Barren Cove Read Online Free PDF Page B

the satisfaction of tears. Instead, a look of triumph crossed his face as he saw the sliced simul-skin on Kent’s arm. Kent realized this and said, “But we don’t bleed.” Then he rushed out of the cabana.
    Mary approached the table. “Let me see,” she said.
    Beachstone wouldn’t let go.
    â€œLet me see. I have to sew it up.”
    Beachstone opened his hands. The cut was deep, but it wasn’t long.
    â€œI’m impressed that you cut him back,” Mary said, digging through the spilled contents of the dissecting box and finding a needle and thread. She held the needle in the flame of a lighter from the kit. “He didn’t mean anything. He just likes to experiment.”
    â€œI’ll tell Asimov 3000.”
    â€œDon’t,” Mary said, stopping for a second. “Please don’t. He didn’t mean anything.”
    Beachstone grabbed at his leg, and tears sprang to his eyes.
    â€œLet me,” Mary said, pushing Beachstone’s hands away. She began to sew. Beachstone sucked air through his teeth. “It hurts,” Mary said in amazement. “I’m sorry, I just forgot about it hurting.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Beachstone managed. “Just finish.”
    â€œKent just needs lots of attention,” Mary said as she worked. “He’s not used to having to share our attention with somebody else. He’s really harmless.” Even through the pain, Beachstone didn’t look as though he believed her. She realized his position and knew that what she was saying seemed thoughtless and insincere. She continued to sew in silence.

4.
    SUNLIGHT FROM THE open window reflected on the dark mahogany dining room table, casting a white stripe down the center. Asimov 3000 dutifully waxed the wood once a year and dusted with a microfiber cloth once a week, so the table, which was never used, was as smooth as a mirror. Beachstone sat at the head of the table now. His collarbone was even with the tabletop, so he had to raise his arms at the shoulders in order to rest his hands on either side of the tablet sitting before him. Asimov 3000 had offered him a booster, but the boy refused, sitting on the edge of his seat and leaning forward to compensate for his height. The sun’s reflection shone across the tablet as well, and the elderly robot could not be certain that the boy could even see the screen.
    â€œTry again,” Asimov 3000 said from the seat to the boy’s left.
    Beachstone tapped the screen, and a cheery female voice said, “B, buh, B. The boy has the ball.”
    â€œB, buh, B,” Beachstone said after her.
    â€œDon’t just tap the screen for the answer,” Asimov 3000 said. “Try it yourself.”
    â€œB, buh, B,” Beachstone repeated.
    â€œTry the next one without tapping for the answer first,” Asimov 3000 said.
    Beachstone touched the arrow to advance, and an animated worm rode a wagon to the center of the screen. The letter W appeared in uppercase and lowercase above the picture. “M, mommy, M,” Beachstone said.
    â€œIt looks similar to an M ,” Asimov 3000 said, “but the M —”
    â€œQ, qua, Q.”
    â€œDon’t just guess,” Asimov 3000 said.
    Beachstone tapped the screen. The woman said, “W, wuh, W.” Then he hit the next arrow.
    How do I teach him patience? Asimov 3000 thought. The boy had identified all the letters and their sounds correctly only two days before. This was supposed to be review, and then they were going to work on sounding out three- and four-letter words. Asimov 3000 didn’t know if the boy was getting the answers wrong deliberately in defiance for having been forced to sit down and work, or if the boy’s biological mind was in some way lacking.
    Beachstone scratched at his thigh for the fifth time.
    â€œIs something bothering you there?” Asimov 3000 said. “Are you hurt?”
    Beachstone brought