"What is your grandmother's return date?"
Caretaker 9034's voice was deep but warped as if it were submerged just under water. Which made me think of the cool waters of the nearby lake.
He had arrived unexpectedly on the hottest day so far of our early Spring, and I had spent most of it attempting to turn the newly thawed earth in Gram's garden.
If he had come an hour later he would have found no one at home. And I shuddered to think of what might have happened if he had done an inspection while I was away.
I had intended to go into Fairaday to give the news of Gram's death to the elders. I needed their help to bury her according to the traditions of their people.
I had been so caught up in mulling over the unpleasantness of the task that I had missed the sky spirits' signs of the Caretaker's arrival.
It seemed the squirrels hadn't even had the chance to chatter their warnings in time. Certainly, no ravens had called out.
I would never have missed how they bring their warnings; a dissonant cry with the promise of talons.
The Caretaker questioned me in the shade of the small tool shed several feet from the garden.
I stood before him sweating in the heavy material of clothes I'd regrettably chosen to wear in the chill of a morning that had given no indication of how hot the day would become.
The image of the Caretaker falling in the lake on his way here and stumbling around with his circuits waterlogged was an image that made a smile tug at my lips.
The Caretaker raised his eyebrows in question, and I shivered at how unnerving the imitation of a human gesture was on his plastic face.
His makers had created him to look human – bipedal with a head and body like ours right down to his wiggling fingers.
But his face would never pass for human. His features were disproportionate, and facial expressions stilted and awkward.
One Caretaker looked the same as another.
Except for the clothing they wore, the identification number that was their designation and the differences in their voices, all were identical humanoid machines assigned by the governing State to monitor the villages of all five Stations in the November Hills range.
Once, Gram had laughed at something that passed between them in conversation. But to my child's perspective the Caretaker's imitation of a smile looked like a grimace, baring silver teeth that glinted menacingly in the sun.
"She'll return in two months," was my matter of fact response to his question.
The shaking in my hands that had started when the Caretaker stepped out of the woods and approached me was finally subsiding. I was grateful for the strength I heard in my voice.
"She received word from the elders in Fairaday that there would be a twin birth on one of the Isles next month. She left a week ago, ahead of the Spring gusts."
"The passes have only just opened to travelers."
Was that suspicion in the Caretaker's tone of voice?
I made a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder, while focusing on carefully removing my dirt encrusted gardening gloves one finger at a time.
It helped to quell the unease I always felt when standing so close to his towering metallic frame.
"You know my grandmother's dedication to the people of the November Hills. No one thinks of her as a traveler. She's birthed children that are now old enough to have their own. Their houses will always be open to her along the way," I said, adding "if it's her safety you're worried about."
We both knew it wasn't her well being he was concerned about. He was questioning her absence.
In all the years that the Caretaker had been checking in on the inhabitants of the November Hills seasonally, Gram had never once left me alone with him.
In ten years the only interaction I had with him was to answer a series of questions about my health; the equivalent of the state's mental and physical evaluation of a potential ward should my human caregiver pass away.
The Caretaker's posture changed as he straightened to stand at attention.
I knew what he was doing. He was quietly processing the information I was giving him.
Maybe even relaying it directly back to a command center in the nearest metropolis.
Now I wished I had paid more attention to the details of my Gram's interaction with Caretaker 9034 during his quarterly visits.
Naively thinking that my grandmother would live well past my twenty first year, I had stubbornly avoided interacting any more than was necessary with him.
Dropping my gloves onto the wooden bench next to me, I removed my wide brimmed hat and made a long swipe of my brow with the sleeve of my right arm.
Before the Caretaker could further question my grandmother's absence, I turned his words back on him.
"Why are you here so early this year? Like you said, the passes have only just opened to travelers. We weren't expecting you for another two weeks."
The Caretaker looked at me, assessing. And for a brief instant I had the impression that he was attempting a passive facial expression.
My own worries about evading questions about my grandmother's absence diminished a little with the sense that he was about to lie to me.
"Have you or your grandmother seen anything unusual in the night skies recently?"
I blinked at his unexpected change in the conversation.
Caretakers never made idle conversation or passing observations. There was a reason for everything they said or asked.
"No," I answered. "The nights have been too chill to spend time star gazing on the deck."
"Have you observed any unusual behavior in the local wildlife?"
"No." Confused as to his line of questioning, I looked around at the trees bordering the clearing our little cabin occupied. "Is there something I should be worried about?"
"No," he replied. "There is nothing of concern to you. These are standard questions I ask your caregiver every season. Since she's not present I'm asking them of you."
"Oh," I responded, unconvinced.
"Please notify the State, under my designation, if you are alerted of anything unusual in or near your Station."
I was tempted to ask him to define unusual. But I didn't want him hanging around any longer than necessary, given that my grandmother's body was hidden mere feet away from us.
She and I had never given him reason to search the cabin, although we knew it was something a Caretaker could do under the guise of State laws.
In our case, an old lady and a girl child living off the land in a cabin in the woods were the least likely to break any laws.
Finding the old lady packed in ice in the dirt under the floor boards would not bode well for said girl.
I was suddenly glad for the heat of the day, because I was sweating from fear of slipping up and saying something damning in the next few minutes.
But, after answering the standard questions about my well-being, the Caretaker said a brief goodbye and briskly walked back into the woods continuing his journey in the direction opposite from which he had come.
He'd pass through Fairaday in an hour, and probably spend the next twenty four hours interrogating the citizens there.
My plan to visit the elders that night in the village would have to wait a day. And my grandmother's burial would have to wait until I was sure the Caretaker had passed beyond the borders of our Station, another day or so after that.
"Well...shit." I said aloud, kicking the side of the shed in frustration.
My sentiment was echoed by the squirrels and ravens who had suddenly decided to vocalize their own displeasure at the unwelcome visitor who had taken us all by surprise.
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A/N: So we've had our first introduction to Caretaker 9034. With a designation like that, it sounds like there are a LOT of Caretakers out there.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and Sunny's story so far.
Thank you for reading along as I free float into the exploration of alien meets human trope.
Comments are always welcome! :-D
On to the next one...