An Android Dog's Tale

by D.L. Morrese

  ~*~

  Four months later, MO-126 sat on a grassy hilltop watching artificial stars fall. Another tremor shook the ground; a strong one this time. The project manager normally prevented such things, or at least mitigated them. A strong quake provided further evidence of the PM malfunctioning.

  Much of the chatter he picked up from some of the two hundred or so NASH androids who stayed behind was about the PM’s rapid psychological deterioration. Such things were not unprecedented. This particular model, the Mark Seven, was known to suffer depression if insufficiently challenged. The line was discontinued millennia ago, but Mark Sevens still ran several Corporation projects, and the manufacturer maintained that they were adaptive and creative enough to overcome such problems, given time, in most cases.

  The Mark Seven installed here might also be plagued by feelings of guilt over the termination of the project it oversaw. MO-126 was no expert in such things and could do nothing about it, regardless. If the PM did fail, he could only hope it did not turn out anything like Corporation Project HD-X86G-1. Shortly after the termination of that project, for reasons much like those that occurred here, the PM suffered what experts later termed a ‘catastrophic malfunction.’ It somehow rapidly poisoned and thickened the planet’s atmosphere. This indeed proved catastrophic, deadly, in fact, for the various forms of life on the planet, including the introduced workers, which in this case were hairy, muscular but basically nonaggressive bipeds known as nanders. It also created something of a public relations inconvenience for the corporation, although they could not be held legally accountable for the PM’s actions after they officially terminated their project. The PM was, by then, an independent legal entity. Still, the corporation did suffer a blow to its reputation and might have been urged to pay compensation to the nander’s home planet under different circumstances. It proved impossible in this case because the nanders never progressed past stone tools on their home planet and certainly never developed anything like a global government.

  If, on the other hand, the Mark Seven just burned itself out, which is what happened most often when behavior similar to that of this PM arose, it would be of no concern to the corporation. It would not even be much of a problem to the few androids still on the planet. They could survive without PM oversight, so even if its malfunction resulted in total failure, they might be inconvenienced, but they would not be at risk, provided it did not destroy the hub terminals and the equipment in them.

  MO-126 watched another shooting star on the darkening horizon. This one may have been a natural meteor, but it was probably another satellite burning away its existence in the atmosphere. The PM must have altered its orbit with this intent. It appeared to be intentionally destroying at least some of the remaining project infrastructure. The android dog did not know termination protocols well, but he felt quite sure that this was not in accordance with standard operating procedures. Those satellites were necessary to maintain communication between and among the remaining androids, and probably several other things.

  Staying behind may have been a mistake.

  He became even more convinced of this when a general announcement from the PM demanded his attention.

  “The day of judgment has come and found us wanting. The end is upon us.”

  That sounded far from encouraging.

  MO-126 remained on the hill, waiting for the next sign of the apocalypse. It failed to live up to his expectations, a fact which did not disturb him overly much. He did not look forward to the end of this world. He had come to like it.

  He heard nervous chatter among the NASH androids and one more general broadcast from the PM about everything being pointless, or something like that. He’d stopped paying much attention by this point. Another satellite died a fiery death, followed by radio silence. Leaves still rustled in response to a gentle breeze. Birds continued to call for mates. Insects did not cease chirping and buzzing, but he received no more signals from the PM or the others. The communication network was gone.

  Well, that’s it then. The PM must have committed electronic suicide without taking the planet with it. Things could have been much worse. He sent out a general call just to make sure. No one answered.

  He lifted his head and howled like a dog. He could not explain exactly why, but part of it may have been a call of mourning over the death of the PM. The rest may have been to herald his new freedom. He was not exactly alone. Several other androids, mostly NASH units, decided to retire here, but he was, for the first time in his life, totally free to be anything he chose to be. So were the humans. Their fate rested in their own hands now, and it was unpredictable.

  He stood, shook off the dust in his fur, and then headed down the mountain. It was time to try new things.

  Nine - A Dog and His Boy

  1,004 Years Later

  (Galactic Standard Years 243250 - 243260)

  In which MO-126 adopts a boy and herds some sheep.

  Over the next thousand years, MO-126 came upon other androids every now and then. All were humanoid NASH units. Some occupied themselves as healers, teachers, storytellers or other pastimes that allowed them to satisfy their urge to interact positively with people. MO-126’s options were far more limited, and this may have been one reason why he seemed to be handling the changes better than many of his bipedal peers.

  It would be wrong to say that the rapid change in human culture upset them, exactly, but some found it difficult to adapt. The instability grated on their deep-seated programming, which regarded change as something bad that should happen infrequently and as slowly as possible. Humans, on the other hand, unmanaged and unrestrained by Corporation mitigation actions, often pursued change as a good thing. Some, of course, did not, but changes now occurred at a far greater rate than they were allowed to when the project ran. Villages grew into towns; trade increased along rivers and coastlines; the use of money expanded; empires rose and fell; languages and religions merged into regional standards along with systems of measurement and writing. Humans made advancements in various technologies from weaving to metal working, but it was by no means a steady march of progress.

  In some places, humans themselves discouraged progressive development far more brutally and no less effectively than the corporation had. Powerful elites with vested interests arose. Cruel dictators and repressive religious institutions effectively squelched anyone who spoke against them. They enforced systems of unjust property ownership, imposed slavery and oppression on those without the power to resist, and went to war with one another to extend their dominance even farther.

  The NASH androids regarded such things as unfortunate, but they were not designed to resist established power, to lead rebellions, or to oppose tyranny. Such tendencies would have been contrary to corporate interests. Most of the androids who stayed behind coped as well as they could and continued to do things they enjoyed, things that resonated with their engineered personalities—helping people in the routines of their daily lives even in those places where their routines bore little resemblance to those with which the androids were long familiar.

  MO-126 simply tried to avoid such places, which is why he spent the majority of his time wandering the eastern half of the continent where the people began forging cooperative agreements even before the corporation officially terminated the project. It wasn’t exactly a nation, and it wasn’t entirely peaceful, but it did have a name. From the mountains to the eastern coast, the people called it Eastfield. Additional names existed for various sections of it, but the people here were already forming a larger and mostly peaceful community. MO-126 found this encouraging.

  As the years went by, he heard from fewer and fewer other androids. Without the satellite network, his ability to communicate with his peers was limited to his internal short range communication subsystem, which possessed an effective range of only a handful of kilometers. Not hearing from any other androids, therefore, did not necessarily mean there were none, just that there were none near him attempting to
communicate.

  He last he heard from one was almost two decades ago. She told him she planned to voluntarily deactivate for a while, just until things settled a bit. When he asked how long she expected that to be, she told him until someone wakes her. He heard from none since and wondered how many others decided to put themselves in hibernation, or something even more drastic.

  One thing remained much the same since the time of the project. There were few roads between settlements and those that did exist were little more than narrow, infrequently used trails. The corporation’s bio-matrix transplant from the humans’ home planet included no animals that could easily be bred into beasts of burden. This hindered land travel over any distance, which of course was the original intent. Only one type of native beast suitable for such things existed, gonds, and they traveled even slower than a human at a walking pace.

  MO-126 went from place to place, from year to year, never staying anywhere long. He saw humans build and destroy, create and steal. He met people he liked—from a safe emotional distance. He saw some he did not like, and he kept even farther away. But everything felt…unstable. Even he found the pace of change dizzying. He would go to a village one day and return to it as little as a hundred years later and find it unrecognizable. The people, the buildings, everything except the more durable bits of landscape would be different, and sometimes, not even those. People carved mountains, cleared forests, changed harbors and coastlines…. They were constantly changing, adapting themselves and their environment as if searching for some elusive harmony.

  After a few centuries of this, he decided to take a break from humans, so he ran with a pack of wild dogs for a while. He enjoyed it, but they definitely lacked much ability for stimulating conversation. He left when one of the bitches started to take an annoyingly romantic interest in him. He wasn’t about to go that native. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to her. Her biological clock was ticking and she probably wanted puppies. MO-126 didn’t even have a biological clock.