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“I’m so glad you're coming up to the station with us!” Arada said as we boarded the shuttle. “Is there anything in particular you like us to help you find at the tradefair? A sweater, maybe? Ganda usually brings some of zir knitting. Remember, you can take what you like. We’ve brought plenty to give in exchange.”
Yes, I knew. I’d watched the chaos as Mensah and her family and all the visiting PresAUX members dealt with the many woven bags of flattened food things, string made from fauna hair, sweet insect spit or something, stuff in jars, and clothing made using sticks (not made out of sticks, that would be uncomfortable). It had all been loaded onto an irritatingly cheerful porter bot and we were finally on our way.
I’ll come along, I’d told Mensah, for security.
“Of course. I’m so glad SecUnit,” she’d answered. Did I think this unneeded-stuff-getting trip would require a SecUnit? There was a 94% chance of “no.” But that was still a 6% chance of “yes.”
At the station, rows of tables had been set up, with humans arranging their too-much stuff to give away (still weird) for the Eidi Festival (and also the Yuletide Festival, and the Festival of Lights, and I think there were some others. Everyone kept telling me about all the holiday traditions, and I kept deleting it from memory since I didn’t need the details: eating, gifts, singing, and lighting things on fire was the gist). All the juveniles and adults scattered and started touching and exclaiming over things. It took all my attention and every drone I had to keep track of them. It was a security nightmare. Although threat assessment seemed to think the smiling faces and happy demeanors of the humans and augmented humans meant violence was unlikely.
Drone 3 tracked Arada weaving through the crowd towards me. She was carrying an item of clothing, which she presented to me with a smile that was directed at my shoulder. The clothing was dark blue, thick and stretchy.
“It’s knitted from Ganda’s special goats!” Arada said cheerfully. Made from goats? But the sweater itself wasn’t goaty. It was soft. “Ganda made it special for you. I do hope you won’t mind trying it on?”
I pulled the sweater over my head (a design flaw compared to a jacket, although at least I could use my drones to keep an eye on my surroundings for the 1.7 seconds my vision was obscured). It fit over my torso perfectly, snug but not too tight, and the elbow-length sleeves wouldn’t interfere with my gun ports. Then I noticed the front of the sweater was… decorated. There was the moon logo of Sanctuary Moon, the ship from Worldhoppers, the time device from Timestream Defenders, and a few others. Many of the images were barely recognizable, made from individual stitches of different colors. Possibly it was ugly, but I didn't have a sweater design assessment module. I usually hated logos, but these weren’t logos claiming me. I decided I liked this sweater.
“I’m supposed to give something in return?” I asked.
“I already did! Ganda was really happy to have more of Tano’s dried pappardelle. But ze would appreciate it if you could tell zir you like it?"
Ugh. Just ugh.
Arada guessed my hesitation, “I could send an image thank you, if that’s easier?”
“Fine.”
Arada pointed the camera aperture of her feed interface at me and said, “Give me a thumbs up!” And fuck, why did I just do that? Arada with her happy face had way too much influence over me.
Arada went off and I continued monitoring my humans. Eventually Mensah announced it was time to return. The last shuttle back to the planet was departing soon. Everyone arrived, a few at a time, with those who were able carrying the bags of those who weren't. I pinged for a porter bot (or maybe we’d even need a hauler bot? Humans had way too much stuff). Most of the bots were already engaged, but one who’d named itself Max-E-Mo arrived. I relayed the job to it as a series of images of the many bags. It replied with an affirmative ping, but also sent me an invitation to the station bots' yuletide story exchange party. Oh. It was tonight. If this bot hauled our stuff downplanet, it wouldn’t be able to return in time for the party. Maybe it could join the party via the feed, but I think it sent me the invite for a reason (and it wasn’t because it thought I’d attend the party, I’d already declined this invitation hundreds of times from bots all over the station). It was letting me know it would miss the party. I let the bot know we didn't need its services and sent it on its way. It replied with an acknowledgment and also a camera capture of me in my sweater, but with added radiating pink lines… a compliment for my sweater in image-based bot language. Great.
Mensah, Arada, I said as I pulled them into a private feed channel, There are no bots available for the bags. I will carry them. Of course, they objected. But also: they respected my single insistence that this was the best course of action. My humans are the best.
I held my arms straight out and locked my joints. One by one, my humans and their humans approached and hung the bags on my arms. I needed to lower myself so the smaller juveniles could reach. When the first round of bags was on, I raised my arms to shift the bag handles to my shoulders, then straightened them again to accommodate more. Eventually all the bags were hooked onto me. I crossed my arms and clasped hands to elbows for maximum stability. If required in an emergency, I could drop all the bags in a single movement that would take 0.39 seconds. Picking all the bags up again would take an irritating 7.2 minutes, so hopefully the need would not arise. After checking the shuttle with my drones, I indicated the humans could board. I entered after them, barely clearing the door with the wide bulk of packages surrounding me. The bag handles tightening against the organic skin along my arms was painful, but I tuned down my pain sensors. My organic muscles started to shake slightly with fatigue (murderbots are designed for bursts of murderous activity, not holding gifts for a long time), but having my joints locked made it easier. I divided my attention throughout the shuttle, listening to the humans talk happily about their stuff-getting trip and how the stuff they’d give would make the recipient so happy. I also watched episode 87 of Sanctuary Moon, the one where the colony solicitor gathers with her complicated family for yuleday and no one gets killed or betrayed for once. Periodically, someone would check in to make sure I was doing okay. “Fine,” I’d always say. “Thanks,” I said when they praised my new sweater. I felt uncomfortable (what with the heavy bags and people complimenting clothes). But also satisfied. I’d watched enough holiday-themed media to understand what was going on here: Murderbot had just saved Christmas.