Gospel Story Finder

For most of his early life, the only sports Stanley Moleni played were rugby and basketball. But before his junior year of high school, after his family had moved from New Zealand to Hawaii, Stanley discovered football. “I fell in love with it,” he says. It didn’t hurt that he was naturally good at it too.

Coaches were impressed with his size. Stanley is six-feet-two inches tall, and at the time he was a lean 200 pounds.

“I was still learning, but by my senior year I started catching on and the coaches stuck me at outside linebacker. I was still only 205 pounds, and I was missing a lot of plays. I really didn’t know how to play the game that well,” he says.

That didn’t stop college coaches from showing interest in him—especially after he bulked up to 250 pounds. The sport he’d taken up for fun was suddenly his ticket to college. After a lot of thought, he signed a letter of intent to play football for BYU. But instead of enrolling in school immediately after high school graduation in 1994, Stanley moved to Utah and worked to save money for a mission.

“My whole life I was planning on a mission,” says Stanley, now known as Elder Moleni as he serves in the California Ventura Mission. “There was nothing that was going to stop me from coming on a mission.”

And that included the glamour of playing big-time college football.

Says Elder Moleni, “One of our investigators said that he really admired us because he knew we really believed in what we were teaching. When he said he admired me for coming on a mission and leaving my scholarship behind, it felt really good.”

And now just three months short of the completion of his mission, Elder Moleni is concentrating on the work at hand. Soon enough, he’ll be a college student and an outside linebacker.

“I’ll be behind physically. I know that,” he says about football. “But I see a parallel between my not knowing how to play football and missionary work. Through hard work and sacrifice I became better at football. And through hard work and faith in the Lord, I’ve had a successful mission.”

A video shown during the general Young Women meeting featured counsel from President Thomas S. Monson—as well as comments from a group of young women and their leader about an experience they had learning to seek and receive the Lord’s guidance.
Last summer our young women had a burning question. They wanted to know what the official position of the Church was relative to swimsuits. Rather than give them an answer that we were inclined to give them ourselves, we determined that we’d be wiser, as their leaders, to turn them to the Source. They could ask; they could find out for themselves and have a process and an understanding of how it feels and how it works to seek and to get information from heaven personally so that they could replicate that process later in their lives.
When we first started out, I just thought, “Well, OK. It’s just another assignment to take home and study on.”
This experience helped me come closer to Heavenly Father.
It’ll help me too when I am older with my own daughters.
As soon as I started really searching for the answer, it came really quickly.
As we looked at this from a doctrinal point of view, there was no more fundamental source than the scriptures.
At first I really tried to find the answer in the scriptures, and it didn’t seem to be there.
But as I got deeper in the subject, I felt myself wanting to learn more and find out more.
I kept on finding all these scriptures about modesty, like a virtuous woman is modest, and at first, that didn’t make sense to me. And then prayer—I was kind of expecting specific answers through prayer, and I wasn’t getting them. And then as I realized, after I got my answer, prayer just brought the Spirit and the scriptures did have the answer all along, that [modesty] was more of an attitude.
I’ve gotten some answers, but they weren’t very specific, of course, because I always have to do my part and learn for myself.
And I was expecting to be told, “This is what you can wear. This is what you can’t wear.” I didn’t want it to be like [it is] because then it was my choice and I didn’t have the exact rules. But I actually am really grateful now that that is the answer that I got because I think that’s much more applicable to all the girls around the world.
I just felt myself becoming closer to my Heavenly Father, and my heart just grew, and especially with these girls, finding out everything that they went through to find their answers just made my heart swell for all of them; I have so much love for all of them.
As we engaged in this process together and shared our hearts and received inspiration and felt the effect of the Spirit, we became something different. They learned that Heavenly Father cares about what they care about. They learned that He loves them. They learned that whatever they ask, He’ll listen and He’ll answer.
I think that through this process I’ve kind of realized that getting answers is not just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, that it’s something I can use all the time. And in order to get those answers, I have to be steadfast in saying my prayers and in reading my scriptures and continuously keep that Spirit with me.
I can pray to Him whenever I need to, and He is there for me, no matter what. He is always by me, and He is always helping me through every situation.
Whenever I feel sad or whenever I need help, I can always ask Him.
I know who I am, and I know what I stand for, and I know how I feel when I wear the right kind of clothing. And I know that if I dress modestly that I can be closer to my Heavenly Father and closer to the Spirit.
It’s an amazing realization when you look back through my journal and find out that almost every day I’ve had prayers answered and my questions answered through the Lord.
We can find truth in the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, the instructions from our parents, and the inspiration that comes to us as we bend our knees and seek the help of God.
Sometimes the best answers that young people can get to the questions of life are found when they are upon their knees calling upon our Heavenly Father.
And I testify that if they will remember that the Lord is mindful of them and will answer their prayers, they will be able to meet every challenge that comes to them.

For Vaea Tangitau Ta‘ufo‘ou, being a faithful member of the Church has involved significant physical sacrifices. When he joined the Church at age 19, he lived on Foa, one of the outer islands in the Ha‘apai group. One of his first callings was as a leader working with the youth. Like other leaders he often had to attend meetings in Pangai, a town on the next island. To get there he had to walk seven miles (11 km) to the end of the island. Then he would have to wait for low tide so he could walk to the next island through the shallow water—assuming the current wasn’t too strong at the time—and then continue on until he arrived. The trip would take most of the day, and sometimes he would have to wait overnight to return home.
“It was a challenge to make our meetings,” Vaea says. “But it did not discourage us. It strengthened our testimonies.”
Early in his life Vaea hated the Church because of untrue stories spread about it by others in the village. Then his family was befriended by members of the Church. Their good example softened the hearts of Vaea’s family, and his sister was baptized. A year later he joined the Church and was soon serving diligently.
Some years later their district had grown significantly and had the potential to become a stake. Following meetings at Pangai, Vaea and others had to return home. But the district president wanted them to be back for meetings the next morning and asked them to be on time. To make the round trip successfully, Vaea had to run most of the way.
“I was so exhausted I almost felt like dying because the district president had also asked us to fast so we could organize the stake. But I made it. I learned the importance of making it to our meetings and being on time despite the challenges. I believe my calling as bishop shortly after this was because I was willing to make the sacrifice to serve and be obedient. I also believe our fasting made a difference. Not long after, President Howard W. Hunter [1907–95] came and organized the stake.”

Another who expressed his gratitude for President Spencer W. Kimball’s area conference visit last year was Wong Kar-syew, who joined the Church four years ago.
“I was surprised, but I was also really happy.” Kar-syew first became acquainted with the Church through a friend who was investigating. At first she didn’t want to listen, but eventually “what had seemed so strange became so special.” She joined the Church and was called as a Sunday School secretary within a month. She spent her first summer in the Church working as a district missionary, but she and her companion met with little success. After that experience Kar-syew realized that she would have to keep all the commandments to be able to teach others. She knew she should begin paying her tithing. When called to do missionary work again the next summer, the work went well: “I knew I was receiving the blessings of tithing in being able to reach investigators.”
As a missionary Kar-syew found about two-thirds of her contacts were from mainland China. They were attracted to the street displays and stopped to inquire. “These people have never heard the gospel, and I had the opportunity to tell them about Jesus Christ. I feel the prophecies of the scriptures are being fulfilled—our message will go to every people, in every land, and they will hear it in their own tongue.”

For many years I had the pleasing experience of being a missionary on Temple Square in Salt Lake City. It was my privilege to teach many wonderful people who came from all over the world to learn about the Church and the gospel. One of those I remember best was Dr. Aer Waerland, who was well-known for his scientific research with foods and nutrition and who had written several books about the subject.
Dr. Waerland had come from Stockholm, Sweden, to learn about Mormons and especially to discuss the law of health we follow. We, of course, learn much about that law from our Heavenly Father in a revelation He gave to Joseph Smith in 1833, which we refer to as the Word of Wisdom. In Sweden Dr. Waerland had heard from missionaries about this program for good health and, because it involved the same things he had studied for many years, he wanted to learn about it at the headquarters of the Church.
I told Dr. Waerland what the Lord has taught us—that our body is part of our eternal soul, that we could not be truly happy eternally without our body, that we will have our bodies forever, after the resurrection, and that, therefore, it is very important that we do everything we can to keep clean and healthy and well.
The Word of Wisdom teaches us a great principle and makes a promise. The principle is that everything good God has provided for us we should use with thanksgiving and good judgment, with prudence and not to excess. Everything that is not good for us we should leave alone. The promise is that if we obey this principle we will be better off in every way: in health, in knowledge and wisdom, and in wonderful spiritual blessings.
With the Doctrine and Covenants opened before us, Dr. Waerland and I discussed the details of the revelation. He talked with some wonderment about the instructions concerning what we should eat and what we should not eat. He noted that the book says that alcohol and tobacco and hot drinks are not good for man. He asked how Joseph Smith, a young man 27 years of age without any formal training in the field of nutrition, could have possibly known about these things in 1833 when the most modern information then available could not have told him so. I explained that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that this information had come by revelation. I said to him, “Dr. Waerland, what would you think of such a young man, 27 years of age, who wrote that document more than 140 years ago?”
He said, “I know nothing of prophets and revelation, but I would say that such a young man was just 140 years ahead of his time.”
He then spoke of some of the recent discoveries of science and of his own researches and said that every suggestion in the Word of Wisdom was good and true.
After we had talked again about prophets and revelation and he had said again that he was not a religious man and knew little of prophets, he repeated that whoever wrote that document was 140 years ahead of his time.
We know now through evidence that cannot be questioned, that alcohol and tobacco and caffeine are not good for the body. We know that they are destructive and harmful. We know much about the importance of the proper food to eat and about moderation in diet. These facts were not available to Joseph Smith except through revelation received from our Heavenly Father. That is how he received them, and we need to remember that, when we thank the Lord for wonderful blessings we have received through prophets from God.

Military basic training was tough, especially spiritually. I was surrounded by foul language and bad influences. Prayer and priesthood blessings gave me power to endure, but I longed to have more than personal prayers. Having served a mission, I knew the power and unity that can come from praying with a companion. Unity was one thing our group of about 56 airmen definitely lacked.
Three weeks into basic training, we were still struggling to get along and work as a team. Approaching the junior officers, I requested permission to hold a nightly prayer meeting for anyone who desired to come. Surprisingly, they not only agreed but also supported the idea.
Six airmen came to the first meeting. After taps and lights out, we used a flashlight to read a few verses from the New Testament that related to the challenges we were facing. We then said a prayer, asking that we could have the Spirit of God with us and that we could be grateful for the things we had.
Gradually, more airmen began attending our meeting. Soon our numbers had increased to 15. Sometimes we read Bible verses; other times we read from the Book of Mormon. Each evening anyone who wanted to pray was given the opportunity.
As I had hoped, our prayer meetings had brought unity to our group. But they did more than that: they strengthened us as individuals and helped us turn to our Heavenly Father.

Every Sunday night my dad and I sit down together and work on my goals in my Faith in God booklet. One of the goals I wanted to complete for developing talents was to paint a picture of Christ.
After I made the goal, a friend of mine from school invited me to her first communion. The first communion is a very special occasion in the Catholic Church. It is the first time someone can partake of the sacrament. My friend had done a lot to prepare for her first communion, and I knew it was very important to her.
I decided to paint the picture of Christ to give to her as a present. I worked very hard on my painting. After I finished it, I bought a nice frame to put it in and gave it to my friend. She was very grateful for it. It made me feel good inside to give it to her and to be part of her special day.

When Liisa, 20, first heard about the job at the Delfinaario (dolphin aquarium), she was excited. She had good qualifications. In the Finnish equivalent of high school, she had studied biology, but also mathematics, science, physics, and chemistry.
“All those things are part of the job,” she explains. “And I’ve always been interested in animals.” And the job would help her earn money to pay for college in Sweden. Her enthusiasm and background paid off. She was hired.

The generous action of a choir member’s spouse brought lasting results. Four choir members and two spouses had taken a taxi to the Hadassah-Hebrew University Medical Centre in Kadesh to see the famous Chagall windows portraying the Twelve Tribes of Israel. “All of Jerusalem is talking about your choir,” said Yocheved, the receptionist. But when asked if she would be attending the final concert that night, she stammered that “complications” would not allow it.
After the six left, they realized that the “complications” meant that she did not have the money for a ticket. Quickly, they returned, and one of the spouses gave her his concert ticket. Her joyful response was spontaneous, and during the concert that evening, she was moved to tears. She embraced each of her new friends after the concert and said, “I didn’t have any way to repay you for your kindness. I did not even know your names, so today I planted a tree at the Hadassah Hospital in the name of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. It will continue to live and grow, and the next time you come to Jerusalem, you can see your tree. Your being here has brought us joy and peace.”

I went off to school that fall. I was on the track team, and though I was not a star that year, I ran straight and hard. When I came home that summer, I had an interview with my bishop to begin the work of serving a mission. It didn’t take place in a bishop’s office, but in a blue, two-story home in south San Francisco. I sat on the edge of a bed, and the bishop pulled close his favorite old chair. He seemed a little hesitant. His eyes were wet.
“Tom, you are a Rosa,” he began. “And you are a Latter-day Saint.”
“Yes.”
“If you honor your family, you will honor your church. If you honor your church, you will honor your family.”
“I understand that.”
After asking me the normal missionary interview questions, he concluded, “You will do good. You will be a fine missionary.”
Then he told me to go help Mom in the kitchen. I looked back at him as I left. His hair was mostly gray now, and his arms were not as thickly muscled as before. He sat in his chair and stared out the window at ten thousand sparkling lights on the hillside across the bay from our home. I wondered if he knew how proud I was to be his son and how much it meant to me to share his good name. I walked downstairs realizing that all those years I had been running, my father had been growing, and I would never lack for someone to look up to.

The Book of Mormon was a means of introducing Wannipha Thongchalerm, to the Church. First introduced to Christianity by a United States serviceman, she received a copy of the Book of Mormon from a friend. The book led to visits by the full-time missionaries. “Learning the gospel was a happy experience for me,” she says. “The missionaries would visit me every other day, and I would make notes of what they told me. Each time they came, I would repeat the previous lesson back to them. I was baptized in 1976.”
Sister Thongchalerm married a nonmember whose work required him to travel a great deal. After five years of marriage, they were divorced. Prior to the divorce, Sister Thongchalerm began studying to be a nurse, a profession she still follows at one of the local hospitals. Three years after her divorce, she married Anan, who had been baptized in 1981. With their two children, Ariza, 4, and Aachanoon, 3, they were among the group that went to the Manila Temple.
“When I came back from the temple, I felt a greater need to share the gospel with others. I decided I would try to bring at least ten other people into the Church, a goal I reached within two years.”
Sister Thongchalerm, who teaches in seminary, Sunday School, and Relief Society, treasures her testimony. “I feel that no matter what happens, no one can take away my testimony of Jesus Christ.”
The Thongchalerms live in a multilevel house in Udorn—a house Brother Thongchalerm will completely finish “some day.”

I was just a little girl when my ward gathered in the chapel to break a fast with prayer. The collective faith and pleading were in behalf of a young woman with cancer, and the fast provoked an outpouring of prolonged love and support shown to the woman and her family by a chapel full of praying Saints. The young woman passed away—but not before she had been wrapped in a warm blanket of love and service by disciples of Jesus Christ.
Looking back on that experience, I realize that I learned something of the power of fasting and prayer that had nothing to do with God healing the young woman of cancer.
In the case of the young woman in my ward, fasting produced an army of inspired Saints to comfort and serve her. I have summer-evening memories of my cheery, compassionate mom walking down the street to visit with the family often. We took nutritious meals and shared books and movies. I know that my mother was guided in how to help, as were many others. To be healed was not God’s will for the person in this case, but for her to be sustained with love was.

Wilfredo Perez, a recent convert from Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico, has always had a lot of friends.
“The day I joined the Church,” he says, “many members told me that maybe I’d lose some friends. I wondered why. I couldn’t see why my being a Latter-day Saint would affect my friends.
“I kept doing things with my friends, but I no longer talked about or did some of the things I used to do before I joined the Church. Sometimes that made them a little uncomfortable. In the beginning, it was hard to say no. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings or have them think I didn’t like them anymore.
“One of my friends invited me to a New Year’s Eve party. I went and he told me, ‘Wilfredo, come in and have all the rum and beer you want.’
“I told him, ‘No thanks. I don’t like rum or beer, and besides, it’s not good for my health.’
“‘Okay,’ he said, ‘enjoy the party any way you want.’ So I enjoyed being with my friends, but without drinking or doing things I knew I shouldn’t.”

As a surgeon, I found that a significant portion of my professional time was taken up with the subject of pain. Of necessity I surgically inflicted it almost daily—and much of my effort was then spent trying to control and alleviate pain.
I have pondered about the purpose of pain. None of us is immune from experiencing pain. I have seen people cope with it very differently. Some turn away from God in anger, and others allow their suffering to bring them closer to God.
Like you, I have experienced pain myself. Pain is a gauge of the healing process. It often teaches us patience. Perhaps that is why we use the term patient in referring to the sick.
Elder Orson F. Whitney wrote: “No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. … It is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire.”1
Similarly, Elder Robert D. Hales has said:
“Pain brings you to a humility that allows you to ponder. It is an experience I am grateful to have endured. …
“I learned that the physical pain and the healing of the body after major surgery are remarkably similar to the spiritual pain and the healing of the soul in the process of repentance.”2
Much of our suffering is not necessarily our fault. Unexpected events, contradicting or disappointing circumstances, interrupting illness, and even death surround us and penetrate our mortal experience. Additionally, we may suffer afflictions because of the actions of others.3 Lehi noted that Jacob had “suffered … much sorrow, because of the rudeness of [his] brethren.”4 Opposition is part of Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness. We all encounter enough to bring us to an awareness of our Father’s love and of our need for the Savior’s help.
The Savior is not a silent observer. He Himself knows personally and infinitely the pain we face.
“He suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children.”5
“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.”6
Sometimes in the depth of pain, we are tempted to ask, “Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there?”7 I testify the answer is yes, there is a physician. The Atonement of Jesus Christ covers all these conditions and purposes of mortality.
There is another kind of pain for which we are responsible. Spiritual pain lies deep within our souls and can feel unquenchable, even as being racked with an “inexpressible horror,” as Alma described.8 It comes from our sinful actions and lack of repentance. For this pain too there is a cure that is universal and absolute. It is from the Father, through the Son, and it is for each of us who is willing to do all that is necessary to repent. Christ said, “Will ye not now return unto me … and be converted, that I may heal you?”9
Christ Himself taught:
“And my Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; and after that I had been lifted up upon the cross, that I might draw all men unto me. …
“Therefore, according to the power of the Father I will draw all men unto me.”10
Perhaps His most significant work is in the ongoing labor with each of us individually to lift, to bless, to strengthen, to sustain, to guide, and to forgive us.
As Nephi saw in vision, much of Christ’s mortal ministry was devoted to blessing and healing the sick with all kinds of maladies—physical, emotional, and spiritual. “And I beheld multitudes of people who were sick, and who were afflicted with all manner of diseases. … And they were healed by the power of the Lamb of God.”11
Alma also prophesied that “he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and … he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. …
“That his bowels may be filled with mercy, … that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.”12
Late one night lying in a hospital bed, this time as a patient and not as a physician, I read those verses over and over again. I pondered: “How is it done? For whom? What is required to qualify? Is it like forgiveness of sin? Do we have to earn His love and help?” As I pondered, I came to understand that during His mortal life Christ chose to experience pains and afflictions in order to understand us. Perhaps we also need to experience the depths of mortality in order to understand Him and our eternal purposes.13
President Henry B. Eyring taught: “It will comfort us when we must wait in distress for the Savior’s promised relief that He knows, from experience, how to heal and help us. … And faith in that power will give us patience as we pray and work and wait for help. He could have known how to succor us simply by revelation, but He chose to learn by His own personal experience.”14
I felt the encircling arms of His love that night.15 Tears watered my pillow in gratitude. Later, as I was reading in Matthew about Christ’s mortal ministry, I made another discovery: “When the even was come, they brought unto him many … and he … healed all that were sick.”16 He healed all that came to Him. None were turned away.

Every time Jared Burton Ikihega, 12, of New Zealand, looks up a telephone number in the directory, he sees something familiar—his artwork on the cover.
Jared was one of 20 winners in a national competition to produce a picture for the local telephone directories. His artwork, a linoprint which he called “Looking over the East,” is a view of houses in Porirua East from his school.
Jared’s entry was selected from nearly 600 entries in his area. But this isn’t the first time his art has been recognized. One of his pieces was included in an exhibition of New Zealand school children’s art in Paris. Another work was chosen for a brochure for the Wellington Social Welfare Department.

The teens from the different wards in the Ipswich stake enjoy being around each other. They really like going to youth conferences—or conventions as they are sometimes called—where something as simple as singing together can bring the Spirit. Rebecca Fagg remembers attending her first youth convention as a 14-year-old. “I was struggling a bit and finding attending church to be quite a lot of effort. Then I went to the youth convention. The power of all the youth together made me realize how great it is to be able to go to meetings like that. When we sang, I was overwhelmed by the Spirit. I just burst into tears.”

Will Strickland flipped switches, turned dials, and moved levers on the lighted control panel; the metal robot sitting at the far end of the living room stood up and walked ponderously toward him. Will’s fingers moved rapidly among the controls as he piloted the robot in a slow circle about the room.
At last!
He finally had the robot perfected to the point where it could walk more than six steps without falling on its chrome steel skull.
He spoke into the microphone, and his voice echoed back to him from the small speaker inside the robot’s mouth. “Testing—testing—I’m a jolly good fellow today; I’ve decided to be a good robot and cooperate with the poor mortal who worked so hard to put me together.”
He switched the control panel off and walked over to the robot, pushing gently against it to test its balance in a standing position. Pretty solid. It was exactly his own height, five feet ten, but it outweighed him by six pounds; it had a little more metal in its system than he had.
He left the robot standing there and turned to the cubical metal frame that towered nearly to the ceiling, dominating the small living room. A steel skeleton, the same height as both Will and the robot but weighing only 127 pounds, hung suspended from the top of the frame by vertical bars that socketed into its shoulders, leaving its feet dangling six inches above the floor.
The “skeleton” was actually a new control unit he had designed to replace the conventional control panel. Even though the control panel worked, it was so complicated that the operator needed the skill and coordination of a jet pilot to evoke the most elementary motions in the robot. A small child could walk or pick up something in his hand without having to understand how his muscles worked in opposition to one another to provide balance and control. With the control skeleton, a man could operate a robot as easily as he could operate his own body, simply by strapping himself to the skeleton and doing whatever he wanted the robot to do; the robot would copy his motions, “reading” them electronically through the motions of the skeleton.
Since the only way he could make the robot walk was to walk himself, and since it would be next to useless to have a robot if he had to follow along behind it whereever it went, he had suspended the skeleton in the air so its feet wouldn’t touch the floor. This way the man and the skeleton would do their walking in the air and leave the traveling to the robot. The robot could walk all over town while the man and the skeleton remained in this room, suspended from the overhead frame.
He had visions of a future filled with robots working on the surface of the moon, on other planets, and interplanetary space, doing dangerous work that needed to be done while the operators of the robots remained in safer areas.
But before all this could happen, he had to make the first one work.
He stepped inside the frame and pushed the button that lowered the skeleton until its feet touched the floor. Then he backed up to the skeleton and stepped on top of its flat feet, strapping them to his own as though he were putting on a pair of roller skates. He worked his way up to his ankles, calves, and upper legs, fastening the straps; the right leg of the skeleton fit snugly against the right side of his own right leg, and the left leg fit similarly on the other side of his body. The shoulders of the skeleton rested on top of his own, and its arms came down just to the outside of his own. He slipped his hands into the metallic gauntlets at the ends of the arms and finished strapping in.
He pressed the suspension button and the vertical bars lifted him until his feet cleared the floor by six inches; then he switched on the power to the skeleton control unit and raised his right arm to shoulder height. The robot raised its right arm halfway to shoulder height and stopped.
He made a careful walking motion; the robot lurched forward and fell with a shattering crash.
“Blast!” Will growled.
“Blast!” the robot agreed.
He listened for a moment but heard no footsteps pounding up the stairwell; that was one thing he could be thankful for. The tenants in the apartment just below his used to come scrambling up the stairs every time the robot fell.
They had not been very understanding about the cause of science; they were devout proponents of peace and quiet. They’d told him so several times, at the tops of their lungs.
Then one day he’d had the robot answer the door.
They hadn’t been back since.
He switched off the power, lowered his feet to the floor, and unstrapped from the skeleton. This was enough for one day’s work; the robot had walked consistently well under the control of the panel, and this was the most success he’d tasted since he’d begun this project. Now he knew that the remaining trouble had to be somewhere in the motion-translation unit of the control skeleton.
But that could wait till tomorrow. Friday night was no time to be working on a robot, especially when he had a date with Carol.
He picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello.” It was Carol’s voice.
“Hi, Carol, this is Will. What time shall I come by tonight?”
“Oh, it’s you. … Sorry, but I won’t be able to make it to the dance tonight. Something came up.”
He hesitated. “But, Carol,—we’ve had this date for three weeks.”
“Well, I just can’t go.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Something just came up.”
He swallowed, and his throat hurt. “As I recall, something came up last time, too.”
She laughed. “Did it? Shame on me. Well, I don’t really have time to talk to you now, Will; I have things to do. See you around campus sometime.”
The phone clicked in his ear. He slammed it into the cradle.
This was the fifth time she’d done this to him!
“And by George, it’s the last!” He stalked into the bedroom and whipped his shirt off, ripping off the bottom button, which he had neglected to unbutton.
“I’m going to that dance stag! And as for Carol,” he slung his pants at the bed and missed, “She’s seen the last of me!”
He jerked on a clean pair of pants and a new shirt; he cinched his necktie ferociously, strangling himself, and coughed a couple of times before he could loosen it.
As he wrenched open the door of his apartment, he cast one last glance back at the robot, which was now sitting quietly in its usual chair; then he slammed the door splinteringly shut behind him.
There were several nice girls at the dance, but most of them had dates. He danced a few dances but didn’t meet any staglet girls who particularly impressed him.
In spite of every gram of will power he could muster, he always caught himself comparing them to Carol.
Then he saw a girl at the far end of the dance floor who, at first glance, compared favorably with Carol. He looked more closely.
Great Scott! It was Carol!
She was dancing with a tall, handsome fellow who looked sophisticated but stupid.
And she was enjoying herself.
When the music stopped, he strolled over to them, controlling himself every second. “May I have the next one?” he asked politely.
Carol turned a little pink.
The tall fellow stiffened. “Why don’t you get with it and go hustle your own date?”
Will stepped forward dangerously. “I thought I had one,” he explained, “until about an hour ago.” He glanced at Carol. “But something came up.”
“You’ll have to excuse us now, Will,” Carol said smoothly, “they’re starting to dance again. And you really shouldn’t be in the middle of the dance floor if you’re not going to dance.”
She danced away with her tall, dark hero.
Will stormed off the floor. “I’ll get even with you, baby, if it takes 20 years!”
He bolted out the exit and headed for home.
He thundered into his apartment and punched the door shut with a frustrated fist. He began to pace to and fro in front of the quietly seated robot.
Carol would break a date with him whenever, wherever, and however she felt like it. And that was usually whenever some good-looking goon came along and gave her the eye. If he were a handsome animal, it seemed to make no difference to Carol if he didn’t have the wits to tie his shoes.
Carol didn’t care. To her an empty head was as good as a full one, as long as it had a flashy covering. She was the flightiest girl he’d ever known.
Also the most beautiful. And certainly the most intelligent, except for her little mental problem concerning men.
In the beginning she’d given him the rush and totally overwhelmed him. Six weeks later she was finished with him and on to the next conquest, wastebasketting him like a used kleenex.
He discovered later, by personal observation, that three weeks was her usual toleration limit for any one fellow. Unfortunately, she was nice-looking enough that she never had any difficulty at all in snagging replacements for her rejects. Whenever she had a new one in the net, she just started breaking dates with her latest victim until he got the message and gave up.
But Will wouldn’t give up. He didn’t have much trouble getting the message, but giving up was not a part of his psychology, at least not after having come to know the real Carol. He was in love with that girl.
“I hate her!” he growled.
The robot sat silently in front of him, like a metal Mona Lisa. Uncontrollably he began to try to explain Carol to his mute companion.
“Inside I know she’s a wonderful, sensitive person. She’s just afraid of commitment. And she’s brilliant,” he added in ultimate defense. He’d discovered that almost by accident when he’d seen the grade point average on her semester report one day before she had hastily stuffed it into her purse. She seemed to consider her intelligence a deficit. And it was with most of the guys she dated.
Suddenly he stared at the robot as if he really saw him for the first time. He approached the uncooperative control unit with the pure light of fanaticism shining in his eyes.
“Now, sister, we’re going to see who’s boss! Now I’m really motivated!”
He worked all night. At 6:30 Saturday morning he strapped himself to the control skeleton for the fourth time and raised his right arm to shoulder height.
The robot’s right arm lifted to shoulder height!
He took one careful step forward. The robot did likewise!
He threw his fists to the heavens and shouted jubilantly!
The robot raised steel fists to the skies and cheered earnestly.
He walked the robot cautiously about the room, making sure of its balance with each stride. What a strange sensation, hanging from the frame and making walking motions but going nowhere, while a robot on the other side of the room did his walking for him.
Physically, he felt as though he were actually walking. The skeleton transmitted the force of his muscles to the robot, and the robot transmitted the forces acting on it back to the skeleton.
He sat the robot down on the davenport. His own legs actually moved upward, so that he appeared to be sitting on air, but he was really sitting supported by the legs of the control skeleton, which, in turn, were held up by the forces transmitted to them by the legs of the seated robot.
The skeleton had a system of wire muscles that duplicated the functions of the muscles in the human body and these muscles were actually applying the forces necessary to hold up his legs. But they received their instructions electronically from the legs of the robot.
As long as no one shut off his electricity, he could sit there in the air until he starved to death. Which reminded him, he’d better not forget to pay his light bill before Tuesday.
He made the robot lie down on the davenport. His body stretched out horizontally in the air, lifted by the wire muscles of the vertical bars like a giant forearm being lifted by a flexing bicep.
When he closed his eyes, his body told him he was lying securely on the davenport—all of his body, that is, except his stomach, which remained stoutly unconvinced.
He brought himself and the robot to a standing position again, lowered the skeleton’s feet to the floor, and turned off the power.
“Whew!” He unstrapped. “Your body tells you one thing, and your eyes accuse your body of perjury. That’s what you’d call cognitive dissonance.”
It was now time to install the robot’s eyes and ears so he could pilot it at a distance. He hadn’t installed them before because he hadn’t wanted to take needless chances of smashing them in one of the robot’s crash landings.
By 10:45 he had the miniaturized TV cameras placed inside the eye sockets and the little radio transmitters inside the ears. He strapped himself to the control skeleton and pulled the audiovisual helmet down over his head. The transistorized TVs in the inside of the helmet, one in front of each eye, gave him not only clear vision, but also three-dimensional depth of field. The twin radio receivers next to his ears gave him a normal sense of hearing from the robot.
When he turned on the power, the first thing he saw was Will Strickland dangling from the great frame like a living puppet. With the steel skeleton strapped to his body and the audio-visual helmet over his head, he looked like nothing the planet Earth could possibly have produced.
He laughed. “Will Strickland, Puppet-Man from Planet X.”
He walked around the frame, fascinated by seeing himself as he really was from all angles. “O wad some pow’r the giftie gie us, to see oursil’s as ithers see us.”
He walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a volume of Thoreau. He opened it and, with some persistence, succeeded in turning the pages one at a time. He had the sensation of wearing thick gloves.
He put the book back on the shelf. Now that he was confident in his ability to control the robot in every way, he had only one need left to fulfill.
Sleep.
He parked the robot in its chair, switched off the power, and lowered himself to the floor. He unstrapped, walked wearily into the bedroom, and flopped onto the bed without undressing.
The next thing he knew, it was a little past 4:00 and he was hungry. He crawled out of bed, cooked and ate two hamburgers, and drank half a quart of milk.
Then he went to the supply closet and pulled out a box containing fleshy plastic. He began to form a face for the robot, a very handsome face, one that would catch Carol in mid-flight and cause her to abandon this week’s infatuation and teach her a lesson she’d never forget.
At 3:15 Thursday afternoon he finished his work on the robot’s face. He was no sculptor, but he was a good design engineer, and he made the plastic face by taking careful measurements of faces in photographs and reproducing a nose from one, a mouth from another, and so on. The finished product was diabolically handsome.
Then he adjusted the voice box in the robot’s throat so that its voice was altered significantly from his own. If Carol recognized his voice, the game would be over fast.
He dressed the robot in his newest suit and tie, and inspected him for human credibility. He looked a great deal more human than some of the guys he’d seen hanging around on campus.
Twenty minutes later he piloted his cybernetic Cyrano through the door of the library. He noticed, with a mixture of pride and disgust, that the girls were paying much more attention to him than usual.
He was sure that Carol would be in the library, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. She usually sat at the table nearest the door, where she could keep her speculative eyes on all the males entering and where no male could possibly avoid being exposed to a full-length view of Carol Carter.
Carol believed in prime viewing areas.
Sometimes he wondered how he’d ever gotten mixed up with such a girl in the first place. And whenever he did, it never took him long to remember. She’d swooped down on him like a Golden Eagle capturing him in something under four minutes.
He’d never had a chance. Somewhere in the third week of their whirlwind romance she had allowed him to catch a glimpse of her deeper thoughts, though most of the time she kept herself camouflaged behind the irrationality inherent to being a beautiful woman. But why he still loved her after all—
Splat!
Out of the stacks a blur of femininity had flashed, impacting solidly against his chest.
The robot toppled backwards!
He fought wildly for balance; a fall might knock out the audio-visual, maybe even the control unit!
He grasped desperately with both hands. His right hand caught the edge of the stacks and held; his left arm girdled the girl’s waist, bearing her several inches into the air.
She squealed shrilly, breathlessly, in his left ear.
It was Carol!
It would be Carol. This was just another of her clever little tricks to meet a man. Hiding in the stacks and springing out on him like a leopard when he passed by.
The little ambusher …
He set her down gently.
“Ohhhh!” she gasped. “Excuse me.” She was still a little breathless, whether by nature or by design he couldn’t tell, and she stood very close to him, shining her sapphire eyes up into his.
That one never failed her; even as a robot he felt limp all over. He knew that if he had built an olfactory sense into the robot, he would now be mesmerized by her perfume, as well as all the rest.
And Carol didn’t need perfume, as long as she had all the rest.
She looked at him in rapt admiration. “My, but you’re strong.” She felt the arm that had so lately been locked about her waist. “Why, your arm is just like steel! Unbelievable!”
“I, uh, lift weights.”
“You must!” She paused.
“My name’s Carol. Carol Carter. What’s yours?”
“Cy,” he said, searching frantically for a last name. “Cy Burnett.”
“Cy Burnett,” she repeated. “How masculine. It fits you.” She appraised him for a few more seconds. Subconsciously she thought, Cybernet? How interesting. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, fairly new.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever seen you before. If I had, I surely would have remembered.” She flashed her eyes up into his and smiled. “Say, have you ever been to the sundial?”
“No.” Not as Cy, he hadn’t. As Will, he’d been there several times with Carol; it was her favorite setting for romance, and she always lured her prey there as soon as it was at all feasible. But her speed today, as far as he knew, broke all her previous records.
“Come on, then,” she urged. “It’s time you had the experience. It’s beautiful there in the late afternoon.”
“Do you go there often?”
She looked at him as though she weren’t sure whether to be embarrassed or not. She decided not to be. “Yes, it’s lovely there. Come on and I’ll show you.”
He followed her from the library.
Will was dismayed at his failure as a man and his success as a robot. There was one consolation: Carol Carter was going to be the one who got hurt this time.
The sundial was surrounded by flowers, trees, and bushes, with a little pond nearby. Carol sat down in the grass and motioned him down beside her.
It was a relief to sit down and rest; he’d been walking his robot now for 45 minutes, nonstop.
“Mmmmmm,” breathed Carol. “Smell those flowers.”
He sniffed, smelled nothing, and remembered the robot wasn’t equipped to smell. “Yes,” he agreed. “Very nice.”
She chatted on and on for nearly an hour. Will wasn’t used to such long discussion periods with her; of late, they had been very brief and very no-nonsense. Remembering that, he abruptly stood up. “Sorry to end this, but I’ve got to get some studying done.”
“That’s too bad,” she said in surprise, “just when we were getting so well acquainted.”
She lowered her lashes at him in a way that stopped his heart, lungs, and brain from their normal duties. “There’s a darling movie playing on campus,” she purred. “Why don’t we go to it together Friday night, and we can continue getting better acquainted?”
First, his pulse came back, then his breath, and finally about half the reasoning power of his brain. “That sounds interesting,” he said and glanced at his watch. “Ten till five. I’d really better get back to the library.” He was being an emotional man of iron.
She sighed, “I suppose so.”
“So long,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “See you around.”
“See you Friday night,” she reminded him. “Do you still have my phone number and address?” she called after him more urgently. “I put it in your left shirt pocket; it’s a little pink slip of paper.”
“It’s still there,” he assured her, patting his chrome steel chest, “right next to my heart.”
They had to walk to the movie Friday night. He didn’t trust Cy with the car yet. Besides, he couldn’t have Cy Burnett show up for a date driving Will Strickland’s car. He told Carol he couldn’t use the car because of technical problems.
She didn’t mind walking; she said the fresh air and exercise would be good for her. And before the evening was over, they had a date for the ballet on Saturday night.
They had a great Saturday night. When he took her home, she kissed him and made sure he remembered that they had a definite date for the following Friday night. He didn’t actually remember making the date with her, but he certainly remembered some broad hints she’d been throwing him throughout the evening.
He was gratified to see just how thoroughly infatuated she had become with Cy Burnett.
This meant that the time was now ripe for Phase Two.
The following Friday evening, Will had his speech well-rehearsed. At 6:40, which was the time he was supposed to be at Carol’s house, he activated the robot’s speaker control and called her.
She picked up the phone in four seconds flat; he was timing her. “Hello.” Her voice was especially musical tonight; he almost relented on his plan.
Almost, but not quite. He’d made a definite commitment to himself.
“Hi, Carol, this is Cy.”
“I know,” she purred, “I’m ready now, so any time you come will be fine with me.”
He hated himself. “Sorry about this, Carol, but I won’t be able to make it tonight.”
“Ohhhh.” The disappointment in her voice gave him a sadistic thrill. “What happened, Cy?”
“Something came up.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Something just … came up? But, we had a date, Cy.” Her voice was shaky, as though she were about to cry.
He didn’t feel heroic.
But he forced himself to remember all the times she’d done this to him. “Well, something just came up.” This was an exact quotation from the last time she’d jilted him. He wondered if it would strike a familiar chord in her conscience.
He hoped so.
There was another long interval. “All right, Cy,” she said meekly. “Cy? There’s a wonderful play tomorrow night, Picnic in the Park. I’ve wanted to see it for ever so long. Would you like to … well, what I mean is, if you can’t make it tonight, and since we did have a date …”
Her voice trailed off pathetically. “Sounds okay.” He was glad of a chance to relent a little without breaking his solemn vow. “See you tomorrow night, then.”
“Wonderful. Good night, Cy.”
“Good night, Carol.”
He spent the rest of the evening alone in his apartment, wishing he were with her.
All day Saturday he felt like a brute. A triumphant male brute, to be sure, but still a brute. His feelings alternated between righteous satisfaction and guilty anguish.
Well, she’d done it to him often enough; now they were even.
No, not exactly even.
He’d have to jilt her five or six more times to come anywhere close to being even. But once was enough to prove the point.
Or was it?
As the time drew near for their date that evening, he began to have second thoughts. Maybe two vigorous drops, back to back, would drive the point home a little deeper.
No, she’d suffered enough. She’d sounded almost ready to cry last night and had probably spent a pretty miserable night of it.
It reminded him of the night he’d gone through the time she’d stood him up on a theater date to go bowling with someone she’d met only that afternoon. He’d wandered through the darkest streets he could find, just walking and brooding until 4:00 in the morning, thinking thoughts of despair and hopelessness.
The hopelessness …
He stalked across the room to the phone. He owed her one more time.
He activated the robot’s speaker and dialed the phone.
“Hello? Cy?” She sounded several degrees less sure of herself tonight.
“Hi, Carol. Cy again. Look, I’m going to have to cancel out again tonight. I can’t go with you.”
“But, Cy!” Her voice was close to a wail. “We had a date! What’s the matter, Cy? Why do you keep breaking our dates like this?”
“Things just keep coming up.” His voice was cold and flat. “Well, I don’t have time to talk now; I have things to do. See you on campus sometime.”
She was crying when he hung up on her.
He deactivated the robotic voice, stood up, and threw the theater tickets into the wastebasket. “Now, Carol Carter, how funny do you think a broken date is when you’re the one left holding the broken pieces?”
He left the apartment and wandered aimlessly around the block a few times. He stopped on the corner to pet a big brown dog that came up to him, seeming to sense his forlornness. As he rubbed the dog gently behind the ears, he said, “I wonder why so many people have to be hurt themselves before they have any idea what it’s like?”
He wearily climbed the steps to his apartment and went inside.
What now?
The robot was a success, the control unit was a success, and his plan to hurt Carol was a success. But he didn’t feel like a success.
He just didn’t enjoy hurting people.
Sunday afternoon he made his decision. He would go to see Carol, apologize, and then drop out of her life for good. It was pointless to continue a useless charade.
He activated the robot’s voice and dialed her number.
“Hello …” Her voice was soft and subdued.
“Hello, Carol.”
“Cy!”
“I just wanted to apologize; is it all right if I come over for a little while? What I have to say won’t take long.”
“Sure, come on over, Cy.”
He was confident enough now in his handling of the robot that he didn’t hesitate to drive his car over to Carol’s. He parked two blocks away from her house, around the corner; he still couldn’t let her see Cy Burnett driving Will Strickland’s car.
Carol was sitting on the porch swing, waiting for him. She was wearing her summery blue blouse that matched her eyes and feminine pink skirt that matched her lips.
It was going to be hard to forget her.
“Would you like to go for a walk, Cy? Or would you rather stay here?”
“This is fine.”
She took his hand. “Let’s go out in the back and see the flowers.” She led him around the corner of the house, and they sat in the grass under a big tree. There were flowers growing under all the trees, and a little green birdhouse hung from a limb overhead.
She leaned against him, and he put his arm around her.
“Cy … I really like you …”
Even after I stood you up two nights in a row? I wonder what you really like about me, besides my handsome steel-and-plastic face?
“What do you like about me?” he asked.
She looked shocked. “Why, I just like you. I don’t know why. Why do I like steak and hate lamb chops? It’s just the way I am.”
A good answer. Probably an honest one. And it’s my luck that Cy Burnett looks like steak to you, and Will Strickland looks like lamb chops.
“I really wish I knew what to do about you, Carol.”
She smiled, snuggling a little closer. “It shouldn’t be that hard to solve, Cy. Am I so much of a problem to you?”
If you only knew.
He held her hand gently, careful that his plastic-coated steel fingers caressed without crushing.
At 10:30 in the evening Will walked home in a daze. Rather, Cy walked home, with Will piloting in a daze. At this point he hardly knew who he was.
He preferred being Cy.
It wasn’t until he was more than halfway home that he remembered that he had driven his car to Carol’s place. He didn’t go back for it. He was in no condition to drive, either as a man or as a robot.
He tripped over a hump and nearly fell.
He wasn’t even in condition to walk.
He thoughtfully climbed the steps to his apartment, entered, and paced the floor for half an hour. Finally he went to bed without taking his clothes off.
At 3:00 in the morning he woke up and went to the bathroom to get a drink. He lifted the glass to his lips and poured the water into his mouth, but it didn’t go down; it was like drinking in a dream and still being thirsty. He looked into the mirror.
Great Scott! Cy!
“I’m still a robot!”
He went into the living room and found his mortal self still suspended from the great frame, dutifully operating the control skeleton. This meant that he’d sent the robot to bed and left himself hanging prone in that harness half the night.
Such was Carol Carter’s power over men and robots.
It was an exciting week. He spent his mornings and early afternoons as Will and his late afternoons as Cy; he met Carol every afternoon at the sundial.
He couldn’t stop himself from making dates with her when he was with her; he couldn’t bring himself to break the dates once they were made; and he certainly couldn’t force himself to forget her, though he spent hours in the attempt.
He enjoyed their sundial dates as much as their evening dates; there was really more of an opportunity to talk to one another at the sundial than at a movie or play.
He enjoyed knowing Carol, and he knew her now better than he ever had before. And, almost unwillingly at first, he began confiding more and more of his own feelings to her. Somehow, in the guise of the robot, he wasn’t so afraid of being criticized. After all, Carol would never know when this was over that he, Will, had confided in her, so she couldn’t hurt him.
But after the week was over, in the stark light of a Monday morning, the world looked a little tarnished. Monday morning was a time for analysis.
Carol was extremely sweet to Cy. At present anyway. But what about next week, or the week after that; what would happen the first time another man came along?
The most logical solution was to send in the robot with a new face to take her away from Cy before someone else beat him to it. It was inevitable that she should scrap Cy in a week or two, and this way he would still have the pleasure of her companionship, even if under another identity.
If you can’t beat them, create them!
Wednesday afternoon he piloted his robot onto campus wearing a new face. He went straight to the library. He walked past her customary table near the door, but there was no sign of her.
He forged deeper into the library. Beyond the furthest reaches of the stacks he came upon her, sitting at a little table piled with books.
She was reading Thoreau.
He adjusted his tie and sat down beside her. She glanced up at him quickly, then went back to Thoreau.
He couldn’t believe it! This new face was even handsomer than Cy’s; at least he had thought so. He’d expected her to go out of her mind when she saw it. Maybe she hadn’t gotten a good look at it yet.
“Excuse me,” he said. “What’s that you’re reading?”
She looked up, taking a longer look this time. “Thoreau.” She went back to reading.
Amazing!
She sat reading studiously until nearly 4:00 and then sprang up and headed for the door, carrying her books with her. He knew where she was going; she had a date with Cy at the sundial at 4:15.
He gave her half a minute’s head start and then followed her.
She was sitting in the grass by the sundial when he approached; She was still reading Thoreau. She looked up when he came near, probably expecting Cy, and when she saw he wasn’t, went back to her book.
“May I sit down?” he asked politely.
She looked up again, startled. “Well … I really don’t know what to say. To tell you the truth, I’m expecting a date in just a few minutes.”
“Oh. At the sundial? Unusual. Is this really a definite date, or just a tentative one? If it’s just tentative, maybe you’d like to join me at the cafeteria for a malt and hamburger.”
“Thank you for the offer. But this date is definite.”
His pulse did strange things. “He’s a lucky guy.”
She laughed. “Cy’s not lucky. He’s wonderful.”
He studied her face. “If he has a girl like you, maybe he is at that. Tell me, are you going steady, or is there a chance of someone else getting a date in with you now and then?”
She looked more serious now. “You look like a very nice person, and I’ll tell you the truth. I’m in love with him. I can’t go out with someone else while I’m in love with him.”
“I see.” He stood up. “I appreciate your honesty. If all girls were as truthful as you’ve just been, there’d be fewer miserable men in this world.”
Before their next date, he painted his car, changing the color from white to blue, and put on new seat covers. He needn’t have worried. When Friday night came, he found that Carol paid a great deal more attention to Cy than to the car he was driving.
The weeks went by. Every week he put a new face on the robot and sent it out to take Carol away from Cy. And every week the new face failed.
Carol refused to move one degree from her chosen course. She was in love with Cy.
Together they created an enchanted courtship. They read Thoreau and Emerson together; they saw plays, musicals, and ballets together; they went to dances and good movies together. They spent hours studying together, either in the library, by the sundial, or at her house. They even climbed mountains together, a feat of real coordination for a cybernetic man-robot team like Will and Cy.
They did all the things together that Will had always dreamed of doing with Carol but had never succeeded in doing.
And now a robot was doing them with her.
The day before graduation Cy climbed the hill to the sundial to keep his last rendezvous with Carol. Tomorrow she graduated, and she wasn’t coming back next year; her parents would be coming in the morning to see her graduate and take her home with them for the summer.
And he was stuck here one more year for his master’s.
He could think of three possible ways the romance could end. If he revealed himself as Will, she’d have to accept him or reject him. If he didn’t, only the third alternative was left. He’d have to let her go without ever giving her a chance to make her choice.
If he could have believed that he had even the smallest chance with her, he’d have risked everything for it. But he just didn’t.
She had proven that to him too many times, in too many ways, for there to be any hope left now.
So he would just let her go quietly, remembering him only as Cy. He wanted to at least leave her that much; it was the only good she had ever accepted from him.
He reached the top of the hill and saw her waiting for him, sitting in the grass by the sundial. She waved and smiled when she saw him coming. “You’re early today.”
He smiled back. “You’re even earlier.”
“I didn’t have anything else to do. At least,” she added, “nothing I wanted to do as much.”
He sat down beside her. “Me too.” He put his arm around her and she leaned against him; they were content to be quiet together.
“Carol,” he said finally, “what do you really think of me?”
She looked up at him and stroked his hand. “What a question. I love you, Cy.”
He squeezed her shoulder gently. “I love you too, Carol.”
She looked at him earnestly. “Don’t you know this is my last day here, Cy? Don’t you know my parents are going to take me back with them tomorrow? Unless you want to give me a reason not to go …”
He looked deeply into her eyes.
Is there any chance at all for me as Will? I’d give everything I have for just one chance, if it were really a chance at all.
But there’s nothing. Not a single ray of light.
Nevertheless …
He smashed his fist into the ground.
I love her.
He stood up. I didn’t design this robot to fail! And I wasn’t designed to fail either! Not even if she rejects me. Being rejected by another person isn’t failure; failure is not giving another person the chance to reject you—or accept you …
It’s her future too. I owe her this decision a lot more than I owe her a set of dead memories about a man she loved who didn’t love her enough to marry her. Rejecting Will won’t be as hard on her as thinking for the rest of her life that Cy rejected her. At least she’ll know she was the one who had the power to make the final choice.
And she’ll know who it really was who loved her.
He lifted her to her feet. “Come home with me, Carol. There’s something I have to show you.
He opened the door of his apartment and let her in. The huge control frame was hidden in the bedroom now; he had dismantled it months ago and reassembled it in there in preparation for a visit from Carol, but this was the first time she had ever come.
They sat down on the davenport in the living room. She looked around at the electronics equipment on the shelves and tables. “Why, this is a regular little laboratory, Cy. What all do you do in here?”
“Electronics experiments mainly.”
“Really? I used to be interested in things like that when I was in high school. Show me one of your experiments, Cy.”
“That’s why I brought you here. To show you one of them.”
He paused. Then he put his arms around her and kissed her tenderly, as though it were their last.
She sensed it. “What’s wrong, Cy? You don’t have to leave me because of whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if you still want me after tonight.” He sat quietly for a moment, gathering courage. How do you tell a girl she’s in love with a man who never was?
He couldn’t. All he could do was show her. He unbuttoned his shirt and exposed his chest. He tore away a broad strip of plastic flesh, revealing the steel underneath.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
He opened the plate in his chest and displayed the electronic circuitry inside.
She gasped, “Cy!” Her body trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re a robot?”
He nodded, unable to speak.
The tears streamed down her cheeks. “But you have a soul, Cy. You could never be what you’ve been to me if you didn’t have a soul.” She sobbed once, and caught her breath, hard. “Your mind … is it … electronic?”
He shook his head. “I have a human mind.”
“And all the rest is mechanical? Electrical?”
“Yes.”
She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes glittering with tears. “Cy, do you really love me? Or was that just another part of the experiment? To see if you could make a girl fall in love with a robot?”
He laid his hand over hers. “I love you, Carol. Very much.”
She closed the plate in his chest and leaned her cheek against the cold steel. “I love you too, Cy. And I’m going to marry you.”
His mind staggered in disbelief! “You’d marry a robot? A chunk of steel and plastic?”
She locked her arms around his chest. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known. I want to marry you, Cy. Whatever you are. I’m in love with you, Cy.”
He was silent for a time. “Would you still love me if my mind were in another body? A human body?”
She kissed him. “I love you, Cy. Whether you’re a mind, a man, or a robot. I want to marry you.”
“Carol … whatever happens in the next few minutes … always remember that I’ll go on loving you no matter what you may do or what your final choice may be. Because what happens now is up to you.”
He stood up and walked to the bedroom door. “My mind is in there.”
She caught her breath. “Is it … disembodied?”
“Would it make a difference?”
She was shaken but didn’t hesitate. “No.”
“It isn’t. I’m a man, Carol. And human enough to fall in love with you.”
“Who are you?” she gasped.
He looked at her keenly. “Does that make a difference?”
“No.” She came off the davenport. “But I have to know. Now!” She raced past him and flung open the bedroom door.
She started in amazement when she saw the gigantic control frame and the occupant suspended from it. But the audio-visual helmet hid the face.
She strode boldly forward and lifted the helmet.
The world jerked from here to there for Will. One instant he was seeing and hearing from Cy’s point of view; the next he was Will again, hanging in his harness. He turned off the control unit and lowered himself to the floor. Released from his control, the robot thundered to the floor.
“Will!”
She stood stunned, speechless.
She faltered backward a step, screaming hysterically. “Will Strickland! You phony! I never want to see you again!”
She stormed from the room, crying bitterly.
Will ripped himself loose from his bindings and plunged after her. “Carol! Wait!”
When he reached the door, he saw Carol kneeling beside Cy’s lifeless form, sobbing uncontrollably and stroking his metal fingers.
Will stood over her. “But Carol, I am Cy.”
She glared up at him. “No, you’re not! You’re nothing like him! Cy was kind and good and honest. He had the greatest soul I’ve ever known. And he was the only man I’ve ever loved. You were always so quiet, so hard to communicate with. Everything I said you seemed to be analyzing and criticizing. How could you be Cy?”
“I’m his soul, Carol. Everything he ever did or said—I was the soul of him.”
She raised a tearful face to him. “But you were just playing a role! You were only pretending to be someone you could never really be.”
He knelt beside her. “The name, the face, and the robot were deceptions. Everything else was real. I’m the same person as Will that I was as Cy. You just never bothered to know me as Will, and I never dared let you know me. That’s all. Everything Cy said to you was what I wanted to say to you. Everything Cy did with you was what I wanted to do with you—but you never gave me the chance.”
She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes brimming with tears. “Will, oh, Will, I was the deceiver. You wore a different face, but you were the same person inside. I wore the same face, but I was a different person to you than I was to Cy.”
Her voice broke. “I’m not worthy of you, Will. Now that I know enough about you to love you, I can see that I’m just not worthy of you.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Did you say you love me?”
She nodded tearfully. “Of course I love you, Will. Is it too late now to tell you that I love you?”
He hugged her to his chest, rocking her gently to and fro. “It’s never too late to tell someone you love him. Not when I’m the one you’re telling.”
She kissed him then, for the first time, still kneeling there beside the fallen Cyrano de Cybernet.

One day I was at a service station, talking with a friend who worked there. He was filling up my car with gas, and as we stood there, a school bus went by and I heard someone call out, “Heyyyy, Bishop!” I looked up to see one of the priests in my ward calling to me and giving me the “hang on to the rod” signal. I returned the signal as the bus drove by.
The following Sunday, that boy came running up to me as fast as he could. “Bishop Stanley! Bishop Stanley! Remember last week when you were filling up your gas tank at the service station and I gave you the signal?”
“Yes, I remember it.”
“Well, the friend sitting by me said, ‘Who was that tall man at the service station that you were threatening to punch?’ And I told him what our ‘hang on to the rod’ signal really meant.”
The boy then told me that his friend wasn’t a member of the Church and that he was then able to talk about the gospel with this friend as a result of our little “hang on to the rod” signal.

Deep in the Gran Chaco—the sparsely settled, arid wilderness that covers much of northwestern Paraguay—is Nivoclé Boquerón, a settlement of about forty Latter-day Saint families. These members, Nivoclé Indians, have nicknamed their village La Abundancia (“Bountiful”). Most speak only the Nivoclé language; some also speak a little Spanish. They have moved here from Mistolar, a larger, more remote settlement of LDS Nivoclé Indians. (See Elder Ted E. Brewerton, “Mistolar: Spiritual Oasis,” Tambuli, September 1990, page 10.) Missionary couples have helped the group in La Abundancia dig a water hole at each end of the village. The missionary couples are also teaching them to raise goats and to plant and harvest crops—enough to subsist on, and some extra to sell.
The branch meets in a one-room wooden chapel, lit by kerosene lanterns. Almost every evening, there’s something going on there, usually a seminary class that turns into choir practice later on in the evening. Both youths and adults participate in the choir, singing the hymns in beautiful four-part harmony without a piano.
Outside the meetinghouse is a homemade baptismal font. There’s an area where the boys play fútbol. There’s also a garden, a few trees, and a small cemetery.
Buried in that cemetery is Ireneo Arenas, the baby son of Jorge Arenas and his wife Rosa. In August 1989, Jorge and Rosa left Mistolar with their three young children and accompanied two other families on the journey of over 2100 kilometers by bus to the Buenos Aires Temple. “When we left Mistolar, the baby was sick with a cold,” says Jorge. “By the time we arrived in Buenos Aires, he was much worse. It was very cold. We went to the temple and were sealed as a family. The baby was still sick.”
When they returned to Paraguay, they decided to stay in La Abundancia, rather than traveling several more hours to Mistolar. The baby continued to get worse. “There was nothing we could do for him,” says Jorge. Five days later, the baby died.
“As I held my son, I was thinking how grateful I was that we had just been sealed in the temple. I know that he is with our Heavenly Father and that we will be with him again someday. Now we are trying to keep all the commandments of our Heavenly Father, because we are thinking of our baby.”
Jorge and Rosa have settled in La Abundancia. Formerly a branch president, Jorge is now in the elders quorum presidency and is assistant choir director and seminary teacher. They have three daughters: Dominga, 9; Basílica, 7; and Marivel, 2.
“When the missionaries first taught me the gospel,” he says, “I felt something that I thought was the Holy Spirit. I have felt that spirit often, especially when I am reading the Book of Mormon. Jesus Christ came to our ancestors here in the Americas. For a time, they obeyed the commandments. But later, they rejected them. I want to serve wherever I am called in the Church, because I know that as we serve in the Church, the Lord will bless us. I know that Jesus Christ died for us. He was resurrected for us. And he forgives us of our sins. I know that he lives.”

First example: When my wife, Elaine, and I went to Spain in 2022, we attended Sunday meetings in a small unit of the Church there. As I sat on the stand and my wife in the congregation, I noticed that she sat by an older woman. When the sacrament meeting ended, I walked toward Elaine and asked her to introduce me to her new friend. She did so and indicated that this woman, who was not a member of the Church, had been visiting the Church for about two years. When I heard that, I asked this God-fearing woman what made her come back and attend our meetings for such an extended period. The woman lovingly replied, “I like to come here because you speak of Jesus Christ in your meetings.”

Clearly, members of the Church in that unit in Spain talked, taught, and testified of Christ in their meetings.