An Android Dog's Tale (31 page)

He cautiously approached Comette. She let
him, and they exchanged a few noncommittal sniffs. Suddenly, he let
out a yelp and collapsed in as good an impression of a faint as he
could manage. For good measure, he twitched all four legs
frantically before letting them fall still.

Kolby rushed to kneel at his side even
before his legs stopped moving. “What’s wrong, Doggy?” he said with
panic in his voice.

MO-126 felt terrible for putting him through
this, but he felt it would be best to stop Andrea’s plans now
before things became more complicated.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked with
suspicion.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Gumper said.
“He’s probably just tired or something. It’ll pass. He’s fine. Now
about that stud fee….”

MO-126 let his tongue roll out of his
mouth.

“That dog is having seizures,” she said. “It
must be in his blood. It’s a shame. He’s a good herder, but best I
find out now. You might want to get him some water.”

The android dog cautiously opened one eye to
see her and her dog disappear into the crowd that had formed around
them. When he felt sure she was gone, he got to his feet, shook
himself off, and licked Kolby’s hand. Sorry kid, but it wouldn’t
have worked out. I’m not the fatherly type.

The boy hugged him, which only made the
android dog feel worse.

“He seems fine, now,” Kolby said ostensibly
to Gumper.

“Stupid dog. He probably just got
overexcited near a fine bitch like that. That’s one stud fee we’ll
never see.”

“But we won the contest. We don’t need
it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having more,”
the old man said.

Maybe not, MO-126 thought—to a point,
anyway. The prize money brought Kolby nowhere near to wherever that
philosophical threshold might be, so it did not matter, but he did
now have enough for a start at a better life.

~*~

The monks held a fair each year after but
not another herding event. The fairs were just gatherings the
monastery sponsored to foster good relations between people of
nearby villages. Kolby and MO-126 went to the next two, but they
would not be going this year. Kolby’s granny needed more care, and
he saw to it. The years had also taken their toll on Gumper, and
Kolby often brought him some of whatever he could. He owned two
goats for milk, now, and four acres of land on which he grew grapes
and vegetables, with enough surplus to sell some for coins to buy
other things. He had gained the responsibilities and, for the most
part, the physique, if not yet the years of an adult.

A growing interest in girls provided another
sign of his developing physical maturity. They remained mysterious
and somewhat incomprehensible to him, but one girl in particular
seemed less like the others and therefore more interesting to
him.

He and Laura had known one another for
years. They were never exactly friends when they were younger due
to their gender difference, but they weren’t unfriendly. In the
last year, MO-126 caught Kolby gazing at her with an even dreamier
expression than normal whenever they accidently met. Sometimes he
went out of his way to arrange accidents like these, and she did
not seem to object. The android dog got the impression that most
people annoyed her. For the sake of his boy, he spent some time
observing her, and he found her strong-willed, intelligent, and, on
occasion, painfully observant, so her acceptance of Kolby signified
quite a compliment.

Humans of this age, in their middle teens,
have their adult days and their child days; today lay somewhere in
between for Kolby and the others with him. It was a warm afternoon
in early autumn. The morning chores were done; the animals were
fed; washed clothes hung on lines to dry; other things in need of
cleaning, fixing or otherwise being taken care of had been. A small
group of people about the same age as MO-126’s boy gathered for
their mutual entertainment, and one of them proposed a childlike
game with young adult intentions.

“Let’s play Seek-and-Hide,” a young man of
about Kolby’s age but a bit taller and better-looking said.

One of the girls giggled. It wasn’t
Laura.

Seek-and-Hide was a game in which one person
hid and the others would seek. When found, the finder would hide
with the first hider, as would the next and so forth until only one
seeker remained, who would be the next hider. The point was to find
a good spot to hide with at least enough room for two and hope
someone you wanted to be with found you first. The entire village
provided the playground, but the hider had only a one hundred count
to find a spot.

The traditional method of a selection rhyme
was used to determine who would hide first. MO-126 considered the
outcome predictable, but the people here seemed to think it was
fair and random.

You’re not dirty.

You’re not clean.

You’re not happy.

You’re not mean.

You’re not who we pick today.

So you’re out, now go away.

Laura was the last person remaining. She
shrugged. “Okay, I’ll hide. Everyone cover your eyes.”

When people say ‘everyone,’ they seldom mean
dogs, so MO-126 kept his open. He had an idea.

Laura raced off, swung wide and looped back
behind some buildings toward Kolby’s house. MO-126 could no longer
see her, but with his audio sensors tuned to their maximum, he
could hear her. She was climbing into the loft of the small barn,
more of a large shed really, that Kolby built last year to keep his
goats.

“One hundred!” one of the boys called. “Come
on. I heard her going this way.”

Which is exactly what she intended, the
android dog thought. Clever girl.

Kolby moved to go with the group, but MO-126
got in front of him and nudged him with his head.

“Not now, Doggy. We’re playing a game. I’m
looking for Laura.”

Yeah, I know. I’m trying to help you. Pay
attention. The android dog tried to convey his intentions with a
look. It didn’t work well.

Kolby tried to scurry around him.

MO-126 blocked him. “Woof,” he said softly.
Come on. Everyone else is going the wrong way. He took a step back
and looked at the boy attentively, which he believed should be a
clear sign that he wanted him to follow.

Kolby really could be quite dense at
times.

“No, Doggy. I have to—”

MO-126 grabbed his arm and tugged
gently.

“You want me to come with you?”

Good boy. Slow but good.

He led him to his shed.

“Is something wrong? Something to do with
the goats?” Kolby said.

The goats stood outside in their pen, both
apparently fine. The android dog shook his head, pointed inside
with his snout and then up. Kolby’s dim expression showed no sign
of enlightenment, so his dog pointed again.

“The loft?” Kolby said.

Not so loud or she’ll know I helped you.
MO-126 did not want that. Laura was bright, and she already
suspected there was something odd about Kolby’s dog, perhaps even
that it was smarter than its owner.

The boy climbed the ladder and met the girl.
Fifteen minutes passed before anyone else arrived to look here.
This provided time enough for Laura, who fortunately possessed
enough initiative for both of them.

~*~

On a stormy afternoon three years later,
MO-126 lay on the floor by the fireplace in Kolby’s small cottage.
He pretended to sleep while Kolby and Laura sat across from one
another with a checkerboard on the table between them. A heavy rain
outside slapped the thatched roof.

Kolby lived here alone since his grandmother
died the year before, but since he and Laura were engaged, her
frequent visits were respectable enough, and if anyone believed
otherwise, she would be more than willing to tell them it was none
of their business. MO-126 rather liked her. She wasn’t nice, like
his boy, but she was not mean, either. She was slow to take offense
but she didn’t tolerate much from those who intentionally offered
it. They were a good pair.

She glanced toward the fireplace and MO-126
quickly closed the one eye he had open.

“How old is Doggy?” she asked Kolby.

“I’m not sure. At the herding event at the
Tsong monastery, we guessed he might be about six, and that was,
um, a little over six years ago.”

“So he’s about twelve or thirteen. That’s
pretty old for a dog.”

“It’s not that old,” Kolby said.

“Yes it is. I asked my cousin who breeds
dogs. He said they normally live ten to fifteen years, and that the
smaller ones tend to live longer. Doggy’s not that small.”

“He doesn’t look or act old,” Kolby
said.

“Yes, I know,” Laura agreed. “Strange, don’t
you think?”

“Well, he’s a special dog.”

“Yes, he is. He’s probably the smartest dog
I’ve ever seen. I really like him. How come you never bred him?
He’s a great sheepdog. Lots of people would want the puppies.”

Kolby smiled and then shrugged. “I don’t
know. I never really thought about it, and Doggy never seemed
interested around other dogs. I think he likes people better.”

“He certainly likes you. We have that in
common.” She touched his hand affectionately. “He’s obviously a
good judge of character.”

Oh-oh, MO-126 thought.

“You win, again,” Kolby said a few minutes
later as Laura jumped his last checker. “Want to play again?”

She smiled coyly. “No, let’s do something
else.”

The android dog knew this day would come. It
was inevitable, and this would be as good a time as any. Kolby had
other things to do, other distractions. He would miss his trusty
canine friend, but he really didn’t need him anymore. He would get
by.

MO-126 went outside to keep the goats
huddled in the dry shed company, thinking the two humans would
appreciate a bit more privacy. He also needed to decide what to do.
He couldn’t get skinny or do much about looking old, but he could
act old.

For the next six months he ate less, moved
slower, and pretended to be shortsighted and hard of hearing. He
stayed for Kolby and Laura’s wedding. He could not spoil that
event, but then one night after he felt quite sure that even Kolby
noticed the change, he walked away from the village and on to
something else. He had never been so reluctant to do anything in
his entire artificial life.

52 Years Later

(Galactic Standard Year 243308)

In which MO-126 says goodbye.

E
vening crept over
the cold mountains. The setting sun cast ominous shadows on the
rocks and ground surrounding the massive, man-shaped construction,
the only obvious external legacy of the Galactic Organic
Development Corporation’s abandoned project. Much more remained
hidden, and the monument stood silent sentry over it—in some
figurative way, at least. It rose over thirty meters from the
bottom of a shallow, crater-like depression and was made of
compressed carbon and other materials into the inky black,
featureless form of a man. It was also the exterior component of an
energy absorber and transmitter—an antenna of sorts. MO-126 did not
understand the engineering or the physics behind it, but he knew it
was a key component of the project’s power and communication
subsystems.

His reasons for coming to this remote spot
remained vague to him. He did it as he did many things recently—on
a whim. It may have attracted him because it provided a quiet place
to think. Few people visited the site. The short, stout mountain
people in the region called the black giant the ‘Warden of Mystic
Defiance,’ a name which seemed to suit it. The expressionless face
and the muscular crossed arms did present a defiant visage. The
humans were superstitious and wary of it, which was one of the
reasons the corporation designed it to look the way it did.

To the androids who stayed behind after
project termination, it reminded them of who and what they
were—creatures intentionally made for a defined purpose who defied
convention when that purpose no longer existed. Other purposes and
other choices opened to them, and they chose one that many of their
peers and, in fact, most other sentient life in the Galactic
Federation would regard as eccentric.

Many of the androids made for the project
chose to remain with the corporation. Some did so because they were
financially indebted to it for their construction. Others did
because it was safe, secure, familiar, and easy. The corporation
would provide them with things to do, resources with which to do
them, and someone else to blame in the privacy of their own minds
if they weren’t happy.

Some androids ventured out into the galaxy
as free agents, but MO-126 expected most would eventually find jobs
with some other business enterprise like the corporation. All of
them were much the same and they all shared the same goal—higher
profitability. MO-126 did not find the prospect enticing. Helping
some commercial entity in its never ending pursuit of profit did
not interest him, even if he could get a thumb upgrade out of
it.

He and some others retired in place to stay
among the humans. He did not know why the others did. He was not
completely sure why he did. It was just that out of the options he
had, this seemed the most meaningful.

He liked humans. He saw potential in them,
something that most of the civilizations comprising the Galactic
Federation no longer possessed. The citizens of many civilized
worlds were little more than complacent consumers, distancing
themselves from the essential labors of society while still
enjoying its benefits. They owned much but produced little. They
received most, if not all, of their income from their investments.
People of various species might own the businesses, they might sit
on a board of directors or hold some other ostensible management
position, usually as more of a hobby than anything else, but all
the analysis, and all the physical production and distribution
activities were automated. Some of the automation was sentient,
like the Mark Seven Project Manager or Corporation androids, but
most actual work was accomplished by non-sentient computers and
robots going about their programmed duties with less free will than
individual bees in a hive. It worked. It provided the people on
those planets with comfortable lives, and they resisted anything
that might change that. Their societies were stagnant.