Rowan wanted to give him that, but his doubts were stronger than ever. Milo was alive, his own person ready to make his own mistakes, but he had still been crafted piece by piece to be Rowan’s perfect companion. That felt weird now. Wrong. Totally messed up in too many indescribable ways that all Rowan could do as he leaned down to meet Milo was kiss his forehead with a gentle press of lips.
Milo leaned into it, despite looking disappointed before he left for the bathroom.
Now to clean.
And make oatmeal.
And coffee.
Rowan definitely needed coffee.
The city streets whirred by in a blur. Rowan didn’t know how people used to handle their commutes before automated vehicles. He could drive and was always ready to take over manually if necessary, but it was so much more relaxing to be able to program in a destination—his work, which was his most frequented stop besides home—and along the way catch up on emails, shopping lists, whatever. Only this morning, he wasn’t as preoccupied with any of that. He contented himself watching Milo.
Before his singularity, Milo had been outside the apartment countless times. Some groceries and other items were delivered, but some things were best picked out in person. Produce.Clothing. Shoes. Yet Milo was looking out the vehicle’s passenger window as if he had never seen any of these streets before.
Rowan supposed it had been a long time since he truly appreciated the view of the city around him. At night, from the window of his apartment, he enjoyed it well enough, but the bustle of daytime was daunting. Chaos at a distance was easier to stomach.
Milo clearly had no such hang-ups. His face was filled with elation as the varied colored lights of the city vehicles and buildings danced across his pale face, mechanical eyes practically glittering as they absorbed the input. Uncertain as Rowan was of their future—of Milo’s future—there was something special about seeing that kind of wonder on an adult’s face. Aging tended to take away that sense of magic and awe with the world, but Milo was seeing it all brand new.
Most of the city looked roughly the same as it had for the past fifty years. The biggest differences during Rowan’s lifetime had been the addition of more elevated highways above the base ones on the ground, allowing for dedicated automated vehicle pathways like the one they were on. There were still subways below ground and light rails above, as well as other public transportation, but there were also public gardens and co-ops, so that amid the metal structures and light pollution were pops of foliage and fresh produce grown right between city buildings.
The juxtaposition of synthetic and organic was beautiful in its way.
Like Milo.
Milo was so, so beautiful.
“Isn’t it?” Milo glanced at Rowan, smile wide and expression entirely human.
“Huh?”
“The city and its lights, its people. Isn’t it all beautiful?”
“Yeah, Milo. It is.”
The vehicle slowed to a stop, alerting Rowan that they had arrived. The factory would be minimally staffed today, but he’d still need to use his keycard to get in. Guests were not allowed, but Milo didn’t count. Bots never counted because they weren’t seen as people.
“Just remember,” Rowan said before they exited the vehicle, “at first, try to act like you used to, okay? At least until we can explain to Troy what happened.”
“Understood.” Milo closed his eyes, taking another breathing moment, and when he opened his eyes again, he wore the stoic, blank expression of the bot he’d been before.
Of course, given his activity in the kitchen that morning, Rowan was skeptical of just how long Milo could maintain the façade. For now, all they needed was to get past security.
Andreas Tech’s main production facility was huge, taking up multiple city blocks, primarily due to its constantly refilled warehouse of new bots and replacement parts that shipped out to consumers all over the world. Shipments could arrive same day in most cases, and usually only took one to two days for farther destinations. The company was efficient, the gold standard in robotics, and because of its proprietary technology, it was also heavily guarded against anyone who didn’t work there.
“Security pass, please,” the bot at the front entrance asked of Rowan when he approached. She was a standard A-model like Anabelle, minimally customized to be beautiful and friendly, and programmed with multiple de-escalation tactics and self-defense techniques should trouble arise.
Rowan had worn his badge around his neck like usual for ease’s sake and lifted it for the bot to scan.
“Thank you, Engineer Rangecroft. Will you be checking your assistant bot today or bringing it with you?”
Rowan glanced at Milo just in time to see him flinch—unclear whether it was from being called “it” again when he had chosen otherwise, being considered something that could be “checked” like a belonging, or just interreacting with a non-awakened bot for the first time since his singularity, but Milo was definitely unhappy for the split second that he allowed his true feelings to show. “Bringing,” Rowan said, and the security bot let them through without question.
The badges were DNA-coded, so as Rowan walked through the entrance hallway, he was being scanned to confirm that his identity matched his keycard and that he had no dangerous substances or devices on him.
A similar scan would be conducted on Milo, but nothing invasive enough to notice anything amiss. At least Rowan didn’t think so, since none of Milo’s programming was technically malfunctioning. When no alarms went off and they safely made it through to the other side, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Rowan and Raina’s stations were on one of the higher floors, but Troy’s lab was in the subbasement. He was one of the senior coders who configured the bots’ base programming and tested new parts, new software, and any other updates to older and newer models alike. He also had enough tenure that he had that particular lab all to himself.
