At the theater, Blaine Anderson and Sebastian Smythe were informed that the rehearsal had ended. And Ms. Berry had left.

“Did she say where she was going?” Sebastian asked the stagehand, showing his police identification.

“Over to the museum.” The stagehand studied the ID card. “She said she wanted to take in the traveling exhibit they have of Broadway memorabilia. It ends tomorrow.”

And Rachel Berry, Blaine thought to himself, ends today.

As the two of them walked down the sidewalk to the museum, Sebastian said, “What do you want to bet that she's run off? That we won't find her at the museum?”

“Maybe,” Blaine said noncommittally.

They arrived at the museum building, noted that the traveling show ‘Remnants of the Stage: Movies and Memorabilia of Broadway' could be found on the fourth floor, and ascended. They wandered among the labyrinth of small rooms housing framed photographs and playbills, screens playing clips from famous movie musicals, and famous costumes and props behind glass. Many people had turned out for the exhibit, including a grammar school class. The shrill voice of the teacher penetrated all the rooms comprising the exhibit, and Blaine thought, That's what you'd expect an andy to sound – and look – like. Instead of like Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry, or even the man beside him. Thing – not a man – he corrected himself, annoyed to feel a faint flush of arousal at Sebastian's proximity, even if he – it – was rather handsome. 

“Did you ever hear of an andy having a pet of any sort?” Sebastian asked him.

Sebastian annoyed him, but at the same time, Blaine wanted to answer honestly. “In two cases that I've heard of, andys owned and cared for animals. But it's rare. And from what I've learned, it rarely lasts long. Usually an andy can't keep an animal alive, unless maybe if it's a reptile or an insect. Animals need a loving environment to thrive.”

“Well, there you go,” Sebastian said with relief. “Because Acorn, my chipmunk, is doing fine. He's as sleek as an otter. I groom and comb him every day.”

“There's Rachel.” Blaine pointed and the two of them walked toward her with a measured pace; taking their time as though nothing confronted them. As always it was vital to preserve the atmosphere of the commonplace. Other humans, having no knowledge of the presence of androids among them, had to be protected at all costs – even that of losing the quarry.

Holding a printed catalogue, Rachel Berry, wearing a short, purple corduroy skirt with ivory leggings, high heeled boots, and a form-fitting ivory sweater, stood absorbed in the picture before her: a black and white portrait of Barbra Streisand, a profile shot with her hair swept back from her head and piled into an elaborate sculpture of curls.

“Want me to buy it for you?” Blaine said, sidling close to Rachel's side, informing her by his proximity that he had possession of her and didn't have to struggle to detain her. Sebastian stood close to her on the other side, the outline of his laser tube just visible beneath his shifting jacket.

“It's an original portrait with her signature on it, I doubt it's for sale,” she said pointedly, eyes still locked on the framed photograph. “And while I'm flattered, I really am not looking to date. I'm pretty focused on my career right now, so if you'll please just – ” Rachel glanced at him idly, then jolted violently as she recognized him, bemused boredom replaced by intense fear in an instant. Blaine caught her lightly by the upper arm, holding her in place. “I thought they arrested you,” she said. “Do you mean they let you go?”

“Ms. Berry,” he said, “this is Mr. Smythe. Sebastian Smythe, this is the quite well-known star of the theater Rachel Berry.” To Rachel he said, “The harness bull that arrested me is an android. So was his superior. Do you know – did you know – a Chief Cassandra July? She told me that you all came here in one ship as a group.”

Rachel's face remained impassive, but she did flinch almost imperceptively at the mention of Cassandra July. She looked from Blaine to Sebastian nervously and remained silent.

“The police department that you called,” Sebastian added, “operating out of a building on Mission, is the organizing agency by which it would appear your group keeps in touch. They even feel confident enough to hire a human bounty hunter, evidently – ”

Breaking into a laugh, Rachel said disdainfully, “You? You're not human. No more than I am. You're an android, too.”

An interval of silence passed and then Sebastian said in a low but controlled voice, “Well, we'll deal with that at the proper time.” To Blaine he said, “Let's take her to my car.”

One on each side of her, they prodded her toward the museum elevator. Rachel Berry did not come willingly, but on the other hand, she did not actively resist. Androids, as Blaine knew from experience, had an innate desire to remain inconspicuous. In the museum, with so many people roaming around, Rachel Berry would do nothing. The real encounter would take place in the car, where no one else could see. Alone, with appalling abruptness, she could shed her inhibitions. He prepared himself, and didn't think about Sebastian Smythe. As he had said, it would be dealt with at a proper time.

At the end of the corridor near the elevators, a little store-like affair had been set up to sell prints and musical scores. Rachel stopped there, tarrying.  “I could have been just like her,” she said, nodding toward a poster reproduction of the Barbra Streisand portrait. “If I had a little more time. I was always meant to be a star. It's in my – ” she paused. Blood, DNA, all the typical phrases to explain what she meant didn't really fit her situation. “It's in the way I was made,” she finally settled on, giving Blaine a pleading look. “I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just want to have a chance to do what I love and to bring other people joy through my voice.”

Speaking softly, so only Rachel and Sebastian can hear, Blaine said, “It doesn't matter. It's not about what you do once you're here. It's about how you got here. And it's about showing all of those other androids on Mars that you can't get away with murder even if you do manage to escape to Earth.”

“It's not fair,” Rachel said equally softly, tears forming in her eyes. “I was made this way – with this beautiful voice and this burning need to be a star. But I couldn't ever get there – not on Mars where everyone knew that I was an android. Every day I was mocked by that horrible Dakota Stanley and he could force me to do anything he wanted because he owned me.  And it wasn't enough for me to do all the cooking and cleaning and stage managing and running scales with his troupe of singing, dancing, subpar human girls with ridiculous names like Sunshine and Harmony. They taunted me and said I would never see a real stage in my life. No matter that I practiced harder and sang more beautifully and had more drive and ambition than all of them put together.” Blinking back her tears, she stepped closer to Blaine, staring fiercely and barely keeping her voice at a low volume. “And why? Just because I don't have the same kind of genetic material that you do? Why does that give you the right to live your dreams while mine waste away? I would do anything – absolutely anything – to make it.”

“Even kill?” Sebastian asked dryly. Rachel whipped her head around to face him, challenge blazing in her eyes.

“Only because there was no other way,” she said flatly.

“Enough with the sob story,” Sebastian said brusquely. “You're an android. We have to retire you.”

“Allegedly,” Blaine said, in a placating tone. “We still have to give you the test first. It's always possible that you're not an android.” He certainly hopes not. The world could use a performer like Rachel Berry to brighten the days of people forced to plod through the layers of dust.

Rachel smiled ruefully. “I always wanted to sing everything in Barbra's repertoire. Would you buy me that songbook?” She pointed at the leather-bound volume.

“How much is it?” Blaine asked the store clerk in a loud voice, picking up the volume and carrying it to the counter.

“Twenty-five dollars,” the clerk said.

“I'll take it.” He reached for his wallet.

Sebastian said haughtily, “My departmental budget could never in a million years be stretched – ”

“My own money,” Blaine said, handing the bills over to the clerk and the book over to Rachel. “Now let's get on the elevator.”

“It's very nice of you,” Rachel said as they stepped through the doors. “There's something so very touching about humans. An android would never have done that.” She glanced icily at Sebastian. “It wouldn't have occurred to him, as he said, never in a million years.”

She flipped open the book Blaine bought her and started to sing, her face alternately pained and joyful as the painfully beautiful notes rang out, “Love, soft as an easy chair, love fresh as the morning air – ”

“That's from A Star is Born,” Blaine said with a smile.

“Can we get this over with,” Sebastian snapped. “I honestly don't understand the love fest going on here between the two of you.”

Rachel gazed at Sebastian with hostility and aversion. “I really don't like androids. Ever since I got here from Mars my life as consisted of imitating the human, doing what she would do, acting as if I had the thoughts and impulses of a human. Imitating, as far as I'm concerned, a superior life form.” To Sebastian she said, “Isn't that how it's been with you, Sebastian? Trying to be – ”

“I can't take this,” Sebastian Smythe dug into his coat, groping for the laser tube.

“No,” Blaine said, grabbing at Sebastian's hand. Sebastian retreated, eluding him. “The Boneli test,” Blaine said.

“It's admitted it's an android. It even admitted to killing its owner,” Sebastian said. “We don't have to wait.”

“But to retire her,” Blaine said, “because she's needling you – give me that.” He struggled to pry the laser tube from Sebastian's fingers, but Sebastian circled back within the cramped elevator, evading him, his attention riveted on Rachel Berry. ‘Okay,” Blaine said. “Go ahead and kill her now. Show her that she's right.” He saw, then, that Sebastian meant to. “Wait – ”

Sebastian fired, and at that same moment, Rachel Berry, in a spasm of frantic hunted fear, twisted and spun away, dropping as she did so. The beam missed its mark but, as Sebastian lowered it, it burrowed a narrow hole, silently, into her stomach. She began to scream, crumpling down until she lay crouched against the wall of the elevator, screaming.

Blaine stared at Sebastian incredulously for a moment. The screaming didn't seem to bother him. He made no move to end her suffering.

Blaine raised his own laser tube, and killed her with a clean shot to the head. Her body fell face down in a heap.

With his laser tube, Blaine systematically burned into blurred ash the book he had just a few minutes ago bought for Rachel. He did the job thoroughly, saying nothing. Sebastian watched, brow furrowed, perplexed.

“You could have kept the book yourself,” Sebastian said. “That cost you – ”

“Do you think androids have souls?” Blaine interrupted.

Cocking his head to one side, Sebastian gazed at him in even greater puzzlement.

“I could afford the book,” Blaine said. “I've made three thousand dollars so far today, and I'm not even half through.”

“You're claiming July?” Sebastian asked. “But I killed her, not you. You just lay there. And Rachel, too. I got her.”

“You can't collect,” Blaine said. “Not from your own department and certainly not from ours. When we get to your car, I'll administer the Voigt-Kampff test or the Boneli test to you and then we'll see. Even though you're not on my list.” His hands shaking, he opened his briefcase, rummaged among the crumpled printouts detailing the androids he had yet to retire. “No, you're not here. So legally I can't claim you. To make anything I'll have to claim Rachel Berry and Cassandra July.”

“Are you really so sure that I'm an android? Did Cassandra tell you that?” Sebastian quirked an eyebrow. His tone was flippant, flirty even.

Blaine dropped his gaze to Rachel's body. “That's what Cassandra said.”

“Well, I think she was lying,” Sebastian said confidently. “To split us apart. And it's working on you. I'll even admit, it's working on me too. You were right about Rachel Berry. I shouldn't have let her get to me like that. I must be overly sensitive. But that must be natural for a bounty hunter. I'm sure you're the same way. But look; we would have had to retire her anyway. The test would have only taken a few minutes, and we both knew what the results would be.” Crooking up one corner of his mouth in a smile and placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder familiarly, Sebastian continued. “She wouldn't even have had time to sing those songs in the book you got her. I don't really understand why you got it for her, anyway, and I still think you shouldn't have destroyed it.” Pulling his hand back, Sebastian added, “I can't follow you reasoning. It isn't rational.”

Blaine said, “I'm getting out of this business.”

“To do what?”

“Anything. Teaching, maybe. Or maybe I'll emigrate to Mars and pursue a singing and acting career. Like Rachel Berry. I've always thought it would be fun to be on stage. Or composing music. Something creative. I'm sick of being a destroyer. I just want to make art – and help people.” Blaine cringed at how pathetic  he sounded.

“But someone has to do this,” Sebastian pointed out.

“They can use androids. Much better if andys do it. I can't any more. I've had enough. She was a wonderful singer. The planet could have used her. This is insane.”

“This is necessary. Remember; they killed humans in order to get away. And if I hadn't gotten you out of the Mission police station they would have killed you, too. That's what Cassandra wanted me for. That's why she had me come down to her office. Didn't Adams almost kill you? Hell, even Rachel Berry pulled a laser tube on you. We're acting defensively. They're here on our planet – they're murderous illegal aliens masquerading as – ”

“As police,” Blaine said. “As bounty hunters.”

“Okay; fine. Give me the Boneli test. Maybe Cassandra lied. I think she did. False memories just aren't that good. And then there's my chipmunk.”

“Yes, your chipmunk. I forgot about the chipmunk,” Blaine said wearily.

“If I'm an andy,” Sebastian said, “and you kill me, you can have my chipmunk. Here, I'll write it out, willing it to you.” He reached into his pocket for a slip of paper.

“Andys can't will anything. They can't possess anything to will.”

“Then just take it,” Sebastian insisted.

“Maybe so,” Blaine relented. The elevator had reached the first floor and its doors opened. “You stay with Rachel. I'll call a patrol car to take her to the Hall of Justice. For her bone marrow test.” He walked a few feet away, pulling out his cell phone and hitting the speed dial for the police station with shaky fingers. Meanwhile, a group of people who had been waiting for the elevator gathered around Sebastian Smythe and the body of Rachel Berry.

She was really a superb singer, he said to himself as he completed his call. I don't get it. How can a talent like that be a liability to our society? But it wasn't the talent, he told himself. It was she herself. As Sebastian is, he thought. He's a menace in exactly the same way, for the same reasons. So I can't quit now. Steeling himself, he pushed his way through the small crowd, back to Sebastian and the prone figure of the android girl. Someone had put a coat over her. Not Sebastian.

Going up to Sebastian, who stood off to one side, he said, “I hope to God you do test out as an android.”

“Why so hostile?” Sebastian said, marveling. “All of a sudden, you hate me. I don't remember you feeling this way about me when we were back on Mission Street. Not while I was saving your life.”

“I see a pattern. The way you killed Cassandra and Rachel. You don't kill the way I do. You don't try to – Hell,” he said. “I know what it is. You like to kill.” Sebastian grinned bemusedly, leaning back casually against the wall near the elevator. “All you need is a pretext,” continued Blaine. “That's why you picked up on Cassandra being an android. It made her available to be killed.”

“What a ridiculous theory,” Sebastian huffs. “I certainly don't take pleasure in killing, per se. I do enjoy my job. Escaped androids are a threat to the whole order of things. Killing them gives me the satisfaction of knowing that I am keeping people safe.”

Blaine glared at Sebastian in disbelief. “You talk a good game. But I wonder what you're going to do when you fail to pass the Boneli test. Will you kill yourself?”

“Yes, I'll take care of it,” Sebastian said dismissively. “You won't have to do anything, besides administering the test.”

A patrol car arrived. Two policemen hopped out, strode up, saw the crowd of people and at once cleared themselves a passage through. One of them recognized Blaine and nodded. So we can go now, Blaine realized. Our business here is concluded. Finally.

As he and Sebastian walked back down the street to the Gold Coast Theater, Sebastian said, “I'll give you my laser tube now. So you won't have to worry about my reaction to the test. Or your own safety.” He held out the tube and Blaine accepted it.

“How will you kill yourself without it?” Blaine asked. “If you fail the test.”

“I'll hold my breath.”

“Chrissake,” Blaine exclaimed. “It can't be done.”

“There's no automatic cut-in of the vagus nerve,” Sebastian said, “in an android. As there is in a human. Weren't you taught that when you were trained? I got taught that years ago.”

“But to die that way,” Blaine protested, feeling protective of Sebastian in spite of the strange mixture of dislike and fascination and thrumming attraction the man – or thing – inspires.

“There's no pain. What's the matter with it?”

“It's – ” He gestured, unable to find the right words.

“I really don't think I'm going to have to,” Sebastian said.

Together they ascended to the roof of the theater and headed toward Sebastian's hovercar.

Sliding behind the wheel and closing his door, Sebastian said, “I would prefer it if you used the Boneli test.”

“I can't. I don't know how to score it.” I would have to rely on you for an interpretation of the readings, he realized. And that's out of the question.

“You'll tell me the truth, won't you?” Sebastian asked. “If I'm an android you'll tell me.”

“Sure.”

“Because I really do want to know. Though, as I've already said, I am pretty sure I'm going to test as human.”

Opening his briefcase, Blaine fished out his test gear.

“Elaborate,” Sebastian observed, watching. “How many questions do you have to ask before you can make a determination?”

“Six or seven, usually.” He handed the adhesive pad to Sebastian. “Attach that to your cheek. Firmly.”

“Aw, come on,” Sebastian said flirtatiously, “aren't you going to help me?”

Ignoring him, Blaine aimed the light beam. Sighing, Sebastian pressed the pad to his cheek. “This light stays focused on your eye. Don't move. Keep your eyeball as steady as you can.”

“Reflex fluctuations,” Sebastian guessed. “But not to the physical stimulus. You're not measuring dilation, for instance. It'll be to the verbal questions. What we call a flinch reaction.”

Blaine said, “Do you think you can control it?”

“Not really,” Sebastian shrugged. “Eventually maybe. But not the initial amplitude. That's outside conscious control.”

Blaine finished adjusting the equipment and pulled the sheaf of questions from his briefcase, hunting for the right question to start the test.

“If I test out android,” Sebastian said, “you'll undergo renewed faith in the human race, won't you? But, since it's not going to work out that way, I suggest you begin framing an ideology which will account for – ”

“Here's the first question,” Blaine said firmly.

“Ooh, feisty,” Sebastian chuckled.

Blaine stared at him until he fell silent. “Reaction time is a factor, so answer as rapidly as you can.” The needles of the two dials quivered. Blaine selected an initial question. The test had begun.

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Afterward, Blaine sat in silence for a long time. Then he began gathering his gear together, stuffing it back in the briefcase.

“I can tell by your face,” Sebastian said gleefully, exhaling in relief. “Okay. You can give me my laser tube back.” He reached out, palm up, waiting.

“Evidently you were right,” Blaine said. “About Cassandra's motives. Wanting to split us up. What you said.” He felt both psychologically and physically weary.

“Do you have your ideology framed?” Sebastian asked teasingly. “That would explain big, bad horrible me as part of the human race?”

Blaine said, “There is a defect in your empathic ability. One which we don't test for. You feelings toward androids.”

“Of course we don't test for that,” Sebastian laughed.

“Maybe we should.” Blaine had never thought of it before. He didn't recall feeling empathy toward the androids he killed. Always he had assumed that he experienced the android as a clever machine, nothing more. And yet, in contrast to Sebastian Smythe, a difference had manifested itself. And he felt instinctively tht he was right. Empathy toward an artificial construct? Something that only pretends to be alive? But Rachel Berry had seemed genuinely alive. She had not worn the aspect of a simulation. Neither did Kurt Hummel.

“You realize,” Sebastian said quietly, “what this would do. If we included androids in our range of empathic identification, as we do animals.”

“We couldn't protect ourselves.”

“Absolutely. These Nexus-6 types…they'd roll all over us and mash us flat. You and I – all the bounty hunters – we stand between the Nexus-6 and mankind – a barrier which keeps the two distinct. Furthermore – ”

“You're romanticizing the role of bounty hunter,” Blaine interjected.

“Well, it is pretty damn sexy, don't you think?” Sebastian asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow and looking at Blaine in a way that seems almost seductive. Blaine quickly looked away, embarrassed by his thoughts.

“I want to ask myself a question,” Blaine said. “And I want you to tell me what the needles register. Just give me the calibration. I can compute it.” He plastered the adhesive disk against his cheek, arranged the beam of light until it fed directly into his eye. “Are you ready? Watch the dials. We'll exclude time lapse in this. I just want magnitude.”

“Sure, Blaine,” Sebastian said obligingly.

Aloud, Blaine said, “I'm going down by elevator with an android I've captured. And suddenly someone kills it, without warning.”

“No particular response,” Sebastian said.

“What'd the needles hit?”

“The left one 2.8. The right one 3.3.”

Blaine said, “An android with an incredible singing voice.”

“Now they're up to 3.5 and 4.2 respectively.”

“That's borderline,” Blaine said. He thought carefully about what to ask next.

“The android is smoking hot,” Sebastian said.

“What?” Blaine spluttered, whipping his head in Sebastian's direction.

“I was just messing around. Sorry,” Sebastian said, without a trace of apology in his voice. “But you might be interested in this. Before you wrenched your eye out of the beam of the light, I got a reading of 5.8 on the left and 7.3 on the right. Those were well to the right of center.”

“That's high enough,” Blaine said, removing the adhesive disk from his cheek and shutting off the beam of light. “That's an emphatically empathic response,” he said. “About what a human subject shows for most questions. Except fro the extreme ones, such as those dealing with cannibalism or human pelts used decoratively – the truly pathological ones.”

“Meaning?”

Blaine said, “I'm capable of feeling empathy for at least some androids. Not for all of them, but for some, certain, particular ones.” For Rachel Berry. For Kurt Hummel. So I was wrong, he told himself. There's nothing wrong with Sebastian's reactions. It's me.

I wonder, he thought, if any human has ever felt this way before about an android.

Of course, he reflected, this may never come up again in my work. It could be an anomaly, something to do with my feelings for old Broadway classics. And for Rachel Berry's voice, her desire and drive for a legitimate Broadway career. It was something Blaine could relate to, having similar dreams of grandeur in his youth. This hadn't come up with Adams or with Cassandra July. Although it might have been a bit harder to kill Sebastian Smythe, if he had tested out to be an android. And he could certainly never kill Kurt…

“You're in a tough spot, Anderson,” Sebastian said. It seemed to amuse him.

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked.

 “The ‘certain particular ones' you feel empathy toward – they're the androids you want to fuck.”

“Excuse me? I thought absolutely nothing of the kind about Ms. Berry,” Blaine said, appalled.

“Right,” Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes. “That one got a lower reading on your Voigt-Kampff contraption anyway. You must just really like her voice or something. But there is at least one other android you had in mind when I said ‘smoking hot'. I'd venture you'd want to fuck that one.”

“N-no,” Blaine stammered, unable to look Sebastian in the eye.

“Oh wait, I get it,” Sebastian crowed in delight. “It's me, isn't it? You thought I was an android, and you think I'm smoking.” Sebastian gives Blaine a searing gaze. “Well, hey, it's okay to want me now. I'm human.”

“No. God, no. It's not you,” Blaine spluttered. After a beat too long he added, “Besides, I'm not interested in men. I have a wife. And that's against the law.”

“That's what makes it so fun,” Sebastian said, drawing out his words seductively. “It's forbidden. And it feels so damn good.” After taking in Blaine's apprehensive look, he continued, “Look, it's just sex. I mean really, haven't you been attracted to an android before?” He laughed. “We were taught that it constitutes a primary challenge in bounty hunting. You do know, don't you, Anderson, that in the colonies they have android lovers?”

“It's illegal,” Blaine retorted automatically.

“Sure, it's illegal. But most variations in sex are illegal. Especially the really fun ones. But people do it anyhow.”

“What about – not sex – but love?” Blaine asked, a vision of blue eyes flashing through his mind.

“Love is another name for sex.”

“Like love of country,” Blaine said argumentatively. “Love of music.”

“If it's love toward a woman or man that you find attractive – human or android – it's sex. Wake up and face yourself, Blaine Anderson. You wanted to go to bed with an android – nothing more, nothing less. I felt that way in the past, at least one time. Don't let it get you down. You'll heal.” After a moment, he added, “But it may not be something you have to angst about for long. After all, we haven't given you a full personality profile test. You could well be an android yourself.”

“Oh God, can we put that ridiculous idea to rest?” Blaine barks out angrily.

“Sure,” Sebastian said cooly. “Just take the test. If you're so sure you're human, you have nothing to worry about. I did it.”

“Fine, whatever.” Blaine said.

“I'll have to give you the Boneli test,” Sebastian said. “I don't really know how to administer yours.” Sebastian pulled out the Boneli Reflex Arc equipment and set it up. He handed a set of headphones to Blaine. “Put these on.” He placed a clicker with a single button into Blaine's hand. “Okay. I'm going to play a sound for you in one or both of your ears. As soon as you hear it, push the button as fast as you can. I'm going to need to repeat it a few times to make sure we account for normal variations in response times. It shouldn't take long.”

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The test complete, Sebastian packed his gear back into its protective case. Blaine studied his face closely, but it is an impenetrable, expressionless mask.

“So, what did it say?” Blaine demanded impatiently.

“Eager, aren't we?” Sebastian said, his leer infusing the words with a double meaning.

“Will you just tell me what is said,” Blaine tried again, this time more wearily. “I really don't have time for your games.”

“I'd be happy to tell you, Blaine,” Sebastian said, leaning just a bit too far into Blaine's space and placing a hand lightly on his thigh. “I'll tell you the results. But first I want you to have sex with me.”

Jerking his thigh away from the burning touch of Sebastian's hand, Blaine said brusquely, “Why? So you can arrest me?”

“No,” Sebastian said slowly and seductively, smiling confidently in a way that makes Blaine's stomach flutter. “But I will say that you little nervous routine is super hot.”

“Well, you don't have to tell me the results anymore anyway. I've figured it out, thank you very much,” Blaine said.

“Really?” Sebastian asked. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because, you wouldn't want to have sex with an android.”

“Did I say that?” Sebastian asked with a wink. “Because really, it doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you.”

“B-but, you said – ”

“What I started to say,” Sebastian jumped in, “but didn't finish, is that there's nothing wrong with feeling lustful toward an android. The only thing wrong is if you get the order reversed.”

“What do you mean?” asked Blaine.

“Don't kill him – or her – or be present when he's killed, and then wish you had had sex. Do it the other way.”

Blaine stared at him. “You mean, go to bed with an android first – ”

“ – and then kill them,” Sebastian said succinctly with a hardened smile.

“I'm not going to have sex with you,” Blaine insisted, stepping out of the hovercar. “I'll call a cab to get back to the police station on Lombard.”

“And I'm not going to tell you the results of the test,” Sebastian retorted. Dragging his eyes slowly up and down Blaine's body he said, “You'll change your mind.”  In a cloud of dust, the hovercar rose into the air, leaving Blaine alone on the theater's roof.

He's a good bounty hunter, Blaine realized. Your attitude proves it. But am I?

Suddenly, for the first time in his life, he had begun to wonder.