She glanced over at him, and the contented smile fell from her lips.
Dataran had laced his fingers with Miko’s and was holding her hand on his knee, while his other hand drew explanatory pictures in the air.
Something flashed in Star’s chest—a spark maybe, or a power surge. Her fingers curled into fists, tightening with the urge to reach across Dataran and rip their hands away from each other. To shove Miko aside. To wrap her own fingers around Miko’s neck.
Grimacing, she turned away, and waited for the flood of white to fade from her vision.
It was not the first time such horrible thoughts had come into her head. Generally, she found that she enjoyed Miko’s company. She was a smart girl who talked just enough to keep Star from feeling strange that she couldn’t participate in the conversation, and who had insisted that Star take the occasional walk with her in a nearby park when she deemed that Star had been working too hard lately.
But when they were with Dataran, which was more often than not, Star found herself withdrawing from Miko’s friendliness and discovering a darker part of her programming. She figured it had to be another glitch—this strange desire to hurt a human being—that seemed to emerge only when Dataran found some subtle way to touch Miko. Just placing a hand on her elbow or brushing a lock of hair off her shoulder.
These little moments made Star feel like she was disintegrating inside.
Maybe the malfunctions were getting worse. Maybe a new processor would help. Had she earned enough money now to afford one? She wasn’t sure, and she needed to weigh it with her need for a power source that didn’t threaten to die near the end of every workday.
“Star? Are you all right?”
Prying her eyes open, she forced herself to look at Dataran. A quick glance confirmed that their hands remained entwined, but she still forced her lips to curl upward and her head to bob up and down.
The concern lingered in Dataran’s gaze, but then a cheer rose up from the audience and the racer was taking flight, and Dataran and Miko shifted their giddy attentions back to the spectacle.
Star tried to focus on the ship, or even the night sky, but she couldn’t get the image of her own pale fingers around Miko’s neck to fade from her thoughts. It disturbed her that her processor was capable of imagining something so horrific, and the shipyard mechanic’s words flashed through her head.
The fact is, an unpredictable android is a dangerous one.
Was she unpredictable?
Was she dangerous?
She felt a shudder along her wires as soon as the ship lifted up off the ground, to another uproarious cheer.
Her energy was running out.
She switched her internal settings to power-saving mode, and the world dulled to shades of gray, the sound in her ears a jumbled hum as her audio receptors stopped sorting and cataloging the input.
She set a hand on Dataran’s shoulder and climbed to her feet. The movement came with a jolt of pain that threatened to cripple her. She grimaced and waited a moment before waving good-bye.
“Where are you going?” Dataran pointed at the ship. “It will only be another few minutes. We can take a hover together.”
Her fan whirred faster. She had made up a home address that was near to his on her third day at the shipyard and they often left together when the workday was over. Sometimes Miko joined them too, and Star thought she and Dataran might have plans that didn’t involve her, and yet they were always so good to not suggest she was an unwanted intruder.
Those hover rides, simply listening to Dataran talk and laugh, were some of the best of her short existence.
But this time, she shook her head. She needed to find a charging dock, and quickly.
He did not expect her to explain, an unexpected benefit of being mute, and so he simply nodded, still frowning, and let her go.
But Star had not gone a dozen steps before she felt the power drain from her legs. Warnings pounded into her consciousness, but they were too late—she was falling. Her head crashed into the hard floor and she lay there with her arms twitching so hard, she worried they would yank right out of her shoulder sockets.
She picked out Miko and Dataran’s yells even from the chaotic roaring in her ears, and then they were above her, tenderly turning her onto her back. She scanned their faces, recognizing shock, fear, panic, uncertainty. Dataran was speaking, but she couldn’t comprehend. Miko was pressing a hand against her forehead.
Her processor began to flicker back to life, programs gradually rebooting themselves. Though she still had no control over her legs, she could once again make out Dataran’s concerned questions raining down on her like shooting stars.
Then Miko laid a hand on Dataran’s arms and said, with calm authority, “Bring her some water.”
With a frantic nod, he pushed himself to his feet. When he had gone, Miko sighed, her gaze full of sympathy as she tucked a lock of Star’s hair behind an ear.
“The fit seems to have passed, but just lie still.”
Star withered from embarrassment to know that Dataran had seen her like this.
“I’m sorry if I offend you by asking this,” Miko whispered, glancing in the direction Dataran had gone, “but… are you an escort-droid, Star-mèi?”
Eyes widening, Star tried to sit up, only succeeding when Miko tucked an arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her. She realized the thought of Miko knowing her secret terrified her, but Miko’s smile was kind. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Dataran has noticed anything, and I won’t tell anyone. You are very… convincing.” Her lashes dipped, and she murmured, “But like recognizes like.”
Star scrutinized her. Like recognizes like. The words repeated in her head, but she couldn’t seem to compute them.
Then Miko reached a hand for the back of her neck, where Star had noticed that strange dark spot a dozen times since her return, always hastily covered up. “I’m not an android,” she said, shaking her head. She cleared her throat and dared to meet Star’s gaze again. “But I am a cyborg.”
Cyborg. The definition was in her database, but Star doubted its accuracy. Miko? Lovely young Miko?
Miko glanced around to make sure no one was near. They had been sitting near the paint booth, which offered a good view of the ship’s takeoff without all the crowds, and no one was paying them any attention.
Sitting back on her heels, Miko pulled up the wide sleeve of her silk kimono. Star watched, mesmerized, as Miko dug her fingers into her elbow and began to peel the skin back. A perfect, thin layer of flesh rolled down her arm like a tightly knit sleeve, and beneath the skin was a finely crafted arm made from lightweight carbon-fiber polymer, the same material Star’s body was constructed from.