“You thought it might be something basic,” Dex said. “Like … we need food. Or living space. Better technology. Something like that.”
“Possibly, yes. But I’ve been nowhere with you where those needs aren’t provided for. And when people interpret my question beyond the things you require to stay alive and healthy, it gets…”
“Complicated?”
Mosscap nodded, looking exhausted. “Every answer I’ve received falls into one of two categories. Every single one.” The robot gestured emphatically with its metal fingers. “The first category is extremely specific things. ‘I need my bicycle fixed so I can deliver these goods to another village.’ ‘We need to prepare better for the next time the river floods.’ ‘I need to find my dog.’ Things like that. Either a very personal, individual need or a broader need within the community, but all in all, specific and isolated.”
“Okay. And the second category?”
“The second category is esoteric. Philosophical. I get answers such as ‘purpose,’ or ‘adventure,’ or ‘companionship.’ A broad requirement the person has in regards to feeling satisfaction with their life. Some people lack whatever it is and are searching for it, but others already have it. They interpret the question as me asking what aspects of their lives they would not want to do without, not as an unmet need. And I hadn’t considered this, at the start. Must a need be unmet if it is to satisfy my question?”
Dex exhaled and shook their head. “You tell me, Mosscap,” they said. “I have no fucking idea.”
“Neither do I, and that’s just it. I thought this was the most bothersome thing on my mind until I spoke with your father the other night and he asked me what I need.” Mosscap dropped the stick and turned to face them. “Sibling Dex, I don’t know. I don’t know at all. So, what am I supposed to do now? How am I to ask my question of others when I can’t answer it for myself?”
Dex listened to this complaint, and as they processed it, a slow, wry, not-at-all-funny smile spread across their face. “How am I supposed to tell people they’re good enough as they are when I don’t think I am?” they said.
Mosscap responded with a single heavy nod. “You see,” it said. “You understand. I wish you didn’t, because I know it means you’re as tangled up as I am, but … I’m grateful that you do.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to go to the City?” Dex asked. “Because you’re not sure about your question?”
“No,” the robot said after a moment.
“Is it because there’s too much going on there?” Dex asked. “We can cancel stuff, no problem. I’d love to, honestly—”
“No, that’s not it,” Mosscap said. “I didn’t—I don’t want to go to the City. I don’t want to go to the City, because the City is the end.”
Mosscap didn’t need to explain what it meant; Dex understood. The end of their travels. The end of their companionship, maybe. They hadn’t discussed what they wanted to do after the City, but therein lay the problem. It was a question mark, an empty space. It wasn’t the only thing that had made Dex about-face on the road, but it was the one they hadn’t known how to voice. Not until now.
“We don’t have to split up,” Dex said softly. “We don’t have to go anywhere we don’t want to go, do anything we don’t want to do.” Their brow furrowed. “You are the weirdest, most inexplicable thing that’s ever happened to me. You make me crazy, most days. You say so much shit I don’t understand.” Their voice cracked, and grew almost inaudibly quiet. “But whatever it is we’re doing, it’s the first thing in a long time I’ve been sure about.” They swallowed. “Most days, you’re the only thing that makes sense.”
Mosscap did nothing but nod several times, in fervent agreement. “So, what do we do?” it said. “Do we go to the City? Do we go back to the wilds? Do we…” It waved its hands emptily.
“I don’t know.” Dex’s fingers found their pendant, and they held the symbol of their god hard. “You know, I never answered your question.”
“Yes, you have. I ask you all the time what it is that you need.”
“Yeah, but you ask about everyday stuff. I never answered it the first time you asked. Remember?” Dex would never forget. “You walked out of the woods, and you said, ‘What do you need, and how can I help?’”