Anti-man

tramping it down, charging through it at a brisk pace. As we walked, I noticed something new about Him. His hand, when He had gripped my shoulder, had been enormous, not just large. Now I saw that He was enormous in every respect. An insulated suit, meant to be bulky, was strained to bursting with His giant body. His head seemed higher, larger, with a much greater expanse of forehead. His footprints were half again as large as mine. He lumbered through the dark woods like a fairy-tale giant, crushing or thrusting aside all that got in His way, silent, somewhat mysterious. Again, I was conscious of that part of His personality that always remained shrouded, the eerie side of Him that I had never been able to understand.
        It was not exactly the result of the wind or the cold, but I shivered.
        Half an hour later, He stopped and squatted in a small clearing, wiping snowflakes from His face and looking about as if He were searching for something He had left behind on a previous trip through these same parts, though He could never have been here before. His head tilted, swayed from side to side like a pendulum through molasses, His lips compressed and bloodless.
        "What is it?" I asked, coming up behind Him. "I'm not tired yet, if that's what you're troubled about."
        "How far to the cabin, Jacob?" He asked anxiously, His voice closer to a show of emotion than it usually got. It was the first time I had seen anxiety in Him; He was usually the pinnacle of patience, easygoing and willing to wait for all things.
        "Well-" I took the map out of my coat pocket, unfolded it, and squinted to see in the gloom. After a moment, the glowing characters were clear and easy to read. "We're right about here somewhere," I said, pointing to a shaded forest area. "Halfway through this section of the forest. Then we have to cover this series of foothills, not rugged but quite steep in some places. Skirt this final copse, and we're there. Maybe two and a half hours yet."
        "That's much too long."
        "It's the shortest way. I checked it several times in San Francisco when we ate dinner, remember? And again in the movie theater when that damned show became intolerable. This always measured the shortest and easiest route. Less hills than if we moved east to take advantage of that temporary ravine, less forests than if we went west along the ridge here." I pointed to the corresponding portions of the map.
        He didn't answer.
        I sat down next to Him. The snow was falling harder now, though it still might be only a local storm or even a short-term squall. He didn't speak, and I didn't feel like interrogating Him. We sat for about five minutes until the warmth we had gained from marching drained out and the cold began seeping back into my bones. He had given way completely to that unknown part of His personality, and I could not see how to approach Him, how to ask what was the matter. When another five minutes passed, I decided on the blunt route. "What is it?" I asked.
        "Jacob, I am sitting here in a quandary, faced with two decisions, each of which will be in some way unpleasant." He spoke in that same, deep, even tone that denied emotion. That was what a machine should sound like - not like a seductress. "One of the courses of action that is open to me will end with your becoming a little less sure of me, a little frightened of me."
        "No," I said.
        "Yes, it will I know. You will be slightly disgusted, and it will have a bearing on the way you feel about me. Maybe small, maybe large. I don't want to lose your friendship."
        "The second alternative?"
        "I can postpone continuation of the changes going on in me, lose the momentum of biological processes, and wait until we are to the cabin to begin. It might mean a lost day."
        "What are you trying to say?" Despite myself, I let a note of fear slip through my words. It must have showed, for He grinned and slapped my back.
        "I need food," He said. "I can't wait until we get to the cabin. I've started new systems, and I would suffer a complete setback if I had to wait much longer for food to create the energy needed to form large quantities of muscle tissue."
        "I don't see how you propose to get food out here. Also, I don't see what you could possibly do to upset me."
        "All right," He said. "I will not postpone the changes. If you do not like what happens, try to