Dorothy had just finished dusting the piano when somewhere inside her memory, she recalled a song. Dorothy couldn't tell from whence the memory came, but decided to play it on the piano anyway. The title came to her.
"Claire De Lune . ."
She began to play. It was a sweet, quiet, romantic tune, something she had never played before.
Rodger Smith had been in the next room reading a book when he heard the tune. He had never heard Dorothy play a piece like that before. It was . . nice! Rodger silently strode into the parlor. It was around six o' clock and the sunset streamed through the windows, bathing Dorothy's pale figure in a pinkish-goldish light. Rodger looked at Dorothy. Her eyes were closed as if she were engrossed with the music.Which she was. Rodger had noticed that she had been becoming more human-like every day.
Rodger crept up beside her. Feelings for Dorothy had been welling up in him for some time. But they were gradual enough that he couldn't place when they began. His love for Dorothy caused him much pain, though, because he knew that she, being an android, could never feel love. Even if she was picking up a few human characteristics he doubted that she would ever get as human as that, but . . he always held the tiniest spark of hope.
The pain of this unrequited love had made him act more stand-offish to Dorothy than ever. But, now the music stirred him.
"Dorothy . ."
The android hit a sour note as she jumped. She turned her head.
Had she been startled? Rodger wondered.
"Rodger, I did not know you were here. I'm sorry, I won't play any more. I know how it aggravates you."
"No, Dorothy, that's alright I-"
Suddenly the phone rang. Rodger picked it up.
"Hello? . . yes . .uh-huh . . yes . . yes . . alright, I'll be right over."
"What is it?" Dorothy asked.
"A man named Mr. Baker. Some guy stole a rather large dimond that was in Mr. Baker's possesion. Now the crooks asking for a ransom. Mr. Baker is asking me to come down and try to negotiate they guy into the cheapest price possible."
"Would you like me to come along?" Dorothy asked, her face unreadable.
Rodger forced down the wave of emotion that surged up, urging him to say yes. "No," he said, with some difficulty, "It's unecessary."
"As you wish. What time do you expect to be back?"
"Well, it shouldn't take too long, why?"
Dorothy hesitated.
" . . Because Norman is making a special dinner tonight, Cannaloni, and he was hoping you would be here to eat it."
"Oh, well, tell him I should be. I wouldn't want to miss out on that."
Now it was nine o' clock.
"Where is he?" Dorothy wondered.
"Claire De Lune . ."
She began to play. It was a sweet, quiet, romantic tune, something she had never played before.
Rodger Smith had been in the next room reading a book when he heard the tune. He had never heard Dorothy play a piece like that before. It was . . nice! Rodger silently strode into the parlor. It was around six o' clock and the sunset streamed through the windows, bathing Dorothy's pale figure in a pinkish-goldish light. Rodger looked at Dorothy. Her eyes were closed as if she were engrossed with the music.Which she was. Rodger had noticed that she had been becoming more human-like every day.
Rodger crept up beside her. Feelings for Dorothy had been welling up in him for some time. But they were gradual enough that he couldn't place when they began. His love for Dorothy caused him much pain, though, because he knew that she, being an android, could never feel love. Even if she was picking up a few human characteristics he doubted that she would ever get as human as that, but . . he always held the tiniest spark of hope.
The pain of this unrequited love had made him act more stand-offish to Dorothy than ever. But, now the music stirred him.
"Dorothy . ."
The android hit a sour note as she jumped. She turned her head.
Had she been startled? Rodger wondered.
"Rodger, I did not know you were here. I'm sorry, I won't play any more. I know how it aggravates you."
"No, Dorothy, that's alright I-"
Suddenly the phone rang. Rodger picked it up.
"Hello? . . yes . .uh-huh . . yes . . yes . . alright, I'll be right over."
"What is it?" Dorothy asked.
"A man named Mr. Baker. Some guy stole a rather large dimond that was in Mr. Baker's possesion. Now the crooks asking for a ransom. Mr. Baker is asking me to come down and try to negotiate they guy into the cheapest price possible."
"Would you like me to come along?" Dorothy asked, her face unreadable.
Rodger forced down the wave of emotion that surged up, urging him to say yes. "No," he said, with some difficulty, "It's unecessary."
"As you wish. What time do you expect to be back?"
"Well, it shouldn't take too long, why?"
Dorothy hesitated.
" . . Because Norman is making a special dinner tonight, Cannaloni, and he was hoping you would be here to eat it."
"Oh, well, tell him I should be. I wouldn't want to miss out on that."
Now it was nine o' clock.
"Where is he?" Dorothy wondered.