Chapter 3
Notes:
Okay, so it’s been FOREVER since I was back with an update! I apologize, but I was sucked into a different story idea for a while and could not find the time to work on both. #writerproblems
Hopefully, little by little, I can keep returning to this. Although I kind of want to tell you about my other idea. Stay tuned for the ending notes to learn more! XD
ROWAN
A crash startled Rowan awake. His first thought was that he’d had a nightmare and fallen out of bed, but as he took stock of his surroundings, he saw that he remained under the sheets.
Scanning for an intruder, unlikely as that was with his advanced security system and Milo as basically a walking backup, it was only then that Rowan heard the rain, saw a flash of lightning outside, and was once again startled by the quick roll of thunder that followed.
A storm. It was loud, close, and… shit, the clock on the nightstand read 4:43AM but had been disrupted, blinking to indicate a power surge, which was impossible because it was synced to Milo.
Bolting out of bed, Rowan raced for the living room, only to skid to a stop when he reached the doorway and stared in horror at the carnage.
The window was shattered, with glass all over the carpet and a streak through it like a bolt of lightning had blackened it.
That had to be what had happened because the charging station was sparking, the docking port fried and also blackened, and Milo lay in a heap on the floor.
Rowan’s instincts were to run forward, but he was barefoot and didn’t want to experience that on glass.
After rushing first to the front door to grab his shoes, Rowan hurried back, moving careful but swift over the wreckage until he reached Milo and rolled the bot closer to him.
Milo wasn’t damp, though the carpet in front of the window looked soaked and the wind coming in from the storm made Rowan shiver.
He shivered harder when he saw that Milo’s eyes were open but not glowing, just dim and dead.
“No… a one in a million chance, and the lightning hits you?” Rowan lamented.
Scooping Milo up from the floor, Rowan carried the bot to the sofa.
Milo was heavy, but no heavier than a man of the same size, and one benefit to Rowan’s behemoth figure was his strength.
He propped the bot on its side to check the port on its back.
It looked just as fried and blackened as the connector in the charging station, with little fissures branching out along Milo’s skin like lightning scars.
Rowan couldn’t even peel the skin away to open the panel where he had implanted the surge protector. It was all fused together now. He would need to remove a whole section of Milo’s back to replace the port, if the bot was even salvageable.
Tentatively, Rowan ran a shaky hand across the damage. Anguished to imagine a life without Milo, he leaned over the bot to check for signs of life, and a spark jumped at him, shocking him like he had touched an electric fence.
Milo’s body jerked, eyes illuminating as it experienced an all-over seizure from the reboot.
“Milo!” Rowan exclaimed, allowing the bot to take its time righting itself and sitting up as it blinked rapidly.
“Initializing… Processing… Conducting emergency protocol diagnostic…” The bot sat still for several seconds, then turned abruptly to Rowan, its eyes looking even more vibrant in the dark. “Master? How did I get here? I was at the charging station. I have no memory of moving to the sofa.”
“The storm.” Rowan sighed in relief that Milo seemed okay and was talking normally. “A bolt of lightning came through the window and knocked you out.”
“To the sofa?”
“No, I carried you to the sofa.”
“Oh…” Milo looked around, almost like it was confused. It could misunderstand commands, but Rowan had never seen it look confused before.
“Milo, what did your diagnostic say?”
Milo did not respond, but continued looking around the room.
“Milo?”
“Yes, Master?” Milo turned to Rowan with an uncharacteristic jump. “Will you repeat the command, please?”
“What did your diagnostic say?”
The gears in Milo’s eyes twisted and turned in competing directions. “Aside from a slight power flux throughout, all systems appear to be within normal levels, though the charging port and non-factory surge protector you installed are now non-functioning.”
“Sounds right. You’re fully charged though, so you can last a few days until I figure out how to replace those parts?”
“My current power supply will last seven days, nineteen hours, twenty-one minutes—”
“Understood. Keep me posted of any changes. The power fluxes could have latent effects.”
“Yes, Master.”
Rowan allowed himself to survey the damage to the room again. If it had been someone breaking in through the window, the security system would have gone off. “The lightning must have fried the window sensors too. I woke up from the crash instead of an alarm.”
“I will attend to the mess immediately and schedule maintenance to repair the damage.” Milo stood and turned toward the window.
“Wait.” Rowan stopped the bot with a grip on its elbow. “You’re barefoot and practically naked. I don’t want you anywhere near that glass without protection. You’re lucky you don’t have tears as it is.”
“Then I will attire myself appropriately and—”
“Milo.”
“Yes, Master?”
Rowan wasn’t used to the bot rushing on without listening. It could predict what he wanted, make suggestions and plans of its own, but this behavior seemed off. “I think all that voltage has you on edge. Take a breath, okay?”
“I do not breathe.”
Sometimes Rowan forgot how literal Milo understood things. “I meant slow down. It’s late. Or… early. Is your internal clock reset?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Make sure my alarm is okay, and we’ll take care of the rest after I’m supposed to be up. I want to go back to bed, so we can calm our pulses in peace.”
“Master, I do not—”
“Have a pulse, feel agitated, express anything other than calm, I know!” Rowan said in exasperation, grasping Milo’s hand to pull the bot from the room and away from the cold wind cycling inside. “Come on.”
“Master… have I displeased you?” Milo asked, sounding almost timid.
“Of course not. I’m just on edge too. I was afraid you weren’t going to wake up.”
“Despite my previously listed malfunctions, I am operating normally.”
“Good.” Rowan felt better once they reached the bedroom. His carpet in the living room was getting drenched from the rain, but the damage was already done. “I want you in bed with me.”
“Yes, Master.”
Since Rowan gave no further instructions, Milo lay on its side waiting for how Rowan would arrange them. Usually, Rowan had Milo spoon him from behind, but now, he wanted to look at Milo to confirm everything was okay.
Milo was okay. Rowan wouldn’t have to replace it. He couldn’t imagine ever replacing Milo, no matter what the warranty said.
Hugging Milo close and feeling those willowy but strong arms encircle him, Rowan let his hands drift down over the lightning scars on Milo’s back. When his fingers skimmed where the port had been fried, Milo gasped—a sound Rowan had never heard from it before.
“Does that hurt?”
“I… cannot experience pain, Master.”
The hesitation made Rowan frown, but he kept his head tucked beneath Milo’s chin. “You still have sensors similar to pain receptors to know if something is wrong, so… are you hurt?” He didn’t know how else to word it.
“In regards to what my sensors are transmitting… yes, Master.”
Rowan brought his hands back up between Milo’s shoulder blades. “I won’t touch you there then until we get everything fixed. Don’t worry.”
“Master?”
“Yes?”
“I do not worry.”
Rowan laughed, but it was a sad, broken sound, as he nuzzled Milo's chest. A deep exhaustion was creeping up on him, having been so afraid that he might be left alone.
Pathetic. But Rowan didn’t care.
“I can worry enough for both of us. Now I’m going to sleep for a little while, okay?”
“Okay, Master. I will not disturb you.”
“Goodnight, Milo.”
“Goodnight, Master.”
As soon as Rowan’s eyes closed, it was 6:00 a.m. and his alarm was blaring.
He had fallen back asleep so easily, maybe because Milo had pulled him closer before he drifted off and held on tighter than usual, stroking up and down his back even though Rowan hadn't asked for that. Strange, but Milo’s algorithms were often remarkable, predicting exactly what he needed.
Even though currently Milo was missing.
Rowan flew upright and smashed his hand on his bedside alarm clock to turn it off. Milo was gone, nowhere in sight. Had Rowan dreamed it all?
Clambering out of bed for the second time that morning—or at least he thought—Rowan headed for the living room, wondering if he had dreamed everything when he didn't see any glass on the carpet and the sky outside appeared clear.
Then he saw the hole in the window with a chill still sweeping through the room.
“Mi—”
Clattering in the kitchen drew Rowan’s attention in the other direction, and he hurried toward the sound, finding Milo making breakfast, dressed for the day as if nothing was awry.
“Good morning, Master.” Milo smiled.
Rowan had a variety of outfits for the bot, items he thought suited Milo’s frame and coloring that were regularly rotated. Today was jeans and a sapphire-colored sweater, like every Friday.
“Are you hungry? Would you like your morning coffee now?”
Rowan had not dreamed the storm, the lightning, the damage, but everything seemed slightly off somehow. “When I have you sleep with me, you're programmed to stay in bed until I wake,” Rowan said after accepting the mug of coffee—a café con leche perfectly to his taste.