TR1ST4N

"I would like to report a stolen good."

"Please, ma'am, take a seat. Has someone broken into your house?"

"Actually, it might have left on its own, but it's not supposed to happen."

"What do you mean? Is it a good or a person?"

"It's a B.O.B." The woman dared the policeman to comment on it.

"Ah, I see. Would that be a Mirko or a Simon? I'm not familiar with all the models... maybe second series? Yoshio? Adonis?"

"Custom-made, not one of those series BOBs. I want you to help me find it. You have access to the security cameras all over the city. This is the thing I'm looking for."

She offered a printed picture of a handsome and well-toned young man, whose physical perfection made him almost too good to be true. And he wasn't. Those big blue eyes were micro-cameras and sensors, and even though those dark blond curls were probably real hair, the pale skin was synthetic – one of the most expensive sex toys the policeman had ever seen. Battery-operated Boyfriend. Custom-made. No wonder the rich owner wanted it back.

"And this would be a..."

"His registration number is TR1ST4N. One of a kind."

"I see. And it came out of the Serenaide Labs like the others."

"Yes, of course."

"So why don't you go there and ask for a replacement?"

"Custom-made," she repeated through clenched teeth. "One of a kind. The specifications were destroyed after making it, so they wouldn't be reproduced."

"Ah. Maybe they have a way of tracing their toy?"

"My toy," she snapped. "I'll go to the Serenaide Labs too, but I want you to check if you've seen it through your cameras."

She gave him a card and rose, as regal as a queen.

"Find it. It's worth a lot of money."

"Yes, ma'am." He watched her leave and snorted. He glanced the name on the card. "Margeret-Shannan Hermelinda Nine-Brambila," he read pompously. "You're a bitch," he muttered, throwing the card on the desk with the image.

He glanced at the picture again. Amazing what technology could do. He put the picture in the scanner and let the computer do a search for him.

***

Markandeya Sumirasko was head of cybernetics at the Serenaide Labs. A survivor of the destruction of Marc'harid, he had uploaded his mind at the Vaurabi Labs before the planet became a desert and lifeless ball and downloaded it into an artificial body on Serenaide. The android had been made to the specifications of his old bag of bones, albeit younger. He was seventy but his physical container looked forty.

He was the "father" of the second and more sophisticated series of BOBs, although he'd been helped by two local youths, twins Malik and Natalya Megnaghy. The second series had had even more success than the first and spawned some custom-made models that were his pride.

He stared at Mrs Nine-Brambila who sat in front of him with a frown. "You're saying he just left?"

"Yes," she snapped. "For five years it was just perfect, going back to the closet when I didn't need it, but today when I woke up it was gone. Not in the house. I don't think it was stolen, was it? Does it have a tracking device?"

"He wasn't supposed to walk away," Markandeya replied, pondering. "He was programmed to please you endlessly."

"And it did! It was even better than any of my human lovers! I don't understand how this could happen, but I filed its disappearance with the police. They're looking through their security cameras, but of course they suggested I asked you if it has a tracking device."

"I'll see what I can do," Markandeya said. "Unfortunately, we don't have the specifications anymore, so it's going to be hard to find him."

"I have them." She threw a chip on the table. "If you can't find the original, make me a new one, but if the original turns up somewhere, it will have to be destroyed."

"We'll do our best to get back your one-of-a-kind Tristan, Mrs Nine-Brambila. Or we'll make you a new one, but he'll have to be slightly different... Custom-made policy, you see."

"Well, then you better find the original!" The woman upturned her nose and glared at him. "I shall wait for your call, Doctor Sumirasko."

He waved her off and stared at the chip, frowning. A BOB deciding to walk off was a first. True that the custom-made were even more sophisticated that the series ones, but still... could it be the AI inside the BOB had developed feelings? A mind of its own?

Markandeya tapped his fingers on the desk, pondering, then put the chip in the computer. Time to run a check on possible software malfunctions.

***

Deon Siracusa went home tired as usual. Being a healthcare navigator was both rewarding and frustrating. Even though the Star Nations had simplified the hospital system on most planets, it was still tricky for patients and families, upset about someone's sickness, to figure out what to do and how.

His job was to answer questions regarding procedures and paperwork, and providing support for families struggling to cope with the stress of illness. That was the worst part of the job, of course, and that day he'd had two particularly tough cases. His knowledge as a healthcare specialist and his sensitivity as a social worker had been put to the test, and even though he'd managed everything properly, he felt like a wreck.

His youth probably didn't help. His self-confidence had taken a few blows already since he'd started the job. Luckily his senior colleague was very patient and the best teacher he could have. But sometimes he thought twenty-five was too young for such a job. Unfortunately he couldn't stand the sight of blood, so he had had to give up a nursing career.

He saw a tall and well-built blond young man standing still outside of the condo building. His eyes narrowed at the sight. Who put a damn statue there? For what purpose? It was a pretty sight, but too hidden to be on display. It was even out of the security camera range!

To Deon it still looked conspicuous. Really life-like, but at the same time... the man didn't move, didn't look around, nothing. Just a statue, but gods, how handsome it was. Deon went to take a closer look.

The statue had real hair. And it wasn't cold painted stone. The skin was smooth and hairless and the tightfitting clothes wrapped a body to die for. Maybe a sophisticated robot?

Blue eyes focused on him and the statue became alive, startling him. A well-manicured hand grabbed his wrist to stop him from prodding the gorgeous statue. Not a statue, then.

"So you move... what are you doing?" he asked.

"I, ah... am recharging," he said with a gravelly voice. As if he hadn't been using it for some time.

"Recharging?" Deon frowned. "How?"

"Wireless battery charge." The voice was steadier now. "I'm taking energy from the building. There are so many people in it, you won't notice," he assured.

Battery charge? Could it be? Deon's eyes widened in shock.

"Are you a BOB?" he asked.

The beautiful lips curved into a smile. "Yes," he answered.

"Oh my..." Deon had never seen one walking around. He never thought they'd be so... lifelike! He had seen the ads when the first models had come out ten years earlier, when he was still a teen unsure of his own sexuality. He'd preferred the second series five years later because there were more male types and by then he was really into men. He didn't remember one like this, though. "Are you a new model?"

"I'm five years old," the BOB answered.

"Let me guess, six-letter name?" Deon said. The first series had five-letter male names with numbers and letters mixed as registration numbers. The second series had six-letter names.

"Seven," the other smiled. "You can call me Tristan."

Seven letters! When did that series come out?

"So how many of you are there, Tristan?" Deon asked. Now he really wished he could afford one of those expensive androids.

Tristan's smile vanished. "One. I'm one of a kind. Like you."

A custom-made BOB! Deon gaped. That was why he was so perfect. Beautiful and everything and...

"I need to go," Tristan said. "I'm sure those cameras are trying to catch me to send me back to my owner."

"You... ran away from your owner?" Deon asked, incredulous.

Tristan's smile dazed him. "She made me spend too much time in the closet. I was bored."

"Oh my... " How could anyone just leave that gorgeous sex toy in a closet? "If I was your owner, I'd play with you every night!" Deon said, still breathless.

"Find a way to take me in avoiding the surveillance cameras, and I'll be happy to comply," Tristan replied, still smiling.

Deon quickly looked around. Front and back door were under surveillance for security reasons. But the fire escape was not. He pointed at the external metal structure. "I'm on the fifteenth floor, but it won't be a problem for you, will it?"

Tristan chuckled. "See you there."

Deon found him on the landing coming out of the elevator and he wasn't even panting. Of course, he was an android, not a human being.

Deon let Tristan in his small apartment.

"Sorry for the mess," he apologized. "Can't even afford a cleaning robot..."

"I'll do that when you leave for work," Tristan said with a shrug.

"I thought you were just a sex toy."

"That's my main function, but I can use a broom or a vacuum cleaner if that's what excites my owner. Sometimes people like to enact things, so I need to be able to please them like a human being."

"Oh, I see." Deon stared at him, amazed. "I better eat something, since I'm starving, then we can go to the bedroom."

He fumbled in the kitchenette, pulling out microwave food and heating it.

"I suppose you can also pretend to eat?" he asked Tristan who looked around with mild interest on his handsome, chiseled face.

"Yes, but don't waste your food on me. You're not as well-off as my owner. I fed on the building's energy, so I'm fine now. Would you like me to prepare the bedroom while you eat?"

"Uh... no, please, stay here," he answered, since he couldn't take his eyes off of the BOB "I assume you have everything functioning to please your female owner?"

"I am fully functioning like a flesh and blood man," Tristan smiled. "Just tell me what you like, and I'll be anything you want me to be."

Deon grinned. Suddenly his luck had turned. The bad day was forgotten as he prepared for a certainly unforgettable night. He looked forward to touching and tasting that smooth skin.

***

"Did you catch it?" Margeret-Shannan Hermelinda Nine-Brambila frowned at the policeman who had filed her complaint. Human beings were definitely less efficient than robots. Especially lifelike robots like her sex toy.

"No, ma'am," the man answered patiently. "We would have called you if we had. The image has been fed into the system, though, if any camera catches a glimpse of it, we shall be notified. And so will you."

"Mm." She glared at his black uniform and plump body. He was nothing like Tristan. "I guess I should go back to the Serenaide Labs and ask them if they found a way to trace it."

"You might suggest they add a tracking device to custom-made BOBs, to avoid such inconveniences. They could be stolen, after all."

"They might be robots, but they can defend themselves," she snapped. "They are ten times stronger than men. He wasn't stolen, he just left."

"Then suggest they add some kind of block in the AI." The policeman shrugged. "If it has a half-decent AI, it will know how to avoid surveillance cameras."

"Unless there are new ones that it's not aware of. It's five years old. Maybe its knowledge is not updated, since I don't let it go on the meganet. It recharges itself wirelessly, but that doesn't mean he can access upgrades."

"So we could check sudden energy surges in utilities," the policeman mused. "It must recharge somewhere..."

"That's an excellent idea." She nodded sternly and rose. "Keep me posted. I'll go back to the Labs to suggest your improvements."

She stormed out of the police station, snorting with impatience. Her flying limo took her to the Serenaide Labs building avoiding all traffic at lower levels and deposited her on the roof of the skyscraper where the labs were. The driver was also an android, less sophisticated than Tristan, but still human-looking. It was programmed to drive her around and open her doors, and that was it. No conversational skills, nothing.

She took the elevator down to Doctor Sumirasko's office. Her money gave her preferential access to the head of cybernetics, instead of lowly employees. She had plenty of androids coming out of the Serenaide Labs – they made the perfect workers, whether drivers, maids, cooks, servants – why should she bother hiring human beings when she could afford more efficient workers who didn't complain about the treatment?

Her sister kept telling her she was becoming a grumpy old spinster, but she had no intention of remarrying, not even a younger man. Especially not with a younger man, who'd fuck her only to get her money! Tristan was just perfect – he fucked like a god and didn't want anything in return. He was well programmed to please her and she was losing interest in meeting real human beings.

"I don't understand how a BOB might have developed a mind of its own," she complained to Doctor Sumirasko. "I'm sure it wasn't stolen, so why did it leave?"

"He wasn't programmed to externalize his feelings, unless he was responding to you," he replied. "I don't think he knows how to complain or explain why he did it. We're tracking his series number – if it appears on any utility service, we'll know where he's recharging."

"His battery lasts for forty-eight hours!" she protested. "Which means you just missed his recharging time!"

"And in another two days he'll have to recharge again, and we'll find him. I think I know where the programming went wrong, and we can probably fix it, as soon as we find him."

"What do you mean you think you know? Could it be avoided in the future?"

He smiled. "Probably. There is one unknown factor we can't really predict, and it's the human factor."

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"I mean that we build them to your specifications. We have more and more robots and androids who act as servants or caregivers, and especially in the second case they need to be carefully programmed. Wealthy people who purchase robots for their homes must determine which model is best suited to a family's particular need."

"I already talked with your counselor when I purchased it, thank you," she snapped. "I don't want a better option, I want customer service! All the others are doing just fine, and they're much older than Tristan!"

"But Tristan is a BOB and he's of a superior breed, so to speak. He has a much bigger AI inside his head and is programmed to respond to his owner. Like I said, what we can't predict is human behavior. They don't change unless we change."

She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him.

"Are you saying he ran away because he was sick of me or something?"

"It's the first time I hear you speaking of him as a 'he'," he replied, amused. "Yes, he has a personality, and yes, it evolved with you. I do not wish to know what happens in your household, but either he could not keep up or he was so far ahead that the controls snapped and he took off."

She gaped at him. It had never occurred to her that androids could rebel. Maybe Tristan was becoming too human.

"Now if you let us do our job, we will bring him home and reprogram him," he continued. "But you'll have to figure out what you did that made him react like this, to avoid history repeating itself."

She nodded, thoughtful. "Maybe I neglected him a little," she muttered. "But I didn't think he'd care."

"Mrs Nine-Brambila, Tristan is fully programmed to be by your side at any time. If you want to marry him and take him with you everywhere, nobody will know he's not an actual human being. You have a custom-made BOB and you might have been wasting his potential unknowingly."

She pondered some more and looked at him. She had already noticed he was a handsome man, but now she saw the flawless perfection of his skin and the blue eyes staring back at her were much like Tristan's.

"Are you an android?" she asked without thinking.

He smiled. "Ever heard of S.E.T.H.?"

She shook her head, puzzled.

"Super-enhanced Trans Humanoids. Many don't even look human anymore. But some of us would rather keep a human appearance. My physical body was destroyed on Marc'harid while I worked at the Vaurabi Labs. I had time, before the catastrophe, to upload my mind to the mainframe and downloaded it here, after I had a new body built, based on my previous appearance. So this body is pretty much like Tristan, but the mind inside it is not artificial."

"I see." She nodded, impressed. "So you'll look like this forever?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I guess I have acquired immortality..."

***

Deon was madly in love. Tristan was everything he'd ever dreamed of in a lover. Tireless, tender, ready to fulfill his every wish or kink in bed and with that dazzling smile of his... The only thing was – he couldn't show off his new boyfriend. Not until it was cleared from its previous owner. Although Deon never considered Tristan an "it" labeled TR1ST4N, an artificial intelligence with a synthetic body coming out of the Serenaide Labs.

To him Tristan was alive, even though he didn't see him breathe and he couldn't hear his heartbeat. Alive and cheerful, Tristan kept his small apartment in perfect condition. And he was the god of massages. When Deon came back tired or stiff because of something that happened at work, Tristan's hands helped him relax and took care of his sore muscles.

The two days since the BOB had entered his life were like a dreamstate for him. Coming home to that gorgeous young man ready to pamper him was bliss. He was aware that Tristan didn't belong to him, though. He didn't dare raise the question, but surely the owner couldn't let go of such a great lover.

"What bothers you, Deon?" Tristan's voice came in the dead of the night. Of course he wasn't sleeping, but he even had noticed that Deon himself was restless!

"I don't want to lose you," Deon blurted out. "I know they'll come for you, eventually!"

"Yes," Tristan said. "They can detect when I recharge myself, and they will come."

Deon switched on the light and stared at the glorious naked body that had made love to him, making him fall asleep only to wake up with a start barely a couple of hours later. And he hadn't been able to go back to sleep since. The clock on the bed table said it was 2AM. Tristan was as alert as ever and he stared back at Deon with a serious expression.

"I wish I could afford to buy you from your owner!" Deon complained, hugging Tristan and putting his head against the flat, still chest. "Who is she anyway?"

"Margeret-Shannan Hermelinda Nine-Brambila," Tristan said.

Deon moaned. "With a name like that she must be dirty rotten filthy stinking rich!"

"Her late husband left her quite an inheritance, yes. She doesn't employ humans, only androids."

"Shit!" Deon couldn't even offer himself for menial tasks, so he could keep seeing Tristan! "It is so unfair! I love you and I can't have you!"

"You love me?" Tristan sounded surprised.

"Yes!" Deon stared at the beautiful, chiseled face. The blue eyes had widened in wonder, much like a human would do. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me!"

Tristan squeezed him but didn't smile. "She never said anything like that to me," he said.

"People like her consider everybody else either inferior or not human!" Deon snorted. "I bet she was very demanding!"

"I was made to her specifications, so I had no trouble making her happy."

"And why did you leave, then?"

"I told you, I was bored. She left me in the closet too often. She used me in bed, then sent me back to the closet. Unlike you." He deposited a kiss on Deon's forehead. "You make me feel useful at all times."

"You mean she never took you anywhere?" Deon asked, puzzled. "I mean, if I owned you, I'd take you everywhere with me and tell everybody you're my most beautiful and beloved boyfriend and I'm sure people would be totally fooled and think you're as human as them!"

Tristan smiled. "Thank you. But I'm supposed to be a sex toy and not leave the bedroom, unless it's for some orgy or party with sex included. I had a few during the first year, but then my owner started closing her house to guests. She's become a misanthrope and hates everybody."

"How do you know all that?" Dean asked.

"I have very good hearing. Her sister still visits her. I heard her saying she was becoming a grumpy old spinster. I'm not sure I understand what it means, but I know how it feels to me."

"So how old is she?"

"She is fifty-two and she's been a widow for twenty years. Both her and her sister seduced rich old men for their money and she's terrified someone would do the same to her. She doesn't trust fellow humans anymore, but I’m the perfect bed partner since I don’t need her money."

"So you'll go back to her, eventually," Deon said, disappointed.

"I don't want to go back, but you said so yourself. They will take me back to her. She is too stubborn to give up on her investment."

Deon sighed and nestled against Tristan again. "I don't want to lose you," he muttered again.

"There isn't much we can do," Tristan replied.

Deon pondered. "What if we left the planet?" he suggested, brightening. "I could find work somewhere else! I mean, healthcare navigators can work anywhere..."

"Do you have a private starship?" Tristan asked, mildly amused.

"Ah... no." Deon lay down again, frowning. Of course they'd stop him from boarding any public starship with a runaway BOB

"Try to get some sleep," Tristan said. "Staying up all night won't bring a solution." He leaned to close Deon's eyes with butterfly kisses. "Sweet dreams, Deon."

Deon wanted to object, but it felt too good. He relaxed in his lover's embrace and slowly drifted off to sleep.

***

"Officer Gabrysch speaking. We have an address where there was a spike in energy use in the past week. Do you want us to go there or would you rather we passed the info to the Serenaide Labs?"

"Send them to Doctor Sumirasko, head of cybernetics. He is ready for it. Thank you, officer."

"What is this all about, Marge?" Esperanza-Twyla Adolfo Tagami stared at her sister with her eyebrows raised.

"My BOB ran away," Margeret-Shannan replied with a shrug. "But as you've heard, they found it."

Esperanza-Twyla scoffed. "I'm sure you can afford better than a battery-operated boyfriend! You still look much younger than your age, and you've been playing the sorrowful widow for too long! Let me take you out and meet people!"

"I hate people." Margeret-Shannan scowled at her sister. "I never know if they talk to me because they genuinely like me or because they want my money."

Esperanza-Twyla rolled her eyes. "You've become too paranoid. We both married rich men who died quickly, leaving their fortune and no kids to us. Don't you think we have the right to get a wonderful second life with someone else? Maybe someone younger?"

Margeret-Shannan smirked. "Do I smell a young lover, Espe?"

"Yes! Humans are different! Trust me, Marge, find a young man, not a well-programmed android, and you'll be fine!"

"I will not let anyone do to me what I did to my husband," Margeret-Shannan retorted. "What we both did. Now that we're not in our prime anymore, do we really want to give up all this," she waved at the luxurious living room in the great mansion that had been her home for the past thirty years, "for a good fuck with a young man who will steal our fortune? No, Espe, I'm not falling for that trap."

Esperanza-Twyla snorted and glared at her. "Fine. Enjoy your solitude!" She rose from the plush couch and headed for the door.

"My solitude is about to end!" Margeret-Shannan shouted after her. She frowned at the empty living room. Maybe she still had some friends. Yes, she'd throw a party as soon as Tristan came home.

***

Markandeya stopped outside the condo building and looked up. Thirty floors with approximately  ten apartments per floor. Three hundred doorbells to ring. In spite of having an artificial body that didn't need to breathe, Markandeya sighed.

That was the place that had had a surge in energy use. Tristan could be anywhere in one of those three hundred apartments. And since he was so life-like, maybe whoever sheltered him wasn't aware he was a BOB.

Markandeya looked around before ringing the first bell. He showed Tristan's picture to dozens of people, but nobody had seen him. Some looked surprised, others suspicious, others asked what the young man had done. He told them the truth, that it wasn't a "young man" but a runaway android, a sentient machine.

He reached the fifteenth floor, glad that his new body didn't get tired like his biological one used to. It was going to be a long day going through all the apartments of the building. Some weren't at home, so he'd have to go back later.

And then knocking on the fourth door of the landing, Tristan himself opened the door. His smile vanished as he focused on Markandeya.

"Hello, Tristan," he greeted. "You're actually the one I was looking for. Is the apartment owner present?"

"He's at work," Tristan answered flatly. "Please don't take me away without letting him know."

"Let me in," Markandeya replied. "I'd like to talk to you first."

Tristan's hesitation was very brief.

"Come in, Father." He moved away from the door.

If Markandeya still had a heart, it would have swelled with pride at being called "father" by Tristan. The emotion was there, though, and he felt sorry he'd have to take Tristan back to that spoiled rich widow.

The apartment was small and tidy. Perfect for one person, or two with little means. It could be perfect for Markandeya himself, if he still needed human commodities. His mind still needed to rest, but he simply switched off the android body when he needed to regroup. Perks of downloading a human mind into an artificial body.

Tristan stared at him, waiting for him to start the conversation. Markandeya looked at the BOB and another surge of pride made him smile at his "son" – definitely one of his best works.

"How have you been, Tristan?"

"I'm fine, Father. This place is small, but Deon really needs me and it feels good."

"And Deon does what in his life?"

"Healthcare navigator. He's twenty-five and is struggling a little at the beginning of his profession, but I help him relax when he comes back tense."

"I see. And does he know who you are?"

"Yes, he saw me while I was recharging by the building, away from security cameras, and approached me. He was the only one who actually talked to me since I left Mansion Nine-Brambila."

"How did he bring you in without passing the security cameras?" Markandeya asked, curious.

Tristan smiled. "Fire escape stairs. He told me to come to the fifteenth floor."

Markandeya chuckled. "Very smart, both of you!"

"He says he loves me." Tristan's smile vanished again. "He needs me more than Marge. Can you do something about it?"

Markandeya sighed. "I'm trying to convince her I'll make her an even better lover, but she seems very stuck on you. She might change her behavior towards you, though. I told her that you adjusted to her, and if you'd run away, either she was using you too much or not enough."

"Not enough," Tristan said. "I was bored and sick of being locked in that closet. She even stopped inviting her friends over. Deon would be delighted to show me around and introduce me to his friends, but how can we, knowing Marge is looking for me? We even considered leaving the planet, but we don't have the means."

"How about you come with me and talk to her?" Markandeya suggested. "She might have ignored you because she was unaware of what you really really are. You see, it's not easy for human beings to understand artificial intelligences."

"But we are supposed to adjust to human beings," Tristan said.

"Yes, I know, it's tricky," Markandeya replied. "I have an artificial body like yours, but the mind is still human, and if you compare our thought patterns, they'd be very different. Yours are logical, mine aren't."

Tristan hesitated. "I've seen so many emotions in Deon... he has so much to teach me! Can I stay with him?"

"Not until you convince Marge to let you go," Markandeya replied. "I'm sure a twenty-five year old guy is more exciting than a fifty-something woman, but you've been made for her, and even though I built you, she has decisional power over you."

Tristan averted his eyes. "I don't want to leave until Deon comes back," he said, frowning. "If she doesn't let me go, I want to be able to say a proper good-bye to him."

"Then we shall wait for him to come home," Markandeya said with a smile. "Shall we sit down? I will test your conversational skills, okay?"

Tristan nodded with a half-smile and sat on the couch with him. Now the day was turning interesting. Markandeya had never before had the chance to talk with one of his creatures five years after he'd built them.

***

Deon opened the door and gasped at the sight of the visitor quietly chatting with Tristan. The man didn't wear a uniform, though, so he entered the apartment with his heart still beating faster but hopeful it could be a false alarm.

"Father, this is Deon," Tristan said.

Father? Confused, Deon looked at the man who smiled and rose.

"Markandeya Sumirasko, head of cybernetics at the Serenaide Labs," he said, offering his hand.

Deon opened his mouth as his eyes widened in fear. So the man had come for Tristan! "Father" as in "builder" for the BOB!

"Relax, young man, we're trying to find a way out to this dilemma," the man said, still offering his hand.

Deon remembered his manners and shook the extended hand. "Deon Siracusa," he muttered, glancing at Tristan. The man's grip was strong, almost too strong. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, been dealing with too many artificial beings lately," Sumirasko apologized.

Deon shook his aching hand and glared at the man. Then he noticed that physical perfection that was also Tristan's, albeit more mature.

"Are you human?" he asked.

"The mind is human," the other answered. "Downloaded in an artificial body because my bag of bones couldn't make it off Marc'harid."

Deon's openly gaped. A survivor of Marc'harid! The former Imperial planet had been destroyed by an impact with the Mega Arena eight years earlier and still no life could take hold on the charred surface.

"So are you a Sire?"

"No, but I worked at the Sire labs. I was born on Ypsilanti seventy years ago, but I've worked on Marc'harid for forty-three years. My lover is from Serenaide, so when the catastrophe was impending, we uploaded our minds in the Vaurabi Labs mainframe and I downloaded mine here as soon as the new body was ready."

An artificial body with a human mind! Wonders never ceased! Deon was really impressed.

"You've come to take back, Tristan, haven't you?" he asked, frowning again.

"Unfortunately yes. But  I've been talking to Tristan and now that I see you, I'm conflicted. That's the downside of a human mind, no logic to help us in our decisions... so I will have to follow my gut instinct."

The man smiled at both. Tristan waited quietly, but Deon couldn't.

"What is our fate, then?"

Sumirasko went to the house laptop and sat.

"Let me see if I can get you off planet until I offer Marge an alternative to Tristan," he said, going on the meganet.

Deon glanced puzzled at Tristan who stared intently at his maker. Was that hope on the BOB's face? Deon turned eagerly back to Sumirasko who was speaking with someone with no visuals. Must be an off-planet or starship communication...

"Thank you, David, they'll be there," Sumirasko concluded.

He turned to look at them and grinned.

"Pack your bags, the Nova Falstelo is in the quadrant. Be at the spaceport in an hour. I'll be in touch."

He rose and quickly shook their hands. He left without turning back, leaving Deon gaping.

"Where do we start from?" Tristan's voice shook him. Deon turned and was dazzled by Tristan's smile. "I don't have anything to pack, so what do you need?"

"Ah, uh... well, is it permanent or not?" Deon frowned in worry.

"I daresay it's not," Tristan replied. "My father said he'd be in touch. So pack for a short trip."

Deon took deep, calming breaths. "You mean like a honeymoon in space?" he asked.

"Why not?" Tristan grinned. "On a private cruise ship no less. My father knows people..."

Deon stared awed at him. "What have I done to deserve you?"

Tristan took him in his arms. "You fell in love with me and gave me feelings," he whispered before kissing him.

***

Markandeya went to Villa Nine-Brambila putting on his most sorry face. He had noticed how the rich widow had a soft spot for him and he hoped to convince her to let go of Tristan. He was more and more proud of that creature who had turned out to have a mind of his own and Deon's love for the android was so obvious it reminded him of his own love for Tyro, the Serenaide scientist now a disembodied mind in the Labs mainframe. He couldn't bear to part the two young lovers, not to please a grumpy old spinster.

"Mrs. Nine-Brambila, I'm afraid the AI is damaged beyond repair," he said, sitting in the plush living room with the woman. "You gave me the specifics of the custom-made BOB and I wondered if I could turn it into a series model. In return, I shall build you the next generation BOB and fine-tune it to your needs. He can look like Tristan or be completely different, that is up to you."

She narrowed her eyes and thinned her lips.

"And how much would that cost me?" she asked bluntly.

"It's on us, ma'am," he assured her. "The software failure was unexpected, and it taught us something about AIs, therefore the replacement won't cost you anything, especially if you give us permission to use Tristan as series BOB – it has quite a good android body, and I'd be sorry to see it go because the software doesn't work anymore. Unless you want to keep him as a statue for your mansion."

She pondered, pursing her lip. "No, I'm not interested in a statue, no matter how beautiful. So if I give you new specifications you'll make me a new BOB? With some kind of controlling and tracing device?"

"Absolutely. Whatever you want us to add that was missing from the old model, we'll be happy to implement it." Markandeya tried to keep his excitement at bay.

She stared at him and batted her eyelashes.

"Could he look a little like you?" she asked. Was she flirting with him?

"I'm afraid I have copyright on this body," he replied, amused. "That's what I looked like when I was younger. But you could request a BOB looking like someone who is no more, like a mighty Sire or whoever is no longer of this dimension..."

She raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued. He had suggested the Sire, since they'd been gorgeous and famous throughout the galaxy, although he strongly hoped she wouldn't request an android looking like his lost friends Kol-ian Vaurabi or Ker-ris Shermac.

"I shall send you a picture of the person I'd like to see reconstructed," she said at last. "Thank you, Doctor Sumirasko."

***

Deon had never been to the spaceport. He never had any reason to leave the planet, so he wasn't even sure of how to get there. But Tristan had a map of the city in his head, and he took both of them safely there. Deon was more and more amazed by his boyfriend who didn't need to eat or sleep and yet was so useful even outside of the bedroom.

It was actually easier to leave him in charge in unfamiliar places. Tristan seemed to know where to look for the Nova Falstelo which turned out to be a disk-shaped cruise ship originally registered in the Shermac Fleet. The fleet had been disbanded by the only Shermac survivor after the destruction of Marc'harid, hence the captain had become proprietor of the ship and most of the crew had stayed on.

David Sommaruga Dubois, a tall forty-year-old man, welcomed them onboard.

"I've known Markandeya since I was born," he told them. "And the original Falstelo was an outlawed starship, so now I feel we're on that fringe again, between legal and illegal, free to roam the galaxy and take on whichever passengers we choose to. Not something that we could do while employed by the House of Shermac." His smile was sad, though.

"Do you miss the Sire?" Deon asked. For him, they were as far away as any other planet or Humanoid population. It was high time he broadened his horizons and started to see the Star Nations. Tristan looked eager to move around too, and they both felt like brand new explorers, excited for the coming adventure.

"I was born on Marc'harid, even though I'm not a Sire," the captain replied. "And yes, I miss the Sire who were so close to my family, who took my parents away from Earth and welcomed them on their planet. But let's not talk about the past, shall we? Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere, really. I've never left Serenaide," Deon said, blushing in shame. "Just do what you must do, we'll tag along!"

"We can help the crew if you instruct us," Tristan added. "I believe my father hasn't told you that I'm not human, though. My registration number is TR1ST4N and I learn fast."

"Ah, yes, he mentioned you were one of his creatures... very well, guests or crew, welcome onboard the Nova Falstelo!"

Time flew for the two runaways as they explored the galaxy. After six months, Captain Sommaruga called them into the comm room. Sumirasko wanted to talk to them.

"You can come back anytime," he said cheerfully. "Marge has been paid off with a brand new BOB so she has given up her claim on Tristan. By the way, he's the first of a new series, so he's not one-of-a-kind anymore – in theory. He has lookalikes, but he's still unique."

Deon and Tristan exchanged happily surprised glances.

"So it's safe if I come back and show him around as my boyfriend?" Deon asked.

"Totally safe. People might recognize him for what he is, but you still have the first, with five and a half years of experience that the others don't have. When you have enough of wandering in space, you can come home."

Beaming, Deon turned to Tristan. "What do you say?"

"I think you're homesick," Tristan replied with a smile. "You miss your job and your little home. Let's go back and live happily ever after..."