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Time Passed

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There was something liberating-- wonderful and basic about the simple act of physical labor and it was one of the few things that could quell the disquiet in Sampson's mind. Originally created as a guard model of genetically altered life form, the humanoid Newfoundland hadn't held such a position in nearly four decades. The Geniticon had been manufactured in the core worlds and he'd fully expected to die there, quite likely in the service to the family that had originally purchased him from the laboratory that had assembled his genetic code. Fate, for some reason, had different plans for him and time had brought forth numerous changes.

Sampson hadn't spent those forty-odd years actively doing anything, in fact, he spent most of it cryogenically frozen after all but giving his life for his employer. The Dog froze mid-motion of moving a stack of oxygen scrubbers; he'd almost gone an entire day without thinking about Jacob but that just made it hurt all the more. He'd seen the young man grow up; he'd served as the boy's guard dog, comforted him after the loss of his parents; they were even one-time lovers, but all of that was gone.

A firm-but-attentive baritone spoke up from off to his right, rural-Mars drawl evident in almost every word."Everythin' okay over there, Sammy?"

The Newfoundland was quick to respond to his boss, a significantly smaller Short Haired Pointer. "No. Just fine, Mr. Fowler, Sir... I thought maybe one of my implants was acting up, but I guess I'm still getting used to them."

It felt strange calling a Gen nearly thirty years his junior 'sir' but, side by side, Jeremiah Fowler looked easily ten years his senior-- just one of the side effects of long term cryo. His boss strolled over, reaching up to give him a gentle pat on his organic-mesh shoulder. "Don't fret, Sammy... ah told ya before ah don't want ya hurtin' yerself, an' the Director'll have mah hide if ya break somethin'... ah can only imagine how 'spensive an augment is, let alone a replacement."

Cybernetic and bio replacements were still relatively new technology when Sampson had essentially died protecting his estranged employer. Jacob, the boy Dog had known as the son of his employer had taken over his contract after the boy's family had died in an act of assassination. Although they were there for one another after their mutual loss, Jacob had eventually grown distant and, ultimately, started some unhealthy habits. Sampson didn't approve, of course, and said as much, at which point, after enough arguments, the Dog was dismissed from service. He had two weeks to clear out of the estate, but nine days into that 14 day window he'd been able to provide one last act of service.

Sampson had intercepted the gauss blast meant for Jacob using his own body, resulting in his arm being nearly severed, and much of his torso getting minced, but he was still able to return fire, killing the would-be assassin, and, the rest of it was lost to blackness. When the Dog next awoke it was in a room not unlike the one in which he'd been birthed; it was a lab and he was connected to a variety of machines. He was ill at ease until the Geneticon Collie doctor attending him gave him a hormonal sedative, at which point Sampson's one and only guest was allowed in to visit.

Jacob Metzger was barely 22 when Sampson had saved his life, yet, looking upon his one-time ward, it took a moment for the Dog to remember him; Jacob was older but the man's scent, however, had barely changed... just mellowed with time. The boy he'd seen born was in his early 60s and, Sampson learned, had been happily married for over thirty years. Regardless, Jacob had never forgotten Sampson's devotion and, despite having been so angry with him toward the end, was unwilling and unable to let Sampson die. It took four decades for the advancement of medical technology to restore him, and Jacob had bankrolled all of it.

AETHERCORP, as the development company was known, was at the forefront of a number of technological advancements and, as it happened, the doctor in charge of seeing to Sampson's recovery was the CEO himself. The two Dogs had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with one another over the next few days as Alvin Parker, the CEO and Sampson's medical caretaker brought him up to speed and helped him figure out how his new body worked. In truth, only about 35% of his body had been replaced but, as Sampson attempted to familiarize himself with it he found out that there were numerous problems in how it connected with what Alvin referred to as a 'neuro-mechanical interface'. The entire process was frustrating but the Collie put things into perspective.

Helping him up after what was probably the twentieth fall in the physical therapy office, the surprisingly strong, wiry Dog just smiled, tail wagging encouragingly. "Every step helps write new neural pathways and familiarizes your prosthetics with your brain."

Despite his frustration, Sampson found something odd about that statement. "Don't you mean that the other way around? Shouldn't it be getting my brain used to the cybernetics?"

Alvin just blinked blankly at him. "No... I do believe I had it correct the first time."

Sampson scowled. "My brain knows how to move an arm... it needs to learn how to move a god damn piece of metal."

The doctor was the picture of serene calm despite his patient's obvious annoyance. "Technically, your prosthetics are a collection of polymer weave and micro electronics-- very little metal at all, but I understand your point. Be that as it may, your brain needs only remember how to move your body; all of the actual learning is going on inside the new hardware."

Sampson maintained a grip on the railing he used to hold himself up as he looked down at his right arm; although it was designed to superficially resemble a flesh and blood limb, close inspection revealed that it was synthetic. Focusing, he willed it to rise so he could look at the paw; it took some doing, but he met with some success. "The problem is, this damn thing doesn't want to listen to me."

Moving to his side, Alvin gently detached him from the support bar and with surreal aptitude, all but carried the Newfounland to a wheelchair. "Your brain and the operating code for your cybernetics speak in different languages, Sampson. Processing systems may be very fast, but they are also very stupid. To reference a humorous 20th century idiom, you must remember that 'Computer are just fast idiots.'. The right code must be written to tell your new arm and leg what to do. Given time, you will find that your body will respond exactly how you remember it."

Alvin had been right, of course, and, nearly a year later, Sampson began to see the humor in that interaction; the Collie was, in fact, a synthetic being himself. Letting out a sigh, the Dog glanced down, raising his arm so he could open and close his paw in front of his face. Jeremiah, who was still watching him asked "You sure you're a'right? Although ah wouldn't mind keepin ya fer a few more cycles, ah know yer transfer's comin' up an' ya gotta be in good shape if yer gonna be headin' over t' Tau Delta."

Sampson nodded, lowering his arm. "I'm fine, Jerry... thanks. I think I'll probably just get to bed early tonight after this shift's over."

The two Dogs got back to work. Sampson often found himself reflecting on life-- the one he led and the one he didn't. There was a strange disconnect between the two, and he tried hard to convince himself there was a reason for it. When Alvin had tapped him for a transfer to an outer rim space station, the Newfoundland put his faith in the fact that it would lead him to something more.

Ultimately, it did.