“Oh, no, that’d be great, thank you,” Dex said.
Mx. Avery took two wooden cups from a stuff sack and began to pour. “So, where’ve you been, before here?”
“We were in Steelhead last,” Mosscap said.
“And we’re your first stop on the coast?”
“Yes.”
Mx. Avery nodded as they handed Dex a full cup. “And where’re you headed?”
“We’ll continue southeast through your territory,” Mosscap said, “and then through the Shrublands, and on to the City.”
“You taking the City Highway or the Twenty-Six?” Mx. Avery said.
Mosscap looked at Dex, asking for an answer.
“Probably the Twenty-Six,” Dex said, holding their fishing pole with one hand and their cup in the other. They breathed in the drink as it cooled, instantly recognizing the scents of bee weed and preserved lime. “It’s a longer trip but a nicer ride.”
“Sure is,” Mx. Avery said. “The Twenty-Six greenbelt’s gorgeous this time of year. You’ll have to watch out for marsh hawks, though—they get feisty if you get close.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Mosscap said. “I’m personally more familiar with the black-tipped hawk, but they’re closely related. I’ve had to duck while walking through a nesting ground many a time. They certainly like to go for the eyes, don’t they?”
Mx. Avery chuckled. “That they do.”
Mosscap thought for a moment. “I’m curious, Mx. Avery, if you don’t mind—”
“I don’t,” they said, even though the subject was unvoiced.
“I’m mildly surprised by your knowledge of the Shrubland greenbelts. I’d been given to understand that people in your community are—”
“Shut-ins?”
“I was going to say insular.”
Mx. Avery chuckled again. “That we are. But we do have the ramble. Nobody in my village does it except me anymore, but I still count.”
“What’s the ramble?” Mosscap asked, leaning toward Dex.
“It’s a traditional thing around here,” Dex supplied. “You’re encouraged to regularly spend a month or so walking through the adjacent territories, so you can get a taste of how other folks do things.” They looked to Mx. Avery. “Would you say that’s right?”
Mx. Avery nodded. “That’s the long and the short of it. I go every year, and I usually take the Twenty-Six. Not every time, though. It’s good to mix it up, not have too much of a plan.”
“How does it suit you?” Mosscap asked. “Life in other villages?”
“Oh, it’s very nice,” Mx. Avery said. “Very comfortable. Very easy. Hard to leave, sometimes.”
“Yet you always come back.”
“I do,” Mx. Avery said.
“May I ask why?” Mosscap said. “Because I’ve noted with Sibling Dex here”—the robot nodded toward them—“they do very poorly in the world without technological assistance.”
Mx. Avery let out a hearty laugh. “Would you agree with that, Sibling?”
“Absolutely,” Dex said, unabashed. “No offense to you, Mx. Avery, but I need a heater and a hot shower.”
“I respect it, I do,” Mx. Avery said. “Nobody likes a cold bath.” They turned their attention to Mosscap. “But that’s exactly why I come back after going elsewhere. Me and mine believe the further you distance yourself from the realities of what it means to be an animal in this world, the more you risk severing your connection to it. History tells us loud and clear where that road goes.” They gave the robot a respectful nod. “I don’t need to tell you that.”
“Well, I wasn’t there for it,” Mosscap said. “For the factories, I mean.”
Mx. Avery looked puzzled, so Sibling Dex stepped in, explaining how the factory robots dismantled and rebuilt themselves into new generations, opting to mirror Bosh’s cycle rather than live on indefinitely.
For the first time in the conversation, Mx. Avery seemed thrown for a loop, but even this was expressed subtly. They sat in silence, eyebrows raised high. “That certainly is something to think about,” they said at last.
Mosscap was deep in thought as well, but evidently on a different thread. “So, you prefer to be uncomfortable?” Mosscap said.
“Of course not,” Mx. Avery said. “But I think there’s such a thing as too comfortable.” They grinned. “I’m guessing our tea-slinging friend here would disagree.”