"At bedtime," Fess agreed, "or perhaps another day."

"Tomorrow," Cordelia said brightly, "is another day."

Epilogue

Jose rose to go report to his supervisor. It meant his job, but that was better than having a robot go wild and kill somebody because of a programming flaw.

He knocked on the door. "Al?"

The door was open. Al looked up and smiled. "Hi, Jose. What gives?" Then he saw the look on the younger man's face and straightened. "Come on in. Need to sit down?"

" 'Fraid so, Al." Jose sat down carefully, feeling old.

"So what happened?"

"I copied the Declaration of Independence into a robot brain along with the operating program."

Al just sat very still, his eyes growing very, very round. Then he said, "You copied the WHAT?"

"The Declaration of Independence."

Al erupted into guffaws.

Jose stared, then frowned. "It's not funny, Al! We've got to catch it before it's installed!"

"I—I'm sorry," Al managed. Then his face split into a grin, and he was off again. He leaned back in his chair and held his belly, whooping with glee.

Jose sighed and waited for it to pass. Illogically, he began to feel there might be hope.

Finally, Al got himself under control and leaned forward, grinning. "I'm sorry about that, Jose—but you have to admit, this is a new one. How'd you manage that?"

Jose spread his hands, the picture of forlornness. "I called it up to check something that was bothering me, then left it on scroll when I went to help Bob. By the time I came back, it was off the screen, and I'd forgotten about it."

"But it was still in memory." Al shook his head with a grin. "Who else would get so upset about something in the Declaration?"

"It was an argument," Jose muttered.

"On the other hand," Al answered himself, "who else would come report it right away, instead of trying to cover up?" He finally managed to look sympathetic. "You're right, Jose, this could be bad. What kind of program was it?"

"One of those new ones—the FCC series."

Al smiled. "Well, at least, if you had to do it, you used one that's just into production." Then he turned thoughtful. "Wait a minute, though—maybe it's not a total loss."

Jose felt a surge of hope and tried to ignore it. "How?"

"That's the 'Faithful Cybernetic Companion' series. The program's for extreme loyalty, as well as the usual total obedience." Al turned to his screen and called up the program. "It just might be strong enough to counter the Declaration."

Jose frowned. "How could it…" Then his face lit up. "Of course! If the robot's extremely loyal to you, it can be totally independent, and still be on your side!"

Al nodded. "Independence might counter an inclination toward obedience, but loyalty would make the robot do what his owner said to, anyway—unless there was a damn good reason not to." He shrugged. "But all our programs have overrides for illegal or blatantly unethical commands, anyway."

Jose felt excitement building. "Then the robot might not have to be destroyed?"

"And you might not have to be fired." Al nodded. "I'm routing this whole snafu over to programming to be checked. I don't think there'll be any problem, though—this time." He turned back to Jose, suddenly totally serious. "But don't let it happen again—okay?"

Jose stared straight into Al's eyes and nodded slowly. "Never, Al. My word."

"Who was the argument with, anyway?"

Jose swallowed. "My wife."

Al turned grave. "Not much you can do about that. But next time, if you're upset, don't come in. All right?"

Jose nodded slowly. "I promise, Al. Better not here at all, than not all here."

Al grinned. "You got it. And you still have your job."

But Jose's attention had drifted again. He was thinking that, if a robot could be independent down to its most basic programming and still be intensely loyal, maybe a person could, too. And if that was so, maybe it was possible to be really independent but still be married, after all. He whistled, and went back to his work.