The Flower Garden

When I was a girl, I used to read Father’s books of legends–great tomes with thick covers and dusty brown paper. The androids had converted the books to a digital format years ago, of course. Father told me as much every time I neared the bookshelf. But something about the books’ creaky bindings and wrinkled pages had appealed to my younger self, and I’d always returned to them.

Most of the stories deleted themselves from my memory years ago, but I’d always retained one concept: in every battle, every scene of death and destruction, the protagonist could always recognize the smell of blood. 

In hindsight, perhaps I was a rather troubled child. 

In any case, the idea intrigued me. I couldn’t delete it from my mind. What did blood smell like? Was it truly red, or was it blue like the vein that often bulged in Father’s right temple? Was pain really…well, painful? A curious mind wanted to know. But Father couldn’t–or perhaps wouldn’t–tell me, and Nana, my android nurse, practically short-circuited whenever I mentioned the subject. 

Knowing what I do now, that rather felt like an overreaction. 

A roar of noise snapped my attention back to the present. From my perch on top of one of the android charging stations along the wall, I could see clearly across the dirt-walled room, past the grimy-looking bar, and into the fighting arena. 

Oh goody. Someone had lost their head. 

“UNIT R-I 2037, RUBY BLOODBORN, HAS WON THE MATCH!” The announcer shouted into his microphone. He glanced down at his datapad. “WILL ‘KIRK ATKINSON’ PLEASE REPORT TO THE REGISTER TO COLLECT HIS PRIZE MONEY?”

The crowd cheered–or booed, depending on where they’d placed a bet–and the circle of onlookers parted for a rather overweight, balding man to hobble through. 

Ruby stood in the center of the fight ring, still holding her opponent’s sparking head in one hand. Black oil dripped from her face screen, which flickered in and out. More oil pooled under her metal feet, flowing steadily down from a gash at her side. She didn’t move–but, of course, she hadn’t been ordered to. Kirk Atkinson wouldn’t get around to her until after he’d spent all his winnings at the bar. And from what I’d seen of the prize pool…

Well. 

It might be a long night. 

Cold metal brushed against my arm, and I turned to see Minc, returned from her charging station. She released a low, rumbling purr and rubbed against me, her plastic whiskers tickling my skin. 

“Yes, I know she needs help.” I sighed, turning my gaze back to the arena. “But rules are rules. Three minutes left.”

The Five-Minute Rule was a staple in most underground fight rings. Since betting on android fights was, ah…illegal…most managers ditched their android if they lost. Fighter bots usually found themselves programmed to win the bout no matter the cost. Victory or death, that was the motto. So by the time the judge could declare a winner and a loser, the defeated android was nothing more than wire and scrap metal. No longer worth a manager’s investment, so they simply walked away. The Five-Minute Rule had been established to prevent scavengers, such as myself, from looting the corpse before the round was finished. It also gave the manager enough time to decide if they wanted to keep their broken android. 

Spoiler alert: they never did. Why waste money repairing a failed droid when you could simply purchase–or steal–a new one? Androids weren’t human. They couldn’t feel pain. You didn’t repair a broken tool for sentimental purposes–it was just how the world worked. 

Minc meowed, butting her sleek white head against my chin. 

“I hear you, my love.” I glanced at my smart-brace. Thirty seconds. With a sigh, I pushed myself off the charging station and dropped to the rough concrete floor. Minc leapt to my shoulder, her purr rumbling in my ears as I made my way across the room. The other scavengers had already crowded in a staggered circle around the ring, satchels open, eyes glinting in the dim light. I ignored them–and the dirty looks they shot me as I approached–and focused my attention on Ruby. 

Fifteen seconds. 

I held up my hand to Minc. “Kit?”

Minc sniffed my fingers, then turned away. The hatch on her side clicked open, and a moment later she dropped a soft velvet pouch into my hands. 

“Thank you.”

Five seconds.

I slid my pouch open and removed a pair of slim rubber gloves. I pulled one on. 

The clock hit zero. 

My fellow scavengers surged forwards, converging on the defeated android’s corpse in a wave of flushed faces and wild eyes. I pulled on my second glove and stepped up to Ruby. Her red eyes followed me, even as her face screen flicked in and out of resolution. She made no effort to move. Kirk Atkinson hadn’t given her that permission. 

I looked up, holding her gaze for a moment. Then I knelt down to peer at the gash in her side. It was deep–at least three of her circuit boards were completely fried, and most of the wires would need to be entirely replaced. She’d need an actual mechanic and more time than I had to get her body fully functioning. But there were a few wires I could seal with electrical tape, and I did so in a few quick movements. That would prevent any sparking and keep her from catching fire. 

Theoretically, of course. Because there were still…fourteen exposed cables?

The only other issue I’d be able to fix was the oil still oozing from Ruby’s ripped fuel channel. From my pouch, I withdrew a thin metal prong, a pair of pliers, and a blowtorch. I passed the blowtorch to Minc, who held it in her mouth as I carefully slipped my prong and pliers into the gash in Ruby’s side. With the pliers, I gripped one side of Ruby’s fuel channel. Then, with the prong, I pushed the other side of the warped metal inward until the sides touched once again. 

“This won’t hold up long-term,” I said with a glance up at Ruby. I took the blowtorch from Minc and handed her the metal prong. “Make sure your manager gets it fixed later.”

She didn’t reply, but I knew she’d heard me. 

I made quick work of sealing the fuel channel. Once I was satisfied no more oil was leaking, I stood and inspected Ruby’s face screen. Here the damage wasn’t as deep–just a cracked circuit board and a busted sensor. Again, not much I could do aside from tweaking the circuit board back into place. Her manager would have to deal with the rest. 

“HEY! YOU THERE!”

Speaking of which…

I pulled away from Ruby, dropping my tools back into my bag as I turned to face the voice. Kirk Atkinson, with even less hair now that I was seeing him up close, waddled right into my personal space bubble and jammed a finger in my face. “Exactly what do you think you’re doing? Only the defeated android–”
Yeah, yeah, I knew the drill. Reaching out, I snatched the defeated contestant’s head from Ruby’s hand and held it in Kirk’s face. I held his gaze until he looked away, then spun on my heel and stalked out of the arena. My fellow scavengers were still tearing apart the defeated robot’s corpse, prying away metal and wiring, shoving anything they could carry into their satchels. I walked right past them and back across the room toward the exit elevators. 

They could keep their scraps. I had the piece I needed. 

Minc meowed, pressing her head against my cheek. 

“Yes,” I agreed, signaling the operator android to call me an elevator. I tucked the android’s head into my satchel and closed the flap, snapping it shut. “I think we’ve got a new friend.”