Dex pulled off the road shortly after rounding the last corner, and parked the wagon beside the old oak tree they’d climbed many a time when they were small. They put down the brakes, grabbed a bag of clothes, and locked the wagon door.
“Why are you leaving the wagon here?” Mosscap asked. It looked around. “I don’t see any buildings yet.”
“Because we’re early,” Dex said. “And we want to be less early.”
“Why?” Mosscap asked.
“You’ll see,” Dex said. “Besides, it’s a nice walk, and you’ll see more of the farm this way.”
The road curved back and forth like a lazy stream, and the two of them followed comfortably along. They passed the orchard, where grass hens and speckled quail scratched for bugs in the thick grass below. They passed one of the many pastures, its soil at rest beneath a cover crop of radishes, lentils, black oats, and rabbit clover the hungry herd would devour in the coming year. They passed the pond that served as the last filter for the farm’s greywater, startling a gossiping group of ducks back into the lily-filled pool. Dex and Mosscap paused there for a few minutes to watch a horde of blue-backed dragonflies patrol the airways, then continued on—past the intentionally untended field filled with solar panels and beehives, past the orderly clusters of domed greenhouses, past the workshop and the tool shed and the root cellar, until they came at last to the center of it all.
The cluster of houses at the heart of the farm was as varied as the people within them. Some were built of wood, but most of cob. The eldest home was likewise the largest: a stately old farmhouse holding court in the middle, crowned with a green roof and a wind turbine. A lovingly maintained deck unfolded on all sides, providing plenty of welcoming nooks for anyone who wanted to kick up their feet and sit awhile. But nobody was outside as Dex and Mosscap approached. Everyone was indoors, but unsurprisingly, Dex had no problem hearing them.
“Is everything all right?” Mosscap asked, carrying a beribboned bottle of cherry wine in each hand. “Sounds like quite a commotion.”
“No.” Dex sighed. “It sounds like dinnertime.”
They walked up the ramp toward the front door, their footsteps thumping against the well-oiled cedar. The dogs were the first to notice, barking in thunderous chorus as they burst out of the open doorway. There were three of them, all shaggy herders painted in soft swirls of brown and black, smart as hell when they were at work and big dumb mops every other hour of the day.
Dex planted their feet in anticipation of the onslaught of jumping and licking and whimpering. “Mosscap, this is Burt, Buster, and Buddy,” Dex said as they patted heads and rubbed ears. “Yes, hi, hello.” They glanced toward the door, seeing the movement that followed in the dogs’ wake. “And here’s—”
Here was everyone else.
The crowd that appeared was as familiar to Dex as the scenery on the road. It wasn’t just the faces and the voices but the aprons, the field clothes, the dish towels tossed over a shoulder or two, the hands covered in dough that still required kneading, the cheeks red from an argument hastily dropped, the pant-leg that had something spilled upon it, and the volume at which everyone shouted hello. But just as Dex hadn’t known about the mended fence or the cut-back berries, they also hadn’t expected Abby’s new glasses, or that Felix had shaved his beard, or how their niblings had somehow kept growing since Dex visited last. The overwhelming mix of old and new engulfed Dex as they were hugged and kissed from all sides, and they tried their best to stay afloat in the ensuing sea of conversation.
You’re early! How was the ride? Do you need a snack? A shower? How are you, sweetie, it’s been so long! How’s the wagon? Did you bring tea? You look slimmer than last time; are you eating enough? We saw your picture in the news; isn’t that something? Did you see the new shed? The new goats? The new wind catch? You sure you don’t want a snack? Buster, get down! Do you want a haircut while you’re here? Not that it looks bad, no, just thought you might like a trim—
Dex realized, amid the loving assault, that Mosscap was getting the same treatment, and oddly, they found this to be a relief. They hadn’t known how their family would react to the robot, and had wondered if they’d perhaps turn into the same speechless crowd Dex encountered in nearly every town they went to. But it seemed that Dex’s clan had worked out whatever nervousness they’d had about their unusual visitor well ahead of time, and instead were treating Mosscap as just another guest fresh off the road.