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“And to my dear friend Data, I leave to you my most prized possession– my darling cat.”
Data cocked his head, confused.
“Spot?”
Data stood outside Tasha’s door, wondering why it was taking him so long to enter her room. He did a quick internal scan. Nothing was awry– all his systems were functioning normally. Then why did his legs not want to move?
“Computer, open door.”
The door slid open and Data stepped inside. If he was human, he would’ve said he was nervous.
The lights in the room turned on automatically when he stepped inside. That wasn’t how Tasha had them working. Someone had reverted the general settings of this room back to their default.
It looked the same as it had the last time he was here, only a few days before she died. Still lived in and loved. There were magazines stacked haphazardly on the coffee table and a glass of water next to the couch. Her desk chair was at an angle as if she had just gotten out of it. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve assumed she’d just stepped out for her shift.
He took a deep breath in. The room still smelled like her. He’d noticed, after many years of living among people, that each individual had a distinctive smell. Tasha, he’d concluded a while back after some brief cross-referencing in his mind, had the most olfactory-pleasing scent he’d come across. It was a shame he’d never be able to experience it again.
He heard a thump in the bedroom followed by a soft pattering sound quickly approaching. A small orange cat peeked its head around the doorframe, staring wide-eyed at Data.
“Hello, Spot,” he crouched down so he was at the cat’s level. His voice was soft as if he was speaking to a child, “I have met you before. When Tasha found you. Do you remember me?”
He paused and stood up. Spot was a cat. He could not remember.
Data reached down and picked him up. He didn’t run away or fight back. He leaned into Data’s touch, trying his best to snuggle into his chest. Data could feel him purring against his latex skin.
“Spot, you will no longer occupy this space. You are, proverbially speaking, moving .” The cat just looked at him. “I do not expect you to understand.”
Data thought it best to put him down so he moved over to the couch, placing Spot on one cushion and then taking the seat next to him. Eagerly, Spot crawled onto his lap, nudging his hand with his head. Data obliged, scratching his cheek and making his way down his side until his hand ended up at the base of Spot’s tail.
“Spot, there is some news I must discuss with you. Tasha, your owner, unfortunately perished in the line of duty.” Data had a funny feeling in his chest as he spoke those words. He wondered briefly if he was malfunctioning. His hand maintained a steady rhythm, stroking Spot up and down his back continuously.
“She has left you in my hands. I promise you will live a comfortable life. I will ensure that you are well cared for. I will also ensure that you do not forget Tasha.”
Spot had curled up in his lap, purring softly. His little tail flicked contentedly against Data’s thigh.
“I will ensure I do not forget Tasha,” Data thought. His mind felt clouded and sluggish. Something was definitely wrong with his processing systems.
Scooping Spot up in his arms, Data stood up and made his way to the door. He’d already moved all of Spot’s things. He’d read up on adjusting pets to new environments. He believed he was properly prepared. Yet, there was still something inside of him that did not want to go. He wished that he could stay in Tasha’s quarters, standing there, with Spot in his arms, forever. It was a strange feeling.
With one last lingering look, he imagined her sitting on the couch, in the seat he’d just vacated, smiling at him. She waved and Data raised his arm to wave back. But his hand flashed across his face and she was gone.
He turned around and stepped out of her quarters. Spot meowed. A low, mournful sound as if he somehow knew something had changed.
“I do apologize, Spot,” he paused, ever so briefly, “I wish she were here too.”
And with that, he tightened his grip on the cat and made his way down the corridor, back to his quarters.