An Android Dog's Tale (30 page)

MO-126 watched as the sand trickled. It took
fifteen point forty-two minutes. Now some of the contestants began
to look concerned, and the android dog’s confidence grew. He and
Kolby practiced with the sheep back at their village over the
preceding weeks. Mostly, at least as far as MO-126 was concerned,
this was to train Kolby. He could now make an almost convincing
display of giving appropriate calls and gestures. They should do
well. They never ran a course quite like this one in their practice
sessions, but they attempted something much like each of the
component pieces at one time or another. MO-126 added the average
times it took them for each of these and knew he could do the
course with even a few minutes to spare, if the sheep
cooperated.

“Are there any questions?” the monk
asked.

The android dog had none, which was just as
well since he could not ask them. Gumper decided they should stay
and watch. After seeing the other contestants, he may have been
concerned about the safety of his financial investment in this
endeavor. Kolby readily agreed. No one asked MO-126, but he too
thought it a good idea. He wanted to evaluate his competition.

They had just enough time to grab something
to eat before the first run, so they did. When they got back, a
handler and her dog were approaching the judges’ platform. Five old
monks sat at five small tables, each with a younger monk standing
nearby holding a stylus and a wax tablet to note their scores. The
handler told them her name and her dog’s name, and then turned to
take her spot at the post. MO-126 must admit she was beautiful—a
bit taller than average, athletically lean, great legs, glossy
hair…. The human wasn’t bad looking either.

“Begin!” shouted the timekeeper, turning
over the glass.

The woman made a complicated gesture with
her hand and arm and barked a command to the dog, which rushed
toward the sheep, fanning wide so as not to cause them to scatter
or move too soon or in the wrong direction.

The android dog watched appreciatively. The
bitch sure moved well, crouching low but still running fast as she
circled the flock, then lifting to a commanding posture behind
them. The sheep immediately took notice and began moving at a brisk
pace straight toward the handler. The dog maneuvered them through
the gap between two panels, deftly redirecting one that tried to go
around. They never broke into a run, but they did not dawdle, and
they never deviated far from the path the dog chose for them.
MO-126 was impressed. The only way he suspected he could do better
would be to get to the sheep a bit quicker, but that did not count
in the scoring.

When the flock reached the handler, she gave
another brief command. The dog circled the sheep around the post
and drove them away through a second pair of panels at the left
side of the contest field and, from there, through a matching set
of panels on the right side. The layout formed a roughly
equilateral triangle, and the sheep moved quietly and steadily
between each point. MO-126 studied the many elements of skill and
finesse in the dog’s movements carefully. The bitch was better at
this than he was. He felt little doubt of that. If he and Kolby
went first, they would have lost, but the android dog held one
great advantage. He learned quickly, and this demonstration taught
him much, both about sheep herding and about not being
overconfident.

The final step of the trial required the dog
to herd the sheep into a pen. It carefully maneuvered them into
position and guided the complacent flock inside. The handler moved
from the post to close the gate. She looked pleased and a bit smug,
and deservedly so, the android dog thought.

A sudden storm of applause showered from the
crowd watching. MO-126 would have joined in if he had the hands for
it. He hoped all the contestants were not this good.

Not long after, the announcer called out
their score—ninety-five out of one hundred, and MO-126 wondered
where they could possibly have lost those five points. Their
performance seemed perfect to him. He’d have to pay even more
attention to the next contestants.

They watched the remaining trials that day
and the next. The announcer called ‘time’ on a few competitors who
did not complete the course before the sand ran out, but most
finished. None were quite as good as the first, which made MO-126
wonder if the monks intended this. Perhaps, through some kind of
intuition or acute observational skills, they chose the best to go
first, and, for dramatic purposes, last. Or perhaps this was just
wishful thinking on his part. Regardless, he felt grateful that
they would be the last to compete. He needed to learn all he
could.

The unspoken point, apparently, was not just
to get the sheep to go where you wanted, but to do it as calmly and
efficiently as possible. Contestants lost points for scaring the
sheep, for making them run, for letting them stop, for not keeping
them together or in a line through the panels, and for other, more
subjective things like the style of both handler and dog. The
judges seemed to favor subtlety.

That was fine. He could be subtle, with
people, anyway. With sheep it might take more concentration to
detail because they reacted without thinking. Of course, they had
little choice in the matter.

In the morning, Kolby’s nervousness showed
and Gumper tried to be reassuring. He wasn’t good at it.

“Don’t worry, boy. That’s a good dog you
have. He’ll do fine.”

That’s it. Put all the pressure on me,
MO-126 thought. Unfortunately, the old man was right. Telling Kolby
that he was a good dog handler would be an obvious lie. Even Kolby,
who was at least bright enough to know he wasn’t bright, knew
better, especially now that he’d seen the other handlers.

The boy knelt and hugged the android dog.
The kid was relying on him.

“You can do it, Doggy,” he said, probably
more for his own benefit than the android dog’s. “You’re the
best.”

Talk about pressure.

“You know what to do, right?” Kolby said
hopefully.

Yeah, kid. I was paying attention. Don’t
worry. I’ve got your back. He could say none of this, so he just
wagged his tail and tried to look confident.

The contestants on the final day were good.
MO-126 observed some of them practicing back at the campsite, and
they, too, learned from those who went before, but none were better
than the first contestant on the first day. She remained the one to
beat—her and her dog. Both of them watched attentively from within
the crowd of spectators.

Finally, the team of Kolby and Doggy took
the field. Upon seeing the boy, some began to wander away. They no
doubt believed the competition as good as over. The current
frontrunner beamed confidently.

MO-126 held nothing against her, or her
partner, but he needed to do this for his boy. The prize money
could change his life. Without it, his prospects were limited to a
life of doing odd jobs for others in a tiny village. With the
money, he at least could have a shot at a bit more. With a couple
goats and a few acres of land he might make a life for himself. It
would not be a grand life, but it would be an opportunity, one
denied to him now.

The problem was that he was a nice kid,
considerate of others, but not overly smart or creative. He
possessed no special skills. He wasn’t even ruthless or ambitious,
which some people, lacking any positive traits, can use to get by,
albeit normally at the expense of others. MO-126 did not like
people like these. They tended to think they were somehow more
important or more deserving than other people. This was not only
objectively wrong, but objectionable in every respect.

Kolby stuttered his introduction to the
judges, all the while with his hand on the android dog for
emotional support. The Wise Ones’ ever present beatific smiles
revealed no reaction to the bumbling lad. All of them seemed to be
paying far more attention to the dog next to him. MO-126 decided
this was not the time for his stupid dog act, so he stood at
attention and tried to ignore them.

Kolby went to the handler’s post and took a
deep breath. MO-126 did not need to. His micro-fusion reactors were
fully operational. He surveyed the competition field, noted the
location and behavior of the sheep, distances, condition of the
ground, even the wind direction and velocity. It took only a few
seconds for him to calculate the optimal strategy for completing
the trial.

“Begin!” the announcer shouted.

“G-g-go, Doggy,” Kolby said softly.

The android dog raced off, circling wide
around the flock, emerging behind them and then giving them ‘the
eye.’ The sheep, which must be used to this by now, immediately
moved in the desired direction and through the first pair of panels
in a fairly straight line. When he circled them around the post,
Kolby stared with his mouth open, again. He did manage a nod, which
provided enough, MO-126 thought, to suggest a command, and he
herded the sheep through the rest of the course. Most of what he
did duplicated the moves of the first contestant, but he did
incorporate things he learned from some of the others.

Now, Kolby only needed to walk over and
close the gate to the pen. MO-126 hoped his boy would not be too
stunned or nervous to complete this last step. He glanced over his
shoulder as the final sheep entered the pen and felt relieved to
see Kolby approaching steadily, albeit with a stunned
expression.

Just don’t run or trip over anything, MO-126
thought, and we should do all right.

He didn’t. The gate creaked shut, and the
crowd roared.

Kolby moved as if dreaming to the judges’
platform to learn their score. His partner was more aware and
optimistic. He knew he performed well, but was it good enough?

One of the judges spoke. “That is a unique
dog you have.”

“Um, thanks,” Kolby said.

“Strange,” one of the other monks said to
his neighbor. He whispered too softly for others to hear, but the
android dog’s sensitive auditory sensors managed it without
difficulty.

“Like that storyteller a few years ago,” the
Listener whispered back.

“But not out of Tune.”

“A leading voice in some future phrase,
perhaps?”

“A cadence yet to be played. Yes, I believe
you are right.”

“The etude it is improvising may prove to be
a melodic line.”

MO-126 could make little sense of this,
other than that they apparently approved of his performance.

With a nod from one of the monks, the
announcer yelled out their score. They were given the full hundred,
which, coincidently, was also the prize money, a bag of one hundred
copper coins. Gumper would get half of them, of course. It did not
represent a fortune, but it should be enough for a couple
goats.

“Congratulations. You have played well. May
you always dance in step with the Tune,” the oldest monk said.

Kolby thanked them and walked away. Gumper
soon joined them.

“Strange little guys,” he said as they made
there way back to the campsite through several distractedly
accepted congratulations from people along the way.

“Woof!” MO-126 barked in agreement. Strange
was one of humanity’s defining characteristics, however, so he did
not dwell on it.

“That’s a fine dog, you have there,” said a
husky but feminine voice behind them.

The android dog and the two humans with him
turned as one to see the woman who just lost the contest because of
them. She stood almost a head taller than Gumper and appeared close
to a decade older than Kolby. Her dog stood calmly beside her with
appraising eyes focused on MO-126. The look made him
uncomfortable.

“My name is Andrea. I’m from a village south
of Sandshores, which I’m sure you never heard of.” She pointed
vaguely north.

MO-126 knew the place. He had been there
once prior to project termination and a few times afterward. It
started as an offshoot settlement on the coast a little over two
thousand years ago. The last time he visited, about a century
earlier, it was a trading town with a permanent marketplace and
docks for boats.

“Um, I’m Kolby. From, uh, Miston,” he
said.

“Never heard of it.” This did not surprise
MO-126 at all. People seldom traveled far from their
birthplaces.

“I don’t think it’s near anything,” the boy
elaborated. It wasn’t. Miston held nothing of special interest and
was not on a direct route to anyplace that did. The android dog
liked that about it.

“Well, wherever it is, you raise fine dogs
there, if this one is any indication. Congratulations on your
impressive performance, by the way. I thought I had the competition
won.”

“So did I,” Kolby admitted. “You were very
good.”

“I know.” She reached down to pet her dog.
“Comette and I have won a few trials like this before. I can’t say
I’m not disappointed about losing this one, but I’m glad I got to
see your dog in action. His name is Doggy, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I called him that the first time
I met him. He seemed to like it well enough, so I never thought
about giving him another. I know it’s not much of a name.”

She shrugged. “A name is just a name. At
least his means something. Have you ever considered breeding
him?”

Oh-oh, MO-126 thought, taking an involuntary
step backward.

“How much for the stud fee?” Gumper
interjected.

Andrea smiled. “Comette’s not in heat now,
but for a stud like yours, I could come see you when she is.”

They continued talking about timing,
directions, financing, and puppy division while MO-126 searched his
files on dog behavior, looking for the proper way to signify that
he did not wish to participate in a procreative endeavor. He came
up empty. Except for illness or injury, male dogs apparently never
turned down an arranged liaison with a bitch in heat. Even neutered
ones would attempt it. He needed to improvise.