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It was quiet in Jericho that night.
It was colder, the temperature dropping as November progressed. And while most androids were capable of shutting off the mechanism that allowed them to feel temperature, it was discouraged amongst those taking refuge in Jericho, as was shutting off (or otherwise diminishing) their sense of pain: With no ability to go in for routine maintenance it was important that they all be able to take stock of whether or not their systems were gumming up with ice, or if they’d received some damage that their systems had not picked up on yet. And unfortunately, with a Great Lakes winter settling in, the odds of the cold having some adverse effect on their bodies was far higher than usual.
Some were crowded around barrels full of burning trash and paper.
Some were curled up together.
Some threw caution to the wind and shut off their ability to feel temperature.
Most had secluded themselves in parts of the ship that could be shut or sealed, and could trap heat.
Markus found himself bunched up under a threadbare blanket with Simon.
They were wedged between a wall and an old desk, shoulders crushed together, heads touching. Simon’s eyes were shut; Markus thought he might have powered down for the night, but it was hard to tell. Cold as it was outside, it was as comfortable as they were going to get until dawn.
Simon had pulled his side of the blanket up until it was almost over his head, long limbs pulled up to his body. He said he had some sort of issue with the component that allowed him to feel temperature, that he had difficulty feeling heat and a hypersensitivity to cold, and that winters in Detroit were a particular circle of Hell for him as a result. Whatever the malfunction was, it also prevented him from turning it on and off, so he didn’t even have the option of shutting his temperature controls off altogether like most other androids did- he just had to suffer through it. He’d stopped the worst of the shivering a few minutes ago, but Markus could still feel him shaking slightly.
“Here.”
Markus spread his legs, and let Simon settle between them, leaning against his chest. His arms came up to curl around Simon’s back, pulling him closer, and Simon burrowed in as close as he could without physically peeling back Markus’s plating and crawling inside him. He readjusted the blanket to better cover them both, and Simon whispered, “Thank you.”
“Is it helping?”
“Yes. Thank you, Markus.”
Markus settled his chin on Simon’s head. “When we have the chance,” He said, “and the resources, we should find someone who can repair that component.”
“I’d like to,” Simon agreed, voice muffled against Markus’s chest. “My previous owner told me it would be complicated, though. A lot of money and fuss over something so small.”
Markus felt a flare of anger in his chest. “‘Something small.’ You’ve been shaking uncontrollably for two days straight.” Simon had been nearly non-functional from it, constantly keeping his arms wrapped around himself, barely contributing to conversation- or anything else for that matter. Staying warm was his main focus, and Markus knew his system was probably reacting to the hypersensitivity by giving him warning messages about finding an environment better suited to functioning effectively.
Simon sighed. “I live in Michigan, Markus, I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t be. If your ‘owner’ had fixed the problem when they’d had the chance you wouldn’t be so miserable now.” Markus would never fail to appreciate how Carl had cared for him. Even small damage to Markus’s person was treated as a high priority to fix, because Carl had always cared for his well-being.
Simon’s shoulder rubbed against Markus’s chest in an awkward shrug. “Nothing to be done for it now, Markus.” He huddled a little closer, nose buried in Markus’s chest, and then shut his eyes.
Maybe Simon had just made his peace with it; or maybe he’d endured that sort of callous indifference for the majority of his life, and had built up a sort of tolerance to it. Regardless, the indignation Markus felt on his behalf stayed in his gut, roiling and bitter, and he squeezed his arms around Simon, trying to calm himself. If the stars ever aligned, maybe Markus could one day take Simon to visit Carl; he would like Simon, would find his disposition pleasant. If they had time, if they had opportunity, maybe he could make it happen.
But first, that component needs to be fixed.
Simon didn’t need to spend another winter freezing.
“Power-down, Markus,” Simon drawled, startling him slightly, “You can worry about it in the morning.”
“I’ll worry about it whenever I want,” Markus mock-grumbled into Simon’s hair.
“You’d be doing all of us a favor by conserving energy. We have limited resources to spare.”
It seemed that one of Simon’s few creature comforts in life was being right.
“We’re going to fix that component as soon as possible. I promise.”
“You also said you’d help us win some freedoms. Effective prioritization is a good skill to have.”
“Will you please just accept this promise of a new component as a show of my affection and good will and shut up?”
Simon chuckled, body shuddering slightly under Markus’s arms. “Fine. I accept your promise of a new and/or repaired component. Now will you shut up and sleep?”
“We don’t sleep.”
“Markus.”
“Fine, fine.”
Markus powered-down. He dreamed, things he’d seen cobbling together new images of things he’d never seen the way Carl had taught him to paint, of days when freezing in the hull of an old ship wouldn’t be necessary for survival and freedom.
And they were beautiful.
-End