Marge had always had her heart set on a trip to Bermuda. Just to get
away from it all, she'd say. A second honeymoon.
I got a list of travel agencies from the business directory and started
down them. The third one I tried had a pleasant tenor voice. "No, sir,
not _Mrs._ Faircloth. _You_ bought two tickets. One way. Champagne
flight to Bermuda."
"When?" I choked out.
"Why, today, as a matter of fact. It leaves Idlewild at eleven
o'clock--"
I let him worry about my amnesia and started home fast. I didn't know
what they'd given that Prime for circuits, but there was no question
now that he was out of control--_way_ out of control. And poor Marge,
all worked up for a second honeymoon--
Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in his
right circuits would behave this way without some human guidance and
that meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happened
before. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd known
all about George Prime.
_For how long?_
* * * * *
When I got home, the house was empty. George Prime wasn't in his
closet. And Marge wasn't in the house.
They were gone.
I started to call the police, but caught myself just in time. I
couldn't very well complain to the cops that my wife had run off with
an android.
Worse yet, I could get twenty years for having an illegal Prime
wandering around.