Gretta woke to sunlight shining in the cave, blocked for a moment as Hans came inside. “I went up the hill to get a look at the land,” he said. “I saw something that looked like a roof, about half a kilometer away. I’m going to go check it out.”

She tried to sit up. “No, you just stay there in the sun and get some rest,” he said. “I’ll go have a look and come back.” He tucked the sleeping bag around her and left a water bottle within reach.

She lay back down without a word. She felt him lean over and feel her forehead and then the darkness came crashing down again.

Gretta awoke again, to find herself moving. She looked around vaguely. She was lying on a makeshift sled made out of a panel off a battle mech, and tied in place with plastic coated wire. The wind shook the tree above her and showered her with droplets. She shut her eyes again. Then she woke again to find Hans lifting her with a grunt of effort. She blinked hard, but couldn’t seem to focus. Before her was something that looked like a three-story alpine chalet, but the view kept wavering. The whole building appeared to have been coated in a pixelated camouflage pattern that made it blend into the forest.

Carrying her, Hans slowly climbed the wooden steps to an ordinary looking front door. Before he could touch it, the door swung open with a click, and a woman’s voice from within called out: “Oh, you poor children! Come in, my dears. Come in.”

She sounded like all the kindest and most wonderful grandmothers in the world had been blended together and distilled. And then everything went away for a long time.

Gretta could feel a soft mattress beneath her. She kept her eyes shut tight, enjoying the feeling of clean sheets. This was probably a dream, and she wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible. There was a sound approaching that didn’t fit in with the dream. Snick, snick, snick, gradually getting louder. Gretta opened her eyes. There was a shiny metal spider the size of a small dog standing next to the bed. It waved a metal hand at her. She screamed, and it skittered back a couple of steps. Hans came in the door, smiling.

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“Don’t worry about that, it’s just one of Grandmother’s Hands. Are you thirsty?” His smile was too wide. He rubbed his nose with his thumb twice slowly, part of the secret language they’d made up when they were small. This sign meant play along.

“Yes.” Gretta found her voice. Her throat felt raw and dry. “Yes, I am quite thirsty.”

Hans turned to the spider. “Grandmother, could you make Gretta some tea, please?” It made a thumbs-up sign and skittered away through the door. He turned and sat down on her bed, and held a glass of water to her lips. She sipped slowly.

“The voice output is broken on that one, or she would have said something to you.”

“She? Who is she? And what did you mean, Grandmother’s Hands?” Gretta said. Her voice was louder than she’d intended. Silently Hans laid one finger on his lips, then keeping up a steady stream of chatter about how she’d been sick with blood poisoning from the flechette wound and how worried he’d been.

“Thankfully I found some antibiotics here that took care of the infection,” he said. “I expect you’re keen to get cleaned up. I’ll run a bath.”

He helped her out of bed and into a bathroom across the corridor. Gretta sat down on the edge of the bath. She was still feeling dizzy. Hans started the water running and turned to her.

“We’re in a ninety-year-old house run by an AI named Grandmother,” he whispered. “She has two droids that act as her eyes and ears, and hands. There are auditory and video pick-ups scattered about, but I haven’t found any in the bedrooms or bathrooms, yet.”

“I think this house was built as a bolt-hole by some eccentric billionaire during the Crazy Years. Somewhere to wait out a pandemic or a war, I guess. I don’t think the builders ever finished the place, as lots of the rooms aren’t even furnished. Also, Grandmother is batshit crazy. She’s a fifth generation AI— remember, they’re the ones that got all AI systems banned because they kept killing people? She’s absolutely delighted to finally have some real live people to look after, and she won’t let us go outside. Ever. Be very careful what you say. Don’t mention Papa, or going home. Just tell her how happy you are to be here, and how nice it is to have a grandmother. If she asks, we’re both ten years old. Her database is incomplete—maybe because they were trying to avoid the gen-5 instability problems, or because the house was never finished. Either way she seems to be missing information about lots of things, including how children behave, so we may have an advantage there.”

She heard the snick, snick, snick of the Hand coming up the stairs. Hans stepped outside and came back with an earthenware mug. He dumped the contents in the sink. “It’s not really tea, just some wild herbs the Hands gather. Tastes awful, and I’m not even sure they’re not toxic.” He turned off the bath taps.

Gretta blinked at him, and slumped to one side. “You know, this really is a fascinating dream, but I really think I’d like to wake up now,” she said.