The naked man, washed up from the sea, watched Misaki from a crouch on the snow-covered shore. In the gray light of early evening, she thought he looked like Michelangelo’s David, carved from obsidian.
Misaki’s breath steamed from her hike down the rocky shore to the harbor. Beside her, her dog growled.
The man’s breath didn’t frost in the air. His naked black limbs didn’t tremble in the cold wind off the sea. Misaki’s hope of companionship withered.
And Man created android in his own image.
Behind him in the harbor, seawater surged over drowned piers. The derelict remains of the island’s defense platform were no more than a breakwater now. Waves crashed against the slagged framework, revealing no hint of its iceberg-like bulk in the depths.
“Calm, Akira,” whispered Misaki, her gloved hand trembling on the dog’s back. She felt the rumble of Akira’s growl, but wind and surf snatched away the sound.
The android’s eyes held hers. She bowed, a useless gesture. How had he gotten here? The only boats were her yellow kayak, dragged up on the harbor shore, and storm-smashed boats on the rocks behind her. She couldn’t outrun him.
Her dog slipped free, advancing toward him, fangs bared.
“Akira!”
She caught up, pulled off her glove, and grabbed a handful of dark fur. She forced Akira to sit, kneeling beside him in the snow.
The android was only a few arms lengths away. His head tilted slightly, studying the dog, not Misaki. Above high cheekbones, the android’s eyes had internal facets like liquid origami. Snowflakes danced over his dark skin without melting. The skin had no cuts, no bruises, no abrasions of any kind. Misaki’s long hair was going prematurely gray, and she had more scars than she could count. Most were from the past two years, since the Singularity had left her alone on the island.
“Sorry for my dog,” she said. Even as she said it, she realized how futile that was. He had as much in common with her as a submarine had with a shrimp. And was just as dangerous.
“Dog,” he repeated, mimicking her voice exactly.
She shuddered, remembering deceptions during the war. “Yes, this island is our home.”
Maybe he came from the west and only knew Russian. No, he must be networked, fluent in every language. And he certainly wasn’t here by accident. She had a good idea why: the island’s lighthouse. That didn’t bode well.
“Why are you here?” She kneaded her hand in the nape of Akira’s neck, trying to calm him and herself.
The android turned his attention back to her.
Instantly she regretted speaking. He was handsome and powerfully built, a foot taller than her. Her heart was pounding, her mouth dry.
She stood, pulling Akira back, fighting the instinct to run.
He stood as well.
“We won’t bother you,” she said, trying to sound calm.
“You,” he echoed.
An accusation or a question?
“Misaki. And my dog, Akira.” She wondered if he’d been damaged by the recent storm. Could he be offline? A disconnected fragment of the AI hive mind?
She retreated up the shore, head turned to watch him. Her pulse raced as she dragged Akira by the scruff of his neck.
The android followed like a wolf stalking stragglers of a herd. Akira’s head was turned like Misaka’s, growling. Misaki breathed shallow and fast. She fervently wished she hadn’t come down to the shore. But it had been over two years since the Singularity. She’d grown complacent. What could she do now? It wasn’t safe to lead him to her cottage, but was anyplace safe? She couldn’t outrun him, couldn’t hide. Her only hope was that he’d think she was like the birds on the shore: harmless wildlife. She tried not to think about the weapon in the lighthouse, afraid her body language would give her away. The weapon was as likely to get her killed as save her. She’d be like a garter snake attacking a mongoose.
She walked up the shore stooped over, afraid to release her grip on Akira to put her glove back on. The wind was cold on the back of her hand, in contrast to her fingers warm in his long fur. She sang to him, voice threatening to crack. She didn’t dare let go, or the fool dog would get himself killed. The path rose toward her cottage overlooking the harbor.
She’d moved in after the last refugee boats had left and the island was abandoned. At the time she’d been too sick to leave. Afterwards she’d been alone until she found two other left-behinds: Akira and a starving cat, Mao.
And now the android.
She glanced behind. He still followed but wasn’t looking at her. His focus was on the houses up the hill. Most were storm-damaged. After two years, hers was the only one in good shape. She’d replaced windows blown out by storms, cannibalizing other houses. It was a good cottage. It was her cottage. She cursed the android, working swear words into the song she sang Akira.
When she reached the door to her cottage, she unlatched it, pushing Akira inside. She considered darting in after him and locking the door. Pointless. The android could rip it off its hinges as easily as she could close it.
She stepped inside. He followed, and she shivered at the danger of this naked man in her refuge.
The cottage was a single level: one main room, two smaller ones and a bathroom. She had running water from a gravity tank and a system of pipes she’d built. There was a fire pit in the center of the main room, with a wide-flanged stove pipe suspended above.
Mao came over, purring against her leg. Unlike Akira, he didn’t recognize the android as a threat.
“Mao,” she explained. “My cat.”
“My cat,” said the android in her voice.
She could lead him out now, leaving Akira and Mao here. Lure the android to the lighthouse where the weapon was. Destroy him. But if he defeated her, what would happen to Akira and Mao? She wasn’t brave enough. Here, she had the comfort of her companions. Perhaps the android would lose interest and leave.
Mao, still rubbing against her, meowed.
“Are we starving, poor thing?” Her voice shook. She rubbed under the cat’s chin.
She glanced at the android. Behind him, the windows looked out on the harbor. The light had faded enough that she could just make out the beam from the lighthouse sweeping out to sea.
Akira settled onto his bed by the fire pit, watching warily.
“I make a fire every night,” Misaki said to the android. She wondered if he understood anything. Was talking to it good or bad? “I found a wood stove in another house but couldn’t loosen the bolts to take it. An open fire isn’t very efficient. You know all about that, don’t you? Efficiency.”
She watched his handsome face and those liquid origami eyes that she couldn’t read, wishing he were human: kind and gentle. Not a killing machine. She turned away, kneeling by the fire pit. Her shoulders tensed, knowing he was behind her. She brushed the old ashes aside and picked up her knife and a stick, whittling a pile of wood shavings.
“This used to be illegal, a fire like this. Back when climate change was our biggest worry.” And then Homo sapiens created something far more dangerous.
She nested the shavings together and scraped magnesium flakes from her fire starter onto them. When she struck sparks, the pile lit, and she blew on it. She built the fire layer by layer from there.
As the flames grew, the android knelt and reached his hand in, wrapping his fingers around a burning pine cone.
Instinctively, Misaki grabbed his hand, knocking loose the pine cone. Instantly she realized her error, releasing his hand.
“It burns,” she said lamely. Meaning the pine cone, because it wouldn’t burn his hand.
His hand took hers – firmly, the way she’d taken his – and shook it. His hand was warm now, warm from the flames. And she realized he could hold her hand in the fire till all her flesh burned off.
She jerked her hand back.
In response, Akira lunged for the android. Misaki barely caught him in time. “No, Akira!” She didn’t say bad dog. Didn’t say friend, either.
She led him back to his bed, where he continued growling.
“We’re not used to visitors,” she said, breathing hard.
Mao had fled into a pile of boxes in the kitchen, claws skittering on the wood floor. The android picked up the pine cone and carefully placed it back in the flames.
It was going to be a long night. She’d have to work up the courage to use the EMP gun before he killed them all.
In the meantime, her companions were hungry. She went to the kitchen and opened a tin of cat food. She fished for herself and Akira, but Mao was finicky and only ate canned cat food. The stores had been emptied when the island was evacuated, but she’d broken into veterinary clinics and found cases of it. She coaxed Mao out of his hiding place with the food.
The android watched her.
“I’m Misaki. Do you go by serial number?” It would be easier to destroy him if he didn’t have a name. She’d never killed anyone.
She filleted a fish and put it in an iron skillet, then rearranged the fire and the grill. As she cooked her fish, the android continued watching.
“Do you eat?” The weather had been so stormy that if he had a solar skin, he was running low. That was in her favor. Except now he was feeding off the light and warmth of her fire.
She flipped the fish.
“I fish from my kayak.” Misaki talked to distract herself from the danger. “I had to teach myself after the island was abandoned. I found nets and hooks but I want a bigger boat so I can bring Akira. The other boats were wrecked.”
She slid the fish onto a plate to cool and set the hot skillet on the hearth.
The android picked up the skillet, and she flinched. He could bash her skull in with that. But he was examining the fish skin stuck to the bottom.
“Fish,” he said in her voice.
“Yes. Did you swim to the island? Walk underwater?”
He must be offline. That was the only explanation for his lack of language skills.
She used chopsticks to divide the fish between herself and a bowl for Akira.
Akira wolfed down his share and nosed at her elbow as she ate by the fire. She ignored him. The dog looked over at where Mao was eating.
“Akira,” she said warningly.
He resumed nosing her elbow. At least he wasn’t trying to attack the android. She knew how brutally that would end.
Misaki washed the dishes and returned to the fire by Akira’s bed. Mao climbed in her lap. She watched the android break logs for the fire with his bare hands, logs thicker than her legs. Why? He could break her limbs as easily as a bug’s.
Watching him brought back memories of phone videos passed around at the end of the war. Humanity’s heavy weapons and defense towers had been destroyed. A small group of androids would arrive in a city, dividing it into sectors. Then, building by building, room by room, they’d exterminate men, women, and children. Like combing for fleas in Akira’s fur. The videos all ended in screams.
Misaki’s only hope was the gun in the lighthouse. It was too late tonight. The rising wind was beginning to rattle the cottage. She stroked Mao’s fur and scratched Akira’s ears. This might be her last night alive. Anger welled up, impotent rage. Her futon was in the other room, but she’d stay by the fire tonight, keeping watch.
For a long time, the android crouched with his hands in the fire, turning the burning logs. Then, as if fully charged, he stood. Misaki watched as he padded silently to the kitchen on bare feet. He opened cabinets and drawers, examining each item while the storm rattled the house.
Are you looking for the gun? How much did you know about me before you came ashore? The AIs could have seen her via satellite when she was outside, but she’d been careful never to reveal the EMP gun.
Between gusts of wind, she heard soft clicks of containers being opened, tins and boxes rearranged. He was putting everything back in its place. When he moved to her bedroom, she heard the creak of her futon frame as he climbed over it like a spider.
She shuddered, taking slow breaths, stroking Akira and Mao. He would find nothing here, but she was shaking. If he did the same search at the lighthouse, he’d find the gun. Unless she got to it ahead of him. But if she tried to sneak out, he’d follow.
He searched the bathroom next. She couldn’t see, but he must be opening every jar, sampling every tube; all the things she’d stolen from abandoned houses.
He entered the last room, the one she used as a closet.
“Want to try on a kimono?” she whispered bitterly.
She’d barely breathed the words, but he must have heard, for he abruptly towered naked in the doorway. His eyes glowed indigo in the reflected firelight, like some exotic beast. She stared back, saying nothing. Eventually he resumed his inventory.
Misaki jerked at the creak of nails being pried from wood. Then there was a thump from the ceiling. He must have leapt into the attic.
I have an attic?
She’d lived here almost two years without knowing it. How had he found an access panel? She heard the scrape of a trunk sliding over a wood floor. The house’s owners must have hidden their valuables up there, hoping to return.
He spent the rest of the night exploring up there, examining treasures Misaki didn’t know she had. She had to lift Mao off her lap several times to build up the fire. Each time, Mao resettled on her lap, purring. Akira snored.
When the sky outside the windows finally lightened, she was exhausted emotionally and physically. The android returned to the fire. She’d let it die down to coals in preparation for going out, but he built it up again, pressing coals into pinecones. Akira growled from his bed. The wind had calmed down.
Misaki made a breakfast of rice and dried fish for herself and Akira. Mao had a tin of Kobe Beef Wellington.
The android’s obsession with her belongings had given her a plan: She’d lead him to the town’s library. Even if he couldn’t access the electronic recordings, there were thousands of old books on paper. His artificial brain would get trapped in a loop, examining every book, recording every page. That would buy her time to get to the lighthouse ahead of him.
“Walk?” she said, fastening her coat.
Akira bounded to the door.
When she opened the door, Akira ran ahead. Misaki breathed in the sea air, her boots crunching in fresh snow. The android followed, and she turned to look. His bare feet carefully stepped in prints left by her boots. Behind him, the chimney of her cottage leaked smoke that the wind snatched away. Patches of blue sky peeked between clouds.
Akira sniffed at holes in the snow, his tracks zigzagging all over. He no longer paid attention to the android, thinking the danger had passed.
Coming into town brought depressing memories of friends who’d lived here. Wind chimes rang on abandoned houses. Misaki passed a teahouse she used to frequent. The sign over the door was broken, half the characters missing. The owner had left on the evacuation flotilla, taking the tea as Misaki lay bedridden, forgotten and alone.
She turned into the street leading to the library, calling Akira to her. Snow lay in drifts on the library’s stone steps. Misaki, who’d searched every building for left-behinds, knew the front doors were securely bolted. She led the way to a side door she’d forced open long ago and let Akira in first.
She followed the dark, silent corridor to the children’s section with its still-intact windows. Akira sniffed along low bookshelves. Misaki picked up a picture book and opened it, holding it out to the android.
He didn’t take it.
“Book,” she said, hope sinking as he showed no interest. “It’s how we transferred knowledge,” she explained, “before terabit links.”
His eyes were on hers, internal facets unfolding as he studied her, not the book.
She looked down at it, tears running down her cheeks as she flipped pages, thinking of children who would never learn to read the neatly stroked characters. And wishing she had the gun right now.
“Would you like to see the lighthouse?” she said bitterly. She’d put it off long enough. It was time to kill the beast.
He watched her, saying nothing.
“Akira!” she called.
They left the library. The shortest route to the lighthouse was along the shoreline. Akira ran ahead through the snow.
The focused EMP gun was in the lighthouse because it was the only place on the island to keep it charged. Misaki had no idea how it had been left behind during the evacuation. EMP guns were priceless, manufactured at the start of the war, when Humanity haughtily believed it could win. There were no factories to build them now. She’d seen phone videos of the guns used against androids: the silent click of the trigger, an invisible pulse, and an android toppling as if turned to stone. But there hadn’t been enough guns, and humans were Neanderthals compared to AIs.
Waves swept onto the rocky shore below as gulls cried overhead. She followed the upper trail, the one leading past her amateurish boat project. It lay upside-down by the path. The coat of snow made the holes in the hull stand out.
“My kayak is too small for a sail, too small to take Akira and Mao to another island. I’m trying to repair this one but I’m having trouble with the fiberglass epoxy. I wish I could repair one of the carbon racing boats.” She was babbling to control her terror. “I can’t re-weave nanotubes. This is too heavy of a boat.” She lifted the side a few inches and dropped it, shaking snow loose.
“Heavy boat,” echoed the android. Then with powerful arms, he lifted it over his head as if it were folded rice paper, peering up through the holes.
“Not heavy for you,” she muttered. She turned, walking toward the lighthouse.
He set the boat on the snow and followed.
The lighthouse jutted from a bluff at the end of the harbor. It was in the style of a tall stone lantern, rectangular with a pagoda roof. The attack that had slagged the harbor’s defense tower hadn’t touched the lighthouse. The AIs were impeccably precise in what they destroyed, wasting no firepower.
“You must have wondered how the lighthouse could still be running. Nothing works forever, especially near the sea.” She didn’t say, I kept it lit so people would come back for me. “The British told a story about a man named Robinson Crusoe, shipwrecked on an island. He made things, fixed things. I’m like him, except I almost electrocuted myself the first time I fixed the lighthouse. There’s a reason they kept the service door locked.” Maybe she could get the gun while he examined the service room.
The path led upward past the solar panels that fed the lighthouse. Snow coated them, blocking out the sun. There was a broom beneath one of the panels, and Misaki pulled it out. She began sweeping snow off the panel. It was habit, keeping the panels clear. If the android defeated her, this would be the last time they’d be clean. The lighthouse would gradually go dark, turning off the island’s last sign of Homo sapiens.
The android watched her, then walked to a pine tree and ripped off a low branch. He began sweeping another panel clear, pine needles acting as a broom.
Was he helping her, or helping the lighthouse, a machine like himself?
Akira sat in the snow, watching. She and the android swept until all the panels were clear.
She didn’t thank him. You don’t thank someone you’re going to destroy.
The path ended at the lighthouse. She moved a rock holding shut the door she’d broken open long ago. Akira slipped in ahead. The android followed her.
The lighthouse was too small for anyone to live in. On the base level were a service room and two storage closets. One hid the gun, charging. She worried he could see it like he’d found the attic in her house. Zigzagging metal stairs led to the lantern room high above.
Misaki’s heart was pounding, dreading the confrontation to come.
Then the android spoke, “Why are you here?” They were her words, her voice.
Her mouth was dry. Did he know? Was this a test? She remembered asking him the exact same question when she’d first encountered him by on the shore. He hadn’t answered. Now she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t say, I’m here to kill a monster. But he could read her terror, couldn’t he? Or was he truly a blank slate?
She licked dry lips. “Why are you here?”
Again there was no answer, only his eyes looking into hers.
Akira started up the metal stairs.
Misaki almost called him back. Instead she said, “Let me show you.”
She climbed after Akira, boots clanging on the metal steps. The android followed on bare feet, back and forth between each steel landing.
Akira was waiting at the top. Sun peeked through clouds, reflecting off the sea so that sunlight filled the lantern room. Misaki stepped to the windows that looked out on the sea.
“This was my world,” she said. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away.
“My world” repeated the android.
Misaki opened her mouth for an angry retort but instead said, “Our world.”
“Our world,” he repeated.
She stared out at the empty sea where the lighthouse would shine its beam tonight. Still beckoning after two years of fruitless effort. No one was coming to save her.
She and Akira started back down the stairs. She thought about the gun. The world had changed forever. Would the gun even make any difference? The AIs would just send another android. But she wouldn’t get another chance if she didn’t kill him now.
Akira reached the bottom of the stairs and ran toward door swinging in the wind.
“Akira!” she called. She needed him here, to distract the android while she got the gun.
Behind her on the stairs, the android said, “Our dog,” in Misaki’s voice.
She shook her head. He didn’t get it. He would never understand. But he seemed to be trying. She had to kill him before her resolve wavered.
She paused for half a step as she walked past the room with the gun. Then she continued to the exit, fists gradually unclenching. Akira stood outside in the snow, wagging his tail expectantly.
“Our dog,” repeated the android.
Misaki closed her eyes, choking back a sob at the missed opportunity.
She and Akira made new trails in the snow as they walked back toward town. The android followed in her footprints. She wondered if she’d get another chance.
When they reached town, it was Akira who first noticed the android wasn’t following. Misaki followed his gaze to see the android making his own path along the shore. Her heart filled with hope. Would he swim back to wherever he’d come from? Or was he looking for something else?
By nightfall, he hadn’t returned to her cottage. She considered fleeing with her companions but knew he could track her.
The beam from the lighthouse swept out to sea as if nothing had changed. Maybe he was here to test her, a sort of reverse Turing test. Maybe he’d eventually pass a meme back to the AI hive mind, demonstrating that Homo sapiens could co-exist with androids.
Exhausted with worry, she fell asleep on her futon, Mao atop her.
Misaki awoke at dawn to a cold cottage. She explored cautiously, but the android hadn’t returned.
After breakfast, she and Akira tried to track his footprints from the previous day. They lost them where a snowdrift had formed overnight.
Following the shoreline, she finally found a trail of bare footprints. They led from the snow onto sand and pebbles, where the surf had erased them. She stared at the open water. There was no sign of the android. Relief washed over her.
Turning, she followed the footprints the other way, where they’d come from. But as she climbed, she realized they were leading from the fiberglass hull she’d been repairing. “Oh, no,” she whispered. The android must have smashed it, stranding her forever. Like a barrier to contain an infection.
She increased her pace up the slope. Maybe the damage wasn’t too bad. Maybe she could still repair it.
She found her boat, still intact. And beside it, another boat. Not heavy fiberglass but a carbon hull. She recognized it from the other end of the harbor, where it had been a wreck beyond hope of repair. Yet here it was, nanotubes rewoven. The hull and mast were paper-light; all the weight was in the retractable keel. And where had he found the sail?
She let out the breath she’d been holding and turned to her dog. “Want to go sailing?”
Akira wagged his tail.
George S. Walker is an engineer and writer in Portland, Oregon, USA.
His work has appeared in Abyss & Apex, Andromeda Spaceways, The Colored Lens, Electric Spec, and elsewhere. Anthologies containing his work include Mothership: Tales from Afrofuturism & Beyond, Bibliotheca Fantastica, and The Best of Abyss & Apex (Vol. 2 & 3).
His website is sites.google.com/site/georgeswalker/