The Boy and His Dog (Flash)

The Boy and His Dog (Flash)

May 15, 2021

(Originally published at https://www.journeymouse.net/ on 4th October 2009)

"Once upon a time, a boy and his dog lived in a country a great way off. In those days, there were scientists and engineers. Now this boy and dog were the best of friends and they shared a great many adventures."

A sob catches the man's voice and he stops, unable to continue. He lays a hand on the plastic that contains the two companions and wonders if they can hear him. They float in their liquid stasis, almost trapped in their last moment despite being days and miles from it.

"I'll make it better. I swear."

The man wipes away tears with his spare hand.

"After a long childhood, the boy grew up to be a soldier. The dog was still his constant companion and they still continued to have adventures and travel the world."

He leans his head and spare hand against the plastic. His tears drip on to and stream down the barrier.

#

 These are the three sounds that ruin a life: the squeal of tires combined with a muffled thump; a howl that could have been either boy or dog; a car panicked up to speed and driven off.

These are the three sounds of false hope: the wail of ambulance sirens approaching; the blues and twos as the police come for a description of the vehicle; the cries of a boy for his dog and the whines of a dog for his boy combined.

These are the three sounds of the last chance: the apologies of the paramedic team as the inseparable companions must be separated; the last conscious breath of a boy being a wail for his dog; the phone call to the boss as the ambulance leaves for the hospital, knowing the end is inevitable.

 #

 "This is a military project," says the voice of the boss.

The man hangs his head although it won't be seen over the phone.

"I understand that."

"The expense," says the boss, "The bill is paid for by the Ministry."

"I know."

"The subjects must perform... defence work."

"He's too young for that," the man says.

The boss sighs, "Then I can't justify the expense."

"Wait!" the man grates out, "The soldiers, the men. They're saved on the grounds that they get the chance to buy themselves out, that they can return to civilian life when their bills are paid off."

The boss makes a non-committal noise.

"This gives us a chance to work on a civvie-street version. Lighter, unarmed."

"So they part-ex the military frame for an unarmed one? We get the old frame back, with a bit of money for their wear-and-tear, and they get something acceptable to the public. Interesting idea."

The man holds his breath. It wasn't exactly what he'd meant but any kind of acceptance was good at this stage.

"He'll still end up in the military suit."

It's like a hit in the stomach. The man lets his breath out faster and louder than intended.

"He'll have to pay off his time on life support, the work and his time in the civvie-suit. He'll not manage it in the pared down version. Even as the test case."

"He's just a child."

"I'm sure the MOD can wait until he's eighteen."

"Okay."

The single word is torn from him. Ragged and defeated. A mixed blessing. A double-edged sword. A continued life, of destiny and adventure.

"You're on, then," the boss says, "And I'm happy to green light the war-dog side project. Putting a decent sniffer dog back together is probably cheaper than training a new one that may not be as good. Once we get the process sorted. Only the other day, someone was telling me that they have to train five dogs to get one half decent one."

The man leans against door, almost collapsing.

#

The man and his wife are in the park. Around them, there are many other people doing their weekend, parkly things. Well ahead, there's a black dog - a muscular staffordshire bull terrier - by the duck pond. The tail is wagging as if it has a life of its own. The mouth that holds his ball also shapes eager whines. The dog throws longing glances at both the pond and the trailing boy.

"Sid! Sid!" the boy calls as he runs, the robotic exoskeleton hiding his childish frame and his natural way of moving.

The boy arrives, laughing without a catch in his breath. He hasn't pushed himself to reach the pond and barely feels the activity. Sid drops the ball on the ground and licks his lips as he starts to shift from leg to leg.

"Jack! Throw ball, Jack! Throw ball!"

Sid also barks, as the computerised voice comes from an implant in his neck similar to the kind used on humans who have lost the use of their voice box. The mental instruction to speak and the vocabulary come from a different part of his brain, too - neither interrupted by nor interrupting his normal canine communication.

Jack picks up the ball, still laughing.

"In water! In water! Jack, throw ball in water!"

"Don't be silly, Sid," Jack replies, rubbing the synthetic fur, "We've not been water-proofed yet. You'll have to wait until next summer."

"Now! Now!"

Jack laughs and throws the ball in the direction of his parents, distracting his companion. He has to pull the throw to ensure that Sid won't run too far past them. Then he leans into the temporary frame and gives chase.

Next year, they'll both be water-proof. And Jack will be allowed to "grow" big enough to have an internal frame and his own, synthetic skin will cover all signs of his destiny.

 #

 Once upon a time, a boy and his dog lived in a country a great way off. In those days, there were scientists and engineers. Now this boy and dog were the best of friends and they shared a great many adventures.

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