I hadcancer . . . terminal. The doctors gave me only six months, at most, tolive.Oh, they gave me the standard speech about chemotherapy and radiatio.... The result was that it would be painful, uncomfortable, and sickening. After all of that suffering, it would only add hours to days to my fadinglife. Some would undergo such torture just to cling to the last few moments oflife.Not me. I decided the moment that I had to take the biopsy that, if pushcame to shove, I would go with dignity. . " You can read my mind?" I asked, more than a little worried."No," she giggled, "but my organism responds to your thought patterns. My mind has no access to the patterns that your mind produces, but pleasure drones were specifically engineered to receive and respond to the thoughts of their owners. Thus, we no more control the form we take, nor the actions we take in giving pleasure, than you control what you call your heartbeat." Then this is not your natural shape?" Boy was I quick on the. More

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