They continued talking about timing, directions, financing, and puppy division while MO-126 searched his files on dog behavior, looking for the proper way to signify that he did not wish to participate in a procreative endeavor. He came up empty. Except for illness or injury, male dogs apparently never turned down an arranged liaison with a bitch in heat. Even neutered ones would attempt it. He needed to improvise.
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 ot
herwise, 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.
Ten - A Final Note
52 Years Later
(Galactic Standard Year 243308)
In which MO-126 says goodbye.
Evening 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.
MO-126 suspected humans might be different. They were never satisfied, always curious. They seemed to have an innate need to imagine and create new things and new ideas. He conceded that to some this might appear to be a form of insanity, but he admired that kind of madness. If the humans could only learn to direct it properly, they could accomplish much. He entertained a vague notion of somehow being able to help them, but this was more of a desire than a plan. He quickly learned that he could do little. His canine form limited him from interacting much with people or influencing them in any major way. This frustrated him.
He could not predict the future of humanity but he found himself fascinated by it. He liked this aspect of their nature. Humans were unpredictable, not quite random, not chaotic, but full of surprises. He considered his own future. That, too, remained uncertain, even though he exercised much more control over it. He simply had not yet decided what he wanted to do with the rest of his life—but there was something he wanted to do now.
He wound his way down the mountain and headed east as another night descended.
~*~
He approached the village at dawn. It was much as he remembered it. There was still no road as such leading to it. There were a few more buildings, but they were much the same as those built before them. The greeting he received from the canine welcoming committee was also familiar. He exchanged obligatory sniffs and proceeded on toward the house he shared with a boy half a century ago.
An elderly man sat outside sitting in a spindle-backed rocking chair. An aged dog lay sleeping on the ground next to him. The dog lifted its head and gave a drowsy “Woo
f” before laying it back down.
“What is it, Boy?” the old man said.
“MO-126 recognized the voice immediately. It was older, of course, but it was Kolby’s, and if the dog’s name was actually “Boy,” it was clear his imagination for names had not improved over the years.
Kolby caught sight of MO-126 and stared at him a moment in disbelief.
“Laura! Come out here,” he called over his shoulder.
“What is it, dear?” she said. She must have mellowed some with age.
“Doesn’t he look just like Doggy?” Kolby said, pointing. “You remember Doggy, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember Doggy, you daft old man.”
Maybe she hadn’t mellowed all that much, although she did ameliorate her statement with a kiss on his cheek.
She squinted. “But my memory’s better than my eyes. Come here, Doggy,” she said, kneeling and urging him to approach.
MO-126 tried not to wag his tail and failed. He did manage to restrain himself from running to her. He went to her, but he tried to make it seem that he was uncertain about the wisdom of it.
She scratched his ears with both hands in more of a hug than a pet. “The spitting image,” she said.
The old man leaned down stiffly and stroked the android dog’s head.
“I had a dog like you, once,” he said, misty-eyed in recollection. “Best dog I ever knew.” He turned to the old dog lying next to him. “No offense, Boy.”
The old dog seemed to take none. A wheezy snore provided its only response.
Suddenly, Kolby gasped for air and coughed several times. MO-126 was no healer, but his sensors were capable of determining the man’s temperature, heart rate, and, even estimate his blood pressure. He was not well. The years had taken their toll.
“Is Grandpa all right, Granny,” a boy about ten years old asked Laura.
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