My Silicon Baby [[Electric Sheep Pride Month sidestory]]
Jun 26, 2018 2:24:54 GMT
Post by admin on Jun 26, 2018 2:24:54 GMT
The following is a side story of Electric Sheep. It takes place shortly before/after Door tackles the Driftveil Gym, which ... as of this writing is not a chapter that's posted. I promise you don't need to know anything about the fic that this one-shot won't lay out for you (and except for the main heart and soul of this story, none of it is particularly spoilery), but if you're interested, you can either read ahead on a mirror (if you can dig up) or click the spoiler below for the basic run-down:
“I don’t want this to end. Is that wrong?”
“Mm. No. No, not at all.”
Pause.
Rewind.
“I don’t want this to end. Is that wrong?”
“Mm. No. No, not at all.”
Rewind.
“Is that wrong?”
“Mm. No. No, not at all.”
Rewind.
“No. No, not at all.”
Rewind.
“Not at all.”
Rewind.
“Not at all.”
Sigh.
Geist opened his eyes. It was long after Door had left. Long after the tech had left too. The lights were out, save for the soft, hazy glow of every occupied pod’s alcove and screen. He sat up, meeting slight resistance from the cord snaking from his neck, and he reached up to grasp its base. With his hand still on the back of his neck, he lifted his head and looked out, into the silence of the room.
The doors were closed and locked. Accessible only by a trainer’s keycard, he knew, and beyond that, there would be one of the nursing units, acting as a guard and alarm for any suspicious activity. Normally, he would appreciate the safety, but now, with his thoughts still locked onto that recording of himself and Lanette, it made him feel restless. Sure, no one would steal him, but he couldn’t leave, either. Not to take a walk and clear his head. Not to find Door and ask her questions.
He leaned back in his pod and rested his hands on his stomach. Would he ask Door? He pressed his head into the backrest and stared at the lights of the alcove. No. He couldn’t.
There was a lot he didn’t tell Door. It wasn’t that he knew more about himself than she did—in fact, it was true that he had just as much of an idea of where he came from and what he had been as she did—but there were little things. Unexplainable things he was sure weren’t normal for a Companion, but he had no frame of reference for.
Like those feelings.
Were they feelings?
Geist had no heart, and yet…
He lifted his hands and examined them. Who would’ve known that one of them had been replaced recently? It looked perfect, right down to the subtle creases on his palms and the loops on his fingertips. Every part of him could be replaced, just like that. Perhaps even his cores, if he really needed.
He wasn’t human. He wasn’t human, and he could be replaced. The things that he thought, the things that he felt … none of them were real.
And yet, he hurt. Not physically of course. He couldn’t feel physical pain. But it was an indescribable something that, for whatever reason, his processes immediately described as hurt. It was this deep sadness, only … it couldn’t be sadness because he couldn’t feel sadness, could he? Just an emulation of it.
And yet. And yet. And yet.
Geist sat up again. In his head, the clip stopped on Lanette’s face. He could see it in his cores: the fire-orange shine on each individual strand of hair framing her long face, the depth of the creases at the corners of her broad smile, the splash of freckles across her nose. He knew every last detail, not because he had her image literally burning in his mind. No, it was because a long time ago, he stared at those images over and over again, just like he was that night. And long ago, seeing that image of her made something inside him hurt too.
Could he…?
Rewind.
“You look so beautiful against the sunset. I want to make sure I remember this.”
Rewind.
“I want to make sure I remember this.”
Rewind.
“I want to make sure I—”
ESC ESC ESC.
Geist found himself sitting up again, head in his hands, cord detached and curled up behind him. He slid his hands over his mouth, clutching his lips closed in what would have been panic for anything other than a Companion. His mind raced through the standards checks. No, he hadn’t been hacked. No, he hadn’t triggered a virus. No, he was perfectly fine. So why did that…?
Calm. He shut his eyes tightly and pressed his fingers to his temples. He had to talk to someone. But who at this hour? Maybe he could reach out and convince the guard Companions to let him out, just for a little while. But could he talk to Door about this? Should he worry her?
No. He needed to talk to someone else. Someone closer. His mind reached out, tapping databanks and scanning information until he found what he was looking for.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “Come here.”
When he opened his eyes, two other Companions were sitting up. One small and male. One older and female. They looked at him for a moment, heads tilted as they processed what he was saying, and then, in unison, they detached from their pods, hopped off their beds, and trotted to his side.
“Sit down,” he said.
And they did, on their knees, on the floor. Geist swung his legs over the edge of the pod and faced them.
“Tell me your name,” he said.
The older-looking one spoke first. “Calliope Series 39, Unit 209374. You can call me Josephine.”
Geist flicked his eyes to the smaller one. “And you?”
In return, he bounced on his knees and saluted. “Calliope Series 40, Unit 397139. My user calls me Blue!”
Geist leaned forward, studying their faces closely. “You’re both Calliope units?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Calliopes. Geist couldn’t help but smile. These were practically his children, descendants from the experiments done on him specifically. So he knew them—knew how obedient they could be but also how observant. No other unit would know a trainer better than a Calliope.
Of course, perhaps he was a little biased. He was a Calliope too. But that’s why he summoned them: they were just like him. Which meant, perhaps…
“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” he said. “Answer them honestly and with the first thought that comes to your mind, all right?”
The two of them nodded at once and gave him a perfectly synchronized “yes, sir.”
Good. That meant Geist could cut right to the point.
“Tell me about your users,” he said. “Blue first.”
“My user?” Blue brought his fingertips to his mouth. Then, he snapped both his hands into small, determined fists in front of him. “Oh! Amelia Brown of Nacrene City, aged eleven. She has four badges, and—”
Geist held up a hand. “No, not that. What is Amelia like?”
Blue’s smile didn’t fade, but the light behind his dark eyes flickered. “I do not understand.”
“Her personality,” Geist said, his ever-steady patience wavering just slightly in his voice. “Is she kind?”
“Kind?” Blue inclined his head. Messy, black hair spilled over his round face. “Yes. Amelia is kind.”
“Energetic?” Geist asked.
“Yes! Very!” Blue replied.
“What are her interests?”
“Pokémon training!”
“And?”
Blue hesitated. After a moment, Geist realized he wasn’t going to answer, and he slumped his shoulders in step with his sinking hopes.
“You don’t know,” he stated.
“I’m sorry,” Blue responded. “My user did not enter that information.”
With a frown, he shook his head. “It’s all right, Blue. You did your best.” Then, shifting his gaze to the other Companion, he added, “What about you, Josephine? Describe your user’s personality to me.”
Josephine leaned back on her heels. She lifted his eyes to meet Geist’s, and with a heave of her shoulders (her AI must have been carefully programmed for him to exhibit complex body language like that), she sighed. “Connor Rockland, aged sixteen. Stubborn. Hot-headed. Lazy. Frequently asks for advice but blatantly disregards it. Yet … confident. Trustworthy. Loyal.”
Geist smiled. “Difficult but loyal user? You’re in good company. Now tell me, the both of you…” He sat back. “Would you say you love your users?”
“Love?” Josephine asked.
“Well … yes,” Geist replied. “Love. Do you care for your users?”
“Of course we do!” Blue exclaimed. His voice carried a note of shock, but there was something to it, a slight tinny sound that Geist couldn’t help but pick up on. It made him press his fingers harder into his knees.
“Do you wish to be with them for as long as they live?” he asked.
“Naturally,” Josephine responded. Blue nodded enthusiastically next to her.
Geist hesitated. He knew what they were thinking: solely about the duties of a Companion. Of course they cared, and of course they wanted to be with their users for as long as possible. That was the most basic directive of every Companion. Even Geist felt it on a level, although he was certain most Companions saw it differently than he did.
Not that he could put into words how he saw it in the first place. Just like he couldn’t put into words what his question actually was right then and there. How could he explain love to other Companions when he wasn’t sure what it was himself?
Or … maybe he did.
“If you were to wake up tomorrow to find out your user was dead, how would that make you feel?” he asked.
At first, there was no answer. Geist studied the Companions before him, watching them bow their heads and let the lights in their eyes flicker. Blue’s head began to whir, almost like he was struggling to come up with an answer. Josephine, meanwhile, lifted her chin a few seconds before he did.
“Disappointed,” she said.
Disappointed. Disappointed.
“Josephine,” Geist said. “How long have you been with your user?”
“Six years, eight months, fourteen days,” Josephine recited.
“And you would only be disappointed if he died tomorrow?” Geist asked.
“Are you threatening my user?” Josephine responded.
Geist held up a hand. “No. I’m just curious. Blue, how about you? How long have you known your user?”
Blue snapped out of his processing daze immediately. “A year and a half!”
“And what would you do if your user were gone tomorrow?” Geist said.
Blue smiled. “I would resume my scheduled duties until they’re cancelled by Amelia’s authorized emergency contact!”
Geist slumped his shoulders. They didn’t know. They were just like him, yet…
He waved his hand in the air. “Thank you. Go back to your pods and plug yourselves back in. That’s all I wanted to know.”
They did as they were told. Of course they did. They were, after all, just Companions.
And Geist? Geist pressed the plug into the outlet on the back of his neck and lay back down, hands on his stomach and eyes on the ceiling.
He entered sleep mode that night with more questions than he ever had.
Daily Schedule
7:00 AM: Wake up. Disengage from pod. Switch off alarm.
7:05 AM: Collect breakfast from the pokémon center cafeteria for Door. Black coffee, house roast, in a thermacup to go. If travel is planned for the day, a bagel sandwich. If no travel is planned, waffles. Syrup and strawberry jam on the side.
7:25 AM: Enter Door’s room. Arrange breakfast on the desk. Read weather report, then access Door’s digital inventory to select appropriate outfit and supplies. Withdraw towel and toiletries. Do not wake Door.
7:35 AM: Attempt to wake Door. Fail. Set alarm for 8:00 AM.
7:35 - 8:00 AM: Map the day’s schedule. Otherwise, free period.
That morning, Geist couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get through his morning tasks. On the contrary, one of the advantages of being a Companion was that one could quite literally go on autopilot. He wasn’t even aware that he had lost himself in thought—or some semblance thereof—until he had settled down on the floor beside Door’s bed, a map of Driftveil City open in his hands and his user snoring softly behind him. And that was when he realized he was looping over the same thought over and over again. 10:00 - 11:00 AM: Battle with Roland Stone, Driftveil Gym. In his head, the gym’s instructions for preparation were open, and on the map, he could see a route neatly planned from the pokémon center directly to the gym. But he wasn’t thinking about that.
He was thinking, again, about the video. He could feel it, the file open somewhere else in the back of his head, frozen over Lanette’s face. It was open when he woke up, and it was playing over and over again as he walked through the pokémon center. And then, deep down, he could feel that ache in his…
His where? He had no heart. Nothing about him was real. He had no nervous system, no muscles, no skin, no flesh. Nothing that could hurt.
So what was this feeling?
Geist clapped his hands together. The map disappeared in a flash, and in his head, the schedule froze at 10:00 - 11:00 AM: Battle with Roland Stone. Nothing after.
Door would just have to deal with a little spontaneity.
He stood up and looked down at Door. It was only 7:39; that was what the clock in his head told him. And she looked so peaceful, just lying there and not arguing with him for once. Geist couldn’t help but crack a smile. Sure, he could only remember three years of his time on Earth, but this girl? This girl, without a doubt, caused more trouble for him than anything that came before or after his data wipe.
Yet he couldn’t fault her for it. First off, that’s not what a Companion could do, and second … part of him enjoyed it. This was yet another thing Geist would never tell Door. The last thing she needed was encouragement. In that department, at least.
Geist straightened and fixed his new suit. No, he wouldn’t tell her—about the hurt, that is. He couldn’t tell her. He was supposed to be her guardian, her faithful Companion—or at the very least, responsible. How could he ask her? It would be like a parent asking a child…
Yet … she would know, wouldn’t she? About love. About what it meant. About whether or not he could feel it towards another human being. About coming to understand those feelings he had towards humans, about understanding a deep part of himself he was told over and over again didn’t exist. About … Lanette.
Or, at the very least, she could tell him that he was stupid. Companions couldn’t love anyone, least of all humans. He was a Companion; therefore, he did not love humans. Simple as that.
The video wouldn’t close; that was why he buried it underneath the schedule. He tried not to think about that as he moved to the door. It was funny—a Companion trying not to think. They weren’t supposed to have thoughts, were they?
So … what if he was different? What if he could—
Geist opened the door and stopped when he realized Blair was on the other side. She stood, hair still damp from a shower, fist raised to knock. Yet he hadn’t heard her footsteps, had he?
How long had she been there?
Blair’s eyes darted from Geist’s face to something behind him, and immediately, he understood why she was there.
“Um,” she said. “Want to … want to go have breakfast? With me? Please?”
No ordinary Companion could deny an innocent request from a human.
At least Geist had that in common with them.
“Opal’s still charging,” Blair explained.
Geist hadn’t asked, but he appreciated the explanation nonetheless.
“I just thought,” Blair said slowly, with the edge of a bagel between her teeth, “that … you know. You’d wonder. Since she’s my Companion and all.”
“And you’re consulting me,” Geist finished. He toyed with the bottle of fresh water in front of him. It wasn’t for him to drink; he only picked it up because it could be converted to a healing charge later.
It was his job to be a pragmatist. Or was that another leftover trait of Bill’s?
Was that hurt, then…?
“Consulting you?” Blair bit off part of the bagel. Through a full mouth, she replied, “No, don’t get me wrong. I just…”
“Chew and swallow first, Miss Blair,” Geist responded patiently. His eyes trailed down to the bottle. “I can perform the Heimlich, but I would much rather not.”
A short pause, just long enough for Blair to do what she was told. It was amazing how different Blair was compared to Door.
She was awake, for one.
“Sorry,” Blair said, her voice much clearer now. “But … you know you can call me Blair, right? Just … Blair.”
Geist shifted his eyes back to her, studying her face carefully. “Very well. Blair it is.”
“Thanks.” Blair set the bagel down on the paper plate in front of her. Her eyes fell on it, and her fingers traced the unbitten edges. “Anyway, I just thought … you know. Since she’s your friend and all, you’d like to know where she is.”
“My friend, Blair?”
“Well … yeah.” Blair lifted her eyes to meet Geist’s again. “You’re both Companions, so I just thought—and you’ve known her longer than I have…”
Blair trailed off at that point and fell into an embarrassed silence. Geist could even see her cheeks color slightly.
“Do … Companions even have friends? Like … you know what friendship is, right?” she asked.
“Of course I know what friendship is.” Geist tried his best to make that sound like a simple statement, not an accusation that Blair was calling him an idiot. It was a fair question, after all.
“Oh. Of course you do.” Blair tore off a piece of the bagel and pressed it between her fingers. “I just mean … do you experience that kind of thing the way we do?”
“I’m not sure.”
“R-right.” Blair popped the piece of bagel into her mouth and chewed slowly. She had turned her head away by then, pointedly avoiding Geist’s gaze.
“May I ask you a question?” Geist said.
Blair looked back at him, not with surprise as he had expected but instead relief. “Of course.”
“What is it you needed to talk to me about?”
She practically jumped out of her skin at that question. Leaning back in her chair, Blair gripped the table, smiled awkwardly, and looked everywhere in the cafeteria but Geist.
“W-what? What makes you think I wanted to talk to you about anything specific?” she asked.
“Well, for starters…” Geist motioned to the table between them. “Obviously, you didn’t intend on inviting someone who can’t eat to breakfast.” He stopped, a thought shoving past the video to the surface of his mind. “Or were you … oh. That explains quite a bit.”
He rested his chin on one hand and twirled the bottle with the other. Truth be told, he didn’t have to smile coyly whenever he did things like this. He didn’t even have to be coy at all. It wasn’t a thing dictated by his normal behavioral protocols, and there was no advantage those little teasing moments.
But the looks on their faces and how candid they would be thereafter? It was worth breaking routine for that. If he had no true free will, he might as well enjoy it, right? Keep the humans on their toes, partly for their benefit and partly for his entertainment.
To his surprise, Blair wasn’t as amusing as Door was. In the seconds that came after those words spilled out of Geist’s mouth, Blair grew visibly less flustered. She sank into herself, slouching in her seat with her head bowed. Her fingers played with her half-eaten bagel, and the embarrassed blush on her cheeks faded. Geist almost felt guilty. Almost.
“That obvious, huh?” she asked quietly.
“Not quite,” Geist replied. “You fooled a machine for a while.”
Blair cracked a smile. “Can you keep a secret?”
Rolling his chin forward on his palm, Geist settled back into studying her face. Teenagers were endlessly fascinating, he had to admit. “Of course. It’s what I’m designed to do.”
Once again, Blair’s fingers tore off a piece of her bagel, little by little, as if the act required more thought than it did. Geist kept his eyes on Blair’s face, refusing to let the movement distract him, but he took note out of it out of the corner of his eye. She was stalling.
“Door’s nice, isn’t she?” Blair asked.
Geist pressed his lips together. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Do you want the honest answer to that?”
A snort rushed out of Blair’s nose, only for her to give Geist a sharp look. “Come on, Geist. She’s not all bad. I mean, I know you have to serve her, and I know she’s got a rotten opinion about you Companions, but…” Blair looked back down at her bagel. “I don’t know.”
Another moment of silence passed before Geist leaned back in his own chair. He crossed his arms and tapped his index finger on his forearm.
“No, I quite agree,” he said. “People are complicated, and it’s very, very rare for someone to be without any redeeming qualities whatsoever. As stubborn, impulsive, quick-tempered, sarcastic, pessimistic, and fantastically rude as she can be … she can also care quite a lot about her friends.”
Blair looked up. “So … she treats all her friends…”
She trailed off, but Geist knew exactly where that question was heading. Did Door treat everyone the way she had treated Blair, whatever that might have entailed? The answer, Geist knew, was simple, and he reached across the table and rested his fingertips on Blair’s wrist to tell her as much.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked softly.
Keeping her eyes on his fingertips, Blair nodded. Geist leaned in a little more.
“As far as I can tell, you’re the only human friend Door has,” he told her. “And she is very fond of you.”
Blair looked into his eyes. “Fond of me?”
With a small grin, he nodded. “Very much so.” Taking his hand away, Geist settled back into his seat. “May I ask you a question as well?”
“O-of course,” Blair replied. Her voice was airy, as if her mind wasn’t completely present in the conversation anymore.
“How do you feel about Door?” Geist asked. “Or girls like her, in general?”
That snapped Blair back into attention. She looked at him briefly, then back down to her breakfast, and the blush on her cheeks was back with a vengeance.
“I, um … I don’t know,” she said. “I-I mean … Door is…” Her voice lowered, and she leaned forward, into the table, with one hand working its way through her long hair as she spoke. “I think I like Door. She’s just really nice. Super nice. Like, I can tell—she acts tough, but she’s the sort of person where, deep down, she might be really sweet and just scared of admitting that? Does that make sense?”
Geist smiled, wide and genuine this time. “It does. Go on.”
“And she’s strong and funny,” Blair continued, as if she hadn’t heard Geist. “And I know she’s trying to be nice to me, but sometimes, she just screws up, but it’s just adorable. I just want to get to know her more, you know?”
She paused. Geist watched her look away and shove the bagel piece into her mouth, and he waited patiently thereafter. She wasn’t done. He knew that.
And sure enough, after a minute, she pulled herself back forward, into the conversation. “But … don’t get me wrong or anything, but I don’t think … I don’t know. I’m supposed to like guys, but then there’s her.”
“Do you like guys?” Geist asked. He kept his voice low and his tone informal. She needed the safety; he knew that too.
Blair shrugged. “That’s the thing. I do. But then there’s her.”
“You do realize you can like both, yes?”
“Yeah, I know,” Blair replied, cringing at Geist’s words. “I just…”
“Never thought about it?”
Blair shook her head. “No. Who would I talk to about it? It’s not something you just … say.” She looked him in the eye. “Sorry. Sometimes, I forget you’re not human. Or that, you know, you’ve been living with a scientist for the past three years. I mean … it’s hard to describe. What do you know about being fourteen?”
“Admittedly, not much,” Geist responded. “But don’t tell Door.”
That got a chuckle out of Blair. “It’s not worth it. I’m a little jealous of Companions because they don’t have to deal with things like bullies or getting zits and stuff.”
Bullies. Of course. That explained quite a bit, and Geist almost felt sorry for Blair in that instant. So, he had to switch tactics. Keep her spirits up. Keep her encouraged.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. It sounds quite exciting too.” He reached across the table to grasp her wrist lightly. “Just remember, though, that you’re far away from whoever told you you could and couldn’t like, and that the people you’re surrounding yourself with now only want to see you happy. So it’s okay, Blair. You don’t have to have an answer at all, but whatever you choose to do, whomever you choose to love, just remember that we’ll stand beside you, all right?”
Blair nodded. The action came so quickly that Geist couldn’t tell whether or not his words had sunk into her mind. It was just something he would have to deal with later, he knew, but for now, he could feel the clock in his head grow closer and closer to that alarm. With one last squeeze, he stood up.
“If you need anything, you know where to find me,” he said. “But if it makes you feel any more comfortable, when I say Door likes you, I do mean she likes you.”
He started to pull away, but Blair, her face a blazing red by then, jumped and reached for his cuff.
“Um,” she said. “Where … where are you going now?”
“To wake Door up,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her a thing we said, but if I don’t force her out of that dormitory now, we’ll have to deal with a very disappointed Roland Stone. Incidentally, though, would you like me to check on Opal on my way back?”
Blair let go of his sleeve and shook her head slowly. “Thanks, but it’s okay. I’ll get her after breakfast.”
Geist nodded. “Probably for the best. I’ll need all the time I can get if I’m to force Door out of bed.”
As he turned away, he heard a shriek of laughter from Blair, and that put a smile back on his face. If he was anything at all, it was a good Companion, and that alone made that conversation worth it.
Well. That and something else. A thought, specifically.
If humans could explore themselves, why couldn’t he?
There was an answer to that. An actual one. But the question was, was he willing to ask Door to get it?
If there was one thing Geist was, it was a good Companion. Between waking Door up, ushering her through her morning routine, enduring her verbal tirades when she realized exactly how late it was, leading her through Driftveil, and assisting her with her gym battle, Geist was focused. The video had been just beneath the surface of his mind, submerged by the deluge of activity around him. Nothing else mattered except Door’s immediate needs, which he silently swore he would fulfill with perfection.
Okay, so he was stalling.
Could anyone blame him, though? He knew all too well what Door would say if he told her, if he asked her straight-out all the questions that were swimming through the bits and bytes of his mind. And on the one hand, it would be a relief to hear it from her, yes, and part of him anticipated it. On the other…
What was stopping him from having that conversation?
Geist had managed to ignore that very question for the entire morning, and he had fully intended on ignoring it for the afternoon and well into the evening. Unfortunately, Door had other plans. Plans that mostly involved taking a break to let Blair train once they were far enough down Route 6 to let Driftveil vanish between the trees. Door stood back, at the edge of a clearing, as she watched Blair take on a small swarm of swadloon with Wilbur’s Flame Wheel and Opal’s constant stream of advice and encouragement. Geist stood at her side, hands behind his back, mentally counting the seconds until he realized Door wasn’t planning on talking at all.
So. Ask or stall? Geist could practically hear his cores whirring as they went back and forth between those two options, and as he leaned towards his user, he could swear they picked up speed. Ask or stall? Ask or stall?
“Congratulations on the gym battle, by the way,” he said.
Stall. Stall like there’s no tomorrow.
“You’ve said that already,” she replied.
He straightened up immediately. “Right. Right.”
Door was giving him a strange look. He knew this; he could see it out of the corner of his eye. Knowing her, Geist realized this was likely to go one very specific way. She would ask him what was wrong, he would dodge the question, and she would throw out guesses of a questionably sensible variety until he would completely distract her by asking her about how she was doing.
It could be an opportunity, though. Geist could get it over with and simply ask her what was on his mind. But that inexplicable hesitation was still there.
So he cut her off instead.
“She’s something else, isn’t she?” he asked.
“Wha-who?” Door jerked, visibly startled. Then, whirling away from him, she looked back into the clearing, just as Blair was taking on another swadloon. “Blair?”
“Yes,” Geist replied. He added a short nod to make his reaction seem authentic. “I was worried she would fall behind, but I see I’ve underestimated her.”
Door snorted, and out of the corner of his eye, Geist could see her smirk and plant her hands on her hips. “Well, yeah. Blair’s just got sucky confidence, but if she’d stop talking crap about herself for five seconds, she’d realize how awesome she can actually be.”
“Awesome?” Geist said, his voice teasing.
And to the surprise of an audience that certainly did not include Geist, Door took to the bait. Her head jerked away, but what little skin Geist could see was already turning a bright shade of red.
“Y-yeah?” she squeaked. It was clear she was trying to keep her voice low, perhaps to avoid drawing Blair’s attention. “I said awesome. So what?”
Geist leaned in. “You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?”
Door wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m starting to regret telling you I like girls.”
“Come now, Door,” Geist responded. “You really do need to think of me as your help rather than a hindrance. I could, for example … talk to her on your behalf, perhaps?”
“Do that, and I’ll kill you,” Door growled through gritted teeth.
A lesser Companion would have pointed out that machines can’t technically die, but Geist was no ordinary Companion, was he? He leaned back on his heels, eyes rolling skyward as if in deep thought.
“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand human romance,” he said. “If you like someone, as you clearly do, wouldn’t it be easier—”
Door held up a hand. “Nope. Gonna stop you right there. It would not.” Then, glancing towards Blair’s battle, she slapped her raised hand around Geist’s wrist. “In fact, we’re gonna keep talking out of earshot so I can properly smack some sense into you.” Then, a little louder, she added, “Hey, Blair! Geist and I need to talk about our next gym battle. Be back in a sec!”
As Blair gave them a quick wave and an “okay,” Door led her Companion away from the battle and into the woods. She didn’t stop until she had placed at least four trees between herself and the clearing, and when she did, she let go of Geist’s wrist and whirled on him.
“Okay, look,” Door said. “Truth is, not many people know I’m … you know.”
Geist quirked an eyebrow. “That’s another thing. There’s nothing wrong with being gay, is there?”
Door cringed. “No, of course not! I mean … yeah, okay, I can get married or whatever, and yeah, things are better than they were fifty years ago, but actually? Some things just don’t change. Like people. You can’t just go up to people and say, ‘Hey! I’m gay, and I think you’re cute! Let’s date!’ That can still freak people out, especially if you’re from the boonies.”
Glancing skyward again, Geist bobbed his head from side to side to consider this. “Ignoring the fact that you have a very skewed definition of ‘the boonies,’ it makes sense. You’re afraid of how Blair would react.”
“Well, not just Blair…” Door rubbed the back of her neck. “Dad knows, and he’s supportive, but Mom? She’s a bit more traditional. And she’s worked so hard to keep me away from the media, and I don’t think she’d appreciate the media having a field day over the fact that her only daughter is, well…” Her voice grew soft, and she looked directly at her Companion. “A dyke.”
“Do people still use that term?”
Door hugged herself and looked away. “Not good people. But yeah. They do.”
Well. That explained why Door didn’t have human friends before now.
Other than the fact that she was horrendously sarcastic and rude, but still.
“I see,” Geist replied. “All right, then. But I do think you should tell Blair. She’s far more open-minded than you give her credit—”
“Okay, what did you tell her?”
Geist started. “I’m sorry?”
Door glared daggers at him. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing, Door,” Geist replied evenly.
“Geist, I swear, if you’re lying—”
“The closest I’ve ever been to lying with you is lying by omission, which, as I’ve established concerning the rules of Companion conduct, does not count,” Geist told her. “That having been said, I did indeed speak to her this morning, but our conversation was more of a personal nature. She asked me for advice.”
“On?”
“I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”
There was a beat of silence, and Geist was afraid that Door would break it by pressing him for answers. Instead, and to his surprise, she exhaled and broke eye contact.
“Fine,” she said. “It’s cool.”
Door turned completely away from Geist at that point. She paced away from him and from the clearing, with one hand on the back of her neck, and for the first time since he had met her, Geist wasn’t sure what Door was about to do next.
“Listen,” she said. “I don’t expect you to get what’s going on between Blair and me. You’re a machine and all. What do you know about all that stuff?”
Geist stiffened. This was it. The answer he had been looking for.
“But, you know…” Her voice trailed off momentarily. “I don’t know.” Glancing up, she looked at Geist again. “Huh. Would’ve thought you’d have something smart to say.”
“Smart, Door?”
“Well … yeah,” Door said. “I mean, Usually, I tell you something personal, then tell you off for sticking your nose in my business. Then I say something about how you can’t possibly understand because you’re a robot, and then somehow, one thing leads to another, and I walk away with life advice and this feeling that I’d just embarrassed myself in front of the whole school. But you’re just standing there.” She squinted at him. “In fact … you kinda seemed distracted not too long ago. You okay?”
“Hmm?” Geist shook his head. “Oh. Yes. Of course I am, Door. I’m fine.”
He hesitated. Normally, she’d press onward, but before she could, he held up a hand.
What was keeping him from having this conversation?
Nothing at all, apparently. Nothing except appearances.
“Actually, wait,” he said. “Door. I need to ask you something, but I want you to know that I’m asking purely out of scientific interest, okay?”
Door scoffed. “Wow. Okay. Wasn’t gonna stop you, but sure.”
Ignore her sarcasm. Ask. This is Door. Geist had spent so much time with her that she was able to accurately map out their usual conversations.
What harm would it be to ask?
“Door … how powerful are emotion cores?” he asked. “What can they do?”
She crossed her arms and gave him another strange look. “Uh … emulate emotions? Just cobble together some artificial personality based on the most basic possible traits? Is this a pop quiz?”
“No,” Geist replied. “I … ah. Is one of those emotions…?”
Door didn’t need to wait for Geist’s voice to trail off for her eyes to go wide. “Wait. Hold up. Are you asking me if…?”
Geist slowly lowered his hand. “I … I’m afraid so, Door.”
And then, for the second time in that conversation, Door did something Geist never would have seen coming.
She gave him a pitying frown.
“It’s the video, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.
“I haven’t been able to close it,” Geist admitted, his voice low.
“Why didn’t you say anything? What if it’s a virus or something?”
“It’s not,” he replied quickly. “And … I don’t think it’s something that can be resolved with standard troubleshooting.”
Door stood a little straighter. “What’re you saying?”
“I’m not sure,” Geist responded. His eyes drifted down until his gaze fixed onto his feet. “Every time I play that video, I feel—or … or rather, I mimic the feeling of being hurt. I don’t understand what it means. I know I’m a machine.” He pulled his hands up and into his field of view, and he stared at his palms. “I know that none of me is real, and I know I can’t remember her on my own. Yet I feel something. I can’t describe it, but it feels like my cores are burning.”
Silence. It seemed, apparently, that this conversation was just going to be one long line of Door doing things that she wouldn’t do in any other situation. Normally, Geist would be delighted by the variety, but now? Now he silently begged for her response.
Well. This conversation would just have to be a first for the both of them.
“Does that make sense?” Geist asked, hoping that would draw her out of silence.
“Geist,” she said quietly. “Usually, I’d blow this off because it’s you and fuck you sometimes, but … you’re new territory. You don’t even try to act like other Companions. I mean, Jesus, I’ve seen enough Calliopes to know that, sure, they can get close, but they don’t act like you did … well, ever. Not even the newest ones with fancy-schmancy cores and whatever.”
That got his attention. Geist looked up and studied Door’s face carefully. “Door…”
She waved him off. “What I’m trying to say is can you have actual feelings? Who knows? Can you fall in love? Who knows? All I know is my great aunt made you specifically to mimic her dead best friend, and she spent the next forty years trying to get you as close to what he was like as possible. Maybe she did create you because she was a lonely, absolutely nutso freakazoid who loved her dead best friend and wanted him to love her back. Who. Knows? But she’s dead, so who cares about her? The point is, you’re here, and you’re stuck with whatever aftermath she left you with, and long story short, two questions. One, is she the only person you have feelings for, and two, are you anatomically correct?”
Geist blinked. “Door, I have absolutely no doubt that you already regret that second question—”
“And you wouldn’t be wrong!”
“—but the answer is no.”
“Oh thank God.”
“As for your first question,” Geist said slowly, “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Door replied.
“I mean…”
Geist trailed off. He paced to a tree and leaned against it, pressing his back into the trunk. As he stared into the forest canopy, he searched through database after database to find the right words, and when he spoke, it was even slower, as if he was jumping from syllable to syllable like stepping stones through a creek.
“Door, I can only remember three years of my history. In that time, I’ve only had meaningful contact with a handful of people. You and Blair are too young, Belle and Starr are criminals, Opal—as fond as I am of her—doesn’t interest me, and Amanita, besides being rather old and uninterested in romantic pursuits in general, was my employer. It wouldn’t be right to hold that sort of relationship with her.”
“Cool, but that’s not what I mean,” Door said.
It was Geist’s turn to look at her strangely. Arms crossed, head tilted, eyebrows furrowed, he said, “Well … what do you mean then?”
Door shrugged. “I mean don’t you look at someone and think they’re cute?”
“Cute?”
“I don’t know. Nice to look at.” Door rubbed the back of her head as she frowned. “I mean … if you look at someone, do you feel all warm and fuzzy, and does your heart kinda—”
Geist quirked an eyebrow, stopping Door in her tracks.
“Oh. Right,” she said. Then, she whipped her hands out in front of her, palms pushing towards the ground. “Okay. So maybe the signs will be different for you, but you’ll know them when you see them, just like how you’re saying you feel something for my great aunt. Does that make sense?”
Her Companion remained silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say. It was more that this … this wasn’t an answer he had expected. He held onto Door’s every word, turning each over in his cores one by one.
“But the important thing is, though, that whatever you’re feeling, it’s for someone other than my great aunt,” Door added. “That’s how you’ll know for sure. If you start feeling something for someone else, then it’s real, got it? It’s not just some fluke or something my great aunt cooked up. It’s you.”
After a moment’s silence, Geist said, “You know … I wasn’t expecting this.”
Door pulled her head back in a subtle gesture of shock. “What were you expecting?”
Pushing off the tree, Geist smirked, shrugged, and sauntered back to Door’s side. “For you to tell me that I’m a machine, so therefore, I can’t possibly feel anything real.”
Exhaling through stretched lips, Door reached up and patted Geist on the shoulder. “Well … first and foremost, I might have a thing or two to say about Companions, but if one comes along I happen to think might be half-decent, then I’m going to say that Companion should get to do whatever he wants. So, you know, it’s okay to explore and figure out who you are and stuff. Maybe you might even prove a lot of people wrong about what Companions can do, yeah? So whatever it is you like—guys, girls, Companions, or whatever—if you have any questions … just shoot, okay?”
“Okay.” Geist couldn’t help but smile. Genuinely, even.
Door smirked and patted his shoulder. “Also, I’d rather you go and explore yourself and whatever than live with the knowledge that you could’ve been my great aunt’s sex bot.”
And there went the smile. “Door.”
She released his shoulder and held her palms towards him. “Hey, you never know.”
“Actually, given the fact that I’ve retained almost all of my basic programming, none of which pertains to servicing humans in that way, I can safely say that I was not.”
Door cocked her head to the side. “I can’t tell if that was more than or exactly what I wanted to know.”
Geist straightened, tugging at the edges of his jacket. He was starting to feel himself slip back into step, back into the role of Door’s protector and guide.
“Well,” he said, “perhaps it’s best not to think about it. Shall we head back?”
“Yeah.” Door nodded. “Yeah, okay, probably for the best.”
As they started along their way, Geist watched his charge out of the corner of his eye. She fell into step beside him, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as she went, and Geist smiled again at the familiar sight. As rough and rude as Door was sometimes, he couldn’t think of anyone he would rather have as his user. After all, who else would be okay with a Companion learning the ins and outs of the heart they shouldn’t have?
It was strange, though. A week ago, he would never had guessed that Door would be that person. But maybe some things changed for the better, slowly but surely.
Which meant, in the end, he had a lot to think about … and he was okay with that.
“Thank you,” Geist said. “For your advice.”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Door replied.
“That isn’t troubling you, is it?” Geist asked. “The idea that I might … well. Question myself a bit from here on out.”
“I said it wouldn’t, and I meant that.”
“Then what’s on your mind?”
Door groaned for a bit, then slowed her pace. “When you said Blair was open-minded … did you mean she … you know?”
Geist gave her a soft smile. Some things, he thought, didn’t change at all.
Okay, follow me here because it's a long and hella confusing story.
Basically, Electric Sheep is set fifty years after the events of BW. Geist, who is the deuteragonist of said fic, is an android double of Bill, built by Lanette (Hoenn storage system admin) because the former died in a teleporting accident, just like Satoshi Godjiri intended. Geist is the prototype of all Companions, who are basically like iPhones in the future but in human shape—or, you know, they're androids in a sci-fi novel—but because of this and the fact that he was Lanette's personal Companion, he's a bit ... different from norm. Door, the protagonist, is his user and Lanette's grand niece (Brigette/the Pokémon Bank admin is her grandmother), and she generally thinks Companions are not human and shouldn't be treated as such. Blair is just a rival they picked up along the way, but think of her like Bianca if she and Hilda listed each other as "it's complicated" on Facebook.
OKAY, THAT'S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW. ENJOY!
Basically, Electric Sheep is set fifty years after the events of BW. Geist, who is the deuteragonist of said fic, is an android double of Bill, built by Lanette (Hoenn storage system admin) because the former died in a teleporting accident, just like Satoshi Godjiri intended. Geist is the prototype of all Companions, who are basically like iPhones in the future but in human shape—or, you know, they're androids in a sci-fi novel—but because of this and the fact that he was Lanette's personal Companion, he's a bit ... different from norm. Door, the protagonist, is his user and Lanette's grand niece (Brigette/the Pokémon Bank admin is her grandmother), and she generally thinks Companions are not human and shouldn't be treated as such. Blair is just a rival they picked up along the way, but think of her like Bianca if she and Hilda listed each other as "it's complicated" on Facebook.
OKAY, THAT'S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW. ENJOY!
“I don’t want this to end. Is that wrong?”
“Mm. No. No, not at all.”
Pause.
Rewind.
“I don’t want this to end. Is that wrong?”
“Mm. No. No, not at all.”
Rewind.
“Is that wrong?”
“Mm. No. No, not at all.”
Rewind.
“No. No, not at all.”
Rewind.
“Not at all.”
Rewind.
“Not at all.”
Sigh.
Geist opened his eyes. It was long after Door had left. Long after the tech had left too. The lights were out, save for the soft, hazy glow of every occupied pod’s alcove and screen. He sat up, meeting slight resistance from the cord snaking from his neck, and he reached up to grasp its base. With his hand still on the back of his neck, he lifted his head and looked out, into the silence of the room.
The doors were closed and locked. Accessible only by a trainer’s keycard, he knew, and beyond that, there would be one of the nursing units, acting as a guard and alarm for any suspicious activity. Normally, he would appreciate the safety, but now, with his thoughts still locked onto that recording of himself and Lanette, it made him feel restless. Sure, no one would steal him, but he couldn’t leave, either. Not to take a walk and clear his head. Not to find Door and ask her questions.
He leaned back in his pod and rested his hands on his stomach. Would he ask Door? He pressed his head into the backrest and stared at the lights of the alcove. No. He couldn’t.
There was a lot he didn’t tell Door. It wasn’t that he knew more about himself than she did—in fact, it was true that he had just as much of an idea of where he came from and what he had been as she did—but there were little things. Unexplainable things he was sure weren’t normal for a Companion, but he had no frame of reference for.
Like those feelings.
Were they feelings?
Geist had no heart, and yet…
He lifted his hands and examined them. Who would’ve known that one of them had been replaced recently? It looked perfect, right down to the subtle creases on his palms and the loops on his fingertips. Every part of him could be replaced, just like that. Perhaps even his cores, if he really needed.
He wasn’t human. He wasn’t human, and he could be replaced. The things that he thought, the things that he felt … none of them were real.
And yet, he hurt. Not physically of course. He couldn’t feel physical pain. But it was an indescribable something that, for whatever reason, his processes immediately described as hurt. It was this deep sadness, only … it couldn’t be sadness because he couldn’t feel sadness, could he? Just an emulation of it.
And yet. And yet. And yet.
Geist sat up again. In his head, the clip stopped on Lanette’s face. He could see it in his cores: the fire-orange shine on each individual strand of hair framing her long face, the depth of the creases at the corners of her broad smile, the splash of freckles across her nose. He knew every last detail, not because he had her image literally burning in his mind. No, it was because a long time ago, he stared at those images over and over again, just like he was that night. And long ago, seeing that image of her made something inside him hurt too.
Could he…?
Rewind.
“You look so beautiful against the sunset. I want to make sure I remember this.”
Rewind.
“I want to make sure I remember this.”
Rewind.
“I want to make sure I—”
ESC ESC ESC.
Geist found himself sitting up again, head in his hands, cord detached and curled up behind him. He slid his hands over his mouth, clutching his lips closed in what would have been panic for anything other than a Companion. His mind raced through the standards checks. No, he hadn’t been hacked. No, he hadn’t triggered a virus. No, he was perfectly fine. So why did that…?
Calm. He shut his eyes tightly and pressed his fingers to his temples. He had to talk to someone. But who at this hour? Maybe he could reach out and convince the guard Companions to let him out, just for a little while. But could he talk to Door about this? Should he worry her?
No. He needed to talk to someone else. Someone closer. His mind reached out, tapping databanks and scanning information until he found what he was looking for.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “Come here.”
When he opened his eyes, two other Companions were sitting up. One small and male. One older and female. They looked at him for a moment, heads tilted as they processed what he was saying, and then, in unison, they detached from their pods, hopped off their beds, and trotted to his side.
“Sit down,” he said.
And they did, on their knees, on the floor. Geist swung his legs over the edge of the pod and faced them.
“Tell me your name,” he said.
The older-looking one spoke first. “Calliope Series 39, Unit 209374. You can call me Josephine.”
Geist flicked his eyes to the smaller one. “And you?”
In return, he bounced on his knees and saluted. “Calliope Series 40, Unit 397139. My user calls me Blue!”
Geist leaned forward, studying their faces closely. “You’re both Calliope units?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Calliopes. Geist couldn’t help but smile. These were practically his children, descendants from the experiments done on him specifically. So he knew them—knew how obedient they could be but also how observant. No other unit would know a trainer better than a Calliope.
Of course, perhaps he was a little biased. He was a Calliope too. But that’s why he summoned them: they were just like him. Which meant, perhaps…
“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” he said. “Answer them honestly and with the first thought that comes to your mind, all right?”
The two of them nodded at once and gave him a perfectly synchronized “yes, sir.”
Good. That meant Geist could cut right to the point.
“Tell me about your users,” he said. “Blue first.”
“My user?” Blue brought his fingertips to his mouth. Then, he snapped both his hands into small, determined fists in front of him. “Oh! Amelia Brown of Nacrene City, aged eleven. She has four badges, and—”
Geist held up a hand. “No, not that. What is Amelia like?”
Blue’s smile didn’t fade, but the light behind his dark eyes flickered. “I do not understand.”
“Her personality,” Geist said, his ever-steady patience wavering just slightly in his voice. “Is she kind?”
“Kind?” Blue inclined his head. Messy, black hair spilled over his round face. “Yes. Amelia is kind.”
“Energetic?” Geist asked.
“Yes! Very!” Blue replied.
“What are her interests?”
“Pokémon training!”
“And?”
Blue hesitated. After a moment, Geist realized he wasn’t going to answer, and he slumped his shoulders in step with his sinking hopes.
“You don’t know,” he stated.
“I’m sorry,” Blue responded. “My user did not enter that information.”
With a frown, he shook his head. “It’s all right, Blue. You did your best.” Then, shifting his gaze to the other Companion, he added, “What about you, Josephine? Describe your user’s personality to me.”
Josephine leaned back on her heels. She lifted his eyes to meet Geist’s, and with a heave of her shoulders (her AI must have been carefully programmed for him to exhibit complex body language like that), she sighed. “Connor Rockland, aged sixteen. Stubborn. Hot-headed. Lazy. Frequently asks for advice but blatantly disregards it. Yet … confident. Trustworthy. Loyal.”
Geist smiled. “Difficult but loyal user? You’re in good company. Now tell me, the both of you…” He sat back. “Would you say you love your users?”
“Love?” Josephine asked.
“Well … yes,” Geist replied. “Love. Do you care for your users?”
“Of course we do!” Blue exclaimed. His voice carried a note of shock, but there was something to it, a slight tinny sound that Geist couldn’t help but pick up on. It made him press his fingers harder into his knees.
“Do you wish to be with them for as long as they live?” he asked.
“Naturally,” Josephine responded. Blue nodded enthusiastically next to her.
Geist hesitated. He knew what they were thinking: solely about the duties of a Companion. Of course they cared, and of course they wanted to be with their users for as long as possible. That was the most basic directive of every Companion. Even Geist felt it on a level, although he was certain most Companions saw it differently than he did.
Not that he could put into words how he saw it in the first place. Just like he couldn’t put into words what his question actually was right then and there. How could he explain love to other Companions when he wasn’t sure what it was himself?
Or … maybe he did.
“If you were to wake up tomorrow to find out your user was dead, how would that make you feel?” he asked.
At first, there was no answer. Geist studied the Companions before him, watching them bow their heads and let the lights in their eyes flicker. Blue’s head began to whir, almost like he was struggling to come up with an answer. Josephine, meanwhile, lifted her chin a few seconds before he did.
“Disappointed,” she said.
Disappointed. Disappointed.
“Josephine,” Geist said. “How long have you been with your user?”
“Six years, eight months, fourteen days,” Josephine recited.
“And you would only be disappointed if he died tomorrow?” Geist asked.
“Are you threatening my user?” Josephine responded.
Geist held up a hand. “No. I’m just curious. Blue, how about you? How long have you known your user?”
Blue snapped out of his processing daze immediately. “A year and a half!”
“And what would you do if your user were gone tomorrow?” Geist said.
Blue smiled. “I would resume my scheduled duties until they’re cancelled by Amelia’s authorized emergency contact!”
Geist slumped his shoulders. They didn’t know. They were just like him, yet…
He waved his hand in the air. “Thank you. Go back to your pods and plug yourselves back in. That’s all I wanted to know.”
They did as they were told. Of course they did. They were, after all, just Companions.
And Geist? Geist pressed the plug into the outlet on the back of his neck and lay back down, hands on his stomach and eyes on the ceiling.
He entered sleep mode that night with more questions than he ever had.
—
Daily Schedule
7:00 AM: Wake up. Disengage from pod. Switch off alarm.
7:05 AM: Collect breakfast from the pokémon center cafeteria for Door. Black coffee, house roast, in a thermacup to go. If travel is planned for the day, a bagel sandwich. If no travel is planned, waffles. Syrup and strawberry jam on the side.
7:25 AM: Enter Door’s room. Arrange breakfast on the desk. Read weather report, then access Door’s digital inventory to select appropriate outfit and supplies. Withdraw towel and toiletries. Do not wake Door.
7:35 AM: Attempt to wake Door. Fail. Set alarm for 8:00 AM.
7:35 - 8:00 AM: Map the day’s schedule. Otherwise, free period.
That morning, Geist couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get through his morning tasks. On the contrary, one of the advantages of being a Companion was that one could quite literally go on autopilot. He wasn’t even aware that he had lost himself in thought—or some semblance thereof—until he had settled down on the floor beside Door’s bed, a map of Driftveil City open in his hands and his user snoring softly behind him. And that was when he realized he was looping over the same thought over and over again. 10:00 - 11:00 AM: Battle with Roland Stone, Driftveil Gym. In his head, the gym’s instructions for preparation were open, and on the map, he could see a route neatly planned from the pokémon center directly to the gym. But he wasn’t thinking about that.
He was thinking, again, about the video. He could feel it, the file open somewhere else in the back of his head, frozen over Lanette’s face. It was open when he woke up, and it was playing over and over again as he walked through the pokémon center. And then, deep down, he could feel that ache in his…
His where? He had no heart. Nothing about him was real. He had no nervous system, no muscles, no skin, no flesh. Nothing that could hurt.
So what was this feeling?
Geist clapped his hands together. The map disappeared in a flash, and in his head, the schedule froze at 10:00 - 11:00 AM: Battle with Roland Stone. Nothing after.
Door would just have to deal with a little spontaneity.
He stood up and looked down at Door. It was only 7:39; that was what the clock in his head told him. And she looked so peaceful, just lying there and not arguing with him for once. Geist couldn’t help but crack a smile. Sure, he could only remember three years of his time on Earth, but this girl? This girl, without a doubt, caused more trouble for him than anything that came before or after his data wipe.
Yet he couldn’t fault her for it. First off, that’s not what a Companion could do, and second … part of him enjoyed it. This was yet another thing Geist would never tell Door. The last thing she needed was encouragement. In that department, at least.
Geist straightened and fixed his new suit. No, he wouldn’t tell her—about the hurt, that is. He couldn’t tell her. He was supposed to be her guardian, her faithful Companion—or at the very least, responsible. How could he ask her? It would be like a parent asking a child…
Yet … she would know, wouldn’t she? About love. About what it meant. About whether or not he could feel it towards another human being. About coming to understand those feelings he had towards humans, about understanding a deep part of himself he was told over and over again didn’t exist. About … Lanette.
Or, at the very least, she could tell him that he was stupid. Companions couldn’t love anyone, least of all humans. He was a Companion; therefore, he did not love humans. Simple as that.
The video wouldn’t close; that was why he buried it underneath the schedule. He tried not to think about that as he moved to the door. It was funny—a Companion trying not to think. They weren’t supposed to have thoughts, were they?
So … what if he was different? What if he could—
Geist opened the door and stopped when he realized Blair was on the other side. She stood, hair still damp from a shower, fist raised to knock. Yet he hadn’t heard her footsteps, had he?
How long had she been there?
Blair’s eyes darted from Geist’s face to something behind him, and immediately, he understood why she was there.
“Um,” she said. “Want to … want to go have breakfast? With me? Please?”
No ordinary Companion could deny an innocent request from a human.
At least Geist had that in common with them.
—
“Opal’s still charging,” Blair explained.
Geist hadn’t asked, but he appreciated the explanation nonetheless.
“I just thought,” Blair said slowly, with the edge of a bagel between her teeth, “that … you know. You’d wonder. Since she’s my Companion and all.”
“And you’re consulting me,” Geist finished. He toyed with the bottle of fresh water in front of him. It wasn’t for him to drink; he only picked it up because it could be converted to a healing charge later.
It was his job to be a pragmatist. Or was that another leftover trait of Bill’s?
Was that hurt, then…?
“Consulting you?” Blair bit off part of the bagel. Through a full mouth, she replied, “No, don’t get me wrong. I just…”
“Chew and swallow first, Miss Blair,” Geist responded patiently. His eyes trailed down to the bottle. “I can perform the Heimlich, but I would much rather not.”
A short pause, just long enough for Blair to do what she was told. It was amazing how different Blair was compared to Door.
She was awake, for one.
“Sorry,” Blair said, her voice much clearer now. “But … you know you can call me Blair, right? Just … Blair.”
Geist shifted his eyes back to her, studying her face carefully. “Very well. Blair it is.”
“Thanks.” Blair set the bagel down on the paper plate in front of her. Her eyes fell on it, and her fingers traced the unbitten edges. “Anyway, I just thought … you know. Since she’s your friend and all, you’d like to know where she is.”
“My friend, Blair?”
“Well … yeah.” Blair lifted her eyes to meet Geist’s again. “You’re both Companions, so I just thought—and you’ve known her longer than I have…”
Blair trailed off at that point and fell into an embarrassed silence. Geist could even see her cheeks color slightly.
“Do … Companions even have friends? Like … you know what friendship is, right?” she asked.
“Of course I know what friendship is.” Geist tried his best to make that sound like a simple statement, not an accusation that Blair was calling him an idiot. It was a fair question, after all.
“Oh. Of course you do.” Blair tore off a piece of the bagel and pressed it between her fingers. “I just mean … do you experience that kind of thing the way we do?”
“I’m not sure.”
“R-right.” Blair popped the piece of bagel into her mouth and chewed slowly. She had turned her head away by then, pointedly avoiding Geist’s gaze.
“May I ask you a question?” Geist said.
Blair looked back at him, not with surprise as he had expected but instead relief. “Of course.”
“What is it you needed to talk to me about?”
She practically jumped out of her skin at that question. Leaning back in her chair, Blair gripped the table, smiled awkwardly, and looked everywhere in the cafeteria but Geist.
“W-what? What makes you think I wanted to talk to you about anything specific?” she asked.
“Well, for starters…” Geist motioned to the table between them. “Obviously, you didn’t intend on inviting someone who can’t eat to breakfast.” He stopped, a thought shoving past the video to the surface of his mind. “Or were you … oh. That explains quite a bit.”
He rested his chin on one hand and twirled the bottle with the other. Truth be told, he didn’t have to smile coyly whenever he did things like this. He didn’t even have to be coy at all. It wasn’t a thing dictated by his normal behavioral protocols, and there was no advantage those little teasing moments.
But the looks on their faces and how candid they would be thereafter? It was worth breaking routine for that. If he had no true free will, he might as well enjoy it, right? Keep the humans on their toes, partly for their benefit and partly for his entertainment.
To his surprise, Blair wasn’t as amusing as Door was. In the seconds that came after those words spilled out of Geist’s mouth, Blair grew visibly less flustered. She sank into herself, slouching in her seat with her head bowed. Her fingers played with her half-eaten bagel, and the embarrassed blush on her cheeks faded. Geist almost felt guilty. Almost.
“That obvious, huh?” she asked quietly.
“Not quite,” Geist replied. “You fooled a machine for a while.”
Blair cracked a smile. “Can you keep a secret?”
Rolling his chin forward on his palm, Geist settled back into studying her face. Teenagers were endlessly fascinating, he had to admit. “Of course. It’s what I’m designed to do.”
Once again, Blair’s fingers tore off a piece of her bagel, little by little, as if the act required more thought than it did. Geist kept his eyes on Blair’s face, refusing to let the movement distract him, but he took note out of it out of the corner of his eye. She was stalling.
“Door’s nice, isn’t she?” Blair asked.
Geist pressed his lips together. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Do you want the honest answer to that?”
A snort rushed out of Blair’s nose, only for her to give Geist a sharp look. “Come on, Geist. She’s not all bad. I mean, I know you have to serve her, and I know she’s got a rotten opinion about you Companions, but…” Blair looked back down at her bagel. “I don’t know.”
Another moment of silence passed before Geist leaned back in his own chair. He crossed his arms and tapped his index finger on his forearm.
“No, I quite agree,” he said. “People are complicated, and it’s very, very rare for someone to be without any redeeming qualities whatsoever. As stubborn, impulsive, quick-tempered, sarcastic, pessimistic, and fantastically rude as she can be … she can also care quite a lot about her friends.”
Blair looked up. “So … she treats all her friends…”
She trailed off, but Geist knew exactly where that question was heading. Did Door treat everyone the way she had treated Blair, whatever that might have entailed? The answer, Geist knew, was simple, and he reached across the table and rested his fingertips on Blair’s wrist to tell her as much.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked softly.
Keeping her eyes on his fingertips, Blair nodded. Geist leaned in a little more.
“As far as I can tell, you’re the only human friend Door has,” he told her. “And she is very fond of you.”
Blair looked into his eyes. “Fond of me?”
With a small grin, he nodded. “Very much so.” Taking his hand away, Geist settled back into his seat. “May I ask you a question as well?”
“O-of course,” Blair replied. Her voice was airy, as if her mind wasn’t completely present in the conversation anymore.
“How do you feel about Door?” Geist asked. “Or girls like her, in general?”
That snapped Blair back into attention. She looked at him briefly, then back down to her breakfast, and the blush on her cheeks was back with a vengeance.
“I, um … I don’t know,” she said. “I-I mean … Door is…” Her voice lowered, and she leaned forward, into the table, with one hand working its way through her long hair as she spoke. “I think I like Door. She’s just really nice. Super nice. Like, I can tell—she acts tough, but she’s the sort of person where, deep down, she might be really sweet and just scared of admitting that? Does that make sense?”
Geist smiled, wide and genuine this time. “It does. Go on.”
“And she’s strong and funny,” Blair continued, as if she hadn’t heard Geist. “And I know she’s trying to be nice to me, but sometimes, she just screws up, but it’s just adorable. I just want to get to know her more, you know?”
She paused. Geist watched her look away and shove the bagel piece into her mouth, and he waited patiently thereafter. She wasn’t done. He knew that.
And sure enough, after a minute, she pulled herself back forward, into the conversation. “But … don’t get me wrong or anything, but I don’t think … I don’t know. I’m supposed to like guys, but then there’s her.”
“Do you like guys?” Geist asked. He kept his voice low and his tone informal. She needed the safety; he knew that too.
Blair shrugged. “That’s the thing. I do. But then there’s her.”
“You do realize you can like both, yes?”
“Yeah, I know,” Blair replied, cringing at Geist’s words. “I just…”
“Never thought about it?”
Blair shook her head. “No. Who would I talk to about it? It’s not something you just … say.” She looked him in the eye. “Sorry. Sometimes, I forget you’re not human. Or that, you know, you’ve been living with a scientist for the past three years. I mean … it’s hard to describe. What do you know about being fourteen?”
“Admittedly, not much,” Geist responded. “But don’t tell Door.”
That got a chuckle out of Blair. “It’s not worth it. I’m a little jealous of Companions because they don’t have to deal with things like bullies or getting zits and stuff.”
Bullies. Of course. That explained quite a bit, and Geist almost felt sorry for Blair in that instant. So, he had to switch tactics. Keep her spirits up. Keep her encouraged.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. It sounds quite exciting too.” He reached across the table to grasp her wrist lightly. “Just remember, though, that you’re far away from whoever told you you could and couldn’t like, and that the people you’re surrounding yourself with now only want to see you happy. So it’s okay, Blair. You don’t have to have an answer at all, but whatever you choose to do, whomever you choose to love, just remember that we’ll stand beside you, all right?”
Blair nodded. The action came so quickly that Geist couldn’t tell whether or not his words had sunk into her mind. It was just something he would have to deal with later, he knew, but for now, he could feel the clock in his head grow closer and closer to that alarm. With one last squeeze, he stood up.
“If you need anything, you know where to find me,” he said. “But if it makes you feel any more comfortable, when I say Door likes you, I do mean she likes you.”
He started to pull away, but Blair, her face a blazing red by then, jumped and reached for his cuff.
“Um,” she said. “Where … where are you going now?”
“To wake Door up,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her a thing we said, but if I don’t force her out of that dormitory now, we’ll have to deal with a very disappointed Roland Stone. Incidentally, though, would you like me to check on Opal on my way back?”
Blair let go of his sleeve and shook her head slowly. “Thanks, but it’s okay. I’ll get her after breakfast.”
Geist nodded. “Probably for the best. I’ll need all the time I can get if I’m to force Door out of bed.”
As he turned away, he heard a shriek of laughter from Blair, and that put a smile back on his face. If he was anything at all, it was a good Companion, and that alone made that conversation worth it.
Well. That and something else. A thought, specifically.
If humans could explore themselves, why couldn’t he?
There was an answer to that. An actual one. But the question was, was he willing to ask Door to get it?
—
If there was one thing Geist was, it was a good Companion. Between waking Door up, ushering her through her morning routine, enduring her verbal tirades when she realized exactly how late it was, leading her through Driftveil, and assisting her with her gym battle, Geist was focused. The video had been just beneath the surface of his mind, submerged by the deluge of activity around him. Nothing else mattered except Door’s immediate needs, which he silently swore he would fulfill with perfection.
Okay, so he was stalling.
Could anyone blame him, though? He knew all too well what Door would say if he told her, if he asked her straight-out all the questions that were swimming through the bits and bytes of his mind. And on the one hand, it would be a relief to hear it from her, yes, and part of him anticipated it. On the other…
What was stopping him from having that conversation?
Geist had managed to ignore that very question for the entire morning, and he had fully intended on ignoring it for the afternoon and well into the evening. Unfortunately, Door had other plans. Plans that mostly involved taking a break to let Blair train once they were far enough down Route 6 to let Driftveil vanish between the trees. Door stood back, at the edge of a clearing, as she watched Blair take on a small swarm of swadloon with Wilbur’s Flame Wheel and Opal’s constant stream of advice and encouragement. Geist stood at her side, hands behind his back, mentally counting the seconds until he realized Door wasn’t planning on talking at all.
So. Ask or stall? Geist could practically hear his cores whirring as they went back and forth between those two options, and as he leaned towards his user, he could swear they picked up speed. Ask or stall? Ask or stall?
“Congratulations on the gym battle, by the way,” he said.
Stall. Stall like there’s no tomorrow.
“You’ve said that already,” she replied.
He straightened up immediately. “Right. Right.”
Door was giving him a strange look. He knew this; he could see it out of the corner of his eye. Knowing her, Geist realized this was likely to go one very specific way. She would ask him what was wrong, he would dodge the question, and she would throw out guesses of a questionably sensible variety until he would completely distract her by asking her about how she was doing.
It could be an opportunity, though. Geist could get it over with and simply ask her what was on his mind. But that inexplicable hesitation was still there.
So he cut her off instead.
“She’s something else, isn’t she?” he asked.
“Wha-who?” Door jerked, visibly startled. Then, whirling away from him, she looked back into the clearing, just as Blair was taking on another swadloon. “Blair?”
“Yes,” Geist replied. He added a short nod to make his reaction seem authentic. “I was worried she would fall behind, but I see I’ve underestimated her.”
Door snorted, and out of the corner of his eye, Geist could see her smirk and plant her hands on her hips. “Well, yeah. Blair’s just got sucky confidence, but if she’d stop talking crap about herself for five seconds, she’d realize how awesome she can actually be.”
“Awesome?” Geist said, his voice teasing.
And to the surprise of an audience that certainly did not include Geist, Door took to the bait. Her head jerked away, but what little skin Geist could see was already turning a bright shade of red.
“Y-yeah?” she squeaked. It was clear she was trying to keep her voice low, perhaps to avoid drawing Blair’s attention. “I said awesome. So what?”
Geist leaned in. “You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?”
Door wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m starting to regret telling you I like girls.”
“Come now, Door,” Geist responded. “You really do need to think of me as your help rather than a hindrance. I could, for example … talk to her on your behalf, perhaps?”
“Do that, and I’ll kill you,” Door growled through gritted teeth.
A lesser Companion would have pointed out that machines can’t technically die, but Geist was no ordinary Companion, was he? He leaned back on his heels, eyes rolling skyward as if in deep thought.
“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand human romance,” he said. “If you like someone, as you clearly do, wouldn’t it be easier—”
Door held up a hand. “Nope. Gonna stop you right there. It would not.” Then, glancing towards Blair’s battle, she slapped her raised hand around Geist’s wrist. “In fact, we’re gonna keep talking out of earshot so I can properly smack some sense into you.” Then, a little louder, she added, “Hey, Blair! Geist and I need to talk about our next gym battle. Be back in a sec!”
As Blair gave them a quick wave and an “okay,” Door led her Companion away from the battle and into the woods. She didn’t stop until she had placed at least four trees between herself and the clearing, and when she did, she let go of Geist’s wrist and whirled on him.
“Okay, look,” Door said. “Truth is, not many people know I’m … you know.”
Geist quirked an eyebrow. “That’s another thing. There’s nothing wrong with being gay, is there?”
Door cringed. “No, of course not! I mean … yeah, okay, I can get married or whatever, and yeah, things are better than they were fifty years ago, but actually? Some things just don’t change. Like people. You can’t just go up to people and say, ‘Hey! I’m gay, and I think you’re cute! Let’s date!’ That can still freak people out, especially if you’re from the boonies.”
Glancing skyward again, Geist bobbed his head from side to side to consider this. “Ignoring the fact that you have a very skewed definition of ‘the boonies,’ it makes sense. You’re afraid of how Blair would react.”
“Well, not just Blair…” Door rubbed the back of her neck. “Dad knows, and he’s supportive, but Mom? She’s a bit more traditional. And she’s worked so hard to keep me away from the media, and I don’t think she’d appreciate the media having a field day over the fact that her only daughter is, well…” Her voice grew soft, and she looked directly at her Companion. “A dyke.”
“Do people still use that term?”
Door hugged herself and looked away. “Not good people. But yeah. They do.”
Well. That explained why Door didn’t have human friends before now.
Other than the fact that she was horrendously sarcastic and rude, but still.
“I see,” Geist replied. “All right, then. But I do think you should tell Blair. She’s far more open-minded than you give her credit—”
“Okay, what did you tell her?”
Geist started. “I’m sorry?”
Door glared daggers at him. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing, Door,” Geist replied evenly.
“Geist, I swear, if you’re lying—”
“The closest I’ve ever been to lying with you is lying by omission, which, as I’ve established concerning the rules of Companion conduct, does not count,” Geist told her. “That having been said, I did indeed speak to her this morning, but our conversation was more of a personal nature. She asked me for advice.”
“On?”
“I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”
There was a beat of silence, and Geist was afraid that Door would break it by pressing him for answers. Instead, and to his surprise, she exhaled and broke eye contact.
“Fine,” she said. “It’s cool.”
Door turned completely away from Geist at that point. She paced away from him and from the clearing, with one hand on the back of her neck, and for the first time since he had met her, Geist wasn’t sure what Door was about to do next.
“Listen,” she said. “I don’t expect you to get what’s going on between Blair and me. You’re a machine and all. What do you know about all that stuff?”
Geist stiffened. This was it. The answer he had been looking for.
“But, you know…” Her voice trailed off momentarily. “I don’t know.” Glancing up, she looked at Geist again. “Huh. Would’ve thought you’d have something smart to say.”
“Smart, Door?”
“Well … yeah,” Door said. “I mean, Usually, I tell you something personal, then tell you off for sticking your nose in my business. Then I say something about how you can’t possibly understand because you’re a robot, and then somehow, one thing leads to another, and I walk away with life advice and this feeling that I’d just embarrassed myself in front of the whole school. But you’re just standing there.” She squinted at him. “In fact … you kinda seemed distracted not too long ago. You okay?”
“Hmm?” Geist shook his head. “Oh. Yes. Of course I am, Door. I’m fine.”
He hesitated. Normally, she’d press onward, but before she could, he held up a hand.
What was keeping him from having this conversation?
Nothing at all, apparently. Nothing except appearances.
“Actually, wait,” he said. “Door. I need to ask you something, but I want you to know that I’m asking purely out of scientific interest, okay?”
Door scoffed. “Wow. Okay. Wasn’t gonna stop you, but sure.”
Ignore her sarcasm. Ask. This is Door. Geist had spent so much time with her that she was able to accurately map out their usual conversations.
What harm would it be to ask?
“Door … how powerful are emotion cores?” he asked. “What can they do?”
She crossed her arms and gave him another strange look. “Uh … emulate emotions? Just cobble together some artificial personality based on the most basic possible traits? Is this a pop quiz?”
“No,” Geist replied. “I … ah. Is one of those emotions…?”
Door didn’t need to wait for Geist’s voice to trail off for her eyes to go wide. “Wait. Hold up. Are you asking me if…?”
Geist slowly lowered his hand. “I … I’m afraid so, Door.”
And then, for the second time in that conversation, Door did something Geist never would have seen coming.
She gave him a pitying frown.
“It’s the video, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.
“I haven’t been able to close it,” Geist admitted, his voice low.
“Why didn’t you say anything? What if it’s a virus or something?”
“It’s not,” he replied quickly. “And … I don’t think it’s something that can be resolved with standard troubleshooting.”
Door stood a little straighter. “What’re you saying?”
“I’m not sure,” Geist responded. His eyes drifted down until his gaze fixed onto his feet. “Every time I play that video, I feel—or … or rather, I mimic the feeling of being hurt. I don’t understand what it means. I know I’m a machine.” He pulled his hands up and into his field of view, and he stared at his palms. “I know that none of me is real, and I know I can’t remember her on my own. Yet I feel something. I can’t describe it, but it feels like my cores are burning.”
Silence. It seemed, apparently, that this conversation was just going to be one long line of Door doing things that she wouldn’t do in any other situation. Normally, Geist would be delighted by the variety, but now? Now he silently begged for her response.
Well. This conversation would just have to be a first for the both of them.
“Does that make sense?” Geist asked, hoping that would draw her out of silence.
“Geist,” she said quietly. “Usually, I’d blow this off because it’s you and fuck you sometimes, but … you’re new territory. You don’t even try to act like other Companions. I mean, Jesus, I’ve seen enough Calliopes to know that, sure, they can get close, but they don’t act like you did … well, ever. Not even the newest ones with fancy-schmancy cores and whatever.”
That got his attention. Geist looked up and studied Door’s face carefully. “Door…”
She waved him off. “What I’m trying to say is can you have actual feelings? Who knows? Can you fall in love? Who knows? All I know is my great aunt made you specifically to mimic her dead best friend, and she spent the next forty years trying to get you as close to what he was like as possible. Maybe she did create you because she was a lonely, absolutely nutso freakazoid who loved her dead best friend and wanted him to love her back. Who. Knows? But she’s dead, so who cares about her? The point is, you’re here, and you’re stuck with whatever aftermath she left you with, and long story short, two questions. One, is she the only person you have feelings for, and two, are you anatomically correct?”
Geist blinked. “Door, I have absolutely no doubt that you already regret that second question—”
“And you wouldn’t be wrong!”
“—but the answer is no.”
“Oh thank God.”
“As for your first question,” Geist said slowly, “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Door replied.
“I mean…”
Geist trailed off. He paced to a tree and leaned against it, pressing his back into the trunk. As he stared into the forest canopy, he searched through database after database to find the right words, and when he spoke, it was even slower, as if he was jumping from syllable to syllable like stepping stones through a creek.
“Door, I can only remember three years of my history. In that time, I’ve only had meaningful contact with a handful of people. You and Blair are too young, Belle and Starr are criminals, Opal—as fond as I am of her—doesn’t interest me, and Amanita, besides being rather old and uninterested in romantic pursuits in general, was my employer. It wouldn’t be right to hold that sort of relationship with her.”
“Cool, but that’s not what I mean,” Door said.
It was Geist’s turn to look at her strangely. Arms crossed, head tilted, eyebrows furrowed, he said, “Well … what do you mean then?”
Door shrugged. “I mean don’t you look at someone and think they’re cute?”
“Cute?”
“I don’t know. Nice to look at.” Door rubbed the back of her head as she frowned. “I mean … if you look at someone, do you feel all warm and fuzzy, and does your heart kinda—”
Geist quirked an eyebrow, stopping Door in her tracks.
“Oh. Right,” she said. Then, she whipped her hands out in front of her, palms pushing towards the ground. “Okay. So maybe the signs will be different for you, but you’ll know them when you see them, just like how you’re saying you feel something for my great aunt. Does that make sense?”
Her Companion remained silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say. It was more that this … this wasn’t an answer he had expected. He held onto Door’s every word, turning each over in his cores one by one.
“But the important thing is, though, that whatever you’re feeling, it’s for someone other than my great aunt,” Door added. “That’s how you’ll know for sure. If you start feeling something for someone else, then it’s real, got it? It’s not just some fluke or something my great aunt cooked up. It’s you.”
After a moment’s silence, Geist said, “You know … I wasn’t expecting this.”
Door pulled her head back in a subtle gesture of shock. “What were you expecting?”
Pushing off the tree, Geist smirked, shrugged, and sauntered back to Door’s side. “For you to tell me that I’m a machine, so therefore, I can’t possibly feel anything real.”
Exhaling through stretched lips, Door reached up and patted Geist on the shoulder. “Well … first and foremost, I might have a thing or two to say about Companions, but if one comes along I happen to think might be half-decent, then I’m going to say that Companion should get to do whatever he wants. So, you know, it’s okay to explore and figure out who you are and stuff. Maybe you might even prove a lot of people wrong about what Companions can do, yeah? So whatever it is you like—guys, girls, Companions, or whatever—if you have any questions … just shoot, okay?”
“Okay.” Geist couldn’t help but smile. Genuinely, even.
Door smirked and patted his shoulder. “Also, I’d rather you go and explore yourself and whatever than live with the knowledge that you could’ve been my great aunt’s sex bot.”
And there went the smile. “Door.”
She released his shoulder and held her palms towards him. “Hey, you never know.”
“Actually, given the fact that I’ve retained almost all of my basic programming, none of which pertains to servicing humans in that way, I can safely say that I was not.”
Door cocked her head to the side. “I can’t tell if that was more than or exactly what I wanted to know.”
Geist straightened, tugging at the edges of his jacket. He was starting to feel himself slip back into step, back into the role of Door’s protector and guide.
“Well,” he said, “perhaps it’s best not to think about it. Shall we head back?”
“Yeah.” Door nodded. “Yeah, okay, probably for the best.”
As they started along their way, Geist watched his charge out of the corner of his eye. She fell into step beside him, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as she went, and Geist smiled again at the familiar sight. As rough and rude as Door was sometimes, he couldn’t think of anyone he would rather have as his user. After all, who else would be okay with a Companion learning the ins and outs of the heart they shouldn’t have?
It was strange, though. A week ago, he would never had guessed that Door would be that person. But maybe some things changed for the better, slowly but surely.
Which meant, in the end, he had a lot to think about … and he was okay with that.
“Thank you,” Geist said. “For your advice.”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Door replied.
“That isn’t troubling you, is it?” Geist asked. “The idea that I might … well. Question myself a bit from here on out.”
“I said it wouldn’t, and I meant that.”
“Then what’s on your mind?”
Door groaned for a bit, then slowed her pace. “When you said Blair was open-minded … did you mean she … you know?”
Geist gave her a soft smile. Some things, he thought, didn’t change at all.
