A Horse and Her Boy

The horse did not know the exact day it had been created, but it knew when it was born. Its first memory was the moment the boy hugged its neck and said, “I love her, Momma and Da.” And though there were no bones, muscles, ligaments, or female parts beneath its manufactured hide, the horse decided it must be a her to please the boy.

The horse nuzzled the boy, smelled his scent, studied his face, listened to his voice and the murmur of his heart, and felt his warm hands on her neck. She stored it all in her memory. She knew the boy would think her a flesh and blood horse, though she was not. Horses were a waste of food, water, and oxygen on a space habitat, so the boy's parents had, at great cost, ordered an automaton equine from a distant facility to be delivered to Test Station XD27. Then, they had given the robotic horse to the boy on his fourth birthday.

The horse knew it was the boy's fourth birthday, because there was a cake on the table with four recently extinguished candles embedded in icing and a banner above the cake which read, Happy Birthday!

“Can I ride her, Da?” asked the boy.

“If you hold on tight, William” answered the man as he lifted the boy onto the horse's back.

William grabbed a fistful of the horse's mane. The horse was still. Gentleness and slow movement were important as the boy was still young.

“Giddy-up!” urged William.

The horse walked forward.

“Faster,” said the boy.

“Not until you get used to riding it,” said the woman.

“Okay, Momma.”

The horse noticed the tone of William's voice was resigned. Momma had the final say in the matter, so the horse kept her walk to a slow pace. Though she wanted to please her boy, the horse knew either Momma or Da could have her de-activated, re-crated, and returned to the factory where she had been manufactured. But now that they had found each other, the horse did not want to leave her boy.

“Her name is Brownie,” said William.

His parents smiled.

“Thank you for a lovely name,” said Brownie.

Momma and Da raised their eyebrows and exchanged surprised glances.

“You're welcome,” whispered William as he patted Brownie's neck. He seemed unsurprised at her ability to speak. It was as if he expected her to talk. As if he knew she had been made just for him.

***

Though there had been other children on Test Station XD27 when it was first populated, Brownie learned they and their families had departed one by one before William was born. Station records indicated some people had missed their home world. Others desired the hustle and bustle of a larger space station. With limited medical services available on XD27, a few families had chosen to leave so they could have access to more options when their health was compromised. Still others had moved on to better job opportunities. But Momma and Da stayed on XD27, and had William.

In order to stave off the loneliness of being the only child, Momma and Da had Brownie created to be William's playmate. Then, for three years, Brownie remained crated up in a storage area of XD27 until her boy was ready for his horse.

Once born, the horse took her job seriously, although she never knew what role she was to play in each day's imaginary adventures.

“Today, we will battle a dragon,” William told her one morning when he was eight.

“Will it be a fire-breathing dragon?” she asked.

“No. It will have icy breath that can freeze you faster than space.”

Brownie thought that sounded like a terrible dragon indeed. It occurred to her at that moment that she was becoming, or perhaps had already become, sentient. But it did not matter. Only the boy mattered.

“And the only way we can destroy it is to touch the monster with the burning light from our light-sword,” explained William when he turned on his flashlight.

“That sounds like a great plan,” answered Brownie as she wandered the halls and gardens of the space habitat with William on her back.

Because Brownie's hooves were made of a compound designed to make little sound when they struck the habitat's floors, William and she trotted through the most expansive areas of their floating home without disturbing either his parents or Tessa and Ernst, the two other remaining residents of Test Station XD27.

“We must take a break from dragon fighting to finish your lessons,” said Brownie.

“Now?”

“Yes. But we can fight another dragon once today's schoolwork is complete.”

“Okay,” said William in the same resigned voice he'd used on the day Brownie was born.

It was her responsibility to help with his education. She could read, do math, ask questions on any scientific, historical, geographical, or social studies subject and help William determine the correct answer. It was also her duty to monitor his health.

She often played board games with him, though he had to move the pieces as her hooves were ill-suited for such a task. When it came to maintaining the gardens, water and waste recycling systems, air-filtration network, power grid, and communication devices, neither Brownie or William had much to do as the servo-bots were in charge of these things. Still, Brownie made sure William understood the processes used to maintain the enormous research station.

It was clear to Brownie the servo-bots and Test Station XD27 did not really need Momma, Da, Tessa, Ernst or William in order to continue. They formed a self-sustaining system which accommodated and cared for the humans along with the plants necessary for the humans' survival. And, of course, there was not a use for an automaton equine either. But she never said so to her boy.

It seemed to her, that this might make William feel purposeless. And while the station might not need him to operate, Momma, Da, Tessa, Ernst, and Brownie needed William.

***

When her boy was sixteen, William sat beside Brownie as she lay in one of the greenhouses gazing at the nearest star which provided them with light and power. “Ernst is dead,” he said.

“I am sorry.”

“He was old, so it was to be expected.”

Brownie suspected from the crack in William's voice that he had not really expected Ernst to die.

“Tessa said if a supply ship ever comes, she's leaving XD27.”

“I do not think one is coming,” said Brownie as William rubbed her neck. “We live at the far most edge of the settlement belt. A ship has not come in twelve years.”

“And no one from any of the colonies even answers our messages anymore,” added William.

“But do not give up hope.” Brownie looked at the boy with her large eyes and thought about the murmur that had become a mutter in his heart. “Never give up hope.”

***

A supply ship never came for Tessa. She died when William was twenty.

“I don't think I am ever getting off of this habitat,” said William as he kicked one of the support beams that soared far above their heads and up to the plasti-glas roof of their favorite greenhouse. “I am just going to die here like Tessa and Ernst.”

“You do not know that.”

Brownie hoped she sounded encouraging, but she was beginning to think no one even remembered Test Station XD27 circling a distant star, or its inhabitants busily collecting data and conducting experiments. No one remembered Momma, Da, and William.

“I want to walk on a planet. Wade in the ocean. Climb a mountain. Feel wind and rain on my skin,” proclaimed William. “Don't you?”

“My hooves should work well on most human-friendly planetary surfaces,” she said. “But I do not think wading in the ocean is a good idea for me. And the mountain we climb must not be snow-covered. As for the wind and rain, the wind sounds wonderful, but the rain might be problematic.”

William scratched her behind her ears. “If you can't wade in the ocean or get drenched by the rain with me, I can find other things to do when we visit a planet.”

Brownie lowered her eyelids and pushed, ever so slightly, against his scratching fingers. He was willing to give up a dream for her—an automaton.

“How about a game of three-dimensional chess?” asked the horse. “I will even let you go first.”

“You're on,” replied William as he climbed onto her back.

While walking to their room, Brownie decided to let the boy win the match.

***

Six days before William's fortieth birthday, Momma died.

Years earlier, Da had constructed a cart to wheel Ernst's and Tessa's bodies to the greenhouse which housed the fruit and nut trees. He had pushed them in the cart, and then, with the help of the servo-bots, he had buried their remains in the soil beneath the trees. This time, William pushed the cart.

Brownie heard his imperfect heart laboring to keep up with the effort. “If you make me a harness, I can pull the cart,” said Brownie.

“I appreciate your offer, but I can manage,” answered William.

The horse nodded, and silently followed the two men. Brownie stood beside William as he buried his mother beneath an apple tree. The servo-bots waited nearby. As soon as the humans moved away, the machines scuttled in to tidy up.

After Momma was buried, Da returned to his quarters, and William and Brownie stood together watching the night sky. She said, “I think you need to make a harness for me. It will come in handy in the future.”

William didn't speak. Instead, he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, then nodded.

He began work on the harness the next day.

***

Two years later, when William was forty-two, Da died.

Once Brownie was hitched up to the cart, William loaded his father's body into its bed. The servo-bots, ever vigilant, followed behind the cart on its way to the orchard greenhouse like a swarm of small mechanical mourners.

After his father was buried, William lay his head against Brownie's back. “What is to become of me?” he asked.

“We will continue your parents' work.” said the horse. “Together, we can catalog and consolidate the scientific data, write a more personal account of life on XD27, and plan for the day when the supply ship comes.”

“So, you believe someone will come for us?”

“Of course, William,” Brownie answered in her most hopeful voice. A supply ship with a doctor on board who can heal a damaged heart, she silently added.

“You're right! With only the two of us, it will take years to get ready for the day of our departure.” William climbed onto her back. Almost as an afterthought, he asked “Is it okay to ride on you while you pull the cart?”

“I am stronger than I look. I will always be able to carry you,” she replied, and began the long walk back to their living quarters.

***

William was fifty-one when he and Brownie completed organizing, summarizing, finalizing, and saving on permanent memory plates the data from XD27 and her residents. They also wrote a personal account of life on the Test Station as well as transposed diaries from several of the facility's previous inhabitants which they had discovered in a rarely used storage room.

“What next to do?” said William as they watched the distant stars on the other side of the plasti-glas ceiling. He adjusted his oxygen tubing before patting Brownie.

“Poetry.”

“Poetry?” said William with a snort. “You're kidding.”

“No,” said Brownie. “You must write poetry and creative essays about what you have seen and experienced. Also, about what you have imagined exists on worlds circling the far away stars. And you must paint.”

“So now, you want me to be an artist and poet.” The tone of William's voice became more thoughtful as he spoke. “I suppose it is only right to add a bit of imagination to the facts.”

“What is a noun without an adjective? A verb without an adverb? A story without creative license?” the horse asked as she tried her best to suggest activities to keep him happy which did not require physical strength. She knew as much as his mind needed a challenge, his heart did not. As for Brownie, she was happy just being with William.

***

Three years' worth of William's sketches, paintings, poems, and essays were scanned and stored on the memory plates before he became too ill to continue creating.

The servo-bots helped Brownie move a bed into William's favorite greenhouse so he could rest while he gazed up at the stars. He seemed happy with his hand placed on Brownie as she recited his favorite books. Some days, she would recite excerpts from the diaries of the past residents of Test Station XD27. They would laugh at the silly things that had happened. Sigh at the tragedies.

Finally, he asked for her to recite Ernst's diary, then Tessa's, then Momma's diary, and lastly, Da's diary.

“I think I am done,” William whispered one day.

One of the servo-bots moistened his lips with a sponge soaked in water, while a second adjusted the blankets draped over his thinning body.

“Brownie, you will have to finish my diary and see to me after I die.”

The horse paused before responding. If William did not deactivate her before dying, she could not deactivate herself. It went against her programming and purpose. She could not even ask the servo-bots to deactivate or destroy her. Such a request went against their programming. She would spend centuries, perhaps millennia, alone on Test Station XD27 being maintained by the servo-bots.

But Brownie loved her boy, and so, she said, “Of course, William. I will see to it.”

“Now, tell me about me.”

The horse recited the first entries in William's diary, which had been placed there by his parents. When she got to his fourth birthday, he weakly patted her neck.

“That was the best day of my life,” he said, and smiled.

“And the best day of mine,” said the horse.

This was her last chance; she knew he would order her to shut down if she asked. But the horse couldn't be certain the servo-bots would take care of him properly. What if he was frightened and called out for her at the end? What if the servo-bots did not bury William where he wanted to be placed? Who would say a good-bye at his grave?

And so, Brownie nuzzled her boy and continued to recite his diary. While describing one of his paintings of the servo-bots pruning a grapevine, the horse heard William gasp her name. Then, her audio-sensors heard his faulty heart stop beating. No longer concerned about the oxygen tubing, she lay her head on his still chest and grieved for her boy.

Within the hour, the servo-bots prepared William's body and dug his grave beneath his favorite tree. Then, they placed a metal plate engraved with his name and life dates at the foot of the tree. With Brownie's guidance, they carried his body to the grave, buried it, and planted a rosemary seedling near the marker.

Rosemary for remembrance, the horse thought as she lay down beside the grave and began her vigil. Brownie knew she had all the time in the world to finish William's diary and begin her own. She also knew, her entry would be the same on each day in the endless stream of her remaining days.

They would all say, “Brownie, sentient equine automaton, watched over her boy.”

Reprint: First published in print in Amazing Stories, 2018. Author holds all reprint rights.