[ his mild expression remains unchanging, while his memory churns and picks up images of green jello and congealed half-fluids. he would hike up his shirt to show sam his perfectly sculpted abs (it's a perk of being a perfect android), but he knows that that would be bragging.

the fact that that thought occurs to him at all is a testament of an existing ego. why else would he bother riding bicycles and playing basketball if he didn't at least feel a modicum of pride in his ability to do so? ]

I'm not sure, Sam. I don't believe I've ever eaten anything but space food.

[ when someone doesn't have a frame of reference, someone can't make an accurate assessment. david looks up at the moon, the fickle, ever-changing celestial body, and muses upon its closeness to the world. ]

But distance makes the heart fonder for the things you don't have, doesn't it?

[ he doesn't actually understand this concept, but longing is programmed intimately into his AI. ]

Does it make you bitter? The moon, I mean.