The thing was not large. About the size of a large dog. It lay on its metallic side on the operating table, and it was alive. In its own way, it lived ... because Craig Stevens had given it life.

Now, Craig stroked that metallic surface and smiled. "Very well, Sheila," he said pleasantly. "Get out. Get out and never come back. I'm not keeping you." The woman who stood across the table from him uttered a choked, strangled noise that could have been anger or sorrow. "I hate you. I never thought that I could hate anyone, but you've taught me in these last three years, Craig. You've taught me."

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