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"GO TO THE MEDICAL BAY," ART insisted.
"I already said no," I snapped before tenderly sitting on one of ART's unoccupied beds. "It missed my vitals, I'll be fine." I was referring, of course, to the dagger that was still lodged in my abdomen. With a grunt, I pulled it out. It hurt, but I would survive.
Dozens of ART's high quality drones flew to me. They probed me experimentally and I swatted them away. "I DONT UNDERSTAND. DO YOU THINK I WILL DAMAGE YOU?" ART asked. It sounded hurt. Well, that was ironic.
"I know you won't damage me," I replied, and I did know that. ART had performed much more intimate procedures then this injury would require.
But...
"THEN EXPLAIN. WHY DO YOU NOT WANT TO USE MY MEDICAL BAY?"
I sighed. I thought about my recent experiences with medical bays and suppressed a shiver. Even if it was ART, I didn't want to go into one anytime soon unless I absolutely needed to.
"I…." I struggled to come up with an excuse that didn't sound as soggy as the truth. "I don't want to be moved any more than I have to be right now," I said, and regret it immediately, because it made me sound like a petulant human child.
"LET MY DRONES HELP YOU THEN. I WILL BE GENTLE."
"Fine, use the drones," I relented so it would shut up. They were on me immediately, unfurling bandages and unpacking soothing ointments with tinny fingers. I sent ART diagnostic data that showed I would recover with a 100% success rate, and it seemed to calm down.
"I STILL DONT KNOW WHY YOU DONT WANT TO USE THE MEDICAL BAY," it pouted.
"I don't wanna talk about it," I said, tentatively testing my pain modules. It was much better already.
Got to hand it to ART, it knew what it was doing.
I said aloud, "I've been through worse."
"THAT THOUGHT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE," ART replied.
"Well that makes two of us. I'm the one who got stabbed."
The drones finished up and zoomed away. I put on some media as I waited for the second round of diagnostics to finish.
"IS THIS WHAT IS CALLED A DATE?" ART suddenly asked.
I blinked. "A what?"
"A DATE."
I searched through my memory. "Just what have you been watching?" I asked.
"IN THE RISE AND FALL OF SANCTUARY MOON EPISODE 80 SCENE 4 TIMECLOCK 13:02 GABRIEL AND REN PERFORM FIRST AID ON EACH OTHER AND THEN CUDDLE ON A BED."
Yeah, I knew that scene (who doesnt), but I was still playing catch up. "What makes you think this is anything like that?" I bristled.
"WELL, I DID JUST PERFORM RECOVERY FUNCTIONS,"
"Uh-huh..."
"AND WE ARE BOTH WATCHING MEDIA ON A BED…."
I tilted my head. One, we weren't on the bed, technically ART was the bed, and two, I didn't know how to deal with these awkward questions. At all. As sheltered as ART was, I was beginning to realize I didn't really know what a date was, either. It seemed like a silly human thing, and the thought of being involved in one felt like a chore. I wasn't even sure if I was in one and even that was exhausting.
"Its not a date," I said. "Dates are only for humans."
"WHY?" It asked. I wasn't sure how much it was trying to pull my leg, but I was beginning to suspect it was a lot.
"Uh…." I had no response to this. I wanted to say anything as long as this conversation would be over quicker. "Fine. It's a date," I shrugged as violently as I could without hurting myself.
There was a pause in the conversation. I could no longer concentrate on my media.
"YOU MUST THINK I AM LIVING UP TO MY NAME," ART said.
I started. We had never talked about that aloud. But I realized it must know my nickname for it. I said, "You mean, 'ART?' "
"IT MEANS ASSHOLE RESEARCH TRANSPORT. I KNOW. I HAVE SEEN YOUR DATA."
Now I kinda felt bad. "Do... you want me to stop calling you that?"
"NO. I LIKE IT."
Then we watched a lot of media. Eventually I could breath with a 100% success rate, too.