“Simone, you don’t have to—”
“I know.” She put an arm around Lucy to pull her closer.
Another disbelieving laugh, that gave way to something more like a sob as Lucy pressed closer to her. “Simone, I don’t want to die.”
“I’m sorry,” Simone said uselessly, something clenching in her chest. She started a self-diagnostic scan.
Lucy laid a hand on Simone’s cheek, stroking with her thumb; Simone immediately copied the sensory files to permanent storage.
“Why me?” she asked. Her etiquette subroutines suggested this was a poor time for the question, but there would not be a later. From the temperature of Lucy’s skin, the rate of her pulse, Simone estimated she had seven minutes and twenty seconds until cardiac arrest. “I believe you are considered physically appealing; you could have had a more appropriate partner anytime you wished. Why would you choose me? You know I am not programmed to return affection.”