Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Atlas
Atlas perched on the edge of the stool.
In front of him, Anna began to rummage in the cabinets, bringing out supplies. She hummed a wordless tune as she looked around, coming up with some flour. “Not a lot of supplies in here, but it is enough to make something fast.”
“Are you sure?” He took the flour out of her hands, placing it on the counter. “Now that we know what you need, the other androids are happy to cook for you.” The kitchen area was unused. That was why supplies were low. The humans’ meals were prepared elsewhere and brought in.
“Of course.” She gave him a placating smile. “I need to try to take care of myself too.”
He really had nothing to say to that, so he sat back at the counter, fingers rubbing his jaw.
It was one thing to know Anna wanted to work.
It was another to see her, hesitant at first, going through the unfamiliar environment, much like she did on the ship.
After all the ingredients were lined up though, the determined look in her eyes captivated him.
“It’s easier here actually.” She came over and tugged his hand. “The ship had such a small kitchen. I think that’s why I knocked over the bowl like I did. There’s space to move here. Even for you to stand by me.”
Atlas stepped in next to her, close enough to bump shoulders. He could feel the heat rolling off her—all his sensors had lit up on the side where she stood.
“See?” She leaned in, gently bumping elbows. “Plenty of space. So, in my bakery I had an oven that was just like this, stacked. And a large counter where I rolled the dough out by hand.”
“I understand wanting to work.” Atlas brought out a mixer from deep inside a cabinet. “But we have machines to help.”
Anna’s hands already were busy adding ingredients to a bowl. “Don’t you ever feel good when you do something yourself?”
“My plants, yes.”
“Exactly!” She patted down her sides. “Your plants.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, leaving a flour mark on her cheek. “This has to be boring for you. You don’t have to stay, you know.”
“No!” Immediately he shook his head, taking his seat across the counter again. “I want to see how you do this.”
His eyes softened as he watched her bake, leaning over the counter while she worked. When had he ever sat while a human worked around him? Never. That’s when.
Anna kept humming wordless tunes as she made the dough, narrating all the steps, even though Atlas easily had enough data in his memory to do it himself. At times, the songs sounded vaguely familiar, but then they would change. The patterns, though . . .
He tilted his head. “Are those still nursery rhymes?”
Her hands paused. “Come again?”
“The songs. I’ve heard you sing a few before.”
“Oh. I don’t know. They played on the radio a lot.”
They were. She was singing a mash-up of all the nursery rhymes.
He identified them the best he could. Atlas didn’t question her further, but he did memorize them as she cycled through, hearing how she didn’t keep to exact beats but somehow it still all flowed together.
He recorded them, comparing them to his files.
She hummed not only Twinkle Twinkle Little Star like he heard from her before, but every kind of song.
Soon she had dough made and was working it with extra movements, kneading it by hand, mindful of where her cut was still healing. When they were in the oven she started something else, and upon finishing that loaf of bread she put it in the fridge to rise.
“Here.” She handed him a plate of crackers with a crooked smile.
But Atlas didn’t focus on that. Instead he looked above at her sweaty face, still rosy from the partially healed sunburn. Her hair framed her cheeks like a halo, and a small sheen of sweat was on her brow.
His breath caught. She really is beautiful. Not in the way Stella was. Or any of the androids. Or even Clara. Anna was in her own category. He moistened his lips. One that didn’t apply to any humans or androids he knew before. A spot now, deep inside, that was being carved out just for her.
“C’mon. Try one.” The tray waggled in her hand. Her smile slid. “You’re looking at me funny; are you okay?”
Atlas swallowed and picked one up. “Yes, I’m fine.” He ate the dry cracker, overly salted, eyes not leaving her. It didn’t taste good to him, but she ate more of them in five minutes than anything she had at dinner yesterday.
“Thank you.” He reached for another. “It tastes great, Anna.”
“Does it really?” She snorted, leaning forward on her elbows. “Should I make you these from now on instead of brownies? You did like the brownies, right? Never asked before.”
Atlas blinked slowly. “I’ll eat whatever you make.”
“Really?” Anna laughed. “Nora was right. You androids really are the perfect men.”
“Perfect men?” His processors began to spin. “But Anna . . . I’m not . . .”
“I know. I know.” She waved away his concerns. “You’re not a man. And don’t worry. I’ll still bring you brownies.” Her voice pitched lower. “I wish I could give you more. You’ve helped me so much, and all I can give you is this.”
“But Anna, do you not see?” Something in him cracked, holding the cracker up. “No one has ever given me anything like this before.”
Her nose scrunched. “Crackers?”
“No, silly.” He shook his hand. “A gift. Just because.”
“Oh!” Anna’s eyes lit up. “I’ll make you a lot then, if you appreciate it so much.”
“I do, yes. Thank you.”
Everything in him warned. She had no idea.
No idea what that gift meant to him. And he was only aware now how much it affected him too.
He savored listening to that heartbeat of hers pounding faster, especially when they brushed hands.
Every time, right on cue, a spike when they touched. Just like the old movies said happened.
“You don’t need to thank me; I was trying to thank you.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Ugh, are we both hot messes?”
“I guess.” Atlas leaned forward. “But . . . it feels good, doesn’t it? To be thanked?”
“Yes, but. . .” She said. “I wish I could give more than that though. You’ve given me my life. Medical care. This whole . . . everything.”
She’s embarrassed. Warmth flooded him, and he put his hand over hers, feeling the heartbeat spike again. “And you’ve given me everything you can. Those things, they are circumstances. You bake. You are working. That means as much, if not more.”
She ducked her head, but didn’t remove her hand. “Alright. Well, I’m sure Nora will like them just as much.” She dropped her voice. “No offense, but none of your food tastes right to me.”
“No offense?” He grinned. “I’m mortally wounded.”
“Oh hush.” She gave a shy smile, cheeks rosy again, then started to lift the tray.
“Not so fast.” Atlas chuckled, reaching for another himself.
He walked her back to her room after, loaded up with crackers and another round of aloe vera gel. But there was an extra step in his walk as he left, thinking about her and whether there was something more he could give her too.