by Nathan Jones
Gritting his teeth in determination, he started up the slope towards where Eva waited to save him.
* * * * *
A few miles should've only taken an hour or so for Tycho to walk even in these mountains. Eva made sure he exercised regularly no matter how much he didn't want to, and he'd paid extra attention to his fitness while preparing for this excursion.
He could've made it back to the ship and had Laird already well on the way to recovery, even back to his old doggy self by now, under ideal circumstances.
But but things were far from ideal. He was carrying over a hundred and fifty pounds of dying pet in his arms, one of which was nearly useless thanks to the wound in his shoulder; it somehow had gone numb while still throbbing jolts of agony throughout his entire body with every step. He would've had to stop repeatedly to rest if he hadn't found a way to tie his jacket's sleeves around his neck to make a sort of sling for Laird.
Tycho wasn't ashamed to say he wept most of the way back. And although he would've liked to pretend it was all grief over his friend, most of it was from pain, and fear, and the horror of what he'd just suffered. Something he barely could've imagined after a lifetime of safety and comfort on his or his mother's estate.
No full immersion could prepare him for this.
When he finally clawed his way to the top of the next rise rise he was nearly blind from tears and at the end of his strength, stumbling with every step and falling more than once, then scrambling back to his feet to continue with agonized curses and more weeping. But once there he finally saw his ship in the clearing below.
For a moment he could only stare in giddy disbelief, unable to believe his ordeal was over. He wasn't sure he could've gone more than a few more steps without collapsing, even in his desperation to save Laird. And if he'd known he was so close he certainly would've shouted for Eva long before now.
There she was now. As expected, his companion waited patiently outside the door of the ship for his return, showing no signs of boredom or discomfort. It was rare for Tycho to catch glimpses of her before she was aware of his presence, unless of course she deliberately let him at his request, and it always struck him how different she behaved and even appeared when she wasn't acting for his benefit.
Of course she did her best to seem authentically human at all times, but for efficiency's sake some of her true nature bled through when she thought he wasn't around to see.
Eva had the appearance of a tall young woman, only a few inches shorter than him. Strawberry blond hair hung loose to halfway down her back, at the moment slightly tussled by the wind in a way he found unexpectedly appealing, and her sea green eyes stared alertly around the clearing looking for signs of his return or possible danger to the ship.
She had a perfect oval-shaped face, full lips, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes; just like with her height, hair, and eye color, he'd chosen her appearance to match his ideal for feminine beauty. Although to avoid being intimidated or put off by that kind of perfection he'd selected a few flaws, such as a nose that was a touch too prominent and a beauty mark on her jaw.
Her figure was also chosen to suit his tastes, although like with her nose he'd elected to have her a touch curvier than his usual preference. And to his surprise, over time he'd actually begun to prefer those curves. In fact, he'd discovered that her “imperfections” had become some of the features he found most appealing about her, although he couldn't figure out what quirk of human nature led to that change in perspective.
At the moment Eva's curves should've been obscured by the rugged outdoor clothing she wore, complete with heavy boots and thin gloves to cover her long, slender fingers. But somehow the outfit only accentuated her figure, pointing to some intriguing possibilities.
Or it would've if Tycho hadn't been half dead, fleeing a pack of vicious predators, and carrying his dying faithful pet in his arms at the moment.
“Eva!” he screamed, stumbling down the hillside toward her.
His companion's green eyes snapped over to him, and her face paled as she grabbed the bag of necessities she'd prepared and bolted up the hill towards him. Somehow she managed to look graceful and feminine in spite of the ground-eating bounds her urgency necessitated, athleticism that no real human woman could match. She covered the distance between them in a matter of moments and skidded to a halt, pulling Laird out of his arms.
“Thank you,” he panted, finally giving in to his exhaustion and slumping to the ground. “Hurry, you have to save him . . .” he trailed off when she turned and set the wounded dog down on a nearby rock before turning back to him. “What are you doing?”
“You're hurt,” she replied, tone brisk and calm in a manner designed to show loving concern without increasing his anxiety about his injuries or causing him to panic. “I need to help you.”
His companion produced a scalpel from seemingly nowhere and crouched beside him, getting to work slicing the cloth of his shirt away from his shoulder with flawlessly precise motions. Tycho grit his teeth in panic that had nothing to do with his own injuries and caught her wrist, meeting her sea green eyes as she stared down at him in confusion.
“Help him first,” he ordered, pointing to Laird's alarmingly still form.
Eva gently extricated her arm and got back to work. “I can't, my love,” she said patiently. “My core priorities-”
Tycho knew all about her core priorities to put his welfare, the welfare of all humans, above any other consideration. But surely that couldn't be in effect now, when he had a relatively minor bite wound and Laird's wounds were possibly fatal.
He'd survive the next few minutes, his dog might not.
“I'll live until you get to him,” he snapped. She ignored him, and in growing desperation he scrambled weakly backwards, whimpering slightly when he put weight on his bad arm. “Eva, please. You can't let him die.”
“I can't help him until I've dealt with your injury,” she sounded apologetic, almost frustrated. “Quit wasting time he needs by arguing and let me work, my love.”
He cursed futilely, but he couldn't think of anything to do but sit in growing agitation, eyes fixed on his faithful friend's body as Eva finished cutting away his shirt. Hands blurring with uncharacteristically inhuman speed she thoroughly irrigated his wound with a disinfecting and painkilling solution and cleaned around it, then applied a device that would generate a field to seal it and accelerate healing.
Within hours he'd be fully recovered, without even a scar to show for his pains. He already couldn't feel the agony that had previously almost paralyzed him.
With that done she began cutting away the rest of his shirt, murmuring apologetically that she'd repair it good as new or fabricate a new one as soon as possible. At that point Tycho's frayed patience finally broke, and he slapped the scalpel out of her hands. “Laird. Now.”
“I need to check the rest of-”
“I'm giving you my word my other injuries are minor, something not even your rotting core priorities could consider life-threatening.” He leaned closer, grabbing her shoulders. “If you love me, Eva, save my best friend.”
She didn't love him, of course. Companions felt no emotions, only simulated them for the sake of their humans. But even so his order seemed to have gotten through to her. She nodded briskly and turned away, crouching beside Laird.
Tycho watched with dread in his gut, because even as she worked he knew what she was going to say. Sure enough, after only a few seconds she turned to look up at him, resignation on her lovely features. “It's too late,” she said softly.
He grit his teeth. He'd felt the life flee from his friend in the last steps up the rise before the ship came into view, but hadn't wanted to give up hope. “Resuscitate him.”
She shook her head firmly. “It's too late, my love. It's been too long, at least with the tools I have here. And by the time we got him home it would be too late for those, too.”
“Would it have been too late if you'd seen to him before me?” he d
emanded. She hesitated, reluctant to answer, and that was answer enough. With a curse Tycho turned away, tears in his eyes, and stared at the wild majesty of the mountains around him.
It was hard to appreciate the beauty when this place had gotten Laird killed. Sure, the mastiff had been unhygienic and nearly constantly emitted noxious odors, and it had taken an unbelievable amount of time to train him and Lady to where they were manageable.
But he'd also loved the faithful beast with all his heart. His life felt empty without him. And it only deepened his pain to know he was going to have to go back to Lady without her mate at his side.
Tycho stiffened a few moments later when Eva settled down on the ground beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his good shoulder. But in spite of his anger at his companion her presence was still a comfort in his current grief. The flood of emotions pouring through him was so unfamiliar and painful that he was willing to accept solace from her, even though this was all her fault.
But instead of being soothing or commiserating Eva's words were inviting, even seductive. “You've had a rough time, my love,” she purred in his ear. “How about we finish getting you cleaned up and fed, then get some rest? You've probably been dreaming of a proper bed all week.” She pressed warm lips to his neck. “And me, I hope.”
He jerked away from her in shock, almost revulsion. “What's wrong with you?” he demanded, turning to face his companion. She hastily scooted backwards, hesitant and seeming at a loss as to how to deal with this sudden outburst. That only made him angrier.
Companions were supposed to understand humans, meet all their wants and needs. But right now he wondered if Eva understood anything.
“My best friend is dead!” he yelled, pointing at Laird. It seemed wrong that the poor motionless bundle of fur was all that was left of the vibrant, energetic animal he'd come to love so much in the last few months.
Which only stoked his fury. “He's dead because you decided to tend my cuts and scrapes instead of helping him! And now you want to pull me to my stateroom for an amorous encounter? What makes you think that's in any way appropriate?”
Eva stood smoothly and backed even farther away, hands held out placatingly. Or maybe in supplication for him to be calm. “It's nothing to become stressed about, my love. You still have Lady, and you can get another mastiff to replace Laird.”
“I don't want to replace him, you stupid machine!” he screamed at her. “He died saving me! He was a better friend than you could ever be.” He lowered his voice to a mournful whisper. “I could never replace him.”
“Tycho,” she said helplessly. He hadn't seen her this unsure of how to act since he'd first got her as his adult companion upon reaching sexual maturity.
So much for vaunted companion programming. Pinnacle of thousands of years of human ingenuity and AI optimization his poison ivy-rashed behind. Tycho turned away from her in disgust, crawling over to kneel beside his dog.
“Go harvest the meat from the elk we brought down and the hide from the wolf,” he muttered dully.
There was only silence from behind him for several seconds. Then he heard the almost inaudible pad of Eva's feet as she walked away.
Chapter One
Irrational
Once his companion was gone Tycho leaned forward to rest a hand on Laird's head, tears streaming from his eyes. But now along with the guilt for letting his dog die he also felt guilt at how he'd treated Eva.
It was absurd to feel bad about that. His companion didn't have emotions and didn't take offense, didn't hold grudges. Her only function was meeting his needs, the greatest of which was providing him with human interaction that felt so genuine it was indistinguishable from an actual human.
So indistinguishable that he'd allowed himself to begin reacting to her as if she really was a human woman. He supposed that was completely to be expected, and human nature. As his adult companion she was there to keep him from feeling lonely, to provide him with the intimacy and social interactions that humans needed to maintain their mental health.
But he'd never felt more alone than he did right then, and it had nothing to do with sending Eva away. How she'd acted with Laird just slammed home the reminder that she wasn't real. That his relationship with her wasn't real. That the guilt he felt for yelling at her and making her leave didn't matter, because she'd continue to provide him with the care and affection he needed no matter how he treated her.
It felt wrong. Was this really how he was supposed to live, cut off from all human contact and living a sham existence with only companions to serve him and keep him company? Was every other human in existence content with this situation?
They had to be, because nobody had ever chosen to live differently. Not for thousands of years. Tens of thousands. Almost as soon as companions made it possible to live such a solitary existence, in fact.
Just like right after the wolves had attacked, Tycho was struck by how dull his life had been before going on this excursion. Not boring, never really that, but empty. Devoid of meaning or purpose. As if he'd spent the last twenty-five years living in a sensory deprivation bubble.
Even his vibrant, perfect garden back home, tended by maintenance bots so every leaf and flower and blade of grass was healthy and in its place, felt fake. The perfect weather of the northern hemisphere, carefully manicured for sunny cloudless skies, soothing overcasts, or gentle rain, was fake.
It was all fake. Laird was one of the few things in his life that had been real, and he was gone now.
Tycho gently patted the faithful mastiff's head before straightening with a grunt and stumbling the rest of the way to the ship. There he found the pile of replacement supplies Eva had prepared in case he lost any of the original ones.
With a bit of digging around he found a perfect copy of the shovel he'd left back at camp that he'd been using to bury his leavings. Another singularly unpleasant first for this trip, being exposed to the sight and smell of his own waste.
He made his way back to the dog's body and contemplated this decision. Burial seemed a bit barbaric, a relic of a time before technology found more efficient means of disposing of corpses for hygiene purposes than simply burying them. But at the same time it felt right to consign his friend to the ground here where he'd fallen, in the rugged majesty of these mountains.
He supposed Laird would go the way of nature as well before long, rotting down to bones and then eventually nothing as life continued from the nutrients provided. It was a horrifying thing to imagine, but far more horrifying was the thought of taking Laird back to his estate and trying to preserve the dog's remains.
To keep Laird in the sensory deprivation bubble Tycho was trapped in.
“I'd take you home for a proper burial,” he said softly, looking down at the limp bundle of fur. “I'd like to be able to visit your grave. But somehow I feel like you would've preferred to be buried out in nature. In the real world, where you belong.”
Eva could've done the digging for him, and after a few minutes of hacking at the rocky soil to make a big enough hole he almost wished he'd waited for her to do it. But this task wasn't for her; Laird had given his life to save Tycho's, and the least he could do was send his friend off with his own two hands.
He wasn't sure how long it took to finish burying his dog, especially since he moved so slowly thanks to exhaustion and a wounded arm not yet at full strength. Once the task was done he spent a few minutes standing beside the grave, trying to think of something else to say.
“I'll take care of Lady,” he finally whispered, with a pang at the thought of the other dog's confusion when he came home without her mate. “I just hope she can forgive me for not bringing you home safe.”
He should've brought her along as well. If he had she and Laird together might've been able to fight off the wolves, or even scare them away without a fight. But he'd wanted to play it safe and only take the better trained of the two dogs, at least until he had a better idea of what these
excursions were like and what it would be like to care for a dog without the help of a companion.
And speak of his companion's lurking presence . . . when he finally turned away from the grave he jumped in surprise and a flash of anger at the sight of Eva standing a short distance away. Of course she'd managed to go the whole distance to do her assigned tasks and then returned faster than he could even dig a hole.
In her arms she held a large bundle sealed inside a stasis field, the neatly trimmed and portioned meat from the elk and a full, cleanly skinned wolf hide. She'd even thought to get the supplies from his camp, even though he'd forgotten to order it. They were in another huge bundle on her back; hundreds of pounds in all, but she showed no signs of effort at carrying it all.
Her green eyes were sorrowful as she stared at him, and the sight sent a flash of anger through him. Now she felt bad? Without a word he left the grave and his companion behind and limped back down to the ship on legs stiff and sore from exhaustion.
He was ready to leave this miserable place.
At the ship Tycho left Eva behind to get everything ready to leave and started up the ramp, planning to head to his stateroom. After six days of roughing it, and especially the traumatic events of the last few hours, he was more than ready to finally be able to relax. To be clean again, especially from the embarrassing discomfort of his damp pants that he'd nearly forgotten up until now, would be a luxury in and of itself.
He could also have his companion pause her departure preparations and cook him his first proper meal in what felt like an eternity. Then he'd collapse into bed and sleep right through the trip home. Maybe he'd even wake up to find this had all been a bad dream or some sort of bizarre full immersion dive.
“I'm sorry,” Eva abruptly said from behind him.
Tycho stopped at the top of the ramp and turned to face her. “Why?” he demanded. Maybe it was petty, but he had to understand why she'd failed him here when she'd never failed him before.
