Chapter 2: The Child’s Friend

The android’s crystalline blue eyes flickered to life as Asher cleared the last of the sand from its face. He barely had time to register their bright, innocent glow before dropping his father’s wrench in shock. He’s never heard of a working android before, let alone, seen one.

“Are we playing hide and seek?” The android’s voice was light, cheerful. It sat up in the cargo container, brass and copper plating catching the harsh morning sun. “I’m very good at counting to ten!”

Asher stumbled backward, boots sliding in the blood-stained sand. His eyes darted between the android’s childlike smile and the mangled bodies of the caravan crew scattered around them. “This… this isn’t a game.”

The android tilted its head, taking in the scene with curious eyes. “Oh. Oh dear.” Its voice dropped to a whisper. “Are they sleeping like my children used to sleep? The ones who didn’t wake up?”

The words hit Asher like a physical blow. Before he could respond, a hot wind whipped sand against his face. The storm was getting closer, darkness building on the horizon like an approaching wall.

“We need to move.” Asher grabbed his salvage bag, mind racing. The closest shelter was the overturned caravan wagon about twenty yards away. “Can you walk?”

The android stood with fluid grace, then made a show of tiptoeing through the sand. “We have to be quiet during hide and seek!” it stage-whispered, apparently committed to its game despite everything.

Another gust of wind drove stinging sand into Asher’s eyes. The storm wall was massive now, threatening to swallow the pale morning sun. And somewhere beyond it, a howl echoed across the wastes. The baldagaar, drawn back by movement or noise or—

“This way!” Asher grabbed the android’s surprisingly warm hand and ran for the overturned wagon. They half-slid through the entrance — really the broken side panel — just as the storm hit in full force. Sand rattled against metal like thousands of tiny fists demanding entry.

Inside, the wagon’s cargo lay scattered across what had become the floor. Crates of machine parts and tools created shadows in the dim light filtering through gaps in the metal. Asher wedged his shoulder against a crate to hold it steady. “We’ll wait it out here.”

“I like waiting games too!” The android settled cross-legged on the floor, seemingly unbothered by their predicament. “Shall I sing a waiting song? The little ones always liked songs when they were scared.”

“No! No singing.” Asher pressed his eye to a gap in the metal, watching sand race past in horizontal sheets. “We need to stay quiet. There might be—”

A roar cut through the storm’s howl, closer now. The android’s eyes widened, their blue glow brightening slightly. “That doesn’t sound like a nice animal.”

“Baldagaar.” Asher’s voice was barely a whisper. “They hunt in sandstorms sometimes. Actually, the hunt all the time.”

“Oh.” The android was quiet for a moment. Then, in a softer voice: “Would you like to know a secret? Sometimes when my children were scared, we would tell stories instead of singing. Very quiet stories. Would you like one?”

Another roar, more distant this time. Asher’s hand found his father’s revolver, checking its load for the third time. “I don’t think—”

“Once there was a little girl named Sarah,” the android began, its voice gentle as a summer breeze. “She was scared of storms too. But she learned that counting the seconds between thunder and lightning could tell you how far away the storm was…”

Despite himself, Asher found his grip on the revolver loosening as the android spoke. Its voice seemed to cut through the storm’s chaos, creating a pocket of calm in their metal shelter. He kept his eye on the gaps, watching for movement, but found himself listening.

“What’s your name?” he asked during a pause in the story. “I’m Asher.”

The android’s face lit up with a smile. “Medical Assistant Seven! But the children just called me Seven. It was easier to remember when they were very sick.” Its smile faltered slightly. “They were often very sick.”

Another howl, but far away now. The storm’s fury was beginning to fade, though sand still hissed against their shelter. In the dim light, Seven’s brass features seemed almost human in their expressiveness.

“Seven,” Asher tested the name. “What happened to your caravan? Why were you powered down?”

The android’s head tilted again, blue eyes dimming slightly. “I… I don’t remember. Sometimes my memory gets fuzzy, like when Sarah used to rub the fog off the medical bay windows.” It brightened again. “Would you like to hear a story?”

Asher looked at the gaps in the wall again. The sand was falling more naturally now, and no more howls split the air. Soon they’d have to leave this shelter, head back to Graven Pointe. Try to explain what he’d found.

“Yeah,” he said finally, settling back against the crate. “Tell me a story.”

As the storm’s fury slowly died, Seven told stories of the children’s ward. Each tale was simple, meant for young ears, but carried undercurrents that made Asher’s chest tight. Stories of courage during treatments, of laughter in dark moments, of small victories against pain. Through it all, sand continued to fall outside their shelter, marking time like an hourglass.

“And then Tommy said—” Seven stopped mid-sentence, head cocked to one side. “The storm is quieter now. Like when the ventilation systems would power down for maintenance.”

Asher pressed his eye to the gap again. The air was still thick with hanging dust, but he could make out the shapes of the other wagons. And the bodies. His stomach twisted. “We should wait a bit longer. Make sure the baldagaar is gone.”

“What’s a baldagaar?” Seven scooted closer, trying to peer through the same gap. “Is it like the therapy animals we used to bring to the ward? Some of those were very big!”

“No.” Asher pulled away from the gap. “They’re… they’re what did that to the caravan crew out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the bodies.

Seven was quiet for a moment, processing. “Oh. Like what happened to Sarah, then. When the machines couldn’t help anymore.”

The simple comparison struck Asher silent. He watched Seven’s face, trying to understand how something so apparently innocent could speak so matter-of-factly about death. “Seven, what exactly were you designed to do?”

“Help children not be afraid.” The answer came immediately, with pride. “Sometimes of needles, sometimes of machines, sometimes of dying. Everyone’s afraid of something.” Seven’s eyes brightened. “What are you afraid of, Asher?”

The question caught him off guard. “I’m not—” A sound outside cut him off. Something shifting in the sand.

Both of them froze. Seven’s childlike expression shifted to one of concern, but remained oddly calm. Asher’s hand found the revolver again.

Minutes stretched by. Nothing more. Just the soft settling of disturbed sand.

“Probably debris from the storm,” Asher whispered, more to himself than Seven. He checked outside again. The air was clearer now, though the sun hung in the sky like a pale coin seen through gauze. “We should move. It’s a long walk back to Graven Pointe.”

“Is that where you live?” Seven stood, brushing sand from brass joints with careful movements. “Is it nice there? Do they have children?”

“It’s…” Asher paused, suddenly realizing what he was getting himself into. An intact android would be valuable beyond measure. But one that could think, talk, tell stories… “It’s complicated. And yes, there are children. But listen, when we get there, you need to stay quiet about what you are. At least at first.”

“Like hide and seek?” Seven’s eyes lit up at the familiar concept.

“Sort of. Just…” Asher sighed, gathering his salvage bag. “Follow my lead, okay? And if you see anyone else, don’t speak.”