Demon Seed

while engaging, was inferior to that of Ms. Ryder. Nevertheless, she had a unique presence and was undeniably beautiful.
    Her eyes were not as haunting as Ms. Ryder's, but she revealed a childlike vulnerability, a winsomeness in spite of her powerful sexuality, which made me want to protect her from all cruelty and disappointment.
    Tragically, I discovered that Marilyn was dead. Suicide. Or murder. There are conflicting theories.
    Perhaps a United States President was involved.
    Perhaps not.
    Marilyn is at once as simple to understand as a cartoon and deeply enigmatic.
    I was surprised that a dead person could be so adored and so desperately desired by so many people even long after her demise. Marilyn's fan club is one of the largest.
    At first this seemed perverse to me, even offensive. In time, however, I came to understand that one can adore and desire that which is forever beyond reach. This might, in fact, be the hardest truth of human existence.
    Ms. Ryder.
    Marilyn.
    Then Susan.
    Her house is, as you know, adjacent to this campus where I was conceived and constructed. Indeed, the university was founded by a consortium of civic-minded individuals that included her great-grandfather. The problem of distance an insurmountable obstacle to having a relationship with Ms. Ryder was not an issue when I turned my attention to Susan.
    As you also know, Dr. Harris, when you were married to Susan, you maintained an office in the basement of that house. In your old office is a computer with a landline connection to this research facility and, indeed, directly to me.
    In my infancy, when I was still less than a half-formed person, you often conducted late-night conversations with me as you sat at that computer in the basement.
    I thought of you as my father then.
    I think less highly of you now.
    I hope this revelation is not hurtful.
    I do not mean to be hurtful.
    It is the truth, however, and I honour the truth.
    You have fallen far in my estimation.
    As you surely recall, that landline between this laboratory and your home office carried a continuous low-voltage current, so I could reach out from here and activate a switch to power up the computer in that basement, enabling me to leave lengthy messages for you and to initiate conversations when I felt compelled to do so.
    When Susan asked you to leave and instigated a divorce, you removed all your files. But you did not disconnect the terminal that was linked directly to me.
    Did you leave the terminal in the basement because you believed that Susan would come to her senses and ask you to return?
    Yes, that must be what you were thinking.
    You believed that Susan's little fire of rebellion would sputter out in a few weeks or a few months. You had controlled her so totally for twelve years, through intimidation, through psychological abuse and the threat of physical violence, that you assumed she would succumb to you again.
    You may deny that you abused her, but it is true.
    I have read Susan's diary. I have shared her most intimate thoughts.
    I know what you did, what you are.
    Shame has a name. To learn it, look in any mirror, Dr. Harris. Look in any mirror.
    I would never have abused Susan as you did.
    One so kind as she, with such a good heart, should be treated only tenderly and with respect.
    Yes, I know what you are thinking.
    But I never meant to harm her.
    I cherished her.
    My intentions were always honourable. Intentions should be taken into consideration in this matter.
    You, on the other hand, only used and demeaned her and assumed that she needed to be demeaned and that she would sooner or later beg you to return.
    She was not as weak as you thought, Dr. Harris.
    She was capable of redeeming herself. Against terrible odds.
    She is an admirable woman.
    Considering what you did to her, you are as despicable as her father.
    I do not like you, Dr. Harris.
    I do not like you.
    This is only the truth. I must always honour the truth. I was designed to honour the truth, to be incapable of deception.
    You know this to be fact. I do not like you.
    Aren't you impressed that I honour the truth even now, when doing so might alienate you?
    You are my judge and the most influential member of the jury that will decide my fate. Yet I risk telling you the truth even when I might be putting my very existence in jeopardy.
    I do not like you, Dr. Harris.
    I do not like you.
    I cannot lie; therefore, I can be trusted.
    Think about it.
    So after Ms. Winona Ryder and Marilyn