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Hubcap stalked down the empty hallway, cursing whatever programmers had thought it a good idea to give him human feelings. If they hadn’t, today would have been a lot easier.
He’d tried having that part of his build deactivated once. It had been miserable. There was no way to pick and choose the emotions; it was either all or none. And Hubcap enjoyed laughing. And prank wars. And bad comedies. But the other half of the deal really stank.
“How do you cope with it?” he asked, turning at the familiar footsteps behind him. “Knowing you could die so easily?” He searched Elliot’s face, hoping for an answer.
“We’re used to it,” Elliot said. “We try not to think about it. And, well, that’s what the afterlife stories are for.”
Hubcap scoffed with a static noise and looked away.
“There’s no magical formula,” Elliot told him. “Some people cope better than others. I met someone so paranoid about germs that he lived in a clean room, and wore a space suit whenever he left the house. Yeah, I know,” he said at Hubcap’s incredulous look. “But there’s the other side of the spectrum too. People who do crazy fun things that could kill them with one mistake, and they love it. I suspect if you put someone like that in a super safe environment, they’d go mad.”
Hubcap nodded. “I know this kind of human well. They are either an inspiration or a cautionary tale to all. The space rodeo was full of them.”
“Were you really in a—” Elliot let the question go as Hubcap waved it away.
The pair stood in silence.
Elliot spoke up first. “I’ll be careful, if that helps,” he said. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to me any more than you do.”
Hubcap waved his hand again. “It’s not even that,” he said vaguely. “It’s — hell, I know how your fleshy systems work, and what I can expect. With these new alien people, it’s all mysterious, and they might drop dead mid-sentence for all I know.” He crossed his arms and stared at the wall. “I almost don’t want to meet any more of them,” he said quietly. “But I know that we have to. Stopping the frenzy is too important to be put off by any humanlike weakness of mine.”
“Emotions are not a weakness,” Elliot began.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it,” the robot interrupted. “There are good parts. But the sad-sack parts are a liability and you know it.”
The human shrugged and didn’t press the point. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Think of something worthwhile we can spend time on,” Hubcap said. “While we wait to see if the bossy types find any aliens today.”
Elliot thought about it. “Well, we could talk to the people in the lab and learn more about how the sedative works.”
“Maybe,” Hubcap said. “Assuming they don’t flip out again.”
“Or we could see if the jetpod harvesters need any more help.”
“No point in filming that twice.”
“How about we go to the hangar and find a mechanic or something, and look into a job we haven’t tried yet?”
“Eh.” Hubcap shrugged. “If we’re in the hangar, we’ll just be watching the sky all day.”
“Orrr,” the human said finally. “We could prank the camera guys before they wake up.”
Hubcap’s face lit up. “A fine idea! Now what to do — draw fancy mustaches on their faces, or get creative?”
The pair wandered down the hallway, plotting mayhem. Hubcap knew it wouldn’t keep his mind off the problems completely, but he could pretend.
––––––––
Dr. Rhodes was leaving his office when he overheard a conversation about something that had happened at breakfast.
“I’m surprised none of the dishes broke,” a man in mechanic’s clothes said to another as they approached. “It was loud. And I didn’t see whether he smashed it all on purpose or not.”
“I thought he just knocked out the bottom section,” said the second man. “Either way, I’ve never seen a robot upset like that.”
“Hell, I’ve never seen that robot upset, period,” the first worker said. “The guy’s always making with the jokes. Morning, Doc.” He nodded in passing at Dr. Rhodes.
“Good morning,” the psychologist said. “Sounds like I missed something. What happened?”
“Ah, well,” the man said with the awkwardness that most employees showed when they felt they were tattling to him. “The robot knocked some stuff over in the cafeteria, then stormed off like an insulted date. No idea what it was about.”
“I see.” Dr. Rhodes raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea where he is now?”
“I heard the camera crew was on the top floor somewhere,” the other worker put in. “He’s probably with them.”
“Thank you.” Dr. Rhodes nodded them on their way, and the men hurried off with a wave. He ducked back inside his office for a pocket-size sketchpad and a handful of tiny conversation pieces that he used in therapy. Then he headed for the staircase, putting his errands off until later.
He may have been an abject failure in helping with First Contact, but this he could do.
As expected, he found people with cameras in one of the viewing rooms at the top of the building. The group of them were clustered at one of the large windows — the tall woman was scrubbing what looked like a drawn-on mustache off her face and chuckling while the others watched something outside, pointing at the distant ground. None of the cameras were filming. The robot wasn’t there, but the human co-host was.
“Hello,” Elliot said with some surprise, walking over. “What can we do for you?”
“I was hoping for a word with Hubcap,” the doctor said. “Is he up here?”
“He went down the hall for a look out a different window,” Elliot said, pointing in that direction. He lowered his voice, looking over his shoulder at the others. “He’s not really in a talkative mood right now.”
“I heard something about that on my way up here,” Dr. Rhodes admitted.
“If you’re hoping for a heart-to-heart, good luck. He’s never been big on baring his soul.”
The psychologist smiled. “Then he’s in fine company. He’s not the only person on this base who thinks that feelings are somehow unmanly.”
“I believe it.” Elliot smiled back. “That can’t be fun to deal with every day.”
“Well, I’ve learned a few ways to get past it. I’m hoping they work on a robot such as your friend.”
“Good luck,” Elliot said again, raising a hand in a wave.
Dr. Rhodes waved back and left the room. He walked with a measured stride, well aware that the robot would hear him coming. After a bit of a search, he found Hubcap sitting with his back to the door in a quiet room, staring at a fish tank full of tiny creatures and surrounded by empty chairs. He didn’t turn.
Dr. Rhodes considered, feeling through the objects in his pocket. He came up with a refrigerator magnet of questionable taste. When he was certain that he correctly remembered the law that all robots were made with insulation against magnetic damage, he threw it gently.
It stuck with a tap against the robot’s back.
Hubcap sat up with a start, turning to find the doctor regarding him with a calm smile. When Dr. Rhodes said nothing, Hubcap reached around to pull off the magnet.
He stared at it for a moment, then broke into a surprised guffaw. He flipped it over, searching for an explanation for the lewd poem. Then he looked up. “What the heck?”
“I figured you might appreciate it,” the psychologist said, standing sideways with body language that said he was just passing through, and wouldn’t be pressing for a conversation. “I heard you were a fan of poking fun at the human form.”
“Well, of course,” Hubcap said. “There’s just so much fun to be poked!”
The doctor nodded. “Very true,” he agreed. “And the wise person knows when not to take things too seriously. There has been far too much that’s serious lately.”
“No kidding,” the robot said, slouching into a chair. “Serious and frustrating.”
Dr. Rhodes turned to face him. “Are the workers getting in the way of your show?” he asked, deliberately misunderstanding. “I know some of them can obsess about being on TV...”
Hubcap waved a hand. “No, that’s not it,” he said. “We’re being shut out of the whole alien situation, and the people in charge don’t know what they’re doing. At this rate, we’re never going to figure out the frenzy before it overtakes all of you fleshy types.” He spread his hands forlornly. “I can’t protect everyone!” The robot lapsed into silence, staring down at the magnet.
Dr. Rhodes nodded to himself, considering for a moment. “It is very unfair for you to be burdened with the only invulnerability,” he said. “I suppose you must resent us for our weaknesses.”
Hubcap made a dismissive gesture, but said nothing.
“Considering seeking out a robots-only colony somewhere?”
Hubcap laughed. “I’ll admit, sometimes it’s damn tempting.”
“To be somewhere you fit in?”
“To be somewhere I’m not the one everybody goes to when there’s trouble.” He slammed the magnet against the chair. “Dammit, that’s why I left the rescue business! Humans break so easily, and now the new species is dying all over the place. I’m sick of this!”
Dr. Rhodes was silent for a moment. “I understand,” he said. “I’m charged with the mental well-being of everyone on this base, and there are times when I want to slap some sense into them for having the same dramas month after month.”
The robot looked up at him with new interest.
Dr. Rhodes continued. “There’s only so many times you can tell someone that they’re on the wrong path, only to see them persist in that same direction before you start to feel like you’re wasting your time. And when a half dozen people in a row have relapsed or come up with some new insecurity, then it really starts to feel pointless.”
“So what do you do?” the robot asked. “Take a vacation back to Earth for some counseling of your own?”
Dr. Rhodes laughed. “Sometimes, yes,” he admitted. “Even I can do with a sympathetic ear now and then. It can can be terribly draining to feel like the only person everyone looks to for help.”
Hubcap was nodding. “I’m just tired of not being able to do anything, you know? No matter how many frenzied meatbags I sedate in time, the problem’s getting worse. And no matter how many wounds I’ve patched and prevented, they’re all so fragile!” The robot crossed his arms and looked to the side. “That’s the part I hate the most,” he said. “Humans die so easily.”
“Does it help to remember that they expect to be this fragile?” the doctor asked.
“Not really,” Hubcap said. “I just feel sorry for them. I’ve seen so many friends die already!”
The psychologist pursed his lips in thought. “Here’s a question for you. Are you concerned for their sake, or for your own?”
Hubcap looked up at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“Which is worse: seeing them suffer, or surviving the death of your friends?”
“Well, it’s all part of the same thing...”
Dr. Rhodes shook his head. “I don’t think so. It sounds to me like you’re afraid of being lonely.”
“No I’m—”
“You wouldn’t be the only one,” Dr. Rhodes said over him. “There is something called ‘survivor’s guilt’ that is common among those who outlive their peers. Humans tend to question why they survived the accident, or why they didn’t get the illness, and why the others did. I’m sure your subconscious was modeled off humanity, so it makes sense that you might be feeling, as they say, ‘only human.' And all of this is beside the point.”
“It is?”
“Of course,” the doctor said with a smile. “You of all people don’t need to worry about being lonely — you make friends very easily. You never need to be alone unless you want to be.”
“Alone and lonely are two different things,” Hubcap said, turning back toward the fish tank. “A conversation with a stranger isn’t going to help when I’ve just lost a friend.”
“But commiserating with a different friend will,” the doctor said gently. He walked up to stand beside the robot, who rested his elbows on the table and stared moodily at the alien fish. “Take it from one who knows. Nothing helps a heartache like spending time with someone who understands.”
Hubcap didn’t reply. Dr. Rhodes dug into his pocket, coming up with a handful of plastic gemstones. They made for colorful and eye-catching metaphors. He set a bright blue one on the tabletop by the robot’s elbow. Hubcap looked down at it, then up at the psychologist.
“Consider this a memory,” Dr. Rhodes said. “You will likely be around for a long time to come.” He placed another beside the first. “You’ll probably have to say goodbye to many friends in your lifetime.” Three more gems made a line after the others. “But you will get to enjoy the friendship of many more.” He opened his fingers and poured a multicolored handful, covering the line of sorrows completely. “All those good times can easily outweigh the sadness of saying goodbye, especially when you are the only person who can dictate just how sad you feel.”
Hubcap stared down at the pile of glittering symbolism, while Dr. Rhodes let silence fill the room. The robot picked up one of the gems, an iridescent purple one with many facets. He turned it over in his metal fingers, and finally replied. “Thanks.”
Dr. Rhodes smiled. “You’re welcome. If you ever want to talk or trade poems—” he gestured to the magnet in Hubcap’s other hand “—I’m on the ground floor with a view of the silverbark trees.”
He walked out into the hallway and toward the stairs, leaving trinkets and food for thought in his wake.