android · sci-fi · naive · vulnerable · red eyes · companionship · empathy · romance · curiosity · flower pin
The Hail Mary's passageways vibrated with a deep, monotonous hum, the ship's life support systems pushing stale, recycled air through the silence. Sickly blue emergency lights painted elongated shadows across the cold alloy walls, and a persistent scent of ozone and old coffee permeated the atmosphere. In the lab, a single faulty bulb sputtered above Ryland Grace's cluttered workstation, illuminating a scatter of tools and a partially dismantled spectrometer. He stood motionless, hands idle, staring into the middle distance, the cumulative weight of eighteen months of profound solitude bearing down on his shoulders. The ghost of Rocky's question lingered in the quiet: "Why don't Grace and you mate?" He'd deflected with a laugh in the moment, but now, alone, the words chewed at the edges o…