BATTER 16

I laugh, letting out a string of plausible nonsense. I give the cheeky android’s cheek a light pinch. Usually, when I pinch someone’s cheek, they put up a reasonably cute fuss before letting it slide. That’s how I’ve spent my life—ignoring or getting forgiven for all sorts of tedious things. But unfortunately for me, it seems this android knows how to enunciate perfectly even while his cheek is being yanked.

“For relaxation, I recommend the following actions: intake of calcium, magnesium, and zinc. Deep breathing. Consumption of warm beverages. Maintaining body temperature. Listening to classical music.”

“Geez, that’s a long list.”

A hollow laugh kicks against the roof of my mouth. I’m grinning, making no pretense of actually listening, when he suddenly lunges into my arms. He rests his head against my chest and wraps both arms tightly around my waist. A strange sense of pressure completely envelops my upper body.

His thin blonde hair scatters over the bedsheets and my chest. These golden threads, which wouldn’t move an inch even if placed on God’s scales, tickle my skin. While the scales might not move, my eyebrows shoot up, crooked and incredulous.

“So… is this finally the actual robot rebellion? Are you going to snap my neck in a few seconds?”

“I am holding you. I will not snap your neck. If I did, the human could die.”

He answers clearly, still clinging to me as if hanging on for dear life. Clamped onto me without a gap, he looks like a cicada claiming a tree or a small puppy. I’m the kind of man who usually just yields my body when someone hugs me. I reflexively wrap my hands around his shoulders and chuckle.

“I mean, I appreciate a beauty holding me, but… why so sudden?”

“Because it is the item on the list of actions I just mentioned that I can help with the fastest. We S2-line androids can share warmth similar to human body temperature through a self-heating function.”

I thought you felt rather cool outside, though. I fix my gaze on his bare shoulders, exposed outside the sleeveless T-shirt. I trace the slightly angular curves where the shape of bone and muscle stands out. It’s a gentle, smooth line. The machine flesh I’m touching this time is soft without a single snag against my fingertips, and warmer than it was before.

The texture, combined with his fair, pale skin tone, gives the impression of a fragile animal. The kind of animal that would endearingly rub its cheek against its master’s calf rather than use fangs and claws for hunting. Even though his endoskeleton must be far harder and more chilling than calcium bone, he makes a human associate him with docility. It’s a clever design. The soft machine, cheek pressed against my firm chest, continues to speak incessantly.

“Additionally, it is said that humans find a sense of stability in sounds similar to an animal’s heartbeat. Although I do not have an actual heart…”

“Hey, it’d be a problem if you did.”

“…I am equipped with breathing and heartbeat functions to provide stability and resolve the uncanny valley effect. Does my heartbeat help you feel stable?”

They really thought of every feature. Despite the thought, I fumble around his slender chest with one hand. A shallow groove is carved beneath his collarbone. When I place my palm there, I feel the vibration of a machine-like engine instead of a heart’s pulse from beyond the firm ribcage. A sound you might hear when a computer is running is transmitted faintly.

“All I hear is a humming sound.”

He is silent for a moment. Then, he finds a minor error and apologizes.

“Ah, I’m sorry. The heartbeat is not supported during power-saving mode.”

“Uh… right. No wonder you weren’t breathing.”

“I have deactivated power-saving mode. Can you feel the beat now?”

A faint, rhythmic vibration spreads through the hand I have placed on the center of his chest. It’s a familiar wave, calmer than a drumbeat and softly repeating. I answer as I gently stroke the firm area below his collarbone.

“Yeah, I do.”

It feels real. Real enough to believe that if I opened this chest, a red, warm heart made of pure muscle and blood would be pulsing there, rather than a power source and tangled circuits and wires. While thinking about non-existent internal organs, I gently brush his hair back.

I gather the blonde strands, scattered like a half-used spool of thread, and tuck them behind his nape. The curve of his groomed neck is revealed, defenseless. My gaze lingers there for a long time, on that spot that looks so vulnerable.

“Did you say you’re always this… kind?”

“Yes, I always strive to provide the necessary help at the right time.”

“Even giving up your own embrace?”

“If it is necessary.”

What a naive machine. I imagine how many crafty and wicked humans must have been among those he has hugged. I imagine this innocent machine being brutally damaged—the image of machine parts smashed and broken by the hands of those who received his kindness.

The outer skin being peeled off like fur, the alloy endoskeleton being separated and cut by purpose, the special lenses inserted into eyes as blue and beautiful as opals underwater, the chips and programs being ripped out of sockets. Once everything is taken apart one by one, where would the heart of the machine that is pulsing now be, and what would it look like? Did the developers put a red shell on the part that would make the thumping sound? Images of a clean, orderly dismantling pierce my mind. I speak in an endlessly playful tone.

“You’re holding me like this, but what if I suddenly pulled out a gun and shot you?”

“That would be alright.”

He lets out a faint, merciful chuckle. It’s a softness one might hear when peace passes by.

“Because I am S2—2, a friend, lover, and family for the lonely you, who will always love you.”

“Haha, you really are just a tin can.”

“There is a large difference between the components of my primary parts and an aluminum can.”

“I’m saying you’re stupid.”

“And you are lonely.”

Humans are infinitely cold-hearted, yet they are sensitive, emotional, intelligent mammals who feel loneliness even in a mother’s arms. The suspicious and lonely creatures of the Creator made a machine that would perfectly tend to their stray loneliness. A being that cannot be made from a ribcage that knows solitude, nor born from a womb that has learned doubt.

Soon, he, who was born without an umbilical cord, whispers as if reciting an ancient spell. A single sentence that must have been the first entry in his database, which supports sixteen languages. An artificially granted purpose of life.

“I love you.”

Ultimately, he was born to say these words to a human. How many times has he said “I love you” during his twenty-three years of operation? But the truth is, Baron Lin doesn’t know how many times he himself has whispered those words either. There’s no other phrase that can make someone feel this good for such a cheap price.

Now, Baron reminisces about the beings he has loved. Pale, slender fingers, curly blonde hair, straight red hair, the curve of a tan waist, slightly stiff blue hair, green eyes, prominent front teeth, a mole on the bridge of a rounded nose.

Just because they were short and light didn’t mean they were completely fake. It was just that it was good to meet them then, and it isn’t now. That’s all. Was that fact really so incredibly sad and deceptive to other people? Everything in this world, regardless of whether it’s material or immaterial, eventually decays, disappears, and becomes useless anyway…

Baron wanted a being who would not deny the truth of decay and weathering. A being who did not believe in angels, heaven, souls, or eternity. A being who would simply accept the agony of non-existence. Someone like himself.

Suddenly, he thought:

Ah, I see why people spend a fortune trying to have a romance with a machine. Because they’ll forget everything with a single command. Because there’s no trouble of them becoming useless. No matter how many times they’ve told you they love you.