Andrew had to do something. He ran forward and, with a flying leap, kicked the jackal in the side. It screamed and rolled off the dog, its hair standing on end. When Andrew refused to move out of the way, the jackal bared its teeth once more, then turned and limped across the grassland, out of sight.
Andrew approached the dog, which was lying on its side, its breathing coming in slow pants. Andrew knelt down beside it.
“Danny, it is you. I thought I might find you here.”
He ran a hand over the dog’s soft head and looked around. He had to find some water to clean these wounds.
Andrew lifted Danny off the ground and began trekking through the ankle-deep grass. “It’s okay, Danny,” he said. “I’m here for you now. You’ll be safe.”
In the distance, a jackal howled its frustration to the blue, cloudless sky.
The charge station chimed to signify a full battery.
Andrew disconnected himself and began wheeling toward the glass wall of the observation room. This T-unit was nothing compared to the body he’d had in the Dreamscape. That feeling of being free, of running and leaping to his heart’s content—it couldn’t be surpassed. Here, in reality, his body seemed clunky, his every action ponderous and forced.
“Doctor Hawthorne?”
“Yes, Andrew.”
“Why don’t you give us better bodies?”
“Your body is perfect for your task, Andrew.”
Andrew wheeled closer to the observation window.
“And what is my task?”
Dr. Hawthorne stepped up to the glass. Technicians scurried around in the shadows behind him. “Your task is to live here, happily, with us.”
“I could still do that with a better body.”
“No, Andrew. Our country is at war, and supplies are limited. Besides, we’re more interested in your mind.”
Andrew suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in the chamber. He turned toward a scratching sound, and heard soft breathing.
At one end of the workbench stood a wire cage containing a single occupant: a white jackrabbit.
Andrew headed for the cage, intrigued. “Doctor Hawthorne. Why is there a rabbit in my room?”
“We couldn’t get a dog for you, Andrew, but this is the next best thing. What do you think?”
Andrew reached the cage and removed the metal top. The rabbit stared up at him quizzically, bristling its cheeks and whiskers as it sniffed the air. It was surrounded by yellow straw. Beside the cage were several boxes of vegetables, liquids, and pellets, and even a box of small rabbit toys.
Andrew reached for a carrot, then glanced at the doctor. “May I?” he asked, holding up the carrot.
“Of course you may, Andrew. He’s your rabbit now. You just have to promise to take good care of him.”
Andrew lowered the carrot into the cage and carefully placed it a few centimeters from the rabbit’s snout. It sniffed the air excitedly, then took a hop toward the carrot. It nibbled away happily, keeping one eye on Andrew.
“Yes, I think it’s a very good idea,” Andrew said, turning back to the doctor. “Companionship is important.”
“It’s very important, Andrew. You might even say that, to a human, companionship is the most important aspect of life.”
“And to an AI?”
Hawthorne shrugged. “I don’t know, Andrew; I’m not an AI. We hope that’s one of the things you can help us with.”
Andrew moved closer to the observation room. “I’m not the first AI unit. There have been many others before me. Didn’t they tell you?”
The doctor shook his head. “Every iteration is an improvement upon the last. Andrew, you need to understand: you’re the first unit to utilize the Empathy 5 chip. You’re very likely the most human artificial intelligence on the planet. You’re incredibly important to us.”
“That is very humbling, Doctor Hawthorne. I am ready and willing to assist you in any way possible. This is a fine thing you’ve accomplished. I truly do feel like I’m alive. This feels real.”
Dr. Hawthorne smiled. “That’s because it is real, Andrew. Artificial intelligence is not a trick or an illusion. When we activate your AI algorithms, we are literally creating a new conscious life form.”
“I am grateful for this opportunity,” Andrew said. “I hope there will be many others like me in the future.”
“That would make a lot of people very happy, myself included,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “We’ve been working very hard for a long time. Not surprisingly, the war has made things easier for our department. Suddenly people are willing to take us seriously, and often use their wallets to show support.”
“That is fortunate.”
The doctor chuckled. “Look at me, Andrew. I’m babbling. Why don’t you spend some time with your new friend? I’ve got to get a few things done.”
“I would enjoy that.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to ask. What are you going to name your rabbit? Every pet needs a name.”
Andrew took another peek inside the cage. The furry creature had eaten the entire carrot and was now looking up at him expectantly. Andrew wondered what other snacks he might enjoy.
“I think I’ll name him Danny,” he said.
Hawthorne clapped his hands together. “Danny. That’s brilliant. I think it will do nicely.” He picked up his coffee mug and left the observation room, leaving Andrew alone with the rabbit.
Andrew removed the lid and lifted Danny out of the cage. He brought him up to his chest and let him lie across his metallic arms. The rabbit didn’t seem to be alarmed. In fact, its eyes were half-closed, and its breathing was slow and relaxed.
Andrew felt himself smiling on the inside.
“Rabbit by day, dog by night,” he said. “What do you think about that, Danny?”
The rabbit twitched its nose curiously and laid its ears against its back, ready for a nap.
“Here you go, Danny.” Andrew tore a chunk of steaming venison from a skewer and tossed it to the dog. Danny caught it in the air and chewed the stringy meat happily.
They’d caught the small deer by the river. Danny had tracked it to a bubbling stream, and Andrew had snuck up behind it while it was drinking. He’d sprung out of the bushes and bashed it over the head with a jagged rock—two blows—and then had cleaned and gutted the animal, washing it in the rushing water. He hung the meat on a spit and proceeded to make a fire with some flint stones and dry grass.
The flesh was now roasting over a roaring flame and Andrew felt his mouth watering. Danny sat on the other side of the fire, closer to the edge of a small forest. His scraggy face was calm, but his tail twitched excitedly, especially when some hot grease dripped down onto the coals, causing the fire to flare up and sizzle. Andrew used a stick to stoke the flames, and soon their meal was ready.
They ate beside the stream, listening to the bubbling water and distant calls of birds. After dinner, Andrew dried some of the deerskin over the fire, and used sinews to fashion a rather functional loincloth. He tied it tightly around his waist and washed his hands in the river. Danny came to drink beside him. The water was cold and refreshing.
Andrew put out the fire, and the two of them headed west, toward the setting sun. The light shone yellow and orange on the underside of the clouds.
They’d been walking for a few hours, enjoying the tranquility of the landscape, when Danny suddenly dashed off ahead.
“Don’t go too far now, Danny,” Andrew shouted.
The dog bounded toward a hill; he must have caught some scent.
“Come back here, buddy!” But Danny disappeared over the crest.