_o\O/o_
When her defeated team had finally passed out of earshot, Biju kicked the dirt behind the batter's box and swore. The fine soil of Omicron Theta billowed up slowly in a gentle cloud, serene and slightly pink-tinted and totally unsatisfying. She kicked it again, anyway.
Over by the on-deck circle, her Benzite friend Nhoe shouldered the equipment bag and tossed her special bat — rare t'tawlish wood, dark at the grip from many years of sweaty hands — at her. She caught it just in time and glared. The inner barbels above his lips curled upward in what she knew to be a grin.
"You really need to stop expecting to win, Cap," he said.
"I don't expect to win. But it'd be nice every once in a while. At this point I'd settle for not getting completely thrashed."
Nhoe shrugged. "You know how it is. The 'ficial teams are mostly older and definitely… well… you know."
Yes, Biju knew. Her little team was cobbled together from the kids who hadn't made the cut into the official league. Nhoe had been disqualified due to poor endurance — the need for his respirator limited his stamina. But his double thumbs made him the best pitcher in the colony; he could throw a knuckleball to make you cry.
From the colony's perspective, sports served a purely utilitarian function: the development of strategic and cooperative skills within the context of beneficial physical conditioning. But Biju, who had chafed since birth against her community's single-minded devotion to academics, didn't see it that way. Baseball was an end unto itself, and it was hard to swallow defeat after defeat when she knew none of her supremely logical opponents, none of them, loved the game like she did.
She walked a few steps away and looked off in the direction her demoralized players had gone. Nhoe joined her and slung an arm around her shoulders — a gesture he had learned from her. "C'mon. Help me pack up."
He deactivated the batter's box and foul-line forcefields, turning back toward the diamond. Suddenly he froze, mouth open, gaping at something behind Biju. She turned to look and was startled by the sight of a lone figure which had appeared out of nowhere and was standing atop the pitcher's mound. She squinted against the setting sun and saw that, even more alarmingly, it was Soong's crazy nudist android.
Where the hell did that come from?
It was watching them. Biju watched it back, thoughtfully swinging her bat in a one-handed, vertical circle.
The android wore only a rough shirt, too big for its wiry frame, which covered its torso to just below the navel. Assuming it had a navel — it certainly had everything else.
Well, at least it got half-way today, she thought, unperturbed — even amused. Her parents were physicians and they found the other colonists' squeamishness about android-bits irrational and prudish. The android's feet were bare, too, grass stains vibrant against its pale ankles. When they made eye contact it held an arm out stiffly toward them, a dirty baseball resting in its upturned palm.
"I discovered this spherical accoutrement of recreation in the grass, approximately 18.38 meters southwest of my present location. Do you wish to acquire it?"
Biju cleared her throat.
"Oh. Uh, thanks."
It tilted its head sharply. "Invalid command. Restate."
"Huh?"
It repeated itself at half speed and double volume, the faint metallic dissonance under its voice becoming more pronounced. Still and silent as a statue, it waited for a response.
Stumped, Biju glanced at Nhoe, who shrugged.
"Okay, sure, toss it over," the boy said.
Snake-quick, the android snapped back its arm and threw. Biju and Nhoe ducked instinctively, but needlessly. The ball flew high in a perfectly vertical backspin. The android lifted its face to follow its flight, and didn't react when the ball plummeted and struck it squarely on its upturned nose. It stooped to pick retrieve it, held it out to them again, and began walking.
"You are beyond my current range of accuracy. Increasing proximity accordingly."
Nhoe let out a squeaking gasp at the rapid approach and slapped the bench-post to reactivate the forcefield. The android didn't seem to notice; when its outstretched hand made contact with the barrier it kept walking in place, powerful feet carving dents in the dirt. After several steps it desisted.
"Expected task unclear," it said, again cocking its head at an angle that would have pained a human. "Citizens Biju Farland and Nhoe Ek: what is it you wish of me?"
Somehow Biju found herself charmed by the soft-spoken inquiry — and, for some reason, a little sheepish. Nhoe must have, too; after a brief pause he reached over and deactivated the forcefield once more. The android stepped forward and lowered its hand to within easy reach of the children. Nhoe took the ball, hesitating an instant before letting his fingers brush curiously against the pale palm. His uni-browbone rose in surprise.
"You're warm," he said. At the same time, Biju asked, "How do you know our names?"
"My bioplast sheeting is designed to approximate human body temperature." Its strange eyes flicked to Biju. "I am programmed with a comprehensive index of the colony's demographics."
Biju barely absorbed his answers, a little rattled by the instantaneous responses, delivered without the padding of pauses, or shifts in inflection. She was also thinking that it was one thing to see a naked man from a distance, and quite another to be within arm's length of one. She cleared her throat.
"So… um, are you programmed for, like, super stellar stealth, too? 'Cause I swear you just... came out of nowhere."
"My approach was not deliberately furtive. And I 'came out' of what is designated 'left field.'"
Biju and Nhoe laughed — perhaps a little more loudly than they would have under more comfortable circumstances. The android's yellow gaze seemed to grow even more intent, boring into them, and their laughter came to an awkward halt. Nhoe explained that "out of left field" was in fact another expression, synonymous with "out of nowhere." The android gave a perfunctory nod at this before returning to the earlier conversation as if it had never been interrupted.
"From a more abstract perspective, however, my artificial nature might make the phrase 'came out of nowhere' a more accurate description for me than for organic beings." It paused, pale eyes scanning back and forth in a vaguely unsettling way. They steadied again and settled on Biju. "Then again, it might instead be considered less accurate." It turned its gaze to Nhoe. "An intriguing philosophical quandary."
"Yeah. Intriguing."
Biju shifted her weight and glanced at Nhoe, who nodded earnestly.
"Very intriguing."
The trio fell into silence. Nhoe, who had a knack for mechanical engineering, was marveling at the android's feet; he was more impressed with its physical construction than with its positronic programming. Biju was searching the pale, smooth, impassive face. They locked eyes, and she noticed that since they'd all become quiet, his (his?) bright golden gaze had... softened, somehow.
What is going on in there?
During the android's extended speech she had also noticed strange hitches in the simulated voice. Grammatical basics sounded passably human, as did the words "artificial," "accurate," and "organic." Sounded, in fact, like a monotone version of the voice of his creator, Often Wro — Dr. Soong. (Biju's parents always corrected her when she used the pejorative nickname; unlike most of the colonists they still had faith in the sharp-tongued, wild-haired cyberneticist.) But the words "perspective" and "intriguing" were underlaid with that shrill metallic friction — and "philosophical" had a particularly laborious grind to it.
Suddenly his eyes sharpened again and snapped in an almost audible blink. Without another word he walked swiftly past them toward the darkening east. They turned to watch him go, and Biju was struck by the swing of his comically long arms. She suddenly remembered that he had thrown the ball with his left hand.
"Hey, android!"
The retreating figure halted mid-step.
"You ever played baseball?"
_o\O/o_