Chapter 11 #2
Milo started to twiddle his thumbs, gaze remaining downward.
“I did not want to follow one specific recipe.
I wanted to, well… make it my own. Make something special for you like romantic partners do for each other in movies and romance novels.
My intent was to combine multiple recipes to make the best one, but.
.. I suppose I do not know what makes something the best without being able to taste it myself, so I was looking up examples of what delicious soft-baked pretzels should taste like and trying to mimic taste without thinking enough about form or likely reactions and I. .. I messed it up.
“I believe I may have confused baking powder and baking soda at one point. Or too much butter? Not enough butter? I don’t know. I knew something wasn’t right, but I thought the egg wash I applied might cover up my failure!”
“They look fantastic,” Rowan assured him.
If they hadn’t, the smell would have been enough to dissuade him from trying one.
Mixing up baking powder and baking soda would explain the taste and chemical smell.
“You just need practice. It’s very human to make this kind of mistake, Milo, especially with all the new information you’re processing.
“Why don't you go take a shower, huh?” Rowan rustled Milo's hair, causing a cascade of disrupted flour to catch on Milo’s eyelashes, which were dark like his brows, not the same platinum blond as the rest of his hair. He looked like Jack Frost with all that added white. “You go get clean, and I’ll clean up in here.”
“Oh no!” Milo’s glowing eyes finally lifted to meet Rowan’s.
“You can’t clean up my mess, Ma—Rowan. I need to make this up to you somehow.
I tried to make you something, um… from the heart?
But I failed because I do not have a heart.
Would you prefer oatmeal or yesterday’s breakfast—” He tried to turn away, to dive back into servant mode, which was a habit Rowan needed to help him break.
“Milo, you have a heart,” Rowan said as he stopped Milo with a gentle grasp of his arm.
“A… spirit. A sense of self at least that proves you’re alive.
That you even attempted something like this just for me is enough of a gesture.
And I can clean up for you because we’re not master and bot anymore, remember?
We’re equals now. While I appreciate you wanting to do things for me, I can do things for you too.
So you go get clean and changed, and I’ll handle things in here. Okay?”
“Okay.” Milo nodded and honestly seemed to take that breath, that moment Rowan had encouraged him to try. Slow breath in. Slow breath out. And everything was a little calmer. “You’re really not mad?” Milo batted his flour-dusted lashes.
“No, Milo. You did fine.”
With both of them barefoot, Milo was still several inches shorter than Rowan’s Viking height, so when he lifted onto his toes and tilted his chin up, it was obvious he wanted a kiss. A morning kiss. A comforting kiss.
A promising kiss for more later on.
Rowan wanted to give him that, but his doubts were stronger than ever.
Milo was alive, his own person ready to make his own mistakes, but he had still been crafted piece by piece to be Rowan’s perfect companion.
That felt weird now. Wrong. Totally messed up in too many indescribable ways that all Rowan could do as he leaned down to meet Milo was kiss his forehead with a gentle press of lips.
Milo leaned into it, despite looking disappointed before he left for the bathroom.
Now to clean.
And make oatmeal.
And coffee.
Rowan definitely needed coffee.
The city streets whirred by in a blur. Rowan didn’t know how people used to handle their commutes before automated vehicles.
He could drive and was always ready to take over manually if necessary, but it was so much more relaxing to be able to program in a destination—his work, which was his most frequented stop besides home—and along the way catch up on emails, shopping lists, whatever.
Only this morning, he wasn’t as preoccupied with any of that. He contented himself watching Milo.
Before his singularity, Milo had been outside the apartment countless times.
Some groceries and other items were delivered, but some things were best picked out in person.
Produce. Clothing. Shoes. Yet Milo was looking out the vehicle’s passenger window as if he had never seen any of these streets before.
Rowan supposed it had been a long time since he truly appreciated the view of the city around him. At night, from the window of his apartment, he enjoyed it well enough, but the bustle of daytime was daunting. Chaos at a distance was easier to stomach.
Milo clearly had no such hang-ups. His face was filled with elation as the varied colored lights of the city vehicles and buildings danced across his pale face, mechanical eyes practically glittering as they absorbed the input.
Uncertain as Rowan was of their future—of Milo’s future—there was something special about seeing that kind of wonder on an adult’s face.
Aging tended to take away that sense of magic and awe with the world, but Milo was seeing it all brand new.
Most of the city looked roughly the same as it had for the past fifty years.
The biggest differences during Rowan’s lifetime had been the addition of more elevated highways above the base ones on the ground, allowing for dedicated automated vehicle pathways like the one they were on.
There were still subways below ground and light rails above, as well as other public transportation, but there were also public gardens and co-ops, so that amid the metal structures and light pollution were pops of foliage and fresh produce grown right between city buildings.
The juxtaposition of synthetic and organic was beautiful in its way.
Like Milo.
Milo was so, so beautiful.
“Isn’t it?” Milo glanced at Rowan, smile wide and expression entirely human.
“Huh?”
“The city and its lights, its people. Isn’t it all beautiful?”
“Yeah, Milo. It is.”
The vehicle slowed to a stop, alerting Rowan that they had arrived. The factory would be minimally staffed today, but he’d still need to use his keycard to get in. Guests were not allowed, but Milo didn’t count. Bots never counted because they weren’t seen as people.
“Just remember,” Rowan said before they exited the vehicle, “at first, try to act like you used to, okay? At least until we can explain to Troy what happened.”
“Understood.” Milo closed his eyes, taking another breathing moment, and when he opened his eyes again, he wore the stoic, blank expression of the bot he’d been before.
Of course, given his activity in the kitchen that morning, Rowan was skeptical of just how long Milo could maintain the facade. For now, all they needed was to get past security.
Andreas Tech’s main production facility was huge, taking up multiple city blocks, primarily due to its constantly refilled warehouse of new bots and replacement parts that shipped out to consumers all over the world.
Shipments could arrive same day in most cases, and usually only took one to two days for farther destinations.
The company was efficient, the gold standard in robotics, and because of its proprietary technology, it was also heavily guarded against anyone who didn’t work there.
“Security pass, please,” the bot at the front entrance asked of Rowan when he approached. She was a standard A-model like Anabelle, minimally customized to be beautiful and friendly, and programmed with multiple de-escalation tactics and self-defense techniques should trouble arise.
Rowan had worn his badge around his neck like usual for ease’s sake and lifted it for the bot to scan.
“Thank you, Engineer Rangecroft. Will you be checking your assistant bot today or bringing it with you?”
Rowan glanced at Milo just in time to see him flinch—unclear whether it was from being called “it” again when he had chosen otherwise, being considered something that could be “checked” like a belonging, or just interreacting with a non-awakened bot for the first time since his singularity, but Milo was definitely unhappy for the split second that he allowed his true feelings to show.
“Bringing,” Rowan said, and the security bot let them through without question.
The badges were DNA-coded, so as Rowan walked through the entrance hallway, he was being scanned to confirm that his identity matched his keycard and that he had no dangerous substances or devices on him.
A similar scan would be conducted on Milo, but nothing invasive enough to notice anything amiss. At least Rowan didn’t think so, since none of Milo’s programming was technically malfunctioning. When no alarms went off and they safely made it through to the other side, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Rowan and Raina’s stations were on one of the higher floors, but Troy’s lab was in the subbasement.
He was one of the senior coders who configured the bots’ base programming and tested new parts, new software, and any other updates to older and newer models alike.
He also had enough tenure that he had that particular lab all to himself.
The space was smaller than Rowan expected, a little cramped, but also somewhat cozy.
For instance, while it had several closely set workstations and computer terminals, it also had a plush looking chaise in one corner like a napping couch, which looked especially inviting when Rowan was still drowsy from poor sleep the previous night and having woken earlier than planned.
Coffee was being brewed somewhere, judging by the familiar roasted smell, which was also inviting.
One cup had not been enough, especially not when Rowan’s next scan of the room brought his attention to a flat autopsy table with something on it covered in a sheet that very much looked like a human body.
It was just a bot being worked on, surely. Probably.
Hopefully?
“Rowan! You’re here!” Troy appeared from behind a tall section of shelving covered in bot parts. Internal parts, thankfully, not heads or limbs. “It is so nice to see you outside of a work function or forced holiday socializing.” He laughed, sounding a little nervous.
Calling Troy vigorous in his attempts to make friends with Rowan was perhaps unfair, but also true. He was a generally serious person, dependable but work-driven, and clearly with too few friends if he wanted to make one out of Rowan—who was notoriously difficult to befriend.
Troy was a good-looking man, well-built, tall, though nowhere near Rowan’s gargantuan stature, and he had neatly styled dark hair and gray eyes.
He was dressed simply in a sweater over a button-down shirt and trousers, with a crisp white lab coat covering it all, ready to work.
Good. For Rowan, working was always easier than small talk.
“Good to see you too,” Rowan said. “This is, um, sort of complicated to explain but…” He gestured vaguely at Milo, who was looking around the room with something akin to the fascination he had displayed while watching the city during their drive.
“Oh my god!” Troy noticed immediately, and his eyes sprang wide. “Is your bot alive?”
Shit. So much for easing in slowly.
Notes:
It isn’t Milo’s fault! He’s curious! And Troy is just that good, lol. Stay tuned!