0years_0days

Jun sits back and waits as Near blinks, and whirs slightly, her systems gearing up. Eventually, her eyes open, that light and clear blue-green he spent ages trying to get exactly like the colour in his old photographs. He gives it a moment, and then another one, until he is sure she is awake, so to speak. Then, he speaks to her for the first time.

"Hello."

A pause, while she processes, and then:

"Hello, hello, I'm Near. Who are you?"

He cannot help but smile at the little repeated 'hello'. She's essentially a new-born, and already there's this little glimmer of distinct personality.

"Hello, Near. I'm Jun, your master." He replies, holding out his hand for her to shake.

"Hello, Master."

Near appears to size up Jun's hand for a moment, before hesitantly, she reaches out and grips it. She is surprisingly warm, but she doesn't appear to know what to do next, so he takes on most of the motion of the handshake, before letting go and testing her with more simple questions, making notes as he goes along, pleased at what he is seeing. This is just the beginning, of course, and there's no way of telling exactly what Near will become to him as time goes on.

But if her first few moments in his solitary, sun-soaked world are anything to go by, then things will only improve.

...

5yrs_231days

Carrying out what he calls her 'yearly check-up's (as if he is a doctor in the medical sense), it occurs to Jun that he should check she isn't overheating on the inside, that her wiring isn't melting and frying. Her hands are so warm, warmer than his, and it's starting to concern him. It's far too soon for something to go wrong.

"Hey, Near, how do you feel right now?" he asks as he starts the checks.

"I am healthy, Master."

"Are you sure?"

"All my systems are running at optimal level, I am not feeling any temperature irregularities or sluggishness of movement, or any other change that would suggest a problem."

"Hmmm, I see."

There is no response to this, because by now Near has learnt to distinguish between the comments specifically made to her, and the ones that are just Jun thinking aloud, even she isn't quite developed enough to understand the nuances behind some statements. They remain in silence for a while longer as he finishes the checks. Then, finding no problematic irregularities, he leans back and stares at Near in some astonishment as he tries and fails to come up with a reason that her hands could be warmer than his.

"Well, it would seem that you are right, Near. Nothing is wrong at all, you're perfectly fine…."

"That…" her eyes flicker as she tries to process the meaning behind his words. "This is supposed to be a good thing?"

"Yes, that's right." Jun nods.

"But Master, the tone of your voice and your current facial expression suggest you are concerned for my welfare." It's faint, but he hears the confusion in her sweet metallic voice.

"Yes, that's right as well. What do you think of that, Near?"

There is another moment as she processes this and formulates her answer.

"That you shouldn't worry about me." A slight frown puckers her face. "I'm perfectly fine, therefore logic dictates that there is no reason you should worry."

Jun chuckles at this, deep and full, and he holds one of Near's warm hands in his again. He is starting to think that the warmth in her hands is not so much a sign of something wrong, as it is a sign of something right. He isn't quite sure what that is though, he'll have to think on it a while. But looking her, he knows instinctively that this incomplete theory of his is correct.

"Well, Near, sometimes people worry about the people in their lives even if logic dictates that they have no reason to."

"I see." Comes the straightforward reply that makes him laugh again.

...

11yrs_56days

One morning, after breakfast and an injection, instead of going straight onto his computer to edit the paper he has to send to his Spanish colleagues next week, he finds himself looking out of the open space in his walls and watching the streams of people going over the bridge across the ocean in both directions, and the people on the beach roads far below the house. He gazes at them, and thinks to himself how they look a lot like little worker ants from this distance, mindlessly carrying the loads of their lives, and he laughs.

"What silly people." He scoffs, before turning to Near, sitting in the chair that's become her favourite, to ask her what she thinks of all these silly people. She is perfectly still, but watchful, waiting for a question, and for some reason, it gives him pause. What does she think of him as she sits and watches him scoff at the workings of the society that he's all but rejected on his own whims? Does she even understand what he is saying and thinking?

Logic, of course, would probably dictate that though she does indeed process and comprehend his words, Near doesn't actually think about these things, or care, because she is a robot, and anything that she might think or care about are the result of his programming. But he doesn't think that's true. Not just because of how advanced she has become and how much of her mind is already utterly her own, but because of her hands, the hands that are warmer than his, even though he's the human in this relationship.

So he decides to try.

"Hey Near, if I don't make fun of someone else, I can't forgive my own existence. What do you think of such a horrible person?" he asks as he comes over and sits in the chair opposite her, trying to keep the question as light as possible despite its heaviness.

Near blinks and sits up slightly, whirring as she processes the question. Jun waits patiently, leaning forward, ready to take her answer. He's used to waiting, sometimes the longer questions that need a little more deconstructing have longer response times, though over the past 11 years she gotten better at answering more naturally. But the seconds tick by, and the only other indication of reaction is the slightly confused, beseeching expression on her face. No response, no response at all. It disappoints him slightly, but he decides not to completely give up, and tries a different, but equally raw question.

"Hey, Near, watching other people's strides, stepping out without a purpose-how do you feel about such a boring person?" he asks, gesturing to the outside world and the scenes still unfolding there. Near follows his gesture, then turns her face back to him.

"Things without any form that cannot be predicted will always interfere with the calculation process." She comes up with after a pause that is long, but not as long as the one that had followed his first question. Jun nods at this, and tries another one.

"Hey, Near, I think that living each and every day with a smile is a natural thing. What do you think of this arrogant person?"

"Things without any form that cannot be predicted will always interfere with the calculation process." The answer comes quicker this time, but now Near is frowning, even as she gives him that beseeching look again. Though she makes no elaboration in her answer, it seems like she is baffled by these questions of his, of the abstract concepts that her wiring cannot compute.

A normal human would give up at this point, conclude that the difference between a robot and a human was too great for there to ever be any emotional understanding between the two. But Jun is not a normal human, and Near is not a typical robot, not with those hands that are so much warmer than his. And he decides that he owes her this explanation because of that, so she knows why he is persisting.

"Even so, I'm still going to believe and ask you who does not have a heart, because your hands are so much warmer than mine."

Near blinks at this, and looks down slightly at one of her hands, gripping the edges of her seat cautiously, before she gazes back at him. There is a slight whirring and delay, but thankfully, her answer comes.

"I understand, Master."

Jun nods at this, and then leans forward slightly as he thinks of another question to put to her, and another, and another.

...

12yrs_249days

After a while, something seems to change in Near. Things seem to align and settle in her mind (he refers to her as having a mind easily now, because wiring no longer seems accurate)and suddenly she becomes a lot freer in her movements and her mannerisms. She starts to develop advanced opinions about the foods that he gives her to taste (she adores fruits, especially raspberries slathered with cream, doesn't like chillies or coffee, and regards the very concept of bread with horror and incomprehension-whenever he butters a slice of the stuff for breakfast, she stares at him as if he's grown three heads). But it is really her conversational abilities that progress in leaps and bounds.

The balance between sweet and metal in her voice becomes more even, and then gradually the sweet takes over the metal, and she sounds like what he assumes a typical human of Near's proportions and age appearance would sound like. Though even if she doesn't, he doesn't give a damn anyway, because he likes the sound of her voice, which is always an added bonus when he talks to her.

And god, do they talk. About everything and anything, and sometimes even nothing. She exclaims and laughs and giggles and shrieks, each reaction more organic and natural than the last, matching her words. The ask-and-reply counter quickly racks up large numbers of questions and responses, even more than before he had asked her the single still-unanswered question, and they only ever stop when he is sleeping-even if he is eating, or washing himself, or perhaps doing some work on the other little bits of research he dabbles in, there are still back-and-forths of alarming but wonderful intensity in the appropriate pauses in such activities. Usually they sit opposite each other, in the spot of his house where most of the sun streams through, Near in her favourite chair and he in the other one, but sometimes he sits at his desk and she will curl up on his bed with one of the many books that he has accumulated over his many years, but wherever they are and whatever they are doing, there is always something to say

(Sometimes it still takes him aback, how much he has to say, even after a long day of conversation).

He teases her, sometimes, and tries to come up with difficult and confusing questions. In response, she protests, laughs his words off, shows offence, pulls a silly face. Sometimes she returns with a witty retort or a challenge of her own, and sometimes it leaves him breathless (but in a good way). Scientist that he is, he documents these changes, but only in the barest of words, and only in appropriate interval reports, done at the same time he gives her the yearly check-ups. All other exchanges, he lets the ask-and-reply counter pick up-the only other work he does is to engage, and to treasure each and every single one.

...

15yrs_117days

"Are you alright, Master?" Near asks as Jun stands up to put the tools away after her yearly check-up. He is tempted to brush her off, but the concern in her voice seems to darken the room, and he can hardly dismiss the fact that he's had to lean against the table just to stay steady. He takes a few deep breaths and waits for the clouds to clear before steadying himself.

"I'm fine, Near, don't worry. " He straightens and smiles, putting the tools back in their box, each in an appropriate slot.

"Are you sure?"

A deep breath, and then another. The truth is that as far as health goes, he has never been alright. But he's always managed, living this life of his the way he has up until now. It's hard to say how long he will be able to keep it up for, how long it will be before he is no longer able to manage. He hopes that day will never come. But he knows it will.

To avoid saying all of this to Near, to avoid the look in her eyes if he did, he turns to stash the box under the table, then reaches up to one of his holographic screens to input some of the test results. But he knows he has to say something, so:

"I'm sure, Near."

It is paltry, and eventually it will become a lie. But it is the best he can do for now. Such are the complications for caring about someone.

17yrs_301days

They are by the hole in the wall, watching the sun set, standing side by side, as close as it is possible to be without actually touching.

"Hey, Near, the dream I had as a child…the continuation of that dream, it all connects to this future. What do you think?"

He looks down at Near, who beams up at him.

"I think that makes sense. You've been here ever since you were a child, after all."

"Yes, indeed." Jun says simply, thinking of his distant childhood and all of the things he has told Near about it, particularly about the sister he modelled her on. He looks down at her for a moment, observing how intently she looks across at the deep sparkling of the ocean. What, he wonders, would his life have been if he hadn't decided to make Near all those years ago?

Though he isn't really sure that it is possible to be 100% certain about such things, he knows deep down that whatever it would have been, it would be nothing in comparison to the life he has now. Nothing at all.

"I will always be by your side, Near." He blurts out as he puts a hand on her head. Startled, Near blinks and looks up at him. He holds her gaze steadily, and says nothing. Because this isn't a statement that needs a reply. It's just a truth that he needs her to hear.

...

22yrs_89days

While he had taken into account whether he'd be able to carry Near's weight when building her, he hadn't thought of what to do in the reverse situation-if Near had to carry him. A flesh-and-blood human with her build would struggle to even drag a man of his weight and height. Yet somehow, Near had managed to get him to the bed after he'd gotten up from his chair only to crumple. And now they were here, in the very situation he had hoped would never come.

"You'll get better, won't you? This is just a bad spell, isn't it?" Near asks, voice thickening with tears. The tears surprise him, though he is not sure why. He also wishes he could stop them, but that is impossible. Not when he's unable to duck away from it all. Such are the complications of caring, but what can he do?

"No….at this point, my prognosis isn't good." The words hurt, each and every one of them scrape at his throat so hard, he's surprised he isn't bleeding already. "You'll have to prepare, Near, for when I-"

"No! No, no. You're not going to die, Master." Near insists, her little hands tightening around his clammy one.

"I am." He tries to be gentle, though all he wants to do is sleep, slip away. "I will be. You know about this disease, once it gets to this point, there's no hope."

"I can't….Master, I can't accept it. I'll continue to anticipate, even if it's all broken beyond recognition. As long you're on this planet, I don't want to forget it." Her sentence slides upwards in a wail towards the end, and with some effort, Jun opens his eyes slightly, and tries to capture her gaze.

"Thank you, Near. But will you at least hear me out? About what you should do afterwards….just in case?"

Near sniffs and gulps, taking a few breaths, still not letting go of his hand-how glad he is of that, because the warmth of her hands is a small comfort in the midst of all this pain. And as he watches her, he realises something -here, this moment, Near's very presence-all of it is an answer to the question he had asked all those years ago, the only one that had gone unanswered. It will never be an answer that the ask-and-reply counter can pick up. But it's good enough for him.

If only he could tell her that. Perhaps he will try to, before he dies. But first, the more pressing matters.

"Okay then, Master."

The response, when it comes, is in a more even voice, and so though he cannot smile at her, he sighs, and allows his eyes to flutter closed. And then he takes her through everything that she'll need to do, step by step, once he is dead. He does not dare to think of what will happen once it is all done, when he is in the bottom of the sea and she is alone.

...

25yrs_53days

He hates this sickness, hates how it's reducing him into a shell, day by day. He just wants it to be over and would have allowed it to defeat him by now, if it wasn't for Near. He doesn't want to make a mockery out of the promise he gave her eight years ago, for one thing. For another, he wants to keep talking and debating and laughing with her. There is so much he wants to tell her, with every second that passes by he thinks of something new (many somethings) to add to that list, but it's all too much, too much…..

But still, as he lies there and struggles, and as Near holds his hand and tries to hold back her tears, he keeps trying, keeps believing. After all, her hands have always been so mu-