“Take this mug over to Ben’s work station.” She held out Ben’s coffee mug. Bot-bot extended a hand, gripped it, pulled it to him, and tootled ...ff. When he got to Ben’s desk, he said “Beeennnn.” When Ben replied, “Yes, Bot-bot?” the robot extended his arm to present the mug, releasing it when Ben grasped it.“Neat,” I said. That bit where Bot-bot recognizes that the object in his grasper is in the control of another and is therefore no longer his responsibility to hold, that’s a good bit of. She was in her study. It was a gloriously brilliant August afternoon, I remember that much. I found her there, at her desk, typing on the laptop computer as she did most days. I'd never asked her what she wrote before, it hadn't seemed relevant. But now the detail seemed curiously important in the complex tapestry of my nascent love."What are you writing, Ms. Sharp?" I asked, tiptoeing around beside her.She turned to me and regarded me with that cool self-assurance that thrilled and terrified. More

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