of your classmates. We're all entitled to our own opinions, but we aren't entitled to speak whatever we'd like without consideration of others. If you persist in upsetting your classmates, I'll have no choice but to give you detention, and that's not something I want to do.'

"She then gave me a long look and continued, 'I know you're an intelligent boy. You'll go far in this world, but only if you learn to think about how other people feel. It's a skill just as valuable as any of your grades in my class. I hope you'll remember that.'"

"'Why?', I had asked. 'Why would I have to be considerate of others when they don't have to be considerate of me? To be considerate of truth?'"

"Mrs. Higgins knew I wasn't being defiant when I asked that question. It was a genuine one. She looked at me for a long moment before answering, 'It's a question of empathy, dear. Not a matter of truth. You have your own truth, I have mine. We can both be right, and we can both be wrong. That's the nature of truth. But empathy, that applies to everybody. If you want to get along in this world and be happy, you'll need to learn the importance of empathy. Go on now, and don't forget what I've told you.'"

You look at Amie and see the wheels turning in her head as she considers this conversation. You're not quite sure what she's thinking, but you sense that she's struggling with what you've told her.

"...I can see why your eight-year old self would have been upset, sir," she says slowly. "But... can one really call that hubris? I mean, you were just stating facts. Is it really fair to single you out for that?"

A small smile flickers across your lips. "No, you're right. That wasn't hubris. But now, I wonder if I was quite so correct on that day."

"What do you mean, sir?" Amie has been listening intently to your story, but now she has a quizzical look on her face. "Do you regret your words?"

You laugh softly. "No, not at all. In fact, I don't think I could have said it better even now. But the thing is... well, wouldn't you have been upset by the video? Seeing the doe gnaw on her kits..."

As Amie considers your words, she doesn't say anything for a little while. There's a thoughtful look in her eyes now. "I suppose it would distress me," she says quietly. Then, she takes a deep breath and looks straight at you. "Sir... I can see where you are coming from. But. I feel like I have something to say about it."

"Go on," you prompt her.

"By saying that you were correct on that day, I don't think I should assume that your classmates were incorrect. I think... they were also correct."

You raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." she takes another deep breath, as if she's preparing herself. "I mean I think that... you were both correct."

You stare at her incredulously. "Come again?"

"I said you were right and your classmates were right," she says, slightly agitated. "I mean... I think you were right in the way that... that you saw the world. You were reasoning. But at the same time, I think your classmates were right in the way that they saw the world too. People have the ability to care. Humans..." She pauses, and looks you straight in the eye. "Even someone like me. We have the ability to feel compassion for a reason. And that's something greater than ourselves. Something... spiritual. I don't know. I can't explain it very well. I'm sorry."

You shake your head in mild disbelief. "Don't apologize. I think you explained it perfectly..." You pause, wondering if there's even any need for you to speak further. How does she always manage to leave you at a loss for words?

While you grapple with the implications of this latest development, Amie looks at you expectantly.

"You were saying something, dear sir…?" she prompts you gently.

"Yes..." There's a long silence as you try to find the words. "I... eventually came to the same conclusion as you." Two decades. It had taken you two decades to arrive at an answer that had taken her all of a few seconds. "Throughout the majority of my adult life... I would have said that I was right on that day. I alone had seen the truth. I alone had the ability to think rationally. The others—my teacher included—had allowed themselves to be deluded by their emotions, their sentimentality. They were incapable of seeing reality objectively."

"And now?" Amie encourages you softly.

"And now..." Your eyes meet hers for a moment, and you can see in them that she already knows the answer, just from that brief glance. "And now I think they were right to react as they did. In fact... their reactions were more logical than mine. They perceived the incongruity. The sight of an animal is pleasing and they can be faithful companions, yet are also capable of acts that we would qualify as monstrous were they committed by humans. For most species, reproduction consists of crude, instinctual male domination. Cannibalism and infanticide are rife. The reaction of a child who learns that his beloved pet is perfectly willing to kill and cannibalize her pups or kittens is one of confusion and dismay. Why, they wonder, would an animal do such a horrible thing?"

Amie's eyes are fixed on you unwaveringly, her face serious but sympathetic as she listens to you.

"The juxtaposition of beauty and brutality. The... The quintessence of nature. That's what my classmates perceived, and reacted negatively to. What I failed to notice, they saw as plain as day." You chuckle ruefully, looking down and rubbing the back of your neck slowly. "As did you. You feel the absence of love. More acutely, perhaps, than I do."

Amie's kind, steady gaze softens even more. You're aware of her eyes resting on you as you contemplate the patterns in the carpet, the vines twining around each other like serpents. It is at this moment that you realize how much your life has changed in the past few weeks.

Six weeks ago, you were living alone in your empty, somber house, drinking alone and brooding. An inordinate amount of your time was spent working or dwelling on the past. Without realizing it, you had settled into a routine of perfunctory prayer. Then, in the span of a few hours, this young woman had come into your life and given you a sense of purpose again. She has given your life meaning, just as you had given her own meaning when you'd chosen to help her.

You feel closer to her than you ever have with another person. This both terrifies and delights you. You almost loath yourself for feeling this way—she's a machine designed precisely for the purpose of tickling your male instincts. Every word you utter is faithfully recorded for a government employee to consult at his leisure. The trap cannot be any more obvious. And yet… she is the first… the first creature who has helped you come close to feeling like a whole human being, rather than an automaton going through the motions.

Whether or not she is "real" in the sense that you are does not matter. What matters is that you met her, and that she changed your life for the better. Whatever your future holds, you know that she will be in it. Drawing a deep breath, you admit:

"I used to pride myself on my ability to take all the pain and death of the world in stride. I had the intellectual capability to understand the world for what it was. I saw the elegance of its overarching structure, the perfect symbiosis of all its parts. I saw the gradations between predator and prey, how even the basest of animals had a place in the great chain of life. And in my exalted humility, I circumscribed my existence within that remorseless wheel of suffering and death, identifying with it. And I was content, for by understanding it, I felt free. I was not a slave to my emotions, like the people around me. I was part of an elite."

You pause. It's strange, but as you speak, you feel as if a heavy weight is lifting from your chest. Perhaps you're simply tired of keeping it all inside. Letting it out, even in this guarded, contorted way—perhaps this is the first step of a necessary process.

Amie regards you gently, then says softly, "But your thinking changed."

"Yes," you agree quietly, then smile faintly. "Though most would say 'regressed' is a more appropriate term. Now I have the audacity of believing that the human heart is made for beauty." You briefly pause. "Earlier, you said that you wanted 'to get out', 'to leave'. You were unsure why. You couldn't explain your own feelings."

Amie nods slowly in confirmation of your words.

"That feeling of non-belonging is very human. It stems from the knowledge—the certainty that something has gone wrong in the world, that something is missing. That there is something wrong about a world in which beauty begets the grotesque. That this is not the way things are meant to be. And the element that is missing is..."

"Love," Amie whispers. "It's love that's missing."

You raise your eyes to meet hers.

"Yes."

As you stare into her eyes, it is as if something changes in the room. A feeling of peace, of rightness, washes over you. Your words are soft as you continue to speak.

"This is my hubris. I live for a world in which there is only a place for love."

Neither you nor Amie says anything for a long moment. The silence stretches, but it is not an uncomfortable silence. It is a silence in which you are both immersed, gently floating in the profoundness of it. A shaft of moonlight streams into the room, forming a narrow, silver pathway across the floor pointing to the night sky. As if following it, Amie rises gracefully from her seat and moves over to the open window. The wind plays with her hair as she contemplates the heavens. The night sky has cleared, revealing a starry vault and gleaming three quarter moon. She then turns to you, wearing a faint smile.

"Thank you", she says softly, "for opening up to me. I feel as if I've learned a lot about you tonight."

You nod slowly in response, suddenly feeling vaguely awkward. Alluding to your childhood for the first time, and bringing up that memory, of all things…

Amie smiles, as if discerning the reason for your sudden lack of composure. "I feel as if I've learned a lot about myself tonight, too," she continues. "I didn't know I could feel so much. I didn't know I could be so happy. Whether or not I'm a 'real' person, I feel as if I'm as happy as one can be. Thank you. Thank you for everything." A pause, and then:

"I want to help you bring love back into the world," Amie says placidly, with the same calm expression. "I want to help you bring back beauty." Now her eyes assume a faraway look. "I want to bring back the stars. I want..." She laughs softly to herself, then turns to you with a childlike, almost curiously sad little smile. "I want to bring back the moon."

The moonlight illuminates Amie from behind, imbuing her presence with an otherworldly glow. The words she just uttered seem nonsensical… and yet, in some mysterious manner, also indispensable. Her expression is serene, almost transcendent.

You rise from your seat and approach her. As you draw near, she turns her head slightly and gazes up at the night sky. You move into the moonlight beside her, and do so in turn.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asks in a whisper.

You nod slowly.

"Yes", you reply. "Yes, it is."

Standing beside one another, you both admire the heavens.