Page 133 of Dustwalker

He’d never truly considered the cycle of human life. He’d never examined the concept of mortality. But all things had an end. That was a fact he could not dispute, and it seemed more relevant now than ever before.

This will not be her end. It cannot.

“Newton told me there were humans and bots who came together to form families,” Ronin said.

“Yeah. Nobody’s sure how many there were before, but there’s about a dozen couples here on the base. One more, I guess, with you two here.”

“Do they...adopt children?” Why was he concerned about it? Was his curiosity the result of raw emotion, or innocent curiosity?

“Not many orphans running around here, usually. Most male synths have the parts necessary for procreation, they just need a donor to provide the, uh…material. It’s not very complicated, really, and we’ve done it several times over the years.”

Ronin nodded, turning his head away from the monitor as Will continued the repairs.

Would Lara be happy to learn that news? Would she embrace the idea, or reject it outright? Did Ronin even accept it himself?

Before Lara, love had been an airy, ethereal word with little meaning to him. Had he already changed so much that he was prepared to procreate and raise children? The thought of caring for human young was more unsettling than wandering the expansive wastes…

Will and Ronin drifted between companionable silence and easy conversation as time passed. The automated machines took over after the internal repairs were completed, though Will remained at the controls to monitor them. After Ronin’s casing was sealed, he removed his pants and entered the epidermal synthesizer—Will called it thereskinner, which seemed far more practical a name.

As Ronin emerged from the reskinner, he glanced down at his torso. His skin was a single shade now. That realization came with a strange sense of loss.

“Why did you perform the internal repairs by hand?” Ronin asked as he pulled on his clothes. He’d been away from Lara for too long, and the beeping of her heart monitor wasn’t enough to reassure him, but his curiosity was genuine.

“Partly because it’s a skill that would otherwise be lost. If we don’t know how to do it without machines to help, what’ll happen when these machines eventually break down? And for the same reason Doctor Cooper treats most of her patients by hand, I guess. It’s more…personal. If we don’t send our human patients to lie in a machine and receive care without ever seeing another person’s face, why should we do that to bots?”

While Ronin walked back to Lara, he analyzed his conversation with Will.

Bots and humans were equals here.

He struggled to accept it as the truth. After everything he’d seen in the world, everything he’d seen in Cheyenne, that seemed like an impossibility, a failed dream from a failed age.

Yet the evidence was mounting. In this place, it was no dream. It was reality.

Ronin knewwhat-ifswould do him no good, but he couldn’t help wondering how different things might’ve been had he and Lara known about this place sooner. How much trauma and pain could they have avoided?

He pulled open the curtain and stepped into the partition, raising his optics.

A thin woman with her dark hair pulled into a bun and glasses perched on her nose stood beside the bed, frowning down at Lara. “There have been stories for a long time about thisWarlord. About the things he’s done. And even though he’s just a few miles away, it all seemed unreal because we never saw it firsthand.”

She sighed and smoothed a hand over her hair before turning toward Ronin. The first signs of gray were visible at her temples. “This kind of brutality is unacceptable.”

Ronin settled his gaze on Lara. “He did the same thing to her sister, but there was no one to help her in time.”

The woman shook her head. “We’re not perfect here. We have our share of arguments, and the occasional fistfight. Every now and then a man hits his wife. Jack and his people always get things back in order quickly and make sure justice is served, butthis… This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

She brushed her fingertips over the back of Lara’s hand, her touch lingering just long enough for Ronin to recognize the sincere compassion in the gesture.

Withdrawing her hand, the woman walked around the bed and held it out to Ronin. “I’m Nancy Cooper. Ronin, right?”

It took nearly a second to dredge up the data for an appropriate response. Careful as ever to regulate the strength of his grip, he took Nancy’s hand and shook it. “Yes. You’re the Doctor Cooper everyone’s been talking about?”

“I am. The person with the drugs is always the most popular.” Shesmiled, but the expression wavered. “I’m sorry. I try to keep things light, but it’s inappropriate given the situation.”

“I understand. No apology necessary.”

“We’re doing everything in our power to make her well again. Unfortunately, it’s just a waiting game now.”

“I know. Thank you, Nancy. Whatever happens.” Sorrow panged across his circuits at those last two words. Were they an admission of defeat? An acceptance of the possibility that Lara wouldn’t wake up, that their time together was over?