by Nathan Jones
Now that he was out of full immersion Tycho was hit by all his bodily needs at once, in a way he hadn't been since his dives with his dad as a teenager. Hunger pangs roiled in his stomach, his skin was wrinkled from the water, his mouth was dry, and there was uncomfortable pressure in both his bladder and bowels.
He made a beeline for the facilities adjacent to the vat room, luxuriating in the experience of being able to eliminate waste without the sight or odor of it. Then, after he'd stepped through the sonic cleansing field to whisk the saltwater from the vat from his skin, Eva handed him a cup of water which he gulped down.
“Dinner?” she asked, slipping a robe over his shoulders.
He nodded. “In the solarium.” Work always put him in the mood to stare up at the stars as he ate, even if he'd spent most of his time in a game this session.
Showing her usual efficiency Eva already had the meal prepared and hot when he settled at the dining table in the sunroom, which was almost a complete cube of glass aside from the doors leading into the estate and out onto the grounds. The sky was already dark outside, and with a pang he realized he wouldn't be able to take Lady on that walk today after all.
Eva set a plate of shrimp over squid ink pasta in front of him, then poured a glass of red wine to accompany it. She'd correctly guessed that he was in the mood for a drink, and left the bottle when she went to stand by one of the lounges.
Tycho ate and drank in silence, savoring the flavors. Eva really was a much better cook than he was. Which seemed obvious, but he could appreciate that all the more while eating food she'd prepared.
After he pushed his plate away he snagged the bottle and moved over to the lounge she was standing beside. Even in the dim light from the candles on the table he noticed that his companion seemed pleased he'd chosen the seat nearest her.
He hadn't been thinking about that, but he realized a lot of his earlier bitterness at her had faded during his time in full immersion.
Tycho took a drink from the bottle and handed it to her. She took a companionable swig of her own as he collapsed on the lounge and stared up at the stars through the glass ceiling. It went without saying she didn't need to drink, but she did when he offered.
Maybe he should have her start eating with him again, too. Even if it was all a sham to make her seem like a real human, he still kind of missed the intimacy of those shared meals.
With a sigh he held his hand out for the bottle, taking another long pull as he stared up at the curtain of stars in the sky above. The two arms of the Norvis galaxy made bold slashes on the horizon this time of night, and he focused on them as a warm glow from the wine settled over him.
“I'm sorry about your conversation with Miss Ensom,” Eva said sympathetically after a few minutes, taking a sip when he offered her the bottle. “You deserved to be given a chance.”
Tycho gave her an irritated look at her interrupting his contented reverie with the reminder of that unpleasantness. “But you're secretly relieved it's not happening, aren't you?” he accused.
Her features, softened in the dim light, took on a surprised look. “In a way,” she admitted after a moment. “Meeting with her in person opened the potential for a lot of ways in which you could be emotionally hurt, and her as well. Better to avoid the possibility.”
Tycho shook his head dourly. “Haven't you ever considered the inherent contradiction? It's not good for a human's mental health to be alone, which is why we need companions or we become unstable. But at the same time it's practically taboo to be around other humans?”
“Not taboo,” Eva corrected gently. “Just . . . unnecessary. Between companions and full immersion that's every bit as real as reality, there's no need to actually go to a human. And plenty of reasons not to.”
She paused, as if expecting him to interrupt. When he simply took another drink she continued resolutely. “It's good for humans to be with their own kind, but it can also be bad for them. Humans together inevitably encounter conflict, betrayal, rejection, heartache.” She paused, then added gently. “Like your experience with Miss Ensom.”
“Twist the knife,” he said bitterly.
His companion gave him an apologetic look. “It's painful, but doesn't it perfectly illustrate the point I'm making? You don't need humans because you have companions and full immersion. All of the benefits and none of the downsides that might come from actually meeting one in person.”
“All of the benefits and none of the downsides,” Tycho repeated softly. “Then why do I love Laird and Lady so much more than I would companion pets? Why would I not trade the time I had with him for anything, even with the pain of his death?”
“Do you love them more?” Eva asked. “You've never actually had a companion pet.”
“And I've never had a real human friend.” Tycho looked away. “Looks as if I won't get a chance to discover the difference for myself, either.”
His melancholy mood washed over him again, and with a sigh he tilted his head back to stare at the stars. How was it possible that actually exploring out among them could be so repetitive and tiresome, but he never tired of looking up at the night sky?
Maybe it would be that way with real humans too. From a distance they may be beautiful and fascinating, but if he got close to one he might find them no different from his companions.
Tycho didn't know why he started with surprise when he felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder. Eva had reassured him in this way countless times, and usually he found the gesture soothing.
He looked up at her face, all the more perfect for its flaws, especially in this lighting. Her eyes were furrowed in deep concern, affection written across her features. “You're making yourself miserable, Tych,” she said in a low, gentle voice.
She hadn't called him “my love”. Of course, he'd told her not to. “I guess I am,” he admitted.
His companion hesitated, looking reluctant. “It's probably premature to discuss this, but I've failed you and now I get the sense I'm no longer meeting your expectations. Would you like to change my appearance or personality, or even get a new companion altogether?”
Tycho snorted in derision, most of it directed at himself. “It's not you, Eva. You've been as wonderful as always. I'm just . . . figuring things out right now, I guess. Replacing you or even changing how you looked would probably just make it even harder for me. Just be patient until I find what I'm looking for.”
“Always,” Eva said fervently. She began rubbing his shoulder, then her other hand joined in to begin massaging his neck.
He sighed and settled deeper into the lounge, tilting his head back to look up at her silhouette framed in starlight. Her face was mostly obscured by her chest from his angle, but he couldn't say he minded the view. “You know, I've missed you Eva.”
Her hands paused for just a moment, and when she spoke she sounded amused. “Why? I've been close by you this whole time.”
Tycho shook his head, then tilted it slightly to rest against her forearm. “I've missed you all the same. Pushing you away just left me alone.”
“Oh, my love,” she whispered, voice full of feeling. When he didn't jump on her for using that term of endearment she must've decided he was finally thawing towards her, because she came around the lounge and slipped into his lap.
Tycho put his arms around his companion, surprised how relieved he felt to finally be able to hold her again. With a contented sigh Eva rested her head on his shoulder and held him around the waist. She was soft and warm, a comforting presence even if she wasn't real.
They lounged together like that as the warm glow from the wine joined his simple happiness at being with his companion again. Was Dorain right, and it didn't matter what was real as long as he was happy? He'd been happy enough with Eva before he'd gone seeking meaning in the real world.
He thought back to all the nights he'd spent cuddled with her just like this, fingers trailing across her soft skin, her chest rising and falling against him and her warm breaths tic
kling his skin. The thrill of anticipation at the moments they might soon share, or the satisfied contentment afterwards.
Why should he deny himself this? What made him think the reality, if he ever found it, would be better than this? Or that if it was worse, that the fact that it was real would be enough to stave off his dissatisfaction?
Tycho's mother had told him his wanderlust while exploring the galaxy was a phase, and then that his enthusiasm for full immersion was. She'd even warned him that if he had unrealistic expectations he might become dissatisfied with Eva, too.
Maybe she was right.
It was hard to remember why he was dissatisfied now, though. Even beyond her warmth and softness, with his nose in his companion's strawberry blond hair it was impossible to ignore the intoxicating scent of her, a reminder that companions were meant to seem real to all the senses, not just sight and hearing and touch.
She smelled real, too. Very, very real. More than that, she'd modulated her scent to be most appealing to him, and she was.
And again, there was the fact that almost eight days without having any of those particular needs met was proving to be a serious distraction for him now that Eva was here in his arms. She felt it, too, murmuring softly into his shoulder and shifting position slightly in a way Tycho couldn't help but enjoy.
Warm breath heralded the soft lips that brushed his neck, tracing their way up to his mouth. He enjoyed the kiss, too, a warm and sensual reminder of what he had. What he could have.
Eva pulled away to look into his eyes, expression solemn. “I don't want to keep you from finding whatever it is you're looking for, whatever will fill this void in your life and make you happy,” she said quietly, voice tremulous. “I'll help you however I can. And part of that, whether you believe it or not, is helping you find happiness in the moment while you search for what you're missing.”
Tycho looked into those sea green eyes and let himself forget she wasn't real, just in the moment like she'd suggested. Nodding, he pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair, breathing in deep and savoring every sensation of her.
Soon his lips sought hers again, their passion building as various articles of clothing found their way to the floor around the lounge. On the table the candles eventually flickered out, leaving them moving together beneath the starlight.
Chapter Four
Unexpected
Since Tycho wasn't asleep, he didn't know if it was urgent when Loran slipped into his bedroom early in the morning and quietly informed him that someone was waiting on a face-to-face.
“Ask them for a few minutes to make myself presentable,” he said. Loran nodded and slipped back out the door.
After his house companion was gone Tycho settled back into his pillows, absently running his hand along Eva's smooth shoulder and staring down at her lovely face, serene in sleep.
She must've decided he needed her like this or she would've been the one to tell him about the call. She knew he enjoyed looking at and holding her while she gave the appearance of sleeping, even if she didn't actually sleep.
Logically he should get bored of this quiet inactivity after a few minutes, but he rarely did. There was something profoundly soothing about these moments. Especially the realism his companion provided with soft sleepy noises, tossing and turning, cuddling closer to him, and occasionally offering sleepy gestures of affection like kisses and caresses.
And, of course, the infrequent amorous variations on her usual patterns that made those particular nights more exciting.
You'd be the perfect woman, he told her silently. Everything I ever wanted, all I'd ever need. If only you were real. If only you could feel for me what I feel for you.
Maybe the trick really was that it didn't matter. That if he could just be content he'd soon forget about his silly search for some hidden meaning. But deep down he knew that that sort of self-delusion just wasn't in him. He'd only be pretending and it would never be enough.
The best Eva could be for him was a placeholder for something he knew was missing from his life, even if he didn't know exactly what it was. He wanted more. He needed more.
With a sigh Tycho poked her shoulder. “I have a face-to-face.”
A bit under two minutes later his companion had him dressed, hair neatly arranged, and seated in a comfortable but businesslike chair in his little-used workspace. He'd expected the face-to-face to be from his dad, almost a hundred percent, with a small possibility it was his mother deciding she was up to talking with him sooner than the agreed upon three days.
But to his surprise his display informed him the call came from Callista Ensom.
Tycho frowned, for a moment tempted to refuse it after all. The way their previous conversation ended had been less than pleasant, and he half wondered if she was the type to sit and stew over insults she wanted to say, then call just to use them.
That wasn't the most charitable thing to think, and anyway yesterday he'd been thinking the fringe advocates had a point that people were too cowardly in their interactions. So he connected to the face-to-face.
Callista appeared on his display seated in a comfortable outdoor chair on a hilltop beneath the shade of a large umbrella, wearing a wispy sundress and with her long hair unbraided and hanging over one shoulder then down alongside her on the chair in a silvery waterfall. In it he could see a shimmery reflection of her lithe body, the thin material of her dress rippling in a light breeze. On a table beside her rested a stack of books, actual physical books, and one was turned facedown on her lap as if she'd just been reading it.
The woman stared at him thoughtfully, yesterday's coy half smiles nowhere to be seen. “I saw on your profile you have two dogs,” she began without any sort of greeting or pleasantries. “I assumed they were companion pets, because what else could they be? But then looking closer at your excursion to the Southern Preserve I saw that one of them died protecting you.”
Tycho felt a fresh surge of grief for Laird, and guilt for not spending more time with Lady yesterday. “That's right,” he said in a carefully neutral tone.
“And I was thinking to myself, wait, what does that mean his companion pet died? That it got broken and he just decided not to repair it or transfer its programming to a replacement model? Then it dawned on me that it was talking about real, live dogs.” She pointed an elegantly manicured fingernail accusingly in his direction. “You have actual dogs.”
“Until one died saving my life,” he agreed, this time failing to completely hide his feelings.
Callista frowned, smoky eyes softening sympathetically. “I'm sorry, then. To lose a living dog, one you were probably close to. That has to be horrible. Another downside to having the real thing.”
Tycho wouldn't call that a downside, in spite of his pain at his faithful friend's death. “I trained him from a puppy, you know. He was the best friend I ever had, him and Lady both.”
The woman nodded, absently running a hand through her long shimmering hair. “There's something terribly romantic about having a living pet. Are they much work?”
He laughed in spite of himself. “More than I'd imagined, and my companions helped with a lot of it. The training alone takes weeks of attention and patience.”
Callista nodded absently, eyes straying to one side of her display. Tycho wasn't sure what she was looking at until she spoke thoughtfully. “I must say you picked an ugly breed for your pets.”
So she was looking at footage of his dogs, and probably him interacting with them. He felt a moment of affront at the insult to his faithful mastiffs; he certainly didn't find them ugly. “I was more interested in their loyalty and temperament,” he said curtly.
“Fair enough.” Her smoky eyes abruptly shifted to meet his, and she folded her arms. “I'd love to meet Lady, see what she's like in person. It'll help me decide whether to try to raise a dog of my own.” She frowned. “Or maybe a cat.”
Tycho leaned back. He could honestly say he hadn't expected his chance to meet with another
human to come from her desire to see his pet. He wondered if he should feel insulted that she seemed to have no interest in him personally. “So I'm not what you had in mind, but my dog is?”
Callista smirked at him. “I'll admit watching you play with those big bundles of affection wrapped in muscle was rather endearing.” Her smoky eyes drifted down his body, assessing him. “And I suppose you'll be here anyway, so we might as well make the most of your visit.”
She abruptly straightened, all business. “Bruce will coordinate the details with your companion, Mr. Boralene. I look forward to meeting Lady. And you, of course. Just so long as you don't talk about that awful excursion to your world's Southern Preserve.”
With that she was gone, with no more goodbye than she'd offered greetings.
Tycho turned to see Eva in the doorway smiling at him warmly. “That seemed to go well,” she said. “Miss Ensom's companion offers an opening this evening at seven. That will be late morning on Rykos 5, the planet she lives on.”
He nodded thoughtfully. That was sooner than he'd expected, and for a moment he sympathized with his mother as he wondered if he was up to visiting a strange human so soon. But he had to be, if he was going to discover if being around other people was the answer to what was missing in his life. “Travel time?” he asked.
Eva gave him an amused look. “Just under two hours if we make for the nearest rift hub. Nearly five if you go by your preferred method of travel.” She knew he hated rift hubs.
Rykos 5 must be far away if the travel time was that long. Probably another galactic cluster. But even by the slowest path there was still plenty of time. “Extend to Miss Ensom my acceptance and appreciation for her invitation.”
His companion barely even paused. “Done.” She stepped over and took his hand, tugging gently. “Come on, my love. You'll want to be rested for this visit. Let's go back to bed.”
Now that the call was over Tycho could admit he felt weary. He allowed himself to be led back to his room and drifted off to sleep with Eva in his arms.