Chapter 4: Unwelcome Visit

Two weeks after finding Seven, Asher’s life had settled into a strange new routine. During the day, he and the android helped Garrett with repairs, turning the workshop’s productivity around. At night, they worked on the more delicate jobs, with Seven teaching him proper techniques through what the android called “fixing games.”

“Precision is like playing operation,” Seven would say, guiding Asher’s hands through complex adjustments. “Remember when I showed you? Don’t touch the sides!”

Tonight they sat cross-legged on Asher’s floor, an array of small mechanisms spread between them. Steam pipes knocked softly overhead as Seven demonstrated how to calibrate a pocket watch’s gears.

“Gentle, gentle,” the android whispered. “Like helping a butterfly land on your finger. Too much pressure and—”

The gear slipped, pinging against the floor. Asher swore under his breath.

“That’s okay!” Seven picked up the gear. “Sarah used to say bad words too, when her treatments hurt. But then we’d try again, because trying again is brave.”

Asher sat back, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “How do you do that? Turn everything into a lesson about hope?”

“Is that what I do?” Seven’s head tilted, blue eyes bright with curiosity. “I just remember what helped the children. Being brave is easier when you’re not alone.”

A knock at the workshop’s front door interrupted them. Heavy, authoritative. Asher’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Stay here,” he whispered, creeping down the stairs.

Garrett was already at the door, talking to what looked to be a protector. Through the gap, Asher could see two more figures waiting in the street.

“—just routine questions,” the protector was saying. “Had reports of unusual activity. Lights late at night, strange sounds.”

“It’s a repair shop,” Garrett replied gruffly. “Lots of strange sounds. And my apprentice often works late.”

“All the same, we’d like to look around. Make sure everything’s in order.”

Asher’s mind raced. Seven was still upstairs, probably wondering why they’d stopped their “game.” If the android tried to help, like with the trader last week…

“Now isn’t a good time,” Garrett was saying. “Got a big job torn apart. Liability issues, you understand. Come back tomorrow—”

“Garrett?” A small voice called from above. “Asher? Is someone else here to play?”

The protector’s eyebrows rose. Garrett’s shoulders tensed.

Footsteps on the stairs. No. No no no.

“Stay back,” Asher whispered urgently, but Seven was already halfway down, blue eyes glowing in the dim light.

“Goodbye,” Garrett’s voice was stern when he shut the door in the protector’s surprised face.

“Both of you, basement, now!”

They hurried down the narrow stairs as heavy knocking resumed above. Garrett began shifting crates, revealing a hidden space behind them.

“In,” he ordered. “And quiet, no matter what you hear. Asher, you too.”

“But—”

“No arguments. They’ll search the whole shop now. Can’t let them find either of you.”

Garrett rushed out of the basement as Asher squeezed into the space beside Seven. It was tight, dark. The android’s metal body was surprisingly warm.

“Is this a new game?” Seven whispered as Garrett replaced the crates.

“Something like that.” Asher tried to steady his breathing as boots thumped on the floor above. “We have to be very quiet. No helping, no matter what we hear. Understand?”

“Like when the little ones had to be still for scans?” Seven’s voice dropped to the faintest whisper. “I would tell them stories in their heads then. Would you like a story in your head?”

Before Asher could answer, the basement door opened. Light flooded down the stairs, along with the sound of multiple sets of boots.

“Lot of equipment down here,” a gruff voice said.

“Told you, big operation.” Garrett’s voice was casual. “Watch your step on those crates. Some of it’s delicate.”

Asher held his breath as boots approached their hiding spot. Beside him, Seven began tapping one finger silently against brass plating. Tap tap tap. Counting seconds, just like in the stories about Sarah and the storms.

The boots stopped right in front of their crate. Something scraped against wood.

Tap tap tap.

“What’s behind here?”

“More parts. Feel free to move everything. Then you can help put it all back, since you’re so interested in my storage methods.”

A pause. A laugh. The boots moved away.

They stayed hidden long after the protectors left. Seven was still tapping, still counting away fear in perfect rhythm.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Asher finally asked. “Try to help them, like you always do?”

Seven’s tapping stopped. “Because you were scared. And when someone’s scared, sometimes being quiet is the best help.” The android’s eyes glowed softly in the dark. “Sarah taught me that, at the end. Sometimes just being there is enough.”

Asher felt something in his chest tighten. “Well, you did good. What happened to her, by the way? To Sarah?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone in a children’s ward, eventually. They either get better and leave…” Seven’s glow dimmed slightly. “Or they don’t.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, listening to the steam pipes knock above.

“I think,” Seven said finally, “I’d like to help more children. Not just with being sick. But with being scared, like you said. Is that okay?”

Asher thought about the protectors, about the growing whispers in town, about all the ways this could go wrong.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s okay.”

That night, after Seven had powered down for rest cycle, Asher lay awake on his cot. The android’s words echoed in his mind: Sometimes being quiet is the best help. Sometimes just being there is enough.

He wondered, not for the first time, who was really helping whom.