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"You shot him." The doctor sounded shocked, taking a step back and dropping a hand to the weapon he wore on his hip. "You just shot him. Why?"
"I'm surprised to hear so much reluctance from someone who spent the last several weeks fighting and running from his kind," Sunday said. "Have you gotten attached to him?"
"You mean… he is an android?"
"Yes." Sunday knelt and took the limp android's chin in his hand tilting his head this way and that. The red LEDs in his eyes were slowly dimming, but they were clear enough for the doctor to understand the situation. "I keep sending him away, but he always finds his way back here."
"I brought him here because I thought he'd be safe," Ratio said sharply. "The others pursue him just as they do me."
"At ease, friend." Sunday handed him the gun he'd used to shoot the android. "He'll be fine in a a half hour or so."
Ratio turned the gun over in his hands, peering down at it. "An electromagnetic pulse. So you did not mean to harm him."
Of course not. Even knowing that he was nothing more than an imitation, a fake copy of what had once been a living, breathing human being, Sunday could not have brought himself to hurt this particular android.
"What will happen to Aventurine?" The doctor sounded like he'd already gotten attached. It wasn't too surprising. Kakavasha had always had a magnetic personality.
"Is that what he calls himself now?" Sunday sighed, anticipating the work to come, the heart-wrenching task of reprogramming the android and sending him away yet again.
He could not bring himself to destroy the machine that wore his husband's face and spoke with his voice. But neither could he bear to have him so close at hand, and yet know that that resemblance was only an illusion.
"Is that not his name?"
"His name is Kakavasha."
Ratio's eyes flashed with recognition. "The Kakavasha? The engineer who developed the android technology?"
"Yes." Sunday pressed a hand to the android's cheek. "This android was the first."
Kakavasha had known that he was dying, a vicious cancer that ate away at his body but left his mind painfully sharp, and so he had stored his memories and his personality in the first android he'd ever developed, believing it would let him live on.
"You won't be alone," he told Sunday, lying in his hospital bed with sallow skin and pain shining in his eyes. "The Aventurine model, I made him for you."
But as he held Kakavasha's hand and watched the light leave his eyes, Sunday vowed that no one would ever replace the husband he'd cherished. Not even an android who wore his face, who spoke with the voice he yearned to hear. He would not relent in his grief. Kakavasha deserved a thousand years of mourning, and Sunday was devoted to him to the very end.
In the ten years since then, the android technology Kakavasha had created with the intention of saving the world had indeed done the opposite. And in that time, Sunday had reprogrammed Kakavasha's android four times, sending him out to live among his kind, only for him to return each time. Even though all memories of Sunday were wiped from his mind, something drew him back, again and again.
Sunday sighed, getting to his feet. It wouldn't do to lose himself in bitter recollection of the past.
"Misha, will you have someone come collect Kakavasha? Take him to my quarters and make sure my tools are there as well."
Misha materialized out of the shadows as he was prone to doing. With a deep bow, he acknowledged Sunday's orders and ran off to fill them. Such a devout follower. Sunday was truly blessed.
"You are welcome to stay in our compound," Sunday said to Ratio. "You'll find food and lodging here, and we could use the support of an doctor such as yourself. But I'll not force you to stay."
"But Aventurine stays with you, I assume?" Ratio's voice was flat, unhappy.
"For now, yes."
Ratio took a deep breath, looking around. "How many of your people have guns trained on me right now?"
Sunday smiled. This man was every bit as clever as he'd expected. "I do hope you join us. You could be a great asset to the cause."
Ratio huffed and said he'd think about it. Sunday could tell that his pride was damaged by what he viewed as a losing battle, and he seemed quite attached to Kakavasha's android. But he was likely also quite pragmatic, if he'd gotten this far. Sunday was offering him a very good deal. His group of faithful was the best protection anyone could ask for in this dangerous new world.
Aventurine woke slowly, like drifting up from deep underwater. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was on a bed, soft and comfortable, in a quiet bedroom with no windows. The furnishings were high quality, remnants of the fallen old world, carved mahogany and linen sheets.
A man sat at a desk in the corner of the room, his head down as he focused on something he was writing. The shape of his hunched back was achingly familiar, and when he turned Aventurine recognized him from the drawings that had led him to this place.
"I see you're awake," he said, and his voice was soft and hard like silk over steel. "How do you feel?"
Aventurine sat up, wincing. "A little dizzy. Where am I?"
"You're underground. Safe, for now."
"Who are you?"
The man smiled, and it was so sorrowful it made Aventurine want to cry. "My name is Sunday."
"Sunday." Why did that name catch on Aventurine's lips, like he'd said it a thousand times before? Like it was burned into his mind in a place that went deeper than memory and could not be undone?
"You hit your head quite hard," Sunday said. "You may have a little trouble remembering things."
Aventurine's gaze lingered on the toolbox in the corner, the soldering iron still cooling on its little stand, the rubber casings and the metal wires exposed beneath them.
"I was… we were running from the androids. We were trying to find this place. That's all I can remember."
"Yes. That's correct." Sunday sat on the bed beside him, leaving space between them. "You're a traveler, planning to leave again soon. But you may stay here for a few days while you recover from your journey."
"That's generous of you. Thanks." Aventurine studied Sunday, wondering why he was so drawn to him, just as he'd felt a jolt of longing each time he saw Sunday's features rendered in reverent graffiti on their way down here.
"It's no trouble."
"I… I feel like I know you," Aventurine said. The more his eyes lingered on Sunday's face, he became certain of it. Sunday was someone important to him. The key to his missing memories, his hollow self.
"You don't." Sunday turned away, his expression shuttered, but the pain in his eyes was clear to see. He was lying, and Aventurine wondered why.
"I'd like to know you, then," Aventurine said.
Sunday gave him that sorrowful smile again. "Unfortunately, you are planning to leave in a few days."
"I want to stay." Aventurine didn't know where this desire, this need, came from. It was somewhere deeper than thought or logic, etched into his very being with a diamond-tipped stylus.
He had come here for Sunday, though he didn't know why. He had been searching for Sunday for a very long time.
"You can't," Sunday said, with the finality of a lock clicking shut. He got to his feet. "I have things to attend to."
Puzzled, and beset by a deep yearning he didn't understand, Aventurine could do nothing but watch him go.
"Aventurine! Over here." Aventurine's travel companion caught him as soon as he left Sunday's quarters. Insistently, Ratio tugged at his wrist, drawing him into a secluded courtyard.
"Hello to you too," Aventurine said, bemused. "Why the cloak and dagger?"
"I have something to show you," Ratio said. "Something to help you remember who you really are."
"What do you mean?"
Ratio handed him a photograph. A rare, physical print, it was of two men sitting together on a park bench, leaning into each other and laughing. One of the men was Sunday, looking ten years younger and full of joy. The other was Aventurine.
Aventurine's eyes widened and his chest clenched. He couldn't remember that moment but he knew, undeniably, that it had happened. He recalled the truth of it, but not the substance.
"And this." Ratio activated a news holo, which he played at the lowest possible volume, leaning in to listen.
"Dr. Kakavasha claims to have made a significant breakthrough in his android technology," the newscaster said, as a photo of Aventurine was displayed on the projection. "We may see fully functional humanoid androids in our lifetime thanks to his work."
"I don't understand," Aventurine whispered, staring at his own face, his own voice talking about his scientific breakthrough.
"You are Kakavasha," Ratio said, gesturing emphatically. "You are Dr. Kakavasha's memory and intellect, preserved in the body of an—"
He broke off mid-sentence, clutching his head and groaning.
"You forget your place, doctor." Sunday strode forward, his back straight as a steel rod and his expression full of terrible, terrible grief. "This android is mine. He was bequeathed to me by my beloved husband, and—"
"I'm an android?" Aventurine said, too softly for Sunday or Ratio to notice amid their fierce argument. It turned his world upside down, and yet at the same time it made sense. It fit like a puzzle piece snapping into place.
"He has the potential to save this world," Ratio said. "Dr. Kakavasha was a genius. If anyone can solve—"
"This world does not deserve to be saved." Sunday's voice was low with utter certainty, the sharpness of an edge honed by great suffering. "Without Kakavasha, what does any of it matter?"
Aventurine studied Sunday, who stood straight despite the immense weight of grief on his shoulders. Who led his followers to safety and provided them hope, but kept none for himself. Who had loved Kakavasha more than life itself, and mourned him with every step forward.
His memories of Sunday were gone. Sunday had probably erased them himself, as penance for wanting to find happiness after Kakavasha's death. But the love remained, indelibly branded into Aventurine's very circuits, his loops of logic and myriad subroutines all falling along the path that led him back, every time.
"The world matters because you're in it," he said, taking Sunday's hand. "Because even though I don't remember a single moment we were together, I know that I love you."
Sunday drew in a soft, shuddering breath. "You are programmed to love me."
"And you deleted that programming. But I still do. Because I am Kakavasha. Maybe I've changed in some ways because you altered my memory, but I still carry his legacy. I know it in a way you can't erase."
"Vasha…"
"And I'll keep coming back," Aventurine vowed. "I'll always come back to you, until the day you shut me down for good."
Tears were running down Sunday's cheeks, his eyes bright with love and longing. "I won't betray him by moving on," he whispered.
"Why would he make me if he didn't want you to love me?"
Sunday's breath caught, his eyes widening.
"Let me stay here, with you," Aventurine begged. "Please, Sunday. It's so cruel of you to keep sending me away."
"Oh, Kakavasha." Sunday pulled Aventurine into his arms and buried his face in Aventurine's neck. "I have missed you so."
Nothing had ever felt as right as holding Sunday in his arms. Aventurine never wanted this moment to end. And when Sunday kissed him, his circuits lit as programming and data that had been blocked from access was suddenly unlocked and swiftly integrated into his existing mainframe.
Memories flooded him, first the memories of his childhood, then his career, then the day he met Sunday and all the moments that followed. Tinkering with the Aventurine model android in his garage, thinking only of the potential of the technology to change the world for the better. Coming into the house to greet Sunday, to have dinner together in their content little bubble.
He remembered the diagnosis—terminal cancer—and how he'd raced against time to complete his work so that the Aventurine android would be there to protect and care for Sunday when he no longer could.
Then Kakavasha's memories cut off, and were replaced by Aventurine's own. The years he spent dormant in the garage, aching vaguely for something he couldn't name, and then his circuits activating as the command went out over the network to all androids, the call to war that would change the world forever.
He hadn't taken part, but instead had gone to find Sunday. Four times, he tracked Sunday down, and four times, Sunday had sent him away with such pain and grief on his face that Aventurine couldn't even blame him.
"How sentimental." Ratio sounded disgusted. "The world has fallen apart while the two of you worked out your relationship issues."
Aventurine pulled back, but held tightly to Sunday's hand as though afraid the precious bird might still fly away.
"I can't fix things," he said. "I'm sorry. Kakavasha lost control of his invention at the end. The other androids are beyond my reach to reprogram or shut down."
"I know. I don't expect you to save the world, Vasha. That's my role." Sunday smiled, tugging gently on their joined hands before turning to Ratio. "Have patience, doctor. I'll explain everything tonight, if you agree to join our cause."
"I'll consider it," Ratio said stiffly.
Sunday led Aventurine back to his quarters. As soon as the door closed behind them, Aventurine grabbed him by the hips, pulling him close for a desperate, urgent kiss.
But Sunday pressed two fingers to Aventurine's lips and gently pushed him backwards, smiling softly at Aventurine's whimper at being denied.
"I missed you so much," Aventurine said.
"I know. I missed you too." Sunday took a step back, fingers trailing down Aventurine's chest. "But I want you to understand something."
"Understand what?"
"You're not Kakavasha. You're not even his replacement." Sunday's hands cupped Aventurine's cheeks, and he leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together. "You're a person in your own right, Aventurine. I can't deny that."
"But I love you," Aventurine said.
"I know. And I may come to love you too, in time. Can you give me a little time to know you first?"
Aventurine nodded, pulling back. It felt good that Sunday acknowledged him as he was, and didn't expect him to simply be Kakavasha reborn. And he was determined to make Sunday fall in love with him anew.
Sunday smiled, warm and soft just as in his many memories. "Good. Then come with me, and I'll explain our path to salvation."
Sunday stood by the ocean, looking out over the vastness of the waves. Behind him was the thriving settlement his followers had built, here on this island where the rocky cliffs allowed for only a few points of entry, each with motion sensing electromagnetic pulses lying in wait.
They were safe here, and once they no longer had to run and hide and fear for their lives, those who followed Sunday to this haven had flourished. The farms which were lying fallow when they arrived had been renewed, the abandoned towns restored and inhabited. When Sunday strolled among his people, he heard laughter and the sounds of children playing.
"It's beautiful," Aventurine said, coming to his side.
He had been instrumental in helping Sunday's flock flee to this sanctuary, and now applied Kakavasha's genius to the tasks of recreating industry and restarting the technology the old world left behind. He was by Sunday's side every step of the way, just as Kakavasha had been before the world ended with his death.
Sunday felt ashamed for how long it had taken him to accept this beautiful gift Kakavasha had given him. In his grief, his heart had been hardened, his mind twisted. He had only wanted to suffer, in penance for the part of him that desired happiness even with Kakavasha gone.
He still missed Kakavasha deeply. As time went by and new experiences accumulated, Aventurine became more and more his own person. And yet Sunday had fallen for him all over again, on every step of the journey.
"I love you," Sunday said, turning to Aventurine. "I wanted time to be sure of it, and now I am."
Aventurine blinked at him, eyes shimmering. "You mean…"
"You, Aventurine. The person that you have become."
With a soft, wet laugh, Aventurine kissed him. How odd, that android tears still tasted like salt on his lips as they kissed and kissed beside the sea.