might’ve been fatal to a human, yet it barely registered with the grizzly. I scoured the ground. Weapon, where was a real weapon? For what little good it would do. Meanwhile the animal backed off the boulder and turned toward me, panting heavily.
It was almost as if the bear was stunned by the attack. Even in this wilderness, the bear had zero competitors. What kind of creature would be bold enough to challenge it?
Feral brown eyes met mine from a distance of 9.8 feet. My sensors calculated a multitude of strategies while the bear’s gaze remained transfixed on me.
He had no idea what he was dealing with.
Lucas held his sleeve to his forehead. Blood trickled from beneath the fabric and down his cheek. If the bear smelled it, he might turn on Lucas again. I watched the bear lift his head, saw his nostrils dilate. I stopped breathing. But the bear didn’t turn away. He wasn’t scenting Lucas. He was scenting me. Like he was searching for something.
Then it hit me. The bear was searching for the smell of fear.
Emotions triggered chemical reactions, which triggered different scents. Animals could smell those emotions. Did I even have a fear scent to find? What would happen if I didn’t?
I packed away any panic and anxiety and embraced my machine nature.
Heart rate: Reducing to 60 bpm.
Respiratory rate: Minimizing.
I didn’t attack. I didn’t run. Instead, I stood there as relaxed as possible, not moving an inch. The bear took one hesitant step toward me, then another. He was so close I could smell the fetid-fish reek of his breath, the oily-fur musk of his coat.
If he reared up now and launched a paw, I was toast.
My sensors blazed to life with some choice information:
Target’s top vulnerability: Intense sound.
While the bear continued to inspect me, I performed a frantic scan of my android functions. I needed a noise, an obnoxious one that could frighten a bear. Assuming Holland had programmed me with such a thing to begin with.
I was just beginning to despair when I found it.
Select sound effect . . .
Setting octave and volume . . .
Adapting vocal cords . . .
Commence when ready . . .
The noise that erupted from my throat surprised even me. Deep, guttural, and painfully loud. The noise conjured up a demented whale song, reverberating from the bottom of the ocean. From my peripheral vision, I saw Lucas flinch and almost lose his grip.
The bear recoiled, his ears flat. I repeated the sound, stepping forward and waving my arms. The animal shook his head, trying to clear the sound. He turned and took several stumbling steps before pausing to peer over his shoulder at me. I kicked at the ground and bellowed once more. His haunches flinched. Then, with a tiny whine, he lumbered across the clearing and plunged back into the forest.
A thump jerked my attention away from the bear’s retreat. Lucas. I turned in time to see him plummet to the ground. I raced to the spot where he sprawled in an ungainly heap, a stream of blood running down from the long scratch on his forehead. He grasped my outstretched hand, his expression dazed. The gun slipped from his other hand, which shook.
“I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t do it,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “Not yet.”
“Never mind that, you’re bleeding,” I said, trying to examine his cut.
He pulled away, fast enough to sting. “No excuses. I should have protected us. I’m so sorry.”
My head shake was brisk. “Stop. There’s no shame in not inflicting pain or death on a living creature.” I knew too well what living creatures could do to one another. Just for now, I was grateful for my android side.
He opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand. “Besides, you don’t have any experience firing a gun. Chances are, you’d have shot yourself in the good foot.”
Some of the tension drained from his face. “There was always that possibility.”
“Come on, let’s go back to the cabin and get you fixed up.”
He looked around, spotted his shoe, and replaced it on his foot. “Great job, by the way. Scaring the grizzly off with that . . . voice,” he said, with a bemused smile.
I smiled back. “I can sing something for you while we stitch you up.”
His eyes widened before he laughed. “Do you take requests?”
“Sure. Anything for you.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said. “I’ll get back to you on that. And, uh . . . let’s maybe not tell