This Isn’t a Hotel

A complimentary breakfast. It was a plate full of home cooked bacon, eggs, and some pancakes. She drizzled some surprisingly authentic looking maple syrup on top.

“Mrs. Morgan,” the creator asked. “Are you really fine with me using this room?” There was only one bedroom in her apartment. It was musty and layered in a coat of dust. Looked almost untouched before he had used it last night.

“Of course, dear.” She set down the plate and left to clean up her sleeping bag on the floor. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Are you not eating?”

“No…” There was a piece of rusted metal on the table. Cracked circuit boards and wires hung out from the sides. Mrs. Morgan picked it up and caressed the object, gently feeling around every bump and bend. Her eyes stared into the void of space. Her light-hearted expression was gone.

“What is that?” It looked like the empty frame of a cybernetic faceplate. Almost like the leftovers one would have after scrapping the rest.

Her smile returned to her face. “Oh, isn’t he just lovely? He’s my son!”

Son? At this point, it was just a hunk of metal. Or was she referring to the metal itself? That didn’t sound all that appealing either.

“Been gone for a few years now.”

Good. She wasn’t actually crazy. “So was the room I slept in…”

“Oh, yes. That’s my son’s.” she replied.

“Then why don’t you sleep there?”

“Just… memories. That room…” She groaned. “The smell’s still there. His clothes too… I just can’t make myself clean it all up.” She poured herself a nice, warm cup of tea. Then she held the faceplate tight between her arms. “But now that you’re here, maybe you can get rid of that musky, old scent!”

He was planning on leaving today. There would be no ridding that scent.

“So! Who’s this lost boy you mentioned last night?”

Lost boy?

“I heard you talking to someone about a boy. And you were talking about bread! How weird is that?” Her blind gaze rested on his plate of food. “Would you have preferred that over pancakes?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” That was supposed to be confidential. He was trying to set up a search algorithm to find Bread through the blackout incident yesterday. But it failed. He just didn’t have enough information.

“Well, the walls are mighty thin. I just can’t help it!” She sat beside him on the couch, sipping quietly from her cup. Her leg injury seemed a lot better. “So? Aren’t you going to tell this old lady about your secrets? I won’t tell anyone.”

“I could just leave.” And he wasn’t lying at all.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Why don’t you entertain me for a while longer?”

Her rudeness knew no bounds, but something about her was still weirdly welcoming. Genuine? He didn’t really get it. It kind of reminded him of what it was like back when he had a family. Decades back… Back when his mother was still alive.

But she wasn’t her…

“Alright, dear. Maybe I pushed a little too hard. We’re just strangers after all. I’ll leave you to your work—”

“I’m looking—” he blurted out. “I’m looking for a boy.”

“Oh?” She suddenly sounded interested. “A boy? Is he your son?”

“No, I wouldn’t—” Bread did call him Dad… “No, he’s not my son.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“You say it like you’re still confused about him.”

“Well, I’m not. Because he’s—not blood related.”

“Blood?” She stretched her neck out. Her hollow eyes stared through his own. Almost as if she weren’t inherently blind. “Blood has nothing to do with family.”

“Right…” But Bread was different. He was born inside his own creation, a completely different dimension of reality. A digital reality. He wasn’t made up of atoms and cells like everyone else. Blood or not, he wasn’t human.

“Blood has nothing to do with family!” she snapped. “Nothing!”

“I…got it.” What was wrong with her?

“Don’t you take care of him? You’re trying to find him, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” He furrowed his brows. “That’s… what I’m doing right now.”

“Then he’s your son!”

“No, that’s definitely not how—”

“Now don’t be making excuses. I’ve lived long enough to know when somebody’s lying.”

“I’m not lying. He can’t be my son.” It just wasn’t possible.

“But why not?” She leaned in. “You’re clearly thinking about it.”

“He inherently can’t be. He’s not even—well, I can’t say.”

Mrs. Morgan shook her head. “I can tell. You’re struggling to admit it.” She finally placed her son’s faceplate down, adjusting it so it wasn’t crooked. “My son was a mod doll. He wasn’t related through blood or anything. He wasn’t even skin and bones.”

Mod doll? Those were just mechanical bodies that housed rudimentary AI constructs. They had less capabilities than his own AIs in Simular.

“But do you know what he was? He was my son. Through and through… Before he was taken apart by some pirates…” she grumbled out the last few words.

“I’m sure by your definition—”

“There is no clear-cut definition, Gunther! Why can’t you see that? Family isn’t just blood.”

“And you believe a computer program can be an equal to humans?”

“Who told you they needed to be human?”

“I did.” Of course he did. Who else was there to prove him wrong?

“No, I won’t believe it.” She crossed her arms. “Find your son. I won’t let you off the hook, young man. Not yet.”

How was she going to enforce that?

“And you can stay here as long as you need. I’m sure it’ll save money.”

“Money’s not really—actually, why are you helping me? I’m just a stranger.” He inched just enough away for her to notice. “I could be dangerous for all you know.”

“How daft. No dangerous, young man would be talking to me like this in the first place.” She waited for a response but got nothing. “I want to help you find your son. It’s important to you, isn’t it?”

“But why?”

“Well in the beginning, I’d have said it was because you saved my life.” Her expression softened. “But now? I just want to see you realize.”

“Realize? You really believe I’ll change my mind?”

“I’m curious to know!” She grinned wide. “When you find your son, won’t you introduce him to me?”

“He’s not—” He sighed. “We’ll see. Once I find him.” With all that he’d done to Bread, he probably didn’t think of him as a dad.

So why should he?