“But then again,” Mosscap continued, “this is assuming that a mechanical being such as myself even follows the same template that organic evolution does, which … do we? Or did consciousness arise in us independently from those rules? Is our form of consciousness unique in the world? I mean, my goodness. Either a yes or no to that question has huge implications. It suggests something profound about … well, about the world, Sibling Dex! And about me!”
Sibling Dex returned their trousers to their proper configuration. “It’s big stuff, all right.” They walked to the water spigot on the side of the wagon, nudged it on with their elbow, and began to wash their hands.
Mosscap stuck its head around. “Do you not find this exciting?”
“Mosscap, it is so early,” Dex said. They went to the back of the wagon, took a towel from one of the kitchen cupboards, and dried their hands. “And this is very much not my field.”
“Doesn’t have to be your field for you to find it interesting,” Mosscap said, sounding a bit miffed.
Dex sighed and looked at the robot. “I do find it interesting,” they said. “But I also can’t do this before breakfast.” They began to unfold the kitchen, their brain still working through the basics. Eggs. Fruit. Bread and jam. They could manage those things.
“Hmm! Yes, yes, of course you can’t.” Mosscap’s tone brightened, and it pointed at its book. “Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to power thought? Honestly, it’s one of the things I’m most looking forward to about heading elsewhere.”
“I don’t follow,” Dex said as they dug through a cupboard.
Mosscap turned slightly, so as to display the old-fashioned solar paneling that covered its back like a thin turtle shell. “I don’t harvest sunlight at full efficiency in dense forests,” it said. “Whenever I travel out of forested areas, I feel such a difference. Makes me less sluggish, to have direct sun.”
Dex paused, frying pan in hand. “You’re saying right now, you feel sluggish.”
“Just a touch,” Mosscap said. “But in an everyday sort of way.”
Dex set the pan down and went back into the wagon.
“What do you need?” Mosscap asked.
“Tea,” Dex said. Caffeine, they thought, grabbing a few of their jars. They had a feeling they were going to need it.
* * *
It did not take long for the scenery to change. Here, where the ground was wet from the water that carved through it, the trees had no need for fog-catching needles. Their leaves were flat and their branches gave each other plenty of space. Much as Dex had needed the quiet of the pines, it was nice, they thought, to have a different backdrop once more.
That was the only aspect of this particular stretch of highway they were enjoying at the moment. Dex had always liked traveling through the lush greenbelts that served as a buffer between people and everything else, but summer had hit during their weeks in the Woodlands, and they hadn’t given that fact proper consideration when planning their route. They pedaled along in mild misery, shirt soaked and neck sticky as they spat away tiny bugs that had hatched into the world only to cut their already-fleeting life spans short by careening directly into Dex’s mouth.
Mosscap, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of its life. Summer in the Riverlands meant the spice plum bloom, and the canopy above was bursting with ruffled purple blossoms. The scent was crisply fragrant and had attracted no shortage of buzzing pollinators. Mosscap had never seen such trees before, and appeared to be doing its best to acknowledge each and every one with equal respect.
“I don’t understand how you can keep riding past these,” the robot called down the road.
Dex knew what they would see in their mirror before they turned an eye to it: Mosscap standing in the middle of the highway, neck craned with awe at the flowered branches that were exactly like the thousand other flowered branches they’d already passed by. Its pocket computer was in its hands, and Dex could hear the faint digital sound of Mosscap snapping dozens of pictures. Between that and the embroidered satchel hanging across Mosscap’s midsection, the robot looked for all the world like a tourist, gawking at everyday things while oblivious to the guide leaving them behind.
“You’re going to fill up your hard drive again,” Dex shouted back irritably. The heat was becoming punishing, and they had long given up on stopping whenever Mosscap did. They did not want to sightsee. They wanted a cold drink and a shady spot and to not so much as glance at their ox-bike for a couple days, and while the spice plum blossoms were indeed beautiful, they did not need to stop at every single fucking tree.