They sat alone, quietly eating their meal. Their shoulders were slumped, their head was down, they had the forlorn look of a lonely, bereft, individual who'd completely given up on life itself. When a kind cogniscent tried to sit with them, they softly mumbled something apologetic and, quietly, obviously reluctantly, moved away to an even more distant, emptier, corner. The person went back to their friends, their eyes sad, filled with compassion.
"What did they say?"
"They said bad-luckers who cause their friends harm don't deserve to have friends. They only deserve to be shunned and be alone. This isn't right, we need to do something." -- Compassion
A gengineer, a roboticist, and a social worker walk into a bar... This would normally be the opening salvo in a joke, but this time it was the beginning of Phy's salvation. Phy didn't see it as that to begin with, given that she automatically repelled all attempts at friendship. It was for the best. She was Bad Lucker. Bringing ill fortune to all those she felt closeness towards. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, but it was life as she knew it.
At the time, she did her best to ignore and shun the three cognicscents putting their heads together at the other table. Their business was their business. It wouldn't be right to mess it up by existing in their atmosphere. Keep the head down, the interest minimal, and the problems averted before they could start.
It would be weeks before those three would turn up again with a parcel. With a bow on it. And an escort by the CRC. "We looked into your case," said a smiling gengineer. "All the details. You need companions." At this, Phy nearly ran screaming for the solitude of the maintenance tunnels.
Battling her allergy to Skitty dander was far better than causing trouble to random cogniscents just because they meant well. She retreated, saying, "You have to have signed the waiver. You have to have been warned. I'm devastating to people I like. I'm just waiting for a clearance to settle on a lonely world where I'll be out of range of everyone forever."
"That's not healthy and we all know it," said the CRC representative held up hir hand in a gesture for calm. "Given your animal allergies, an alternate solution had to emerge."
"But I'm bad luck, even to machines that don't believe in bad luck."
"That's why we made something completely different." The roboticist joined the gengineer in pushing the large parcel closer to Phy's threshold. "It started as a Phlorian pet-plant, but we spliced a lot of fungus into hir makeup."
The roboticist added, "I installed a suite of self-maintaing nanites to repair any and all damage that may occur by accident."
"And we added a dash of immortal jellyfish just to be going on with."
Phy risked a look. It was vaguely terrier-sized and roughly dog-shaped, though it was difficult to tell in the moment which end was the head. It... pulsed... like it was breathing.
"You could call it a puppy," said the CRC representative. "There's a remote in case you wish it to reproduce; but otherwise, make sure it has access to a moist environment, and it could potentially live forever."
Phy tried patting it. It was soft and fuzzy, but not unpleasantly so. It jumped up and nuzzled at her hand, wiggling in apparent joy.
"Hi, pup," she cooed. "Hello, Porgy."
Freshly named, Porgy jumped up into her arms and thrummed something akin to a purr. It was a very clingy whatever-it-was.
She was crying. She was happy, which was a big deal for her. Yet Phy knew she couldn't express gratitude until she was well out of range.
After all, she wanted these people to have a good day.
She and Porgy would be much happier together, in her self-imposed exile.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / makc76]
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