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mode of dress, and concluded that the two of you had been previously pledged in wedlock, and that you had prearranged to be dressed so.”
    “We met only moments ago,” said Candy, “and our choice of clothing seems to be a coincidence.”
    Roberto surveyed Candy. He then surveyed Danny.
    Roberto remained silent and motionless. Finally, he spoke. “Such a coincidence between two strangers is statistically improbable to a degree I cannot readily compute.”
    “Indeed,” said Candy. She glanced at Danny and elbowed him playfully.
    “Perhaps another order of the bruschetta, singorina ?” offered Roberto. “It will give me time to consider the statistically improbable coincidence. On the house, of course.”
    “That would be lovely,” said Candy.
    Roberto bowed and marched away. He returned momentarily with the bruschetta, bowed again, and marched toward the swinging silver door leading to the rear of the kitchen. He misjudged the location of the door and his shoulder collided with the wall. Roberto spun sideways and twirled through the swinging door. The door swung closed and a tremendous racket followed, a great and awful calamity of large silver mixing bowls, pots and pans, and circular aluminum pizza trays all falling to the floor. Roberto appeared for a moment through the round window in the door. A large pot covered his head and obscured his vision. He stumbled about the kitchen with his arms outstretched.
    “Uh-oh,” said Candy. “I hope we didn’t freeze him out.” She turned to Danny.
    “Doesn’t look like it. He would’ve frozen in place. I think the positronic potential built up a bit, though. It should discharge on its own. I hope. Unless some relays became disordered. Then we’re talking about positronic analysis and reprogramming. Very expensive stuff. I don’t want to spend half a year’s salary on having a robot’s brain unblocked merely because it mistook an order of bruschetta for a direct order.”
    “ A robot has to obey any orders given to it by a human unless it conflicts with the law against harming humans,” said Candy.
    “Very good,” said Danny. “Almost everybody has a robot but most people don’t remember the laws.”
    “I’m not most people.”
    “I’ll drink to that.” Danny raised his glass. Candy clinked it with her own glass and they drank.
    “So how is it you know the laws so well?” Danny asked.
    “It’s my job. I’m a robopsychologist.”
    “No kidding. I’m a roboticist. I’m more on the engineering side, however.”
    “That’s amazing,” said Candy. “What do you do exactly?”
    “I specialize in positronics mostly. Specifically in the realm of engineering with regard to forming judgments in ethical problems. You want to watch a robot’s head explode? Ask it if God can make a rock so big, even He can’t lift it.”
    “Yeah, it’s the Rock of God conundrum. There’s an incredible book on it.”
    “I know,” said Danny, “I wrote it.”
    “ You’re Daniel Olivaw?”
    “Yes.”
    “ The Daniel Olivaw?”
    “As far as I know.”
    Candy placed her wine glass upon the table with such force that wine sloshed out of it. She scarcely noticed.
    “Th-th-this . . . is-is . . . incredible. You’re Daniel Olivaw.” She leaned back, away from him.
    Danny blotted the spilled wine and merely smiled.
    Candy stared at him. “You’re Daniel Olivaw.”
    Danny nodded.
    “Why didn’t you say so?” she asked.
    “I can hardly run around town with my book under my arm, saying ‘Hi, I’m Dan Olivaw, eminent roboticist and author of blah-blah-blah.’ ”
    “I wrote my doctoral dissertation on blah-blah-blah,” said Candy. “Except for a few points in chapter three, it’s the single most fascinating book on robotics I’ve ever read.” She looked closely at Danny. “It’s one of my favorite books.”
    Danny smiled again. “Well, I’m pleased that it pleases you.”
    “You know, a lot of people don’t like you. Because of that book.”
    “I