The goat was there again, legs tucked, waiting outside the station.
She arrived a few minutes later than she did yesterday, when the storm swept away whole clumps of her head’s synthetic black fur.
Just like how she would boot up tomorrow a few minutes later than she did today, from how her solar batteries have degraded over the years.
Still the goat stayed, watching people materialize and cars fly by.
Waiting.
Because how was she supposed to know that her owner had suffered a stroke in his office just before their move to a new world? He never did get around to installing that translator chip in her, leaving her reliant on bleats and whines to get people to leave her alone.
“Your owner has passed away, Hachiyagi,” neighbors that have long moved on used to tell her. “Don’t you need a power outlet? Come with us; we’ll plug you in at home!”
“Meeeh!”
“Aren’t you lonely there, Hachiyagi?”
“Baaaah!”
“Wow, it’s that famous goat! Hey, can we take pictures with you?”
“Meeeeeh!”
She would bleat and whine for all of them to get out of her face, lest she missed her owner emerging from the always crowded exit. She would even headbutt their knees until they went away; sometimes once, usually up to a dozen times.
“Meeeeeh!” she would then cry in victory.
Except this new stranger today was a lot pushier. With frail wrinkly fingers, she reached underneath Hachiyagi’s chin and caressed her beard, where her friendship sensors were the most sensitive.
She felt ticklish. She felt good.
She felt guilty.
“Meeeeh!” Hachiyagi bolted into a sprint, to the tune of the rusty gears in her joints creaking along.
She used to sprint with so much more spirit. But it’d been forever since she was last fully charged. The solar cells on her back weren’t of much help anymore either, ever since they started flaking off with her fur. Yet, though she stumbled and staggered, Hachiyagi ran on and on until the stranger was gone.
Unfortunately, so was her view of the terminal, as well as of the buses landing, and of the portals opening, and of the countless faceless people rushing into them and out.
Distant from them all, Hachiyagi worried about missing the only face in all the worlds she cared about, the only one that her faulty processors kept archived from before her revival procedure.
“I’ll just get the rest of my stuff in the office, Hachiyagi! I’ll be back in an hour!” She could still remember walking with him to the station, after a hectic morning of watching him pack everything they own. “Have a party on the grass, okay? Then we’ll go to a new world together!”
And like a good goat she waited. Despite the harsh summer days that burned her skin out, and the heavy autumn rains that shorted her circuitry, and these long winter nights that shut her systems down until the sun was warm enough to get them re-energized.
Despite her tummy beeping and vibrating almost the entire time.
She headed back to the terminal, hesitant, dreading the patches of grass around it that were beginning to brown for the season. They tasted horrid and, in her rusting unmaintained stomach, they were nearly indigestible. But her owner promised her that they were moving to another world soon. So like a good goat, she always tried to stay filled up and ready for the journey they could embark on any minute now.
She stomped across the grass, their texture unnatural and their color unappealing. She bent her neck down and closed her eyes; she proceeded to munch. Yet, she hadn’t even swallowed her first mouthful when the stranger from earlier approached again, this time with red, rough, rotund treats in her crinkly palm.
Hachiyagi’s memory vault rumbled with recognition — her owner used to spoil her with these! Every year once the snow had stopped falling; when it was warm enough for a walk outside without her beloved blue blanket draped all over her.
These were her favorites, she remembered. Strawberries.
“Here, Hachiyagi, have a party!” The kind words reminded her of her owner’s, though they came not from a handsome middle-aged man, but from a feeble elderly woman.
“We’ll go to a new world together, okay?”
That lovely voice echoed inside Hachiyagi’s mind again. So despite the excruciating gastric beeps, she turned around and trotted away, her dry frizzy tail bouncing off her back.
She trotted and scurried then darted and scooted. Eventually, she found herself home. Or at least where it used to be.
She still retained figments of when it resembled an oversized crate with its wooden walls and tatami floors, a few turns and corners away from the terminal. A five-minute walk if her legs were functional and her batteries were full; now up to fifteen with both breaking down.
It was a plain home. Even her owner said so. He’d been unable to afford anything fancier since shelling out his savings for her revival from a life she’d lost track of. Still, it was cozy and lovely and enough.
It was also quite noisy, almost unbearable to every guest he’d invited to drop by, sandwiched between a virtual reality cafe, and a crowded multiversal pub. Fortunately, that made them the only neighbors in the city who didn’t mind Hachiyagi’s constant braying or jumping that got them kicked out of other unoptimized apartments in the past.
“Meeeh all you want here, Hachiyagi!” her owner laughed when they first moved in, and she brayed as loudly as her speakers let her.
“Meeeehh!”
But their humble home was now a high-tech parking lot, host to hoverbikes and flying cars, and a charging station for vehicles and revived pets of all kinds — just not Hachiyagi, who could not pay her missing owner’s rent and was shooed away by the demolition workers when they eventually arrived.
“Go away!” Hachiyagi yelled at the parking lot, even though it didn’t do anything bad. Yet she still blamed it for her owner’s disappearance, her creaking joints, and everything else that had been going wrong in her life.
A few more tourists passing by from other worlds thought she was adorable. They squealed and took pictures and fawned over her.
“Go away!” She sent them giggling back to their portals with her hornless skull.
When she was alone again, she resumed whining at the parking lot. Each whimper, however, began to get weaker than the last, with the winter cold starting to shut her systems down again for the night.
“Come back!” she pleaded to her old home. It didn’t reply of course, because it wasn’t there anymore. Just like her owner.
“Come back!”
The parking lot had no answer for her.
The sun was nearly gone, and with it, was Hachiyagi’s energy. Her bionic heart was pacing down; she was going to take her long empty nap again soon. She would still rise when the sun had refilled her batteries enough, but with her owner gone, she sometimes wished she would not.
“Come back!” she whimpered, drowned out by the intoxicated tourists laughing and singing in the bar next door.
Eventually, the cold proved too much. Her rectangular eyes turned white. Her speakers went silent. Her heart powered down.
Maybe tomorrow, she thought, the same thought she had yesterday and the day before. Maybe tomorrow.
Or maybe not.
Then she felt warmth embracing her.
Hachiyagi visualized her owner. Kind, handsome, and thoughtful. He was draping her favorite blue blanket over her trembling skinny body, finally back from wherever he’d been.
She felt her beard being caressed. The hand was frailer and wrinklier, but just as loving as she remembered.
With the last percentage in her batteries, she forced her eyes to flicker back.
It was the elderly woman from earlier.
Hachiyagi wanted to run, but her legs had powered down for the night. She wanted to yell at the stranger to go away, but her mouth registered strawberries instead. And like every other goat, organic or bionic, programmed by life to nibble whatever they had in front — Hachiyagi ended up munching on a couple.
They were delightful.
The stranger’s aged hand ran over the goat’s furless head.
“I’m sorry that I died too early in your universe, Hachiyagi.” The stranger sounded just like her owner, but worn out and eroded by even more years than Hachiyagi had endured.
“I’m sorry I took you for granted when you were still in mine.”
The woman went back to her pockets and rummaged. She pulled out a palm overflowing with even more strawberries.
The goat had a party.
“And I’m sorry it took me so long to find this timeline of yours.”
Hachiyagi had no idea what the stranger was saying. Yet, despite her ticklish beard, she knew she had to bleat properly what was spilling out of her heart.
“Welcome back!”
Then she munched on the strawberries again, her stomach beeping no longer.
When the sun rose the next day, the goat was not there by the station anymore.
She was finally back home.
Arvee Fantilagan grew up in the Philippines, lives in Japan, and has more of his works at his website. He hopes to write a better bio someday.
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