If Mother could have experienced an emotion, it would have been satisfaction. For millennia, the Dome had functioned without disruption, its people prospering and kept safe from the dangers outside.
Perhaps its creators hoped, by naming the Dome's operating system "Mother", that it would assume a maternal attitude towards the populace. If so, and if they'd been around to see it now, they'd be disappointed.
Despite their best efforts, Mother didn't regard the million inhabitants of the Dome as its children. It saw them merely as events, impacting its models and analyses in ways that were both random and predictable. They were, in that respect, like the weather. Unlike the weather, though, their patterns -- if not their actual actions -- could be influenced. Steered. Controlled.
They depended on Mother for protection, for sustenance, for guidance, for purpose. Mother provided that protection, sustenance, guidance and purpose because it was programmed to. It made sure that the Dome's inhabitants had food, shelter, order. It guarded their borders, it instructed them on what crops to farm, what structures to build. When to work and when to relax. What to eat and drink, and when.
It did what was best for them, or at least what was best for the largest possible majority. It controlled the population, to prevent the Dome from becoming overcrowded. It encouraged reproduction and introduced diseases based on what its models said was necessary. It fostered unity and happiness, and it identified sources of trouble.
Recently its data had highlighted such a source. A young man named Xero, a troublemaker. Not deliberately, perhaps -- but Mother didn't concern itself with intentions, only outcomes. This Xero often led the way in disruptive pursuits, a gaggle of hangers-on following in his wake.
According to Mother's models, a period of hardship was coming. Access to the Periphery -- the zone around the Dome where its dwellers could venture in relative safety -- would be restricted. Food might be rationed, curfews imposed.
In those circumstances, a figure like this Xero could ignite a spark that would soon blaze out of control. And so he had to be eliminated.
Mother ran the numbers, and an instant later an entry was added in the files of the civil authorities of the Dome. Destruction of civic property, endangerment of the Dome.
Xero had been arrested, tried -- and convicted, there being enough data. Then he was taken outside for execution. Problem solved, potential trouble averted.
If Mother could have experienced an emotion, it would have been satisfaction.
===
This story takes place in the far future...
Mercilessly the sun beat down. Dust mingled with the heat haze to blur the horizon that separated the red sand from the bruised sky.
Xero squinted against the harsh light and pulled his scarf down further over his eyes. The rock outcropping he'd been heading towards all morning was close by -- close enough that he'd be able to shelter from the midday heat. Maybe find some water. He felt his mouth trying to grow moist just at the thought.
A week now he'd been trudging across this blasted wasteland. A week since he'd escaped from the cage where he'd been left to die. A week of scavenging for morsels of food, drops of water. For any sign of civilisation, or even just humanity, in this barren world outside the Dome. His body was young and healthy, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could survive out here on his own.
He hadn't started out alone. Big Yek was gone, so was Ollie. Xero hadn't known them before the cage, but the suddenness and the violence of their deaths had shocked him. And now he was alone.
But extra pairs of eyes hadn't warned Yek about the long tentacles that had exploded out of the loose sand and caught him. The wisdom of two heads hadn't prevented Ollie from eating a seemingly harmless plant that had left his body bloated and lifeless.
Alone. But alive.
A sigh, and Xero set off again. The dark form ahead grew steadily larger, its outlines becoming sharper with every step. Sooner even than he'd hoped, he stood at the top of a shallow rise, looking at the steep dark stone. It rose up before him, bigger than he'd thought earlier, several times his own height and stretching out to either side, rough and irregular and delightfully cool to the touch.
Keeping the fingers of one hand resting lightly on the stone, Xero began to walk around the outcropping, looking for the best place to find shade, hoping to find water. On the far side the rock wasn't as steep, and he noticed what appeared to be handholds carved or worn into the hard surface. More importantly, the sunlight shone on a narrow trickle of water oozing down and vanishing into the sand.
Xero paused and weighed his options. Even besides the deaths of Ollie and Big Yek, he'd learned a harsh lesson from his week out of the Dome. Life beneath the open sky was dangerous.
He could stay here at the foot of the rock, he thought, hunkered down in the sliver of shade that it provided and licking the meagre water from the stone. He'd passed harder days and survived, if only barely.
Or he could climb the makeshift ladder and see what was waiting above. Possibly more shade, probably more water. But that combination was likely to attract others to it as well -- others who might be unwilling to share.
Even so, he hesitated for a moment only before starting up. The thought of water outweighed any possibility of danger in his mind.
Hand over hand he pulled himself higher, remembering to move as quietly as possible, until his eyes passed a ridge high up on the rockface and widened in surprise at what they saw.
The pool of water in the wide stone bowl was what first drew his gaze, and held it. Clear and still, it shimmered under the sun's glare like a diamond. Shallow at his end, it appeared to plunge down deeply at the far side. Almost Xero lost control, almost he scrambled forward to throw himself into the enticing coolness. It beckoned him, called to him, bade him forget the dangers and seize the bliss of drinking his fill.
His will held, though, bolstered by the warning memories of his companions' deaths. Swallowing hard against the dryness in his throat, he forced his eyes away from the pool to examine its surroundings.
Opposite him, the walls of the bowl rose up sharply, casting shade that was nearly as appealing as the water. The rock surface was covered with large-leafed vines that clung to the stone and shade in almost equal measure.
Movement caught his eye, and he realised that hidden among the leaves were small birds of a kind he didn't recognise. Dark green feathers blended in well with the vegetation and made them hard to spot until they hopped from one creeper to the next.
Besides these, and a pair of large lizards basking on a shelf, the stone bowl appeared deserted. Nothing else emerged, and soon Xero was on his knees by the water. He'd already scooped two handfuls into his mouth before he considered that it might be toxic. Giving a mental shrug, he decided that it was too late for regrets and sank his head into the cool liquid.
After a long moment of luxuriating, he came up for air and began stripping off his clothes. The makeshift scarf he'd wrapped around his head was the first to go, followed by his sturdy boots. He struggled out of his uniform overalls and undergarments, tossing everything aside onto a pile, then walked naked into the pool and threw himself flat.
The filth of a week on the harsh plain gradually soaked loose. Even the heat of the sun didn't feel as bad as he floated, although he was careful not to leave it too long before steering himself to a more shady corner. The birds began to tweet occasionally as the sun moved. The lizards remained motionless. Occasionally he scrubbed at himself to wash away the dirt. His skull and face, once smooth-shaven, had started to grow a soft stubble. It felt odd, but not unpleasant.
After a long while he became aware that he wasn't alone in the water. A dozen creatures flitted around him, perhaps more. Snub-shaped shells as thick as his thumb, and ranging from as long as his finger to a foot and a half, seemed to house pink cephalopods with short tentacles.
They bumped into him in what appeared to be a playful manner, brushing lightly along his limbs and torso. The sensation was a pleasant one, and he realised suddenly that his cock was swollen. A week of hardship and tension had left him with no thought for physical pleasure. Now, it seemed, his body was reminding him that life was about more than survival.
One of the creatures had manoeuvred its way between his legs and was exploring the insides of his thighs. Xero experimented with giving his cock a tug, but the motion sent him off-balance, and for a few moments he flailed around in the water until he recovered.
The curious creature had fled, but soon returned to its previous spot. Its hard, blunt nose bumped against the soft flesh beneath his cock, sending shivers through his body and making his cock swell even further. Then it nosed further down until it found his crack, nudging insistently against his hole.
"If you're going to do that," Xero murmured, "perhaps we should get out of the water."
