Chapter 42 #2
Ronin glanced down. The hole in his chest, visible through his torn shirt, was large enough to fit his thumb into.
The four on his back were presumably smaller, and the skin there had been ripped apart to access his power cell.
Though internal components had been damaged by the bullets, leaving him with power leaks and operational inefficiencies, nothing critical had been destroyed.
But the punctures in his casing were invitations for dust and moisture.
The degradation of his functions was unavoidable in his current state.
Regardless, his preferred response was refusal supported by several potential excuses.
Ronin wasn’t inclined to leave Lara’s side.
He knew they wouldn’t let him sit here until she awoke, but he would stay with her as long as possible.
They’d insist on continuing their interrogation eventually, and if enough time passed, they would likely demand he contribute to their community as a price for her continued care.
Unfortunately, the contributions Ronin was most suited to make came with a high likelihood of him collecting more bullet holes in his casing.
“The equipment’s in the corner,” Will said, “maybe a hundred feet away. You’ll be close.”
Ronin dropped a hand to his knee, curling it into a fist. He’d seen the equipment when he entered the room. Lara’s monitors would be well within earshot from there, and he could be back at her side in seconds if the need arose. There was no logical reason to refuse.
Leaning forward, he gently lifted her hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles, and settled it back onto the bed. When he stood, he allowed his optics to linger on her before he turned and followed Will to the repair machines.
Will directed Ronin to remove his shirt and climb onto the flat table at the center of the setup.
He did so, lying face down with his arms folded beneath his chin.
Will moved to stand beside Ronin and pressed his foot down on a pedal on the floor.
With a quiet hum and gentle vibrations, the table rose, stopping once it was above his waist.
“I know what it’s like,” Will said as he examined the bullet holes.
Ronin furrowed his brow, turning his head toward Will. “What?”
“The uncertainty. I know what it feels like. When my wife, Linda, went into labor with our daughter, there were complications. Doctor Cooper has worked her share of miracles, but she’s realistic.
She told me exactly what might happen, and what she planned to do to stop it.
Having to wait through that…it was the worst time of my life. It was agonizing, feeling so helpless.”
Helpless. An adequate word. For the first time in one hundred and eighty-five years, Ronin felt like no matter what choice he made, no matter what actions he took, he couldn’t affect the outcome.
Lara would either live or die, and he had no power over it.
“This is normal?” Ronin asked.
Chuckling, Will turned away to power on a monitor and retrieve a small tool from a nearby tray. “Helplessness is an everyday part of the human condition.”
Once the tool was inserted into one of the bullet holes, a camera at its tip relayed Ronin’s internal damage to the screen.
Ronin stared at the image. “I’m not human.”
“Why? Because you’re made up of different parts?”
On the monitor, neat bundles of wiring and circuitry ran along segmented metal columns, all around the central reinforced case housing Ronin’s CPU and data cores.
“Those parts are just one item on a long list of differences,” Ronin said.
“Yes, in some ways. But an organic lifeform and a machine are not entirely different. Hell, if anyone knows, it’d be me.
” Will guided the camera along the scrapes and grooves created by the bullets.
“I’m the sixth generation of a family that’s devoted its entire existence to robotics.
The sixth William Anderson. You think you have identity issues? ”
Will laughed again. It was a warm, inviting sound. Genuine laughter was a rare thing, it seemed, but it had a strange way of alleviating tension.
At that moment, Ronin would’ve given anything to hear Lara laugh with his own audio receptors. “You’re not your father, or your grandfather, or any of them.”
“Right. But I’m expected to be.” Will fell silent for a moment.
“A quarter-inch variance in the trajectory of any of these shots, and you would’ve been in some serious trouble.
These armor-piercing rounds they used during the war can chew through inner casings like they’re made of paper at close range. ”
“Better me than her.”
“I don’t think my great-great-great grandfather could’ve foreseen any of this, but I bet he would’ve been delighted.”
Ronin’s brow plates lowered. “Over what? Over what happened to the world?”
“No. He abhorred that. I mean the way bots have evolved. His work, when you get down to it, was the very basics of how you operate now. He laid the foundation. Everything in the time since, you’ve developed on your own.
You’ve built upon that foundation, creating something new, something…
beautiful. You have a life. In the old world, just the thought of that was enough to cause widespread panic. ”
Will selected a few more tools, watching the monitor as he slipped them into the bullet hole and began the repairs.
Sparks danced across Ronin’s electrodes, but only distantly. “Does that mean the war started because of bots?”
“I don’t think so. To be honest, it’s hard to say why it happened anymore, even with the records we have.
I think it was building for a long time.
Bots might’ve been what tipped it, but that was an excuse more than anything.
My point is that you have free will. You can experience emotions, you have doubts and regrets, you can fall in love.
That’s what it means to be human. It was never about being an organic bipedal lifeform evolved from primates. ”
Ronin lay in silence, ignoring the vibrations pulsing through his insides as Will worked.
It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Over decades of wandering, he’d experienced only the merest hints of emotion, never knowing how strong it could be. Not until Lara.
Had he always possessed the capacity for deeper feelings?
Perhaps the answer was simple—he’d always been capable, but it had taken Lara to give him something to care for. She’d sparked his emotions, and now they burned bright. She was the catalyst of his evolution.
“You also have free will,” Ronin said. “You’re no more defined by your name than I am my parts.”
A smile spread across Will’s lips. “You’re right, but I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about it, anyway.
It’s a lot to live up to. A family legacy that eclipses anything I might do.
What’s important, though, is that we’ve preserved the first William Anderson’s vision in this place.
Bots and humans coexisting, having relationships, living side-by-side.
I can’t deny that I’m proud to be a part of that. ”
“I owe much to you and your ancestors, Will Anderson.”
Will chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I was relieved as hell when I found out we were having a girl. It broke the six-generation-chain of sons. Meant I didn’t have to make some excuse to explain to Dad why I wasn’t going to name my kid William Joseph Anderson the Seventh.”
Countless humans had been born, had grown, changed, and matured, had lived and died while Ronin walked the Dust, and he’d given them little thought. He’d simply existed, an enduring relic of a time he could no longer recall.
He’d never truly considered the cycle of human life. He’d never examined the concept of mortality. But all things had an end. That was a fact he could not dispute, and it seemed more relevant now than ever before.
This will not be her end. It cannot.
“Newton told me there were humans and bots who came together to form families,” Ronin said.
“Yeah. Nobody’s sure how many there were before, but there’s about a dozen couples here on the base. One more, I guess, with you two here.”
“Do they...adopt children?” Why was he concerned about it? Was his curiosity the result of raw emotion, or innocent curiosity?
“Not many orphans running around here, usually. Most male synths have the parts necessary for procreation, they just need a donor to provide the, uh…material. It’s not very complicated, really, and we’ve done it several times over the years.”
Ronin nodded, turning his head away from the monitor as Will continued the repairs.
Would Lara be happy to learn that news? Would she embrace the idea, or reject it outright? Did Ronin even accept it himself?
Before Lara, love had been an airy, ethereal word with little meaning to him. Had he already changed so much that he was prepared to procreate and raise children? The thought of caring for human young was more unsettling than wandering the expansive wastes…
Will and Ronin drifted between companionable silence and easy conversation as time passed.
The automated machines took over after the internal repairs were completed, though Will remained at the controls to monitor them.
After Ronin’s casing was sealed, he removed his pants and entered the epidermal synthesizer—Will called it the reskinner, which seemed far more practical a name.
As Ronin emerged from the reskinner, he glanced down at his torso. His skin was a single shade now. That realization came with a strange sense of loss.
“Why did you perform the internal repairs by hand?” Ronin asked as he pulled on his clothes. He’d been away from Lara for too long, and the beeping of her heart monitor wasn’t enough to reassure him, but his curiosity was genuine.
“Partly because it’s a skill that would otherwise be lost. If we don’t know how to do it without machines to help, what’ll happen when these machines eventually break down?
And for the same reason Doctor Cooper treats most of her patients by hand, I guess.
It’s more…personal. If we don’t send our human patients to lie in a machine and receive care without ever seeing another person’s face, why should we do that to bots? ”
While Ronin walked back to Lara, he analyzed his conversation with Will.
Bots and humans were equals here.
He struggled to accept it as the truth. After everything he’d seen in the world, everything he’d seen in Cheyenne, that seemed like an impossibility, a failed dream from a failed age.
Yet the evidence was mounting. In this place, it was no dream. It was reality.
Ronin knew what-ifs would do him no good, but he couldn’t help wondering how different things might’ve been had he and Lara known about this place sooner. How much trauma and pain could they have avoided?
He pulled open the curtain and stepped into the partition, raising his optics.
A thin woman with her dark hair pulled into a bun and glasses perched on her nose stood beside the bed, frowning down at Lara.
“There have been stories for a long time about this Warlord. About the things he’s done.
And even though he’s just a few miles away, it all seemed unreal because we never saw it firsthand. ”
She sighed and smoothed a hand over her hair before turning toward Ronin. The first signs of gray were visible at her temples. “This kind of brutality is unacceptable.”
Ronin settled his gaze on Lara. “He did the same thing to her sister, but there was no one to help her in time.”
The woman shook her head. “We’re not perfect here. We have our share of arguments, and the occasional fistfight. Every now and then a man hits his wife. Jack and his people always get things back in order quickly and make sure justice is served, but this… This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
She brushed her fingertips over the back of Lara’s hand, her touch lingering just long enough for Ronin to recognize the sincere compassion in the gesture.
Withdrawing her hand, the woman walked around the bed and held it out to Ronin. “I’m Nancy Cooper. Ronin, right?”
It took nearly a second to dredge up the data for an appropriate response. Careful as ever to regulate the strength of his grip, he took Nancy’s hand and shook it. “Yes. You’re the Doctor Cooper everyone’s been talking about?”
“I am. The person with the drugs is always the most popular.” She smiled, but the expression wavered. “I’m sorry. I try to keep things light, but it’s inappropriate given the situation.”
“I understand. No apology necessary.”
“We’re doing everything in our power to make her well again. Unfortunately, it’s just a waiting game now.”
“I know. Thank you, Nancy. Whatever happens.” Sorrow panged across his circuits at those last two words. Were they an admission of defeat? An acceptance of the possibility that Lara wouldn’t wake up, that their time together was over?
No. I won’t accept that.
“She’s a fighter,” Nancy said. “I hear you are, too. That means a lot. Hell, if you hadn’t brought her here so fast, I don’t think she’d have survived the night.”
They lapsed into silence, and Ronin watched Lara’s still form. The machinery provided a gentle ambiance.
“I’ll give you some space,” Nancy said. “I’m sure you’re already aware, but Jack’s not going to wait much longer to question you again. For now, I’m going to recommend that the best thing for Lara is to hear your voice and feel your touch. That’ll keep him at bay for a little while more.”
She walked past him, pausing for a moment to place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze gently. Then she exited the partition, sliding the curtain closed behind her.
It was jarring to face so much understanding, so much compassion, from so many people. He was a bot, but these people didn’t seem to make any distinction between metal and organic.
He slid the chair over to the bed and sat, grasping Lara’s hand. None of that compassion would make a difference if she didn’t recover. Hers was the only touch he craved, the only understanding he needed.