By N. A. Walters
Humans. Scout crouched in the narrow gap behind the couch as the two guards passed.
“Probably a glitch,” the guard that smelled like coffee said. “No one’s here.”
Scout’s ears twitched in amusement. He must’ve missed a motion sensor, but it didn’t matter. The employee lounge of CB-TED’s research facility had plenty of German-shepherd-sized hiding places where humans would never look.
Breaking in to steal the newest enhancement serums from the company that made him? Irony, he believed it was called. Pure poetry.
And $50,000 for the lot wasn’t too shabby.
Scout wriggled free and loped to the corner. He nosed the top button of the multi-functional watch around his ankle.
“Camera detected,” a robotic voice pitched too high for human ears said. “Preparing looped feed. Please hold.”
Scout sat on his haunches, glancing over the poster-covered wall. His eyes caught the title Favorite Models: Man’s Best Friend. Nine different service models were listed, plus one at the bottom: The Loyal Companion.
Enhanced intelligence, unlimited tricks. Train your dog to pick up toys, play with your children, run simple robot routines. Optimized for loyalty and companionship. Violent tendencies suppressed. Available in 7 popular breeds!
Your dog will love you or your money back.
Scout lowered his head onto his front paws. His first owner would go from petting him to yelling at him in a matter of minutes. Stupid mutt, he’d say.
Scout loved him anyway.
“Looped video initiated,” the watch-voice said.
Once Scout crept around the corner, he saw it.
The door to the lab.
Balancing on his hind legs, he held the watch to the access card reader. A green light flashed—Scout couldn’t imagine trying to break into places without the ability to distinguish red from green. Humans used color everywhere. He leaned on the handle and pushed the door.
Home free. No cameras in this room. Any work done here was highly confidential.
Scout breathed in—yuck. The place reeked of bleach, acetone, and unfamiliar chemicals.
The hum of a refrigerator caught his ear, and he trotted toward it. Inside the glass door were rows upon rows of official-looking labeled vials. His tail wagged involuntarily. The intel was good.
He unzipped the pouch on his forearm, holding the zipper tight between his tongue and incisor, and pulled out his standard door hook.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The hook clanged to the ground as Scout spun to face the threat, teeth bared.
A male human appeared from a dark side room.
Run. Escape. But all those hallways covered in cameras… His chances were low, and this human wasn’t sounding an alarm. Yet.
He nosed the button on his watch for the holographic text-to-speech keyboard to appear. An actual talking dog was creepy, apparently, so they hadn’t enhanced his voice box or lips to work as a human’s did.
“Why?” his robotic voice asked. “What do you want?”
“The answers to those questions are not the same.” The human stepped closer, the soft tread of his sneakers brushing the floor. Scout didn’t blame himself for not noticing the human’s smell surrounded by all the other scents of this place. But how had he not heard him?
“That door is active. Force it without the correct code, and the alarm sounds.”
Scout’s ear twitched. He hadn’t realized it was locked. “Will you call the police?”
“You haven’t stolen anything yet.”
He’d broken enough laws getting in.
The man’s lab coat had Josh scribbled on the pocket. Working late? Scout didn’t think so.
“There are easier targets if all you want is something to sell,” Josh said. “Did your owner send you?”
“I have no owner.”
“You have had five owners.”
Alertness jolted through him, but Scout shoved it down, affecting nonchalance. “What are you, some sort of fortune teller?”
“Hardly.” Josh pulled a device out of his pocket, likely an electronic chip reader. If most humans carried those around, Scout would have been caught dozens of times.
“Model LC2401-GSM, serial 15287, assigned name Scout,” Josh read from the screen.
“You know all there is to know about me, then.”
“All I know is what you were designed to do. Optimized for. Ninety-nine percent of your DNA was not edited.”
“Which is why I am property. I am a dog.” But… this man wasn’t treating him like a dog. Rather, like an equal. Not a human, but a person.
“I don’t think you are property.”
Scout inched backward. “And who are you to decide?”
“My uncle owns this company. Someday, he’ll turn it all over to me. But I don’t want it. Not like this.”
Scout’s fur stood on end. This was a human. Whatever he was doing couldn’t be for Scout’s good.
“Two, seven, five, nine, four, six,” Josh said. “That’s the code.”
“You could be tricking me.” But he mentally rehearsed the numbers.
“If you want more than a bit of cash, bring those vials to Havenstone Park tomorrow at noon.”
“Why?”
“Together, we’ll start a revolution. For a future where you and others like you can truly be free.” Josh strode back into the dark room.
Scout sprang into action. He nosed in the code—a light flashed green. He didn’t see Josh again before he snuck out the door, weighed down with vials and questions.
That night, Scout didn’t sleep. He lay on the rooftop, looking up at the stars. He liked being able to think, to know there were such things as stars. He was glad to have been made. But they were wrong about one thing: he wasn’t property.
The next day, Scout crouched beneath an unnaturally square bush, watching Josh wait on a park bench.
Ahead, the human. Risk. Danger.
Behind, $50,000, guaranteed. Safety. Anonymity.
Ahead, a chance.
Scout licked his lips and swallowed. Then he stepped forward into the sunlight.
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