The artificial glow of your backlit eyes flickered at the ceiling from the filthy stone floor of the cellar, our inevitable tomb. Up the splintered stairs, the buzzing horrors with their searching green tendrils marking the end of the world slammed over and over into the other side of the door, well barricaded for the moment. But it wouldn\u2019t be long now. The screwdriver you\u2019d handed me from the cache of tools in your arm laid discarded at my booted feet. I hated you for lying down, for suggesting this. For promising to leave me alone.<\/p>\n
I shifted my glare from your glinting frame to the circular cast-iron drain cover you\u2019d torn from the ground. Rounded metal rungs forming a ladder into the sewers were visible from where I stood trembling. It was a narrow opening, big enough for me, but not for the creatures. And not for you.<\/p>\n
\u201cProfessor Evaline, you are nearly out of time,\u201d you intoned, your voice choppy on the syllable transitions. I should have fixed that so long ago.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis can\u2019t be the only way,\u201d I said. I ran overlong nails through my mess of dark hair, frizzy from sweat despite the cold. It was such a stupid, predictable thing to beg. Even now, looking back, I\u2019m not sure which of us realized it first\u2014that there was no other way out, that you were too broad to fit, and that I\u2019d need your power core if I hoped to survive, for light to navigate by and for warmth. But you\u2019re the one who actually said it.<\/p>\n
\u201cProfessor Evaline, you are nearly out of time,\u201d you repeated.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t hurt you,\u201d I said bitterly. \u201cYou know I can\u2019t do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is correct,\u201d you replied, ever mechanical. \u201cYou cannot hurt me. I do not experience pain.\u201d You weren\u2019t even looking at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt would kill you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is incorrect. I cannot die, as I am not alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStop it,\u201d I said. \u201cYou are alive\u2014you\u2019re being deliberately obtuse\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProfessor Evaline, I am not an artificial intelligence. You have seen my programming parameters.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut to me\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProfessor Evaline, your perspective cannot alter my software. Please proceed with the necessary dismantling.\u201d<\/p>\n
The door up the stairs creaked, then gave between two boards nailed over it. A backlit hole appeared briefly in the center before thick undulating vines wriggled their way though, and the pounding continued\u2014we had minutes at most.<\/p>\n
I knelt beside you, your sleek silver panels concealing the wires, the chips, the heart within. Took the screwdriver in hand again. I brought it over the first screw that would need to go. And then I dropped it back down, and my face landed in my hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cProfessor Evaline, if you are unwilling to act, I will need to risk damaging the core to extract it for you. This will greatly diminish your chances of success. I will allow ten seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n
I counted down from ten without looking up. But when without a word you raised your metal fingers to pry off your central plate, I latched onto your closest wrist to hold the action back\u2014and I had no effect.<\/p>\n
You were clumsy, and you began to glitch and smoke as you corrupted your own innards. You knew your layout, but you weren\u2019t designed for this. I thought you\u2019d lose capacity for movement long before you dug it out, at the rate of the damage being done. But then, with a final burst of power, you jerked, and I flinched and let out a sound I didn\u2019t recognize. You\u2019d calculated the endpoint perfectly\u2014six inches above your now-inert form, suspended loosely between your palms, you offered me your spherical heart, gently pulsing green through the lacework of thinly threaded silver and rubberized ports.<\/p>\n
Down the drain, into the freezing damp, it wasn\u2019t a minute before I heard the barred door finally explode, the rush of insectoid bodies flooding the cellar, the furious buzzing as they tried to force themselves into the sewers after me. For a moment, I held my breath, and a sick part of me hoped that we\u2019d miscalculated after all. But only a writhing bouquet of their pointed tendrils squeezed through, reaching not even a third of the way to the ground. In the soft emerald radiance cast from your gift, they menaced, but that was all they could do.<\/p>\n
With a shiver and onset of chattering teeth, I cupped both hands around your heart, and I held its warm metal to my throat to heat the blood as I forced myself away. I stumbled through grimy half-iced tunnels for what must have been hours, time I had no way to track. In those numb, fumbling steps, despair gave way to resentment gave way to exhaustion, and your last moments replayed in my head, over and over, until I felt nothing.<\/p>\n
I still don\u2019t know if there are other humans left. I think it\u2019s been weeks, and I haven\u2019t found them. I wish I could bring myself to disrespect your sacrifice with surrender, just sneak up a building and throw myself off, let a swarm of the foliage-scarab hybrids crunch me away in their incandescent jaws. Far easier, forget to scrounge for food or water, let the pack I pulled off that soldier in the tunnels sit a little lighter on my back.<\/p>\n
It’s funny, though\u2014I never wanted there to be souls until you died. And now all I think about is yours, and whether mine will be able to find it in the end. I work on a system of metaphysics, when I can, that would grant an android a soul, grant anything a soul, as long as they were loved enough. It\u2019s the details, though: Can your soul be revoked if we\u2019re apart for too long? If I stop loving you, if I forget, do you cease to be made? Where do you wait?<\/p>\n
Your core is still so warm. <\/p>\n
Lex Chamberlin (they\/she) is a nonbinary and autistic writer of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror with a master\u2019s degree in book publishing and a bachelor\u2019s degree in philosophy. They reside in Portland, OR, with their husband and chihuahua mixes. In their spare time, they enjoy cooking, video games, and martial arts.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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