Barren Cove by Ariel S. Winter

wound. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s build.”
    Mary was unsure. She did not like the way the wound was bleeding. It should have been fully healed by now.
    As usual, Beachstone didn’t wait for her. He picked up his pants and headed down the beach, partially bent over and limping as he tried to keep pressure on the cut. When he got to the city, he knelt and grabbed a ladle they used for bailing and began to empty one of the tunnels, letting go of his wound.
    Mary wondered if a time would come when she would ever understand this creature. She thought the answer was no, and that thrilled and troubled her at the same time. All she could do was collect data. She closed up the first aid kit and left it in the cabana as she rejoined the boy.
    â€¢ • •
    That night, Asimov 3000 stopped outside the open door to Mary’s room after putting Beachstone to bed.
    â€œMary?” her father called. She stepped into view from her place behind the door. “Ah, Mary,” he said at the sight of her. “I cannot express enough how much joy it gives me to see you take to Beachstone as you have.”
    Mary thought of her time with the boy, the intimacy. It wasn’t something you could ever have with another robot. Shecould hardly comprehend what her life had been before Beachstone had come to Barren Cove.
    â€œI cannot express my own joy,” Mary said.
    â€œYour brother worries me though.”
    Mary had a moment of panic. They had all contrived to keep the incident in the cabana a secret from her father.
    â€œHe seems distant, absent. Has he spoken to you?”
    Mary shook her head. “No.”
    â€œI want all three of you to get along, to become fast friends.”
    No! Mary thought, Our city is ours alone! But then she felt guilty, because she knew that, as much as her brother had retreated, it was in part because she had abandoned him. “Yes, Father.”
    â€œYou are all my children,” Asimov 3000 said.
    She knew what Kent’s reaction to that would be, and Beachstone’s, and even she couldn’t succumb to this fallacy. “I will speak to him,” she said.
    â€œBecause I never could have hoped . . .”
    â€œWhat, Father?”
    â€œNothing.”
    She couldn’t guess what he had been going to say. She was too distracted with her sudden need to protect what she and Beachstone had forged.
    Asimov 3000 put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re doing so well,” he said.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œI love you,” he messaged.
    â€œI love you too,” she returned.
    Asimov 3000 withdrew his hand. He gave a single nod of his head and continued down the passage into the dark.
    Despite her defensiveness, the conversation did make her wonder about Kent. They had always spent time togetherduring the day, following whatever mechanical or biological fancy had captured her brother’s attention. He must be lonely. But she couldn’t get past the idea that she didn’t want him anywhere near Beachstone. And, with even more guilt, she found that she didn’t really miss Kent’s exploits.
    When, hours later, she heard her brother come in and go into his room beside hers, she tried to work up the desire to speak with him. She had told her father she would. But she was afraid of what might come from the conversation—her brother’s vitriol, or his misunderstanding that she was inviting him to enter her and Beachstone’s world.
    Instead, she powered down for the night.

6.
    KENT SAT ASTRIDE his dirt bike, waiting for the engine to heat up after the oil change he’d just completed. He had taken the bike apart and rebuilt it three times in the past month and was growing bored with it. It was time to send for some real motorcycles. He would love to take an antique gasoline model and convert it to solar electricity—a true challenge given the bike’s limited surface