A Prayer for the Crown-Shy (Monk and Robot #2 )(12)

A loud clanking heralded Mosscap catching up with the wagon. “I love how different the pictures are from what I see,” the robot said, happily flicking through newly captured images as it walked. “You can really tell that my optical lenses and the lens in this computer’s camera aren’t the same at all. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“Makes you think of what?” Dex panted.

“Of how any sighted individual’s perception of the world is entirely based on the way the structures in their eyes receive light.” Mosscap smiled at Dex. “I wish I could borrow your eyes for a day, see what that’s like.”

“Please find a less creepy way to phrase that.” Dex reached down with one hand, unhooked their water bottle from the bike frame, and took a long pull. They were grateful for the drink, but the water had grown warm, and Dex found themself pining for anything that involved ice and a blender.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Mosscap said breezily, waving its free hand in a dismissive way. Something else caught its attention, and it uttered a small “hmm.”

“What?” Dex said as they put the bottle back.

Mosscap studied the computer screen in its palm. “You’re right, this is running low on memory.”

“I told you,” Dex said. “You need to get rid of some of your pictures. Or your books.”

“Running low doesn’t mean out of space,” Mosscap said. “And I can’t get rid of the books. I go through them so fast, and sometimes we camp where there’s no signal. Besides which—oh, would you look at that!”

Dex gave only the barest of glances toward the spice plum Mosscap ran toward. They continued pedaling under the midday sun, telling themself there was a very good chance of some sort of frozen dessert at the end of this slog. No further conversation arose from Mosscap, as was normal when it was trying to take the perfect shot. In a few moments, Dex knew, the silence would be exchanged for the sound of Mosscap once more running back to their side, and the conversation would resume as per usual.

Except that wasn’t what happened. The silence continued on a little too long, only to be broken by a calm phrase shouted down the road.

“Sibling Dex? I need some help.”

In their mirror, Dex saw Mosscap sitting plaintively in the middle of the road, legs stretched straight in front of itself, peering down at its own torso.

Dex hit the brakes, jumped off the bike, and ran over.

“What’s the matter?” they said as they skidded to where Mosscap sat.

“Something’s broken,” Mosscap said. The robot had its torso panel open and was trying to peer at the hardware inside, but its neck wouldn’t bend far enough. “Here, watch.” Mosscap got back on its feet. It took two normal steps, wobbled on the third, then stumbled chaotically, swaying like a precursor to a bad hangover.

“Whoa,” Dex said, steadying Mosscap with both hands. “What happened?”

“I seem to have lost my sense of balance,” Mosscap said as Dex helped them to sit.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dex said. They knelt beside the robot on the road, and the warmth of the paving bled through the fabric covering their knees.

Mosscap switched on one of the little bulbs that crowned the tips of its fingers, and pointed the light inside itself. “Can you look in there and see what’s wrong?”

“I have no idea what I’m looking for,” Dex said with concern. “I don’t know how you work.”

“I don’t really know how I work either. Just look for something visibly broken.”

Dex exhaled deeply, puffing out their cheeks. “Okay, but I’m not going to touch anything.”

“I won’t mind if you do.”

“Well, I don’t want to make things worse.”

Mosscap gave Dex a chiding look. “I think you’re far more nervous about poking around my insides than I am about you doing so.”

Dex flicked their eyes up toward Mosscap’s face as they leaned in. “It’s a little weird, looking inside of you. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Weird or no, Dex took a good look around. Mosscap’s torso housed a tidy arrangement of circuit boards, wires, and mechanical configurations whose purpose Dex could only shrug at. They frowned at the unfamiliar components, trying to first make sense of the layout in full before attempting to answer the question of whether something was out of place. “Do you mind if I…” They took Mosscap’s hand by the wrist, angling the lighted finger in a different direction.

“Oh, no, not at all,” Mosscap said.

Dex moved the light around. “You’ve got a cobweb in here,” they said.

Mosscap was nonplussed. “I doubt that’s the problem.”

“Probably not, but do you want me to clean it out?”

“The spider isn’t still at home, is it?”

“Uh…” Dex moved the lit finger closer, examining the dusty threads and keeping an eye out for anything that skittered. “No, the web’s empty. Whoever built this is long gone.”

“Then yes, cleaning it out would probably be for the best.”

Dex pulled a handkerchief out of their pocket and gathered the aged spider silk, compressing the once-intricate net into a snarl of limp protein. They took the robot’s hand once more and shone it toward the upper end of the compartment. “Oh. That … that doesn’t look right.”