We don’t do much for the rest of the day. With my ship parked under the hills, I don’t have the excuse of tinkering on it without leaving the humans, so I don’t. I putter around the house and property, petting the dogs, asking Lex if she needs help with anything—she looks pointedly at my injuries and tells me to go take a nap—and try to help Abraham put the robot back together with varying levels of success.
Anya is having much more fun.
She finds Lex’s water hose for all the plants lining the house and promptly sprays Bat. Which would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever witnessed if it wasn’t her. Bat snarls at her from the grass he was hunting in, ignores her, and gets sprayed again.
Anya giggles.
Bat slinks into a hunting crouch, stalking her, ears down. I bite the insides of my cheeks to stop from laughing. I’m sitting on the porch with Abraham—we’ve managed to put the robot’s voice box together with what parts we have—and it’s still warm though the sun is beginning to set. I never did get much sleep last night despite the exhaustion. My limbs are heavy, injuries keeping up a vague throbbing. I’d get up and find the pain pills I brought in my backpack, but I’m not in the mood to move.
Anya shrieks when Bat springs out of the grass, bouncing off the side of her head before dropping back and disappearing into the field. She sprays in his direction, mostly as wet as he is from being startled enough she sprayed herself.
There’s a rustle in the grass and Bat springs up again, bouncing off her back. He’s done this with me when I first brought him to a planet with grass. He rolled around in it for a good hour before practicing with his new legs by pouncing at me. He clawed me a few times, but he knows better now. I don’t think he’ll give Anya any scrapes.
Abraham pops the voice box back into the robot and rubs at the scar on his chin.
“What’s the story?” I ask, soft enough I hope the humans inside won’t hear.
He blinks at me.
I shrug. “You’re a lone cyborg on an out-of-the-way planet living with a human. You have to know I’m dying of curiosity over here.”
I brace myself for him to be offended, or to go back to being as shy as he was when we first got here. But he cracks a smile. “You look worse than me.”
I feel like I’ve told this story too many times these past weeks. “Was a sick kid. They brought me to Amerov, I ran away when I was a teen, been bounty hunting and laying low ever since. The two idiots inside say they’re my siblings, but I don’t remember anything from my childhood so we’re trying to figure it out.”
He blinks. “That’s a lot to unpack.”
“Imagine how I feel. I was minding my own business hunting bounties a few weeks ago.”
He chuckles once. “I crash-landed. Don’t remember a lot of it. Lex dragged me out and fixed me up.”
“You were flying alone?”
He nods. “Emergency situation. I was at an outpost on one of the smaller moons around Neyla Ve, partner was injured in a skirmish so he wasn’t up for the situation. I went alone, was supposed to meet up on one of the floating cities on the edge of the galaxy. I don’t remember what actually brought me down. Asteroid storm, maybe. Lex says they happen in the area.”
“And you’ve been here ever since?”
Another nod. Anya comes trampling by, giggling and soaking wet, escaping into the house now the night chill is setting into the air. Bat follows her, metal nails clicking on the wooden porch, nose in the air, pointedly ignoring me while I smile at him. He’s also soaking wet, his claws muddy.
“Don’t get Lex’s house muddy,” I call after him as he prances inside.
Abraham snorts.
Perhaps I shouldn’t ask, but the words come out anyway. “Still have a chip?”
He glances at me but looks more amused than anything. “No. Crash put a dent in most of my face and neck and back. The port back there was gone beyond repair. Lex pulled out all the broken bits so nothing would hurt me, remnants of the chip included.”
I nod, picking up a discarded wire and stripping it to the metal. “You’re remarkably sane.”
“You’re remarkably blunt,” he says, smile turning to a small laugh.
“I’ve had a lot of unregistered numbers fling things at my head.”
“I can imagine.” He goes silent for a moment. “Lex kept me sane.”
I don’t know what to say. Remembering them kissing and cuddling makes this conversation awkward, if only to me. If he doesn’t have a chip, he’s technically human, but personally, I don’t think anyone can simply go back. There might not be any active programming left, but something changes in them, enough so I never even got my chip but feel more cyborg than I do human at times. I don’t know what it is. Or perhaps it’s just me. Given the way he acts and his mannerisms, I doubt it.
There’s something I’ve never asked a cyborg before, mostly because any programmed one wouldn’t understand the question, and any unregistered one wouldn’t be up for a nice chat.
“Why did you volunteer for Amerov?”
He looks up at me.
I say, “I mean, I understand in theory why people do, I just… I never got much of a choice so I’ve always hated it. And I don’t get what goes through someone’s head when they decide they want to do all of that.”
Abraham looks at his hands. I’m not sure what part of the robot he’s fiddling with, but he taps it absently with his fingers.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I amend. “I’m not trying to be pushy.”
He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. I didn’t really have anyone. Parents were dead, no siblings, no wife or children. Not really any close friends. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. Amerov is like that. Bigger than you, scarier, but you’re part of a team. Everyone has each other’s back just based on programming alone. A little bit of dulled emotions didn’t seem like much of a trade-off.”
“You haven’t gone back.”
“No,” he mumbles, looking out at the field. “I suppose I like feeling human more if I have something to feel human for.”
I swallow. That was a better articulation of it than I’ve ever come up with. Then again, I suppose our situations aren’t the same.
He shrugs, nearly smiling at his own joke. “I suppose near-death experiences tend to change you, too. Plus, I uh… Well, obviously I got hit in the head pretty hard.”
I snort, unable not to laugh.
“You have a chip?” he asks.
As much as I appreciate his honesty, that’s a secret I’ll go with to the grave. “Yeah.”
“Doesn’t do you much good,” he says, leaning against the railing and grinning.
No use lying about that. I smirk a little in return. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
We don’t do much for the rest of the day. With my ship parked under the hills, I don’t have the excuse of tinkering on it without leaving the humans, so I don’t. I putter around the house and property, petting the dogs, asking Lex if she needs help with anything—she looks pointedly at my injuries and tells me to go take a nap—and try to help Abraham put the robot back together with varying levels of success.
Anya is having much more fun.
She finds Lex’s water hose for all the plants lining the house and promptly sprays Bat. Which would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever witnessed if it wasn’t her. Bat snarls at her from the grass he was hunting in, ignores her, and gets sprayed again.
Anya giggles.
Bat slinks into a hunting crouch, stalking her, ears down. I bite the insides of my cheeks to stop from laughing. I’m sitting on the porch with Abraham—we’ve managed to put the robot’s voice box together with what parts we have—and it’s still warm though the sun is beginning to set. I never did get much sleep last night despite the exhaustion. My limbs are heavy, injuries keeping up a vague throbbing. I’d get up and find the pain pills I brought in my backpack, but I’m not in the mood to move.
Anya shrieks when Bat springs out of the grass, bouncing off the side of her head before dropping back and disappearing into the field. She sprays in his direction, mostly as wet as he is from being startled enough she sprayed herself.
There’s a rustle in the grass and Bat springs up again, bouncing off her back. He’s done this with me when I first brought him to a planet with grass. He rolled around in it for a good hour before practicing with his new legs by pouncing at me. He clawed me a few times, but he knows better now. I don’t think he’ll give Anya any scrapes.
Abraham pops the voice box back into the robot and rubs at the scar on his chin.
“What’s the story?” I ask, soft enough I hope the humans inside won’t hear.
He blinks at me.
I shrug. “You’re a lone cyborg on an out-of-the-way planet living with a human. You have to know I’m dying of curiosity over here.”
I brace myself for him to be offended, or to go back to being as shy as he was when we first got here. But he cracks a smile. “You look worse than me.”
I feel like I’ve told this story too many times these past weeks. “Was a sick kid. They brought me to Amerov, I ran away when I was a teen, been bounty hunting and laying low ever since. The two idiots inside say they’re my siblings, but I don’t remember anything from my childhood so we’re trying to figure it out.”
He blinks. “That’s a lot to unpack.”
“Imagine how I feel. I was minding my own business hunting bounties a few weeks ago.”
He chuckles once. “I crash-landed. Don’t remember a lot of it. Lex dragged me out and fixed me up.”
“You were flying alone?”
He nods. “Emergency situation. I was at an outpost on one of the smaller moons around Neyla Ve, partner was injured in a skirmish so he wasn’t up for the situation. I went alone, was supposed to meet up on one of the floating cities on the edge of the galaxy. I don’t remember what actually brought me down. Asteroid storm, maybe. Lex says they happen in the area.”
“And you’ve been here ever since?”
Another nod. Anya comes trampling by, giggling and soaking wet, escaping into the house now the night chill is setting into the air. Bat follows her, metal nails clicking on the wooden porch, nose in the air, pointedly ignoring me while I smile at him. He’s also soaking wet, his claws muddy.
“Don’t get Lex’s house muddy,” I call after him as he prances inside.
Abraham snorts.
Perhaps I shouldn’t ask, but the words come out anyway. “Still have a chip?”
He glances at me but looks more amused than anything. “No. Crash put a dent in most of my face and neck and back. The port back there was gone beyond repair. Lex pulled out all the broken bits so nothing would hurt me, remnants of the chip included.”
I nod, picking up a discarded wire and stripping it to the metal. “You’re remarkably sane.”
“You’re remarkably blunt,” he says, smile turning to a small laugh.
“I’ve had a lot of unregistered numbers fling things at my head.”
“I can imagine.” He goes silent for a moment. “Lex kept me sane.”
I don’t know what to say. Remembering them kissing and cuddling makes this conversation awkward, if only to me. If he doesn’t have a chip, he’s technically human, but personally, I don’t think anyone can simply go back. There might not be any active programming left, but something changes in them, enough so I never even got my chip but feel more cyborg than I do human at times. I don’t know what it is. Or perhaps it’s just me. Given the way he acts and his mannerisms, I doubt it.
There’s something I’ve never asked a cyborg before, mostly because any programmed one wouldn’t understand the question, and any unregistered one wouldn’t be up for a nice chat.
“Why did you volunteer for Amerov?”
He looks up at me.
I say, “I mean, I understand in theory why people do, I just… I never got much of a choice so I’ve always hated it. And I don’t get what goes through someone’s head when they decide they want to do all of that.”
Abraham looks at his hands. I’m not sure what part of the robot he’s fiddling with, but he taps it absently with his fingers.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I amend. “I’m not trying to be pushy.”
He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. I didn’t really have anyone. Parents were dead, no siblings, no wife or children. Not really any close friends. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. Amerov is like that. Bigger than you, scarier, but you’re part of a team. Everyone has each other’s back just based on programming alone. A little bit of dulled emotions didn’t seem like much of a trade-off.”
“You haven’t gone back.”
“No,” he mumbles, looking out at the field. “I suppose I like feeling human more if I have something to feel human for.”
I swallow. That was a better articulation of it than I’ve ever come up with. Then again, I suppose our situations aren’t the same.
He shrugs, nearly smiling at his own joke. “I suppose near-death experiences tend to change you, too. Plus, I uh… Well, obviously I got hit in the head pretty hard.”
I snort, unable not to laugh.
“You have a chip?” he asks.
As much as I appreciate his honesty, that’s a secret I’ll go with to the grave. “Yeah.”
“Doesn’t do you much good,” he says, leaning against the railing and grinning.
No use lying about that. I smirk a little in return. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
