Page 90 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Stars

Ana

Several tense minutes and hundreds of feet down the corridor later, I’d failed to find a single operational portal, let alone the reception dome itself. I’d nearly tripped countless times on discarded machinery, star-bleached piles of discarded cloth, and desiccated clumps of what might have once been food, or supplies. It was a bleak scene, my stomach sinking as doubts flooded my former confidence. Was it a mistake coming here, after all?

Anti-Terraformer slogans had started to wriggle into my mind, eroding my conviction, when a distant green glow pulled my attention. Safety! It was the first thing Genshippers learned as children: red means no, green means go . Dangerous areas like waste disposal and airlocks were always bathed in crimson light, while our corridors and community areas were the same unerring, brilliant green in front of me now. I breathed a sigh of relief, absently noting that my lungs were becoming accustomed to the air mix here, much faster than I anticipated. Hopefully the domes’ atmospheres would be similarly intact.

Hurrying to the door with the green light pulsing above it, my eyes widened as I read the rusted nameplate above the keypad. This was Lawrence’s dome. Nan’s Lawrence. I flipped open the dusty keypad cover and typed in the universal Non-Occupant Knowledge code with a silent prayer, hoping this meant fate was smiling on me. 11-14-15-3-11 flashed twice on the panel’s screen before emitting a soft, high beep that sent a pleasant automated voice crackling over the small speaker.

“ Greetings, visitor. You have requested entry to the farm of User Lawrence Malus. Please state your name and designation and standby for admittance.”

I cleared my throat, feeling silly for introducing myself to an abandoned system, but GAP training had instilled cautious obedience in me. I cleared my throat, bending down to the speaker as my fingers curled around the vial in my pocket again for courage. “User Ana Renascere, Genshipper representative for the Genetic Alteration Program.

“ Welcome, User Ana Renascere, your code has been accepted. A droid has been dispatched to escort you.”

I blinked in confusion. A droid? All the planetside droids would have been automatically shut down when their Users’ proximity sensors snapped or went dark. I stumbled backwards a step, holding onto the wall for support as shock turned my fingers cold. Shadows–plural– moved behind the opaque privacy glass of the entry port.

But as the door slid back, I discovered the system hadn’t been faulty: three droids clustered in the entryway, fully functional, returning my incredulous gaze. The tall one, a sleek white android chased with blue under-lights at his joints and a curious dusting of cobwebs, made a formal half bow, his voice smooth and eerily human.

“Greetings, User Ana. I am Cy, and welcome you to the Malus farm. These are my fellow unit droids, Thresher and Harv-E.” Nimble fingers unfurled to indicate a slender green-limned harvesting droid to his left, then the impressively broad-chested labor droid to his right, sporting orange illumination at his joints. “I am obligated by protocol to inform you that User Lawrence has died and was interred many cycles ago; we have autonomously run this dome since his passing, as he instructed, but are ready to provide information logs and surrender control on command.”

The harvesting droid, the one Cy had introduced as Harv-E, made a noise that sounded like an annoyed cough.

GAP training had given me a cursory idea of what to do if I encountered powered-on systems , but planetside droids were such an impossible concept it hadn’t even been discussed. I cleared my throat, trying valiantly not to stare. “Greetings, uhm, Cy. Yes, I am aware that any human inhabitants would have left or died quite some time ago. The Starstreak incident happened more than a hundred cycles ago and we–the Genship, I mean– weren’t aware of autonomous droids still living on the planet. Did you say you have…logs?”

I tactfully bit my tongue when tempted to mention they should have automatically shut down when their Users died or left, because it seemed tacky. Already, I knew there was something very different about these droids, from their visual modifications to the human-like quality of their vocal output. The few Genship droids I’d encountered were far more machine-like and rudimentary, a safe alternative to ship jobs that would be too hazardous for humans.

Cy nodded–another very weird behavior from a droid–and ushered the other two back to make way for me. I stepped in, and gasped as I stumbled back, the weight of my pack abruptly lifting from my shoulders. I spun to find the labor droid, Thresher, carefully holding it in his large, jointed hands. His face plate tilted down, a gesture I’d almost describe as bashful if he were flesh and blood. “Apologies, User Ana, your body showed signs of stress from carrying this weight. Your belongings will be kept safe and secure until you need them.”

My face heated, suddenly shy at the idea of being scanned outside of a medical bay. It wasn’t unpleasant though, being taken care of, particularly by an expensive, modified droid. On the Genship only leaders had droid servants, and even those were just rumors whispered among the workers. If those rumors were true, however, I was starting to understand why: my shoulders already felt better.

“Thank you, Thresher. I appreciate your service.” I echoed the words the leaders offered to Genshippers of my rank almost by instinct, swallowing the bitter association of it all. The empty phrase occasionally came with a few scant meal credits, but typically was offered on its own. Still, you’d have thought I’d offered the hulking droid an upgrade from the way his face-screen lights glimmered at the praise. How odd .

Harv-E made another sound of annoyance, barely audible, but it was quickly cut off at a sharp look from Cy. We trudged along in awkward silence until I came to a shocked halt in the middle of the dusty path to a nearby structure, turning in a slow circle.

Green . There was so much green all around me, even on the edges of the path. I’d been so distracted by the strange, unexpected droids that I was only just now registering it. Tall, clustered green far to the left, across an unfathomable wide-open distance I’d never experienced beyond glimpsing into the black. Trees , my mind supplied. Those were trees . I’d seen them in programs but assumed the massive resource-draining structures were made up, or at least extinct, but there they were a short walk away. And here, beside the path, the tiny stalks of green that rustled as I dragged a booted toe across them: grass.

The warmth of the largest nearby star came through the dome overhead, gentle but persistent, the holo-overlays showing a strange, soft blue interspersed with white smears that resembled freshly-sprayed thermo-foam. I closed my eyes for a moment, pulling in a long, slow breath and telling myself it was for scientific purposes, even as it filled me with inexplicable comfort.