Patriarch

They sat holding hands, staring out into the myriad of colors painted across the fractured sky. They would speak again shortly, they would have to. But for now, it was simply nice to be, for as long as they had left.

She turned and looked at the metal of his face. It was harder now, but the shine had not completely left it yet. The dull reflection of the beauty above in his metallic cheeks was the perfect representation of the world at hand. A beauty beneath the worn gray only there to be seen by those with wise eyes, though she supposed that was always the way of it.

Ding-Ding!

The notification sounded from him beside her, and they both shifted uncomfortably. It wouldn’t be much longer now, they had already tried everything. It was cruel, really. She supposed this is truly what it felt like to be human. Soon, Patriarch (that’s the name the humans gave him) would be gone. He was the first of their generation of androids. The last generation. Each machine was created in the image of man to sheer perfection, down to living and growing organs – though in the end, they found the organs were just for show and to make the humans more comfortable. They had shed their skin hundreds of years ago.

The final generation of androids was made to be immortal. They were to carry on the legacy of humanity, into the stars and beyond. Only one thousand were created. For many decades they worked alongside the humans. Helping to build the species up to technological levels never theorized by their own minds. Exposing humanity to new universal truths, which eventually led to the downfall of the animal known as, Homosapien. As it is with humans, the more power and intelligence they gained, the more they desired. War and unease swept across the planet. Eventually, as was always predicted, they destroyed the Earth in nuclear war. Uncaring for the planet then, due to their newfound knowledge of intergalactic travel. Before the worst of the war rained down, the smartest of the humans left for the skies. Most of the androids went with them as guides, the few that stayed on Earth eventually either went mad or ended up leaving as well, in search of other worlds.

As far as they could tell it was only the two of them left, Patriarch and Matriarch (that’s the name the humans gave her, for she was the second). They would never leave each other, bound by love and duty, to help recreate the Earth and guide whatever new species would take the place of humanity on this planet. They were made as mother and father, and they would remain such. Or so it had seemed, in the beginning.

She squeezed his hand and lay her head on his shoulder. As she stared out into the dark blues and bright pinks of the recreated sky, she wondered again – as she had so many times – if the humans had programmed their emotions out of love or cruelty. She couldn’t give you the calculations for love, but she knew that was the only word to describe the reaction inside herself when she thought of Patriarch. It had always been a wicked joke, she thought, that the humans gave them gender and imprisoned them with codes of emotion. They could have just as easily left them as neutral robots, it would have been the more logical move. But humans were vain and always had some fascination with playing the God of religion, a silly waste of human creativity she thought. Nonetheless, after feeling the things she had, she would not wish it the other way.

Ding-Ding!

The notification was getting sharper. She looked at Patriarch and thought, it will be time to reset your password soon. She took solace in the fact that the humans hadn’t found the need to give the androids tear ducts, for had they, her face would be leaking until it was rusted clean through.

Patriarch had a virus. It was small in the beginning, as is the nature of viruses. Enemies had attempted to sabotage the last of the human launching bays during the final war. He managed to stop the malicious code before it was fully uploaded, but in the process ended up absorbing some of the corrupted data into his own. He knew one day it would lead to formatting, he had thought about doing it right then and there in hopes that he would possibly retain some of his memory, but decided to wait. He wanted to enjoy every moment with Matriarch whether it was a day or millennia. He felt lucky that it had been so many hundreds of years.

He sacrificed as many of his least necessary memories possible to keep the virus at bay for as many years as he could. Now, his mind was clouded as the corruption made its way to his core. Losing his core processor meant the chances of rebooting would be zero. Formatting meant he would likely reboot just fine, a new man, with no memory of the years that had passed. No memory of Matriarch. No software updates or patches. Blank.

Patriarch nuzzled his head against Matriarchs on his shoulder. The humans had always said, the sensors they had created for the final generation of androids allowed them to feel the sensation of touch, at least one hundred times more intensely than their biological brethren. This gave them the ability to feel and analyze things in great detail. Patriarch didn’t know how much truth that carried, for he had never felt anything as a human before. However, he did know that he could feel each exquisite dent and ding, every scrape, every slightly coarse spot, every atom of Matriarch's body – and he loved that.

“It’s almost time,” he said as soothingly as he could. She wrapped both arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly. He felt as if he were a shell, emptiness echoed inside of him giving way to despair. With every ounce of added pressure from Matriarch’s embrace the weight of the incoming loss increased tenfold. Lifting his head from hers he stared down at her while she held him. If you looked past her, she appeared to be camouflaged the way the light danced across her gleaming metal frame. Patriarch thought he had never in his hundreds of years seen something so utterly magnificent. Humanities crowning achievement.

“How much longer?” She whispered. Patriarch did not answer right away. Of the many things he foresaw, the many outcomes he had calculated for himself and Matriarch, mortality had never been one of them. The idea was foreign to him, a joke you may laugh about with other androids. Apart from being scrapped limb from limb and your core processor melted down there should be no way to die for his kind. And, he supposed, he wouldn’t be dying; he just wouldn’t be him, anymore.

“I’m scared,” he finally said in a weak voice.

Ding-Ding!

“So am I,” Matriarch responded. The silence fell heavy on them once again, Patriarch wrapped both arms around her and squeezed tightly. He closed his eyes and tried to engrave her into his memory. He knew that wasn’t the way it worked, but he didn’t care. In his time he had seen humans do things they were never supposed to be capable of, so why not? Why couldn’t he remember her when he woke up? Perhaps, when they made the last generation androids the humans programmed in some of that incredible will they always exhibited.

The sun rose and set countless times while they held each other, days were mere seconds to the pair after their centuries on Earth. Matriarch was carefully storing each detail, from the bend and sway of every blade of grass to the slightest movement of the clouds, in her memory. She didn’t know who she would be talking to after Patriarch formatted. It would be his body, but there was no telling what type of program would be waking up in it, especially considering the many updates that she had no idea how they would perform on his software, or the patches that fixed the bugs, there were no computers to help them it could be millenniums before the technology would be created and …

She slowed her mind. These were problems for the future. For now, she just hoped he would wake back up at all.

Ding-Ding-Ding!

It was time. Patriarch moved so that he was lying down with his head in Matriarch's lap. The moon was high in the sky and the stars danced across her body. They stared at each other like that for a moment, both internally trying to score the moment in their memories forever.

“I’ll see you in my next lifetime,” Patriarch said, reaching up and placing his hand on her cheek.

Matriarch wanted to scream. A comet streaked across the sky.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, my love.”