Pulling my hand away from my beloved’s face, I clenched my fist. This would not be easy; I knew that. But it had to be done. Such things never are easy.

“It’s over,” I said roughly without looking back at the pseudo, that contemptible thing. I waited, my left hand inching under my coat.

“You’re overcome with grief…again.” Was that condescending? Was a darned machination talking down to me? After what it had done? The thing got a little easier to imagine.

“This charade ends, and it ends today.” I waited. I imagined I could hear the processor whir, though I knew the super cooled chips made no noise other than the preprogrammed prerecorded heart noises and simulated breath sounds. Sound or no sound, the pseudo was thinking, considering meanings and possibilities.

“Don’t be silly. We…you just have to be patient.” I saw her move, and my grip tightened around the handle. But I could see in the reflection in the window that it wasn’t an attack. She was reaching out to me, tenderly.