Andy Ward has a license to artOn these mild Middle Eastern nights when there is neither beautiful sweat nor chirping insect to give weight to the dark, sometimes Sarah and I, Bernard Magnusson III, wonder if perhaps we brought a greater harm into the world than we intended all those months ago. During my recalibration analysis in January I found some unusual code in the PalinBot 5000 and eliminated it, but now I fear it may have been a distraction from something far more insidious. The mechanical replicant of my beloved has been behaving far outside the lines of its protocols, especially as of late. That shadowy cabal at Fox News surely has a hand in this and not Oprah as I had originally presumed. Whoever is responsible for these insane outbursts, they have put the lives of Sarah and myself in great danger.

After a month-long stint providing HIV prevention education to the noble people of rural Sudan, Sarah and I decided to relax for a spell in beautiful coastal Veneto. Not in Venice proper, but on a quiet pastoral tract near Ca' Ballarin. After just one golden day of respite, we were set upon by a vile assassino. Given his minimal training and terrible aim, we surmised that he was less of a credible threat and more of a message. He carried a business card for a luxuries importer in Tehran. Knowing that our romantic getaway on the Golfo would have to wait, Sarah and I set off for the swaying trees of Persia.

I worry about Sarah. She tries to protect me from all of this, though there is nothing in this world I want more than to fight side by side with her against all foes. In the field, be it in Iran where the Persian mafia breathed down our necks, in Yemen where the locals were as likely to call us dangerous foreigners as welcome guests, or here in troubled Israel, Sarah tells me so little. She will go out saying it's for groceries or fresh air, only to come back smelling of gun powder and shaking almost imperceptibly. I keep telling her she needn't do penance for all she was before China. Maybe one day she'll believe me.

I have to admit, I've come to enjoy these out-of-the-way motels and secret identities. They've become such a part of our life together. As much as I adore those vacations to shining cities and rolling hills, just a week away from the thick of it all leaves me feeling anxious for the next... yes, adventure. Is it possible I've subconsciously driven the PalinBot 5000 to do as it does, saying things that put my beloved's life in danger? It is unlikely, but part of me is still thankful that the replicant has made itself an opponent to the most extreme elements of Hezbollah. To be here in Tel Aviv knowing that our enemies seek to best us is only slightly less thrilling than the certainty that they will fail.

I have no doubt that Sarah and I will discover where this trail of unsavory characters and hired cut-throats leads. Unlike the PalinBot 5000's political arguments, our matters are complex and full of nuance.