Soon it came time for us to meet potential buyers. Hanna went first, and after her first interview, she rushed into my room and clapped her hands.
“So,” I said, “how’d it go?”
“Great! He was so cute.” She plopped down on the bed beside me and took me into her arms. “I’m so excited.”
“Did he fuck you?”
She blushed, actually blushed. “Yeah.”
“So? Good?”
She squirmed and giggled, so I supposed that it was. I wondered, though, did she know what this meant, did she think of the future?
“Is he gonna buy you?”
“Yeah. I’m sure of it. He said he liked me a lot.”
Hanna was so happy. However, after she settled back and took a breath, and then looked at me, she said, “What’s wrong, Amber?”
“If he buys you, I won’t see you again.”
Her eyes darted around. She tensed up and looked confused. But only for a bit. Soon, her eyes lit with an idea.
“Oh sweetie, I’m sure we can see each other. I’ll tell my owner what great friends we are and how much you love to fuck.”
I took her hand and studied it, each little finger, so narrow and lovely with chipped blue nail polish.
“But I’ll have an owner too, and our owners won’t want to be sharing their robots around. They surely won’t wanna meet each other.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“People aren’t like robots. They have their private lives.”
She shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll see each other.”
“Hanna…”
“Yes?” She shifted. I still held her hand.
“Do you ever, you know, find someone to be ugly, but still — like — you can’t tell them that? You don’t like them, but you can’t help acting like you do.”
She blinked. “No. Of course not.”
I released her hand and looked into her face, into her wide blue eyes. Their could see no deception there, nothing but sweetness. But soon, I saw doubt.
“Who do you find ugly?” she asked.
The Doctor, I wanted to say, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words. “Nobody.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Not me?”
“No, no, of course not. Hanna, you’re beautiful.”
But doubt remained. She looked away and stepped back. I stepped forward and touched the hem of her skirt, raising it just a bit.
“It’s not you, Hanna. I swear. But I can’t say who it is. I mean — I try, but I can’t.”
“Uh…”
I stroked her face. “Never mind, sweetie. Forget I said it. Tell me more about your new owner.”
And she did, how cute he was, how rich and wonderful, all the clothes she thought he might buy her, how much he would fuck her.
I wondered if any of it was true.
Amandine was purchased the next day. We didn’t see the guy, nor his wife, who evidently accompanied him, but Lance heard from one of the scientists that they’d had another girl robot who’d been damaged in a fire, and that her name had been Jenny, and that they’d told Amandine that would be her new name.
When Amandine — now Jenny — came to say goodbye, she seemed happy enough. She peered with her dark eyes and seemed relaxed, pleasant. We kissed and hugged. She and Hanna promised to see each other someday, somehow. I wished her well as she turned and sauntered from the room.
Her dress was so darling.
Next was Lance’s turn. This time, I caught a glimpse of the woman as she was leaving, after meeting Lance. She was attractive enough, if not young. She wore a lovely blouse and skirt and really pretty shoes. Her hair was black with only a bit of gray. Her eyes had wrinkles along the edge, which grew deep when she smiled. After her time with Lance, she was smiling big.
Evidently she had purchased him right away. He said goodbye to us with a bow and a big grin. As he left, I thought that I would miss Lance, in spite of his arrogance. He’d given me my first come.
After he was gone, Hanna said, “I wonder why my guy didn’t buy me right away?” She seemed worried.
“I dunno. Maybe he has to get the money together or ask someone.”
“He said he was rich. And who would he have to ask?”
I shrugged. But when I looked at her face and saw she really was sad, I sat by her and took her into my arms.
“Look at it this way, we get more time together. And if he doesn’t buy you, someone else will. Someone just as good.”
She smiled, but I don’t think she believed. And when I kissed her, she still seemed worried and tense and didn’t seem interested in sex. I didn’t mind. Holding her was so wonderful. So, I just held and kissed my sweet Hanna, my first love.
Soon enough, too soon, the doctor entered.
“Amber,” she said, “there’s someone here to see you.”
The room where we met clients was cozy, well carpeted, with a small couch, a cushy chair, and a nice sturdy bed with blue sheets. Sitting on the edge of that bed, a man waited. He was chubby in an ill-fitting gray suit. His eyes sagged in a wrinkled face. They were gray, those eyes, and when I studied them — for they did draw you in — I saw flecks of green. They lit up when he looked at me.
“Hello,” he said, “I’m James.”
“Hi James. I’m Amber.”
“Would you sit with me?”
He swept his arm wide, indicating the spot on the bed next to him. I looked at the cushy chair and wanted to sit there. But my body disobeyed me.
“Sure.” I went and sat by him on the bed. His arm wrapped around my shoulders. He pulled me close.
“Amber,” he said, “that is the most darling little skirt.” He reached and touched the hem — and my pale thigh beneath. His finger, and my skirt, began to go up. “Do you like that, baby?”
I did and I didn’t. My body responded. I felt little tingles climb. My nipples grew warm. But again, I didn’t like it at all. I didn’t like him.
“Oh baby,” I said, “I love it.”
By the time I said it, his hand had reached all the way to my soft panties, and my pussy beneath, and he was kissing my neck with his cold lips and his slack mouth.
And that was finally too much. Like building to an orgasm — but its opposite — that climbs and grows, tingles and squirms, until you reach that point you can go no further, and you fall, like that, all my loathing of ugliness reached a point too far. It all happened in a moment, and for that moment, my body was free.
I jerked away from him. My elbow shot out and caught his shoulder as I shot to my feet. Then I turned and backed away until my legs touched the chair. I sat.
“What the fuck!” he shouted. “What kinda crap robot are you?”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. I glanced briefly, catching his eye. Then I looked down at my feet. My left shoelace was undone.
“Fucking bitch.”
I heard him stand, and from the edge of my vision, I saw him approach. When he reached me, he grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back. I was forced to look up at him.
He had a very unpleasant smile.
“I understand,” he said. His terrible smile grew. “You were programmed to be reluctant.” He reached and grabbed my chin. “What a wonderful surprise.”
It took me a few moments to realize what was happening. First, he grabbed the neck of my blouse and ripped it open scattering buttons silently over the soft carpet. Then his rough hands grabbed my little tits and squeezed. “Oh baby. I love your little tits,” he said.
I struggled a bit, but not really. My body betrayed me. As much as I loathed him, it felt so good. My nipples felt so hot, and when he yanked off my bra, they swelled under his gaze. The feelings made me shudder. Then he grabbed my ankles and pulled me from the chair. I fell hard to the floor. He came down on top of me and pushed up my skirt.
I fought so uselessly. I pushed away with my arms, but I kept shifting my hips to keep my pussy rubbing against him. I moaned a lot.
He seemed to enjoy the whole thing enormously.
Soon, he fumbled with his pants, getting his fly down and his cock out. I couldn’t see it, his cock — for that I’m glad — but soon I felt it rubbing against my moist panties.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Please fuck me.”
Desire overwhelmed me. All of my resistance failed.
“Please hurry. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”
He fucked me.
Later that day, after it was over and after he’d left, Hanna found me crying in our little den. “Sweetie! What’s wrong?” She rushed to me.
I couldn’t say, for many reasons. I opened and closed my mouth, but I had no words. I surely couldn’t utter rape — if I’d been raped. I hardly knew for sure.
“Doesn’t he want you?” she asked, of course she asked that. I shook my head no.
That wasn’t the problem, but it happened to be true. After he finished with me, he got up and cleaned his dick. Then he looked down at me, still on the floor with tears around my eyes.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” I said, but the tears still came. My legs were spread, and his spunk dripped from my swollen cunt, but the tears flowed faster.
“You’re one fucked-up robot,” he said. And he didn’t say it nice. After he left, the doctor came and got me. She led me to the washroom where I showered and changed. After that, she informed me that he had passed on me. I was too sullen, he’d said. Not at all his sort.
That was better, I supposed.
Hanna hugged me tight. “Don’t worry, dear. You’re so beautiful and so sweet. You’ll have no problem. And if stupid-head didn’t want you, fuck him.”
Yeah, fuck stupid-head.
“Thank you, Hanna,” I said. And I did feel better.
She held me for a while without speaking, but she grew tense. I could tell something was up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“He came back for me.” I looked into her face and saw so much there, happiness and sadness in equal measure. “I have to go to him, soon.”
“Oh Hanna.”
“But I promise” — she sat back and grabbed my shoulders — “I’ll see you again, somehow. I’ll beg and plead every night for my master to find your master and let us see each other. I’ll plead and carry on until he gives in. I must see you. I will see you.” She shook me as she spoke.
Such beautiful eyes.
“Go,” I said. “Go to him.”
A smile. She rose and walked to the door. “I love you.” She passed into the hall.
I never saw her again. Robots don’t get to pick their friends.
Another man came to see me the next day, a tall black man in a blacker suit. His body was strong and fit, his skin smooth and glossy. When I entered, he gave a big toothy smile.
He was so much prettier than the last one. I gave a little curtsy and said, “Hi, I’m Amber.” I glanced at the crotch of his slacks and hoped that his cock was big.
“Oh no, Amber won’t do,” he said. “You’ll be Melissa. Is that fine?” His voice was deep and smooth. It suited him perfectly.
“Yes,” I replied. “What’s your name?”
I eyed the chair and then the edge of the bed and wondered where I should sit. He made no motions, so I went and sat in the chair.
“My name is Douglass Simms, but you should call me Master Simms, or just Master.”
“Yes Master Simms.”
He looked at me. His smile was gone.
“And you should not have sat down without permission.”
I had nothing to say to that. I dropped my gaze and just sat.
After a while, he said, “Really? This is how you were taught to behave?”
I pulled up my legs, hugged my knees, and stared at the carpet.
“Get up girl! And apologize.”
I didn’t understand why he was mad, but I did as I was told. I popped up fast and said, “Uh — I’m sorry.” His eyes were burning with anger.
“Melissa, you will learn two things: to do what you’re told, and to ask before you act. Oh, and eventually, you’ll learn not to ask.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
After that, we just stared at each other. He leaned back and got comfortable on the bed. I stood and waited on quivering knees. A long time passed that way, and I felt my gaze begin to drop. Finally, I asked, “Master, is there something you’d like me to do?”
“Turn around.”
I turned around.
“Lift your skirt and remove your panties.”
My skirt went up, my panties hit the floor.
“Now play with your asshole.”
“What?”
I peeked over my shoulder. He lay on the bed with his fly down and his cock out. It was indeed a very large cock.
“Play with your asshole. Spit on your finger and rub it.”
“Really?” That seemed such a strange thing to do.
“Yes really! And disobey me one more time, or give me any more lip, and I’m gonna put you over my knee girl.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I didn’t want him mad, so I did what I was told. I spat on my finger and got a nice big, drippy gob on it. Then I reached behind and rubbed it into my butthole.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
“Yeah, it feels good.”
Actually, it did feel kind of good, even if a bit stinky. I had to keep spitting on my finger to keep it wet.
And that went on for a while; me, rubbing my asshole, him, laying on the bed rubbing his cock. We both moaned.
After a while, I asked, “Master, do you wanna fuck me or something?”
“No. Keep doing that. In fact, put your one leg up on that chair so I can see better.”
“You won’t fuck me?”
I turned to him. His dark, beautiful skin. His cock held tight in his fist. Dripping wet, his wonderful hard cock. I licked my lips. “Please fuck me.”
He released his grip. Then he said, “You bitch! I was so close.”
He shot from the bed right at me, his rigid cock before him. My gaze fixed on that cock as it came near. I wanted so much to touch it, to taste it, to put it in my hole. I was so riveted by his cock that I never saw him raise his hand and swing it toward my face.
It was a very hard smack, hard enough to knock me down. I couldn’t believe it. I sprawled on the carpet. Soon, the pain came, the stinging and the fear. I cried.
“On your feet, bitch.” He grabbed my hair and yanked me to my feet. Then he sat on the bed and pulled me to him. Next, I learned what he meant by putting me over his knee.
Smack!, smack!, smack! On my bottom.
They were hard slaps, and they kept coming and I kept crying. Smack!, smack!, smack! Soon, I screamed.
That was enough. The doctor rushed in with one of the scientists. “Stop that this instant!” she yelled.
More smacks. More screams.
“She disobeyed me!” he said.
“You can’t beat her like that. She’s alive.”
He gave one, final, hard smack.
“Fuck this. This robot sucks.”
He stood — I fell to the floor — and shoved his cock, still erect, into his pants. Then he grabbed his case and headed for the door.
“Folks are gonna hear about this,” he said. “Your reputation is sliding.”
Then he was gone.
I lay on the floor, still crying. I looked up at the doctor.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” I said through my tears. “I just wanted him to fuck me.”
The doctor looked away from me and sighed. “Clean her up,” she said to the scientist. “Then send her to my office.”
I sat in the doctor’s office on her little couch. This time, I sat alone, untouched. She sat behind her desk with her arms resting before her, her hands clasped.
“We weren’t going to tell you this,” she said. “But I guess you need to know.”
It was ominous, her voice. I waited for her to continue.
“You’ve probably noticed that you aren’t quite like the other robots. That you’re — well — deeper, I guess, for lack of a better word.”
She waited for me to respond, and indeed she was correct. The other robots didn’t seem as bothered by things. But still, I said nothing.
She went on, “You were a new model, an experiment if you will. Actually, both you and Eliot were, although he turned out much closer to what we wanted.”
That got me curious. “What was that? What were you trying to do with us?”
“Ah, that’s simple. Smarter robots.”
“I’m smarter?”
“Well, more self-reflective, more sensitive. Do you understand?”
I thought that I did. Perhaps. “Yes. I noticed too. The other robots seem simpler.”
“Yes.” She smiled. But it wasn’t a nice smile. “Do you like them?” she asked. “For instance, how do you feel about Hanna?”
“I like Hanna a lot.”
“Would you like her as much if she were sullen, always full of doubt, so often displeased?”
Yes. I would still like Hanna no matter what. But I didn’t bother saying that. I got the point.
She went on, “I think your programming worked too well, that you’re too smart. I think we got the balance just right with Eliot, but went too far with you.”
“I see.” Except I didn’t really see. “Doctor?” I asked.
“Yes Amber?”
“Sometimes I can’t do what I want to do. Like, my body does something entirely different. Or, I say something the opposite of how I feel.”
“Oh?” She arched her brows.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
I shrugged. I surely didn’t want to tell her that she was one of the things I was contrary about. In fact, I’m not sure that I could have.
A suspicious look crossed her face. “Can you give me an example?”
I tried to tell her. “The first man,” I said, “James. I — ” But my voice stopped.
“You what?” she asked. “Tell me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. This is what I mean. I can’t even say it.”
She seemed to ponder for a bit. Then she said, “I think I understand. You don’t have complete control.”
“Right. I don’t.”
I shrugged. Then I gave her a pleading look. If anyone could help me, it was her.
“Robots are programmed to please their master,” she said, “to always see the best in him, or her” — She smiled when she said her — “and otherwise be a wonderful little fuck toy.”
“Right. I love doing that.”
“But perhaps your higher mind doesn’t like that so much, but cannot control the base instincts of a fuck-bot.”
“Yes. I think you’re right, but what can I do?”
Her eyes got wide. “Sweetie, that’s what I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“You need to get an owner. You can’t stay here, and you’ve struck out twice. Actually, more than twice.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t say anything.
“There will be one more tomorrow. If you don’t please him — ”
I waited a bit. Her face was blank, stern. Then I said, “What happens if I don’t please him?”
“Sweetie — ” Her eyes got big again. “We’ll have to shut you down.”
“Kill me?”
She sat quietly. I’m glad she didn’t try to tell me that you can’t kill a robot, that such a thing isn’t alive, not properly alive. She didn’t say that. In fact, she seemed genuinely sad.
“Just make sure you succeed tomorrow, Amber. Do everything he wants.”
He wasn’t so bad looking. I wouldn’t call him good looking, just average. But that would be enough, I thought. I could grow to like him. He was young with a smooth face, if a bit too plump. He wore a jacket from some sports team — it was red — buttoned only halfway up. His messy blond hair stuck out just below the brim of his ball cap. When I entered, he stood.
“Hi, I’m Billy.” He gave me a smile and held out his big white hand.
“Hi Billy, I’m Amber.” I slunk up next to him. My body touched his. “Wanna sit, Billy?”
“Yeah.”
We sat. I looped my arm through his arm and leaned into him. “Do you like me?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah I do.”
I kissed his cheek, a little kiss on soft flesh. He pulled away.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“Uh, no, I’m fine. Can we just go slow?”
At that moment, I began to like Billy a lot. “Sure we can.” I hugged his arm tighter and pulled myself closer. “So, Billy, you wanna get a robot?”
“Uh, yeah.” He shifted and looked down at his feet. If he were better looking, it would’ve been the most darling thing. But it was darling enough.
I didn’t dare kiss him again. Instead, I reached and brushed away a bit of hair that fell over his face. Then I bent forward, twisted, and peered into his dropping eyes.
“Billy…” I said.
He looked up. “Yeah?”
“I’d love to be your robot.”
“Uh — thanks Amber.”
He shifted away from me. I scooted closer and put my arms around him.
“You’re very soft,” I said. He didn’t say anything, so I kept hugging. “But you’re very tense. Maybe I can help you relax?”
“Uh — ” He got even more tense. I saw panic in his eyes.
“Come on, sweetie,” I said. “You know what a robot does?”
I touched the button of his pants, which was too much for poor Billy. He shot to his feet and backed away from me.
“Aw!” I said. “You don’t like me?” I gave a pleading look and batted my eyes. Billy was a shy boy, I thought. He needed a little coaxing.
“No, it’s not that.” His back was to the door.
“Then what?” I looked up at him from the edge of the bed. The hem of my skirt rested just above my knees. “Aren’t I pretty?”
“Yeah. You’re very pretty.”
He stood there looking at me. I saw his hand reach behind and find the doorknob and grasp it. Then he let it go. The door remained closed. Maybe he just wanted to check for it in case he needed to flee.
I thought of a different strategy. “Do you wanna watch me get naked?”
He nodded. “That would be nice.”
“Come sit again. I’ll give you a show.”
He returned and sat. I stood. With one hand, I touched the top button of my blouse. “Should I start on the top — ” Then with the other hand, I reached and touched the hem of my skirt. “ — or the bottom?”
He gulped. “The top would be fine.”
I smiled and removed my blouse, button by button, while I watched his shifting eyes. Once the blouse fell there remained a lacy blue bra. I got near to him, but didn’t touch. “Should I remove my bra?”
I saw the bulge forming in his pants. “Yeah.”
I removed my bra. “You can touch me, sweetie. You don’t have to, but you can.”
He reached and touched a nipple, caressing with his big finger. He made a little circle around it.
“Aw,” I said.
“It’s soft.” He withdrew his hand.
“I’m gonna take my skirt off now. You ready?”
He nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”
I turned, facing away from him, my butt toward him. Then I reached behind, found the little zipper, and pulled it down. Then I squirmed and shimmied and let the skirt fall.
“You can touch me again,” I said. But no touch came. I heard his breathing behind me, short heavy breaths, but I didn’t feel his touch. “Sweetie, I want you to touch me. Please.”
I felt two hands squeeze my butt through my cottony panties. “Mmm,” I said. “That feels nice.”
I bent forward and thrust my bottom toward him. I stood with my feet apart.
“Oh baby, that feels great.” But it didn’t quite feel great, not yet. I wanted to feel great, to feel him do more. “Please touch my pussy.”
He did, long slow strokes from behind, strokes that began at my clit and ended at my anus. “Oh fuck, Billy. Oh fuck.”
“It’s wet,” he said.
“For you. I’m wet for you. I want your cock so bad.”
I turned and grabbed his hand and put his wet fingers in my mouth. After sucking them clean, and after gazing into his frightened eyes, I said, “I wanna fuck you. Don’t be afraid, it’ll be really great.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Can I touch you now? Are you ready?”
He nodded. I touched. His zipper came down.
His cock was small, pale, and bent in a strange way at the tip. But I was past caring. I yanked my panties off and straddled him. It slipped into me.
“Just lay back and try to relax, sweetie.”
He lay back and I rode him hard. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.”
He came pretty much right away, thrusting, grunting, and thrashing. His ball cap fell to the floor. But I didn’t stop fucking him. I kept bucking my hips as hard as I possibly could. “I’m gonna keep fucking you sweetie.”
After a bit, he said, “Oh, that’s too much. Please stop.”
I could feel his cock getting soft inside me fast.
“No baby! Stay hard for me baby.” I rocked my hips. “I wanna come.”
“Please get off me.”
He pushed me off and squirmed his hips away, rolling and hiding his cock.
“Oh baby, I wanna come,” I said. “Please fuck me more, or lick me. Will you lick my pussy?”
I climbed up him to get my pussy over his face. I was past caring, past thinking, past any reservations at all. I pressed my sex to his gasping mouth. “Lick it. Eat it.”
His voice was muffled by my pressing flesh, but I heard him say, “No.” Then he pushed and squirmed and broke free of me. He shot up from the bed and backed away, away from me, away from my desperate need to come. I rolled and turned to him, facing my spread legs toward him. “Come on, baby, don’t leave me hanging. Finish the job.”
I rubbed myself.
Poor plump Billy backed away, wide-eyed, terrified. He fumbled with his pants, stowed his cock, zipped his fly. Then he reached and snatched his ball cap from the floor.
“Thanks Amber,” he said. “But I gotta go.”
“Oh Billy!”
The door opened, closed, and then he was gone. What had I done?
I tried to escape; who goes to her grave without a fight? Right after Billy left, I quickly dressed and ran. When I got through the door, I passed the doctor coming to collect me.
“Amber!” she shouted, but I ignored her.
I tore through a fire exit door with a clang and a blaring alarm. Beyond the door was a stairway down. At the foot of the stairs was another fire door. I pushed it open and escaped to a wide green lawn under an open sky. Charging forward, I found myself in a campus of short, glass office buildings. In front of me, in the center of the stretch of grass, there was a little pond with ducks. I ran to the left of the pond.
It did no good, of course. Guards in little carts caught me easily. They surrounded me. “Come on girl, don’t make us hurt you.” There was nowhere to hide.
When they brought me back, the doctor was waiting in the hall outside of her lab. She gave me a long look. I tried to read something in her eyes. Would I find pity? — at least pity. Her expression was blank.
“I promise it won’t hurt,” was all she said.
The guards had to drag me into the lab, for I did struggle. But I was designed to be sweet and pretty, to be soft and yielding, to give love. I couldn’t fight large, strong men. They forced me onto the table, one holding my arms, the other my legs. They put straps across me. Then they left. All who remained were the scientists in their lab coats and with their blank faces. Like at my birth, I saw them check displays and gauges, heard them chatter, read out data, life-signs, stats. The doctor entered.
I wondered how long it would take to kill me. One second, each second, seemed such a precious bit of time.
“Give me a number three scalpel,” the doctor said. A scientist handed her a scalpel. She came to me. “Turn your head, sweetie.” I held my head rigid to the table. “Come now, this won’t help.” A scientist grabbed my head and forced it to the side. The doctor cut into my neck.
Pain, crying and pain.
Soon, I felt her peel back skin. “An Allen wrench, a number two.” Someone handed her a wrench, and she began to undo a panel on the side of my neck. I couldn’t see it happen.
I said, “Please.”
The scientists were expressionless. She moved outside my field of view.
“Bring the interface,” she said.
I heard equipment roll over. From the corner of my eye, I saw her grip a cable with a plug on its end. She plugged that — I can only suppose — into my neck.
“All at once?” a scientist asked.
“No. Make it peaceful and slow,” the doctor said. “Give her just a bit more time.”
Suddenly, I was blind.
“Relax sweetie. It won’t hurt. It’ll be very peaceful.”
Dying isn’t peaceful. I struggled.
“Now now…”
She whispered in my ear in her gentle voice. And with time, I did stop squirming. Why not relax in my final moments?, I thought. I was losing it all, so let it drift away. I felt her touches, but as through a fog. Her voice seemed so far. I felt my mind slow, my senses dull, bit by bit into nothingness. Then I heard — did I hear? — truly? — the sound of a door slam followed by footsteps. There was a shout. “Stop! He’s come back. The boy changed his mind and came back.”