Dex rubbed their lips together and chose their words with care. “It’s not my place to debate different flavors of belief in the places I visit,” they said. “I’m just here to serve tea.”
“Such a diplomat,” Mx. Avery said. “You an Ecologian?”
“No, I’m an Essentialist.”
“Ahh,” Mx. Avery said, as though that explained everything. “I like Essentialists. Don’t agree, of course, but I appreciate your style.”
“What … what is that?” Mosscap asked.
Dex arched their neck as they tried to sum up sectarian nuance in as few words as possible. “In the barest basics, I believe that though we can—and should—get close to the gods, it’s impossible to understand them or the full nature of the universe, so we have to build a society that is best suited to our needs,” Dex said. “And as a disciple of Allalae, that means I think we’re allowed to use whatever we want to make ourselves as safe and comfortable as possible, provided that we don’t damage the natural world or hurt one another in the process.”
“I see,” Mosscap said. It looked to Mx. Avery. “And what is your understanding of Allalae, as someone who forgoes many comforts?”
“Oh, no, no. I don’t see it that way at all,” Mx. Avery said. “On the contrary, our way of life shows you how comfortable the world is on its own. Paring things down makes the small comforts all the sweeter. You don’t know how to be grateful for a well-sealed wall if you haven’t had a winter storm bust through a weak one. You don’t know how sweet strawberries are unless you’ve waited six months for them to fruit. Elsewhere, they have all these little luxuries, but they don’t understand that food and shelter and company are all you really need. The world provides everything else without our meddling.” They smiled at Dex. “What do you say to that, Sibling?”
Dex smiled back. “I’d say there’s no harm in any sort of construct so long as said construct has been proven to do no harm.”
Mx. Avery’s eyes twinkled as they looked at Dex. “We could have a very good argument about that,” they said.
“I have no doubt we—” Dex’s words cut off abruptly as the fishing pole jerked in their hand. “Oh, shit,” they said. “Mosscap, can you—” They handed their cup to the robot and got to work with both hands, reeling the line in as fast as they could.
“There we go!” Mx. Avery said, putting their pole between their knees once more and scrambling through their gear. They produced a landing net and leaned over Mosscap’s lap so as to get closer to Dex. “Sorry, Mosscap.”
“Should I—” Mosscap began, looking around as though it should move.
“You’re fine,” Dex said quickly, still fighting against the hidden pull.
A few spins later, and the fish emerged with a loud splash, writhing in the sudden lack of pressure as Dex hoisted it upward. It was a little longer than Dex’s forearm, and its silver scales gleamed in the daylight.
Mx. Avery held the net in one hand and skillfully grabbed the fish with the other, holding it as still as they could within the woven fibers. “Sibling, can you—”
Dex lay the pole down on the dock and removed the hook from the fish’s mouth. With that, the flurry of human activity ceased, and Mx. Avery set the flopping net on the boards behind them so that they could all examine the catch.
“It’s a…” Dex pursed their lips. “Well, it’s a fish.”
“It’s a mirrorback,” Mx. Avery said. “They’re real tasty.” They pointed at a brownish stripe running horizontally from head to tail. “That means it’s already laid eggs and won’t do so again. So, it’s fine for us to take.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Mosscap. The robot was fascinated but exhibited none of its usual glee. It looked between Mx. Avery and Sibling Dex. “How do you kill it?” A note of grief had entered its voice, but there was acceptance there, too, born out of a lifetime of watching wild things eat and be eaten.
Mx. Avery seemed to note the shift in Mosscap, and their tone likewise became more somber. “Well,” they said slowly. They looked at Dex for a brief moment; Dex gave them a nod, letting them know it was okay. “We let the air do that for us,” Mx. Avery said.
Mosscap said nothing in response to this. It kept its glowing eyes on the fish, studying the gill flaps as they spasmed in the presence of oxygen they couldn’t use. Mosscap watched and watched, and the longer it did, the harder Dex found it to do the same. They’d been fishing bunches of times, had plenty of fish die in their immediate vicinity, eaten more of their kind than they could count. But as they tried to watch as Mosscap did, they became uncomfortable, almost like they were witnessing something that wasn’t their business.