by Nathan Jones
The mastiff dutifully fetched the ball he threw, and swam after the duck decoys in the pond as he tossed them out into the water. But she showed none of her usual joy at the activities, probably because Laird wasn't there competing with her.
He usually spent a half hour or so exercising the dogs in the morning, but today lost the heart to keep going after about fifteen minutes and gave up. “We'll go for a walk around the grounds this evening,” he told a disappointed Lady as he gave her some treats and headed for the gate. “And I'll have Loran come keep you company for the day so you're not lonely.”
In spite of his reassurances he felt guilty driving off as the dog's sad eyes followed him away.
Eva was already there waiting for him when he arrived at the tumbling gymnasium, dressed in a gymnastics leotard with her strawberry blond hair held back in a ponytail and wearing a headband for good measure.
Tycho had to admit she looked good like that, the outfit displaying her long legs and feminine curves to best effect. He hadn't seen this particular look for a long time, not since he'd last done any tumbling, and it reminded him uncomfortably that it had been a week since he'd had those particular needs met.
He irritably turned away and began doing warmup stretches.
“Shall we do some paired routines together?” his companion asked as she joined him and began her own stretches. She didn't need to limber up, of course, but she did it anyway to show him the proper form and because she knew he enjoyed watching her graceful movements.
Or at least he usually did; today they were just maddeningly distracting, although it seemed petty to tell her to stop. Tycho shook his head. “I'm sure I'm completely rusty after so long. I want to go through the simple routines and work my way up to the more advanced stuff we were working on last time.”
“Sensible.” Eva said nothing more as they continued warming up, which was unlike her; she obviously still wasn't quite sure how to break through his icy aloofness, and so was opting to give him his distance. He appreciated that.
Once they finished stretching she stepped over to a carefully calculated distance where she could still intervene in time if he was about to injure himself. With a companion's speed and instantaneous reflexes that was quite a distance, and Tycho had plenty of room to work without her getting in the way.
Even so he felt a surge of annoyance. “Don't hover,” he snapped.
His companion hesitated, concerned. “If you have an accident-”
“Thanks for the show of confidence in my skill.” Tycho impatiently waved her back, and after a few seconds she reluctantly complied.
After all, it wasn't like she couldn't fix him up even if she wasn't able to prevent him from being injured in the first place. There was no risk in any of this. It was probably irrational to be annoyed by that realization, and it wasn't like he actually wanted to get hurt. It was just . . .
Eva was like a big padded ball wrapped around him, ready to make sure he never so much as stubbed his toe. It was the first time he'd paused to consider just how stifling that was.
It took an embarrassing amount of time to go through the simple routines to his satisfaction. Tycho really was rusty after so long, and although he knew Eva didn't judge he could still feel her eyes weighing heavily on him, measuring his competency.
That made him feel reckless and he began pushing himself harder to do better, struggling to find the easy groove he'd had back when he'd tumbled regularly and the cartwheels, handsprings, flips, and rolls came naturally.
It took longer than he would've liked, longer than he usually spent at the gymnasium, and he was beyond tired by the time he was satisfied that he'd made some real progress. Eva had begun watching him expectantly, ready for him to declare he was finished so she could attend him, and for some reason that silent expectation irked him.
“I'm going to do a backflip,” he abruptly said.
His companion froze, eyes widening. He didn't blame her for being surprised, since he'd never had the courage to even attempt one before. Back twists and back handsprings he could manage, but some part of his mind balked at the idea of putting his feet up over his head backwards like that in the middle of a jump.
“That move is highly dangerous,” she warned. “It is very easy to make a mistake that could lead to a serious head or spinal injury, especially on a first attempt.”
“Well then it's a good thing you're here,” he said with a tight smile. To be honest he was rethinking his hasty decision, but now that he'd made it he wasn't about to back out.
Eva wasn't amused. “Use the wires.”
Tycho grimaced. The safety wires could be used to partially suspend him when he attempted difficult moves, making sure if he made a mistake only his hands and feet would hit the mat. He hadn't used them since near the beginning of his training. “I'd prefer not to.”
“Are you so eager to seriously injure yourself?” she demanded, resting a hand on one hip.
After a few sheepish moments he shook his head; he really had no rational argument against the precaution. “Wires it is.”
A short time later Eva had him in the harness with the wires connected and Tycho was ready to make his attempt. He stood with his eyes closed, mentally picturing the movements he'd need to make and trying to psych himself up to this.
After standing there for a few minutes in awkward silence Eva cleared her throat. “This is easily within your skill range,” she said supportively. “Just remember to follow through . . . most backflips fail because the tumbler tries to stop halfway through. It's a reflexive impulse, so focus on making the proper movements and don't allow your reflexes to take over.”
“Right.” After taking a few more deep breaths Tycho threw himself into the move.
The next thing he knew he heard the twang of the wires pulling tight and his hands reflexively flew out to stop his fall. One slammed into the mat at an awkward angle, so hard a flash of pain went up his arm, and he grit his teeth. Then the wires spun him back the other way and his knees slammed down, stopping him.
Without the wires he would've landed directly on his head.
Tycho looked up at Eva, for some irrational reason expecting her to mock him even though she never had before. “Follow through,” she repeated supportively, stepping forward to help him to his feet. “Commit to it from the beginning.” Her soft hands probed his injured wrist. “You should be okay to keep going, if you want to.”
“I want to,” he growled. With a nod his companion stepped away, and he once again steeled himself.
His second attempt was better. He didn't get enough of a spin on it and overbalanced on the landing, only the wires keeping him on his feet, but at least he felt like he had the movement down now, and knew how much he needed to adjust in order to properly land on his feet.
He kept trying. Backflips still felt unnatural so he had to concentrate on the movements in order to keep from panicking halfway through and failing to commit, and on top of that he was exhausted and out of practice and not moving as well as he usually would. A couple more times he failed miserably and found himself once again flailing as the wires jerked him to a stop.
But he just clenched his jaw and tried again.
On the ninth attempt Tycho landed on his feet and kept his balance. It was an ugly landing even so, but in spite of that he felt a giddy surge of elation at his success. Not quite what he'd felt yesterday after fighting off the wolves, but a pleasant rush all the same.
He looked over at Eva, grinning. She clapped her hands, and under normal circumstances would've rushed forward to kiss him, but now she kept her distance. “Well done!”
His smile faltered slightly. His companion couldn't feel the same excitement for his achievement that he did, and so her response felt less enthusiastic than it should've. He wondered if a real human, his mother perhaps, would've jumped up and down in excitement when he finally got it right.
Eva was looking at him uncertainly again. Honestly that was starting to irritate him,
too. “Unhook me,” he said curtly. She hurried to comply, removing the harness and retracting the wires to their stands.
Exhausted but deeply satisfied with his progress, Tycho laboriously stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and allowed Eva to begin toweling him off. “That was an intense workout,” she observed in approval. “Would you like a massage before you get cleaned up?”
Tycho shook his head and waved her away. “No. I'm going to dip in the tub for a quick rinse then get some work done.”
His companion brightened in almost the exact same way she had yesterday when he mentioned he wanted to do some tumbling. “Really? It's-”
“Don't tell me it's been a long time since I've worked,” he cut in, annoyed.
“-nice to see you so full of energy and purpose today,” she finished smoothly. “Do you want me to join you in the tub?”
Again, he very much did. And didn't. “I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do.”
Eva seemed confused by the comment. “My priority is you . . .” she began, but he was already walking towards the ground car.
She got the hint and didn't follow.
* * * * *
There were numerous ways to connect to the allnet. A simple interface using any communication display was the quickest and easiest, although with limited function. With gloves or eye sensors or even a full interface suit more could be done, although that was too much effort for most people.
The best way was by hooking your brain's sensory receptors directly to the net in full immersion. Not only did it allow for the smoothest and most convenient interface and customization but it allowed a person to use the full range of allnet resources, particularly slowtime.
It gave humans at least a glimpse of what it might be like to be an AI, with mind-boggling amounts of information instantly accessible.
Tycho's work could only realistically be done in full immersion, since visual or auditory processing of data was far too slow and inefficient and he had to go through staggering amounts of information during each session. But rather than having Loran fetch his hookup or heading to his sensory deprivation vat instead Tycho headed to his living area and plopped onto a couch, activating a display.
He had things to do before getting to work, and might as well get the most difficult and least likely to succeed attempt out of the way first. “Invite Mother to a face-to-face,” he told his house AI. On his display the visual “Acknowledged: calling Leanni Boralene” appeared, as well as a verbal confirmation in Eva's voice.
Moments later the image of a powerfully sculpted man in a simple smock appeared on the display. Maurice, his mother's adult companion. “Tycho!” he said with a wide smile. “Good to see you doing well.” His smile faded to a look of deep concern. “Eva relayed the events of your excursion. Are you all right?”
“Just great,” Tycho said with a tight smile. “I did a backflip.”
“Congratulations! I know you've been working up to that for a while.” The companion hesitated, looking reluctant. “You requested a face-to-face? You know your mother isn't usually up to that.”
He bit back a sigh. Yes, he knew that very well. “I wanted to at least try. It's important.”
His mother had an odd quirk where she hated to be imposed on in any way. Even a simple voice or text message that she wasn't expecting would usually be ignored for days until she could bring herself to view it and respond. As for face-to-faces, she required those to be scheduled weeks in advance, and even then often canceled at the last minute because she didn't feel up to it.
Just like she hadn't felt up to continuing to be his custodial parent all those years ago, when she'd sent him to this estate.
Because of all that Tycho considered it a long shot that she'd be willing to meet with him in person. She'd probably refuse even if he tried to schedule it for some ludicrous future date, like a year from now. But she was also the only other human he'd ever actually been in the same room with, and in spite of how he might feel about her sending him away he still had to try.
Maurice's image briefly froze. That was an indication that rather than answering the call with his physical model this was a simile of him. Not uncommon when communicating with companions on the allnet. When he returned he sounded apologetic. “Today isn't a good day for that. Shall I schedule a face-to-face for a later date?”
Yes, because when his entire life felt hollow and he was scrambling to find some meaning the exact thing he wanted was to wait a couple weeks for an important conversation. “Maybe you can ask her a question for me.”
The companion's image froze again. “She agrees to hear it, if it's important to you,” he said when he returned. “No assurances of a response.”
Unsurprising. Tycho took a deep breath. “Can you ask her if she'd be willing to schedule a meeting in person?”
Maurice froze again, but this time it was from surprise as a shocked expression spread across his powerful features. “You . . . want to visit?” he asked slowly. “In person?”
“I do.”
The companion was away for longer this time. When he returned he sounded deeply apologetic. “Your mother isn't up to that right now. But she'd be happy to schedule a face-to-face for as early as three days from now to discuss whatever's so important to you.”
Tycho sighed. Over the years he'd learned to decode his mother's responses. If she said she wasn't up to something with no indication she'd be up to it in the future, that meant she didn't intend to ever be.
Just like he'd thought, a visit with her wasn't going to happen.
“Schedule it, then,” he said. As Maurice nodded he continued firmly. “And send along my request that she at least consider a meeting in person. She might want to see me as much as I want to see her, and might change her mind after giving it some thought.”
Maurice nodded doubtfully, murmured a few polite farewells, and disconnected.
Tycho stared at the empty display for a few seconds, then swore softly. Well, he'd considered that one the long shot. “Face-to-face with Dad.”
The visual and auditory “Acknowledged: calling Dorain Sorglos” appeared.
Almost immediately the image of a flawlessly beautiful woman in a flowery robe, petite but full-bodied with inky black hair and dark brown eyes, materialized on his display. She smiled warmly at the sight of him. “Tycho! Unusual for you to call . . . Dorain will be thrilled.”
“Alia,” Tycho replied. He didn't know his dad's adult companion anywhere near as well as he knew his mother's companions, since Leanni had been his custodial parent when he was a child. But he'd still spoken to Alia numerous times to coordinate events with his dad, and had even chatted with her occasionally while waiting for him. “Is Dad available?”
The companion's dark eyes crinkled with amusement. “For you, especially when you went to the effort to reach out? I'm sure he could be interrupted. One moment.” Her image froze.
In stark contrast to Tycho's mother, his dad incessantly communicated on the allnet with anyone and everyone willing to answer his calls. He'd often woken Tycho up in the night to prattle about inane events in his life or try to talk him into joining him on a full immersion world for an adventure. And when Dorain found someone to talk to he never seemed to want to stop, so eventually Tycho had to be borderline rude and outright end the call. Even then the man usually tried to stretch out his goodbyes as much as possible.
Ironically, where Leanni didn't like to answer calls, Dorain made it so everyone else disliked answering his calls.
For all that his dad was a nice person, and Tycho always felt a bit guilty that he couldn't give him as much of his time as he seemed to crave. And even though his mother had been his custodial parent he had spent far, far more time interacting with his dad on the allnet.
Sure enough, Alia was barely gone a moment informing Dorain of the call before the display flickered with the man's arrival. He was seated on his bed, a robe hastily thrown on and his hair disheveled. But rather than looking tire
d or disoriented his dad looked flushed and slightly out of breath, suggesting that Tycho hadn't woken him. The same flowery robe as Alia's image had been wearing puddled on the floor at Dorain's feet was another clear clue of what he'd interrupted.
“Sorry if I pulled you away from something,” Tycho said, embarrassed. “I could've waited.”
“No trouble at all, Tych!” his dad said cheerfully, leaning closer to his display. “I wouldn't dream of making you wait one of the few times you call me.”
Astoundingly, he actually sounded completely sincere when he said that, without the slightest hint of reproach in his voice.
Dorain Sorglos was fairly old even by human standards, almost a full two centuries older than Tycho himself. He had a lean face, kept smooth and ageless by cellular rejuvenation and healthy living, and an equally lean body, also kept vigorous even so far past his prime. His only real concession to age was that he didn't dye or color his gray-streaked white hair and beard, although he'd prevented his hairline from receding.
Tycho wasn't sure what his dad had been like before he was born, although from what he'd heard from mutual friends the man had always been easygoing and carefree. Even so having a son had reinvigorated Dorain, especially once he and Tycho began doing full immersion dives on game worlds together, and now he acted almost embarrassingly youthful and energetic.
Without waiting for him to reply his dad continued cheerfully. “So how's my favorite full immersion buddy doing? Glad to see you survived the wilds!”
“Barely,” Tycho replied with a strained smile.
“Yeah, Alia filled me in on the details of your trip during my morning massage.” Dorain tsked sternly. “I warned you against that excursion. You could've done everything you did on those mountains in full immersion without the danger or discomfort. Instead you were puking at the reek of a dead carcass and nearly getting your face chewed off by vicious wolves. And you lost that dog of yours you never can stop talking about. That's why I always say, save doing stuff like that for inside the safety and comfort of your own head.”
Tycho grit his teeth. He'd kind of hoped his dad would have a better appreciation for how deeply he cared for Laird than Eva had. But he supposed since the man had never had a pet of his own he couldn't blame him for not understanding. “Do you want to hear about it?”