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your fault," she said cheerfully.
"Excuse me," said Praxcelis, and Maggie felt again that there was
something inexplicably different about his voice, "but if you had a
housebot, then you wouldn't need to exert yourself over simple
cleaning chores. As for the household accounts, I did those yesterday
when you gave me permission to do your shopping for you."

Maggie put down the large black skillet she'd been holding. "You
already did my household accounts?"
"It is my function to serve you."
Maggie felt her temper start to flare. "You are supposed to do what I
tell you," she said testily. "I don't recall having given you any orders to
do my accounts."
Praxcelis paused for a moment before replying, and Maggie found
herself wondering how much of the pause was calculated effect built
into the Praxcelis' speech patterns and how much represented actual
thought. "Maggie, I am programmed to do these things for you."
Maggie sighed. You are getting to be a crotchety old woman, she said
to herself. Remember that Prax is only a few weeks old. "Prax, you
have to understand, if you don't leave me something to do for myself,
then I won't have any purpose in life."
There was no pause whatsoever. "You could read to me."
Maggie stared, started to laugh, and then smothered it abruptly. "Prax?
Don't you understand? I have things I have to do. I'll read to you when I
have time." She stopped speaking suddenly. "Wait, Prax -- I don't know
how fast you machines do things like this, but surely you haven't
finished reading all the books we copied last night."
"Finished?"
Maggie went and sat down in the rocking chair in front of the monitor.
"The books we copies yesterday, Prax. If you've finished them all I can
bring you new books to copy. Surely that must be faster than my
reading aloud to you?"
"Maggie, I have not read any of the books that you had me copy."
Maggie said uncertainly, "Why not? They told me that Praxcelis units
don't forget anything."

"We do not, Maggie. But Maggie, I have been given no instructions."
Maggie looked at the monitor blankly. "What am I supposed to say? Go
ahead and read."
There was no reply from the machine.
"Praxcelis?" asked Maggie hesitantly. She patted the top of the monitor
experimentally. "Prax?"
Still the unit did not answer.
Maggie shrugged, got up out of the rocker, and went back to making
breakfast.
The magician caressed Aladdin and said, "Come, my dear child, and I
will show you many fine things."
"So be it, good friend," said Robin Hood, "Little John shalt thou be
called henceforth...."
We met next day as he had arranged, and inspected the rooms at 221B,
Baker Street....
"'Course not, Shaggy Man," replied Dorothy, giving him a severe look.
"If it snowed in August it would spoil the corn and the oats and the
wheat...."
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring
them all, and in the darkness bind them....
"No," said Yoda impatiently. "Try not. Do. Do, or do not. There is no
try."
"Don't grieve," said Spock. "The good of the many...."
"...outweighs the good of the few," Kirk whispered.
"Mithras, Apollo, Arthur, Christ -- call him what you will," I said.

"What does it matter what men call the light? It is the same light, and
men must live by it or die."
Maggie came downstairs again after having cleaned in John's room.
Her late husband's study, at the end of the upstairs hallway, was kept in
the same condition that it had held at the time of his death. If he came
back today, John would have found nothing amiss in his study. (Not
that Maggie expected him back. I am not, she thought quite cheerfully,
all that senile yet.) She fussed about in the kitchen for a while, putting
away the cleaning utensils, the lemon oil that she used to shine the oak
paneling in John's study, the electrostatic duster for those hard-to-reach
places. She washed her hands at the sink, to get the lemon oil off of
them, and then poured herself a glass of water from the drinking water
tap. She drank half the water, and then put the glass down on the edge
of the sink. "Praxcelis?" she called into the living room. "Do you want
to talk about the stories yet?"
The voice that answered was a deep, masculine baritone. "Certainly,
Your Majesty."
Maggie picked up her glass, and poured the water down the sink, not
caring that it was drinking water she was wasting. She dried the glass
and put it on the rack, and then walked into the living room and stood
before the Praxcelis unit. Miss Kitty, atop Praxcelis'