“Of course not. I’m dead,” she sighed, and turned back to Doc. “Can’t we end this stupid play? I knew this was a bad idea.”“Wait. What�...s going on here?” I said, shaking my head to clear the last of the cobwebs.“I thought it would be obvious by now,” Doc said. “Master PC can do just about anything. We got some of her DNA from a hairbrush that her family kept. And created a new template.”“So you’re not her? Just inhabiting her body?” I said, looking at her closely for the first time. “At least. Her hips came up to give clearance, the hand moved around and her legs came back together as the undergarment passed her knees and ankles. Stepping out, she parted her knees again, waiting for what came next. An artist’s hand touched her. Playing her like a Stradivarius, it brought out a murmur and a submission, to let him make what music he wished on her. She was gently filled, and the mouth returned to nursing, two levels of stimulation were taking her very far, very fast. Her hand went back. "I have always been here, mo stór."When she raised her head to ask, he smiled again and quieted her. "Later. Now we need sleep. The ritual will not be complete until the seventh taking. We have less than twenty-four hours to complete it. Rest. I'll need you again very soon!"She didn't know she had fallen asleep until she awoke from a dream that had left her wet with unmatched lust. And he was there, as though he knew her need, filling her, and drawing her to his vein. She bit down, hard, more. “You got it right away. The changes, Asimov on the floor.”“Yes. It wasn’t hard. Though I’ve never been as gripped by the Foundation series as you have. It’s too far from reality. No women to speak of, for example.”“Veering off-topic, did you have lunch?”“Sandwich and tea at the Gallery. What did you buy?”“Barramundi, hakusai, a piece of fresh ginger. I thought we’d have rice and you could either stir-fry or steam everything.”“Good. Is there garlic?”“Sorry. But there is a bunch of green.