A Prayer for the Crown-Shy (Monk & Robot, #2)

by Becky Chambers

“It’s what they’ve decided I meant,” Mosscap said, “and therefore, yes, I’m okay with it.”

They were running up against a wall, and it didn’t matter whether they understood where the wall had come from, or what it was made of. The only way to get through it was to stop trying, for a while. So, they would not make tea in Stump. They would not make tea anywhere unless they really, truly felt like it.

Welcome comfort, they reminded themself, rubbing the little pectin-printed bear with their thumb. Without it, you cannot stay strong.

“I appreciate anthills. I like foggy mornings. I don’t know if I have much use for pebs.”

“I am having the most incredible experience out here. I’ve seen species of trees that don’t live in my part of the world. I’ve been on a boat. I’ve played with domesticated cats. I have a satchel!”

“Well, that’s the nice thing about trees.” Mosscap put its hands on its hips as it looked around. “They’re not going anywhere. You can take all the time you need to get to know them.”

The crowd that appeared was as familiar to Dex as the scenery on the road. It wasn’t just the faces and the voices but the aprons, the field clothes, the dish towels tossed over a shoulder or two, the hands covered in dough that still required kneading, the cheeks red from an argument hastily dropped, the pant-leg that had something spilled upon it, and the volume at which everyone shouted hello.