False Equivalencies by Evangeline Giaconia

Utopia Science Fiction Magazine | June 2025

Synth’s bad knee circuitry pulsed. It was raining on zir quadrant on Metztli, the moon’s surface pelted with thick, dark precipitation that would stain the streets for days. Synth peeked out zir window, wincing as zir eye socket crackled, orange starburst hallucinations fuzzing across zir vision.

It was going to be a bad day.

Synth stumbled around zir little house, getting tripped up as zir ankle followed zir knee, pulsing and sparking from the humidity. Ze had to wrestle zir feet into workboots as zir toes twitched involuntarily.

A pointed note had been left on the front door. “STAY HOME PLEASE.”

Pointedly ignoring it, Synth extended an umbrella, looked out onto the streets with a dire expression, and then forced zirself forward, one jumping leg at a time, boots splatting down into the dense puddles. This area of Metzli was a remote corner of a remote city: it was mostly industrial buildings and defunct factories. Zir work was sustained by mail-in orders.

By the time ze made it to the shop, zir hands were losing function, finger joints twitching sporadically. A pulsing electric headache shot from one temple to the other, and ze stumbled through the door with a gasp of relief.

“Synth!” came the immediate, outraged shout. “I told you to stay home!”

Synth folded the umbrella and dragged a shaking hand across zir eyes, trying to rub out the sparks of orange. “It’s as bad here as it is at home, Huitzi.”

Huitzi folded her arms, a scowl across her lips. Synth’s platonic partner was a burly human cyborg, but all of her additions were enhancements. Fingertip inserts to work with tiny circuitry. One silver eyeball for molecular-level magnifying. And bright green and blue hair to mimic the feathers of her ancient Earth-creature namesake, some sort of dinosaur.

Synth, a barely-functioning android, felt defunct in contrast. Ze tried to grin at Huitzi, but zir mouth glitched and spasmed, and ze covered it with a hand with a burn of humiliation.

“Oh, just get in here and dry off,” Huitzi said, bustling over to zir with a sheet. She began to vigorously tousle off Synth’s short hair, becoming more gentle as she attended to zir hand and wrist joints. “You’re all swollen.”

“I know. I can still work, though.”

Sighing, Huitzi turned her back and let Synth do as ze liked, which was totter over to zir workstation to resume diagnostics on a malfunctioning personal pad. Ze got stuck in for a solid three hours, working through little finger tics and spasms with all the practice a year had given zir, before the first real seizure hit.

Zir hands dropped the pad and tools to the desktop with a clatter. Huitzi turned around in alarm, but Synth couldn’t pay her any attention — zir head was filled with a painful static. Ze could wait for it to pass, as zir eyelids blinked repetitively, one after the other, and zir fingers curled and uncurled one at a time, completely beyond zir control.

Thankfully, Huitzi knew what to do, after months of witnessing similar episodes. Through the static and seizing, Synth felt her rolling zir chair away from the desk, keeping zir away from anything ze might break.

Synth couldn’t tell time during these episodes, but zir body finally released zir. Ze could tell it hadn’t been too long — perhaps three minutes, judging by the throbbing of every circuitry point in zir body. Ze tipped zir head against the headrest, staring up at the ceiling. Residual orange sparks floated through zir brain.

“Synth?” Huitzi asked, voice shaky. “Do you know what day it is?”

It took a long, long moment for zir tongue to start functioning. “1 Patecatl,” ze said finally. “According to the local calendar.”

Huitzi sighed in relief and wrapped her hands carefully around Synth’s fingers. Her face was drawn with worry. “That was a big one. No word from the doctor today?”

“On the waiting list,” Synth said rotely, the answer ze was given every time ze sent a message to inquire.

“Fucking waiting lists.” Huitzi grasped zir hands and pulled zir upright. “Go to the back and recharge, okay?”

“I can keep going on that,” Synth protested, reaching for the pad.

“Synth.” Huitzi’s voice was stern. “The business will survive half a day without you. Please, for my sanity.”

Synth didn’t have it in zir to argue, when there was a high ringing still bouncing around zir brain circuitry. Huitzi helped zir stand and gave zir a brief hug, then urged them off. Ze went to the backroom and curled up on a little pallet by a charging port, ready to power off after only a few hours of wakefulness. It was a routine that had become far too familiar in the past year.

#

When the superluminal engine of the ship Synth had been attempting to repair exploded, Synth had expected to die. In those long moments in which Synth’s synthetic brain processed the immediate, inescapable eruption, ze had spent zir last few moments thinking: god-fucking-damn-it-all —

An eloquent last thought, if you asked zir.

But ze didn’t die. The explosion of energy had pulsed up zir’s hand and rattled zir entire frame, frying everything from artificial brain matter to toe joints. And when ze had been rebooted a week later after emergency services had done all they could for zir shell-shocked body, the result was far from perfect. Far, far from perfect.

Goodbye, superluminal engineering career. Goodbye, a body ze could trust. Hello, moving in with Huitzi on Metztli. Hello, jitters and spasms and temporary muteness and visual hallucinations and swollen knees and, and, and…

Synth cut zir train of thought off. Ze was supposed to be relaxing. Huitzi had gone to all this trouble to fill zir up an oil bath in their tub. Synth didn’t know much about high-end oil brands, but whatever Huitzi had sourced was doing the trick. Lukewarm, it seeped into zir joints, easing the strain on them like a tension band slackening. Ze submerged zir hands, actually groaning aloud at the relief — ze hadn’t realized how much pain zir hands had been holding.

Living with Huitzi was the one good thing to come of this whole year. Before the accident, their platonic partnership had been long-distance, and Synth had only come to stay on holidays. Now, ze had to admit that ze would prefer to keep this aspect of their partnership, no matter what the future held.

At the side of zir vision a notification pinged. Ze blinked lazily to open it and immediately sat up, jerking zir hands out of the oil.

From the Office of Dr. Yopi

Dear Patient 3117:

Your consultation has been scheduled for 13 Tlazōlteōtl, at 14:00:00. Please arrive promptly with the below documentation. …

Excited sparks popped at Synth’s elbow joints as ze called for Huitzi. Finally, after a year on the waiting list, ze could get a consultation for reconstruction.

In the warm oil bath, hope bloomed in zir chest for the first time since ze had woken up after the accident. Zir life, zir career, they were still out of reach, but closer than ever before.

#

Getting down to the planet was a marathon. Thankfully, Huitzi had insisted on accompanying zir, or ze was sure ze’d have powered down from exhaustion by now. First, they had to get to the shuttle station on the far side of Metzli, then wait an interminably long time: in the shuttle line, on the ground waiting for takeoff, and for the actual journey. Finally, they arrived on Tlālli — well, in the shuttleport on Tlālli, which was basically identical to the shuttleport on Metzli, just jumbo-sized.

“Come on,” Huitzi urged, ushering Synth forward. “You’ll feel better once we’re out of all these tiny spaces.”

Synth did feel better, soaking up the distant rays of Xiuitl, the planet’s sun. The atmospheric warmth eased the tension that had crept into zir jaws and teeth during the flight.

It was probably a logical fallacy of some sort to perceive a feeling of roominess on Tlālli. After all, it wasn’t like Synth could see further than on Metzli or had any measurably different range of travel. Yet, as Huitzi took a deep breath and spread her arms out, exclaiming: “Finally! Some room to breathe!”, Synth understood what she meant.

They hailed a skimmer to get into the city, and from there took advantage of the bright rail network that they had seen from the shuttle, sparkling like a constellation across the planet’s surface. The rails were crowded with people of all kinds: androids, cyborgs, all-natural humans, and even some non-sentient robots smart enough to navigate the rails — with a little help. Synth watched in amusement as a human teen redirected a lone porter bot into the correct rail car.

“Maybe we should move shop down here,” Huitzi said, watching all the life with a contented air. “Until you get your gig back, at least. I feel like such a hermit up on the moon.”

“Together?” Synth asked, fondness bursting through zir.

Huitzi rolled her eyes and took zir hand. “Come on, Synth. We’re partners. I’m not leaving you behind. And if you get fixed up soon and get back to work down here, I’ll follow you.”

The reminder of what the future might hold sent a shiver of excitement through Synth’s chest. Ze looked impatiently at the map, willing the rail to go faster. The sooner ze arrived, the sooner ze would be fixed.

#

Synth jiggled zir knee as ze waited in the lobby. Ze had a clock up in zir peripheral vision, watching the seconds tick down. Huitzi had dropped zir off twenty minutes ago. The office was smaller than ze’d expected, just a few chairs and a female human receptionist with bright pink hair… so why had zir appointment time already passed?

“Patient 3117?” called the receptionist, not looking up from her pad.

Synth jumped in surprise and looked around — ze was the only person there. “Yes?”

“Dr. Yopi is ready for you, proceed to consultation room one.” She waived her hand, and the door to the back slid open with hardly a sound.

Synth walked into the hall and knocked on the closed consultation room door. There was no response; ze pushed the door open and found it dimly-lit and empty.

Ze stuck zir head back into the lobby. “No one’s there,” ze told the receptionist.

The woman sighed, still focused on her pad. “Dr. Yopi will be with you shortly.”

Right. Synth went back to the empty consultation room, sat down, and called up another clock, adjusting zir perception to account for the dim lighting.

Ten minutes later the door swung open, and Synth sat up as a small man walked in. Dr. Yopi seemed to be all-natural like the receptionist, with dark skin and a round face. He sat at the desk and called up some notes on his pad without even looking at Synth.

“Hello,” ze said loudly, sick of not being looked at.

Dr. Yopi blinked and jerked his head up. “Oh! I thought you were waiting in the lobby.”

“No,” ze said dryly.

“I see.” Yopi cleared his throat. “Apologies. You are patient number 3117?”

“You can call me Synth,” ze said, adjusting zir chair to face him more directly.

“Synth, then.” Yopi scanned his notes. “Yes, you are here for a reconstruction consultation. System inundated by a superluminal pulse.”

“Yes,” Synth said eagerly.

“We have performed trickier reconstructions.” Yopi propped his chin on his hand, and ze realized he wasn’t all-natural after all: his pupils were far too big. That would account for the dim office.

“You have?” Synth said eagerly. “That’s great. Will I be able to go back to engineering work?”

“Oh, yes,” Yopi said. He tapped his pad. “You suffer from photopsia, cephalalgia, bioelectric edema, hyperkinesia… have I missed anything?”

“That’s about it.” Zir fingers were starting to tic, so ze held them out for the doctor to observe. He watched closely as zir finger joints bent and flexed like ze was playing an invisible piano.

“That is extreme,” Yopi said. He reached out to try to brace one of zir fingers, but he was much weaker than an android, and zir fingers flicked anyway. “I imagine you frequently suffer from pain.”

Synth nodded.

“Reconstruction will fix you,” Yopi said, patting zir twitching hand. “But in the aftermath… it may not be you that is fixed at all.”

Synth waited for this to make sense. It did not. “Excuse me?”

“The superluminal pulse affected your entire system, including your synthetic brain. Reconstruction will begin there.”

Synth’s vision wavered, and it wasn’t from a photopsic episode. “My brain?”

“Indeed.”

The world faded away as Synth’s thoughts turned into themselves. Much, ze observed, like they had in zir presumed moment of death.

Androids were not like humans, many of whom misguidedly recognized a dichotomy between body and mind. Androids were all mechanical. The being that was Synth was zir body, in a way far, far more literal than humans presumed. If they messed with Synth’s brain and went over the limit between what made Synth zirself and what made zir just an android body, then Synth was gone.

“Your body would be fixed,” Dr. Yupi said, the words filtering into Synth’s aural receptors from far away.

“It wouldn’t be my body,” Synth said dully. “What are — what are the chances of that?”

“Of reconstructing your brain unrecognizably?” Yupi tapped a finger against his chin. “Somewhere around sixty to eighty percent. I wish I could say that this type of procedure is predictable. The wiring, the physicality — yes, we can predict that. It’s a matter of replacement. But where your wiring becomes consciousness, the medical-mechanical model has yet to determine the boundaries. I doubt it ever will.”

Synth stared at zir hands, still twitching in zir lap.

Dr. Yupi cleared his throat. “Whether or not you have made up your mind, I suggest you set a date for surgery now. We have limited availability, and if you delay, then you will need to wait a year for a second consultation.”

“A year?” Synth demanded.

Dr. Yupi spread his hands. “That’s the way it is.”

#

Huitzi was waiting nearby in a park that overlooked one of Tlālli’s many gorges. She leaned against the transparent energy barrier, giving the illusion that she would lose her balance and topple over into the gorge.

“Huitzi,” Synth said, walking over to her.

Huitzi spun around. “Synth! How did it go?”

Synth walked slowly over and put a hand against the barrier. It sparked against zir casing and ze took zir hand away, shaking it off with a curse.

“Synth?” Huitzi repeated, worry creeping into her voice.

“I have an appointment for surgery.”

Huitzi gasped excitedly, eyes lighting up. “Already! When?”

“Two months from tomorrow.”

“Just two months!” Huitzi swept her broad arms around Synth and squeezed zir tight. “Amazing news!”

Synth didn’t respond.

“Synth?” Huitzi released zir. “What’s wrong?”

#

Synth’s visual field pinged with a communication. Huitzi, again, of course. Ever since an utterly silent return to Metzli the past 13-day, Huitzi had been making her opinions known, loudly and often. Synth had started sleeping in the spare room to escape her tirades, but of course that upset Huitzi even more, so she started staying in the shop’s backroom to avoid the house.

But Synth’s enforced isolation hadn’t stopped Huitzi’s opinions. From texts to calls to workplace confrontations, she wouldn’t let the issue drop — wouldn’t let Synth think. So Synth hadn’t left their room the past two days, because the time to think was slipping through zir fingers.

Two months. No, two months minus a week.

Just wait until next year, okay? read Huitzi’s message of the day. We can figure something else out. I know it.

Thirteen days had turned Huitzi into an expert on medico-mechanics. Synth had been inundated with article after article, which ze had not bothered to read. Instead, ze had mostly been lying in their bed, charging, and weathering a storm of episodes that left zir exhausted and brain-dead.

It was times like these when ze wished ze had a family like humans. A parent or grandparent to give advice. But ze had always been just Synth from the moment ze was built, up and ready to work. Ze hadn’t been built on Tlālli — ze’d just been responding to a call for a superluminal engineer. The thing ze’d been created to do. Ze was Synth who was a superluminal engineer, at least until the accident hand rendered them only half of that.

Ze called Huitzi, who picked up immediately, voice gravelly with emotion.

“Synth,” she started. “Please listen to me — “

“It’s not that easy,” ze said, the words coming out funny — zir vocal mechanisms were acting up. Zir intonation screeched up and down the octaves. “I’m Synth and Synth is an engineer. If I’m not an engineer then I’m not Synth?” It came out a question, which ze hadn’t intended.

“False equivalency,” Huitzi said immediately. “You are Synth, and you are also an engineer. Synth is not dependent on being an engineer.”

The words ticked through Synth’s sluggish brain. “Which is more important, being an engineer or being Synth?”

“Being Synth,” Huitzi said immediately.

“You’re so human,” Synth said, voice crackling.

“You’re the one who called me,” Hutizi shot back. “Has this whole thing been about being an engineer again? Or is it about making you better?”

“It’s the same.”

“No, it’s not. Synth can be a repair android in the shop and still be Synth. Or haven’t you been for a year now?”

Synth watched zir fingers jump and twitch as galactic hallucinations swirled across zir vision. “Synth is pretty broken.”

“I’d rather have a broken Synth than a perfect someone else.” Huitzi took a deep breath. “I’ll sleep here again tonight, but… please come to work tomorrow.”

#

Walking to work through the tired little industrial district of Metzli, Synth tried to imagine what it would be like. Waking up as someone else. But of course, ze wouldn’t be waking up as someone else. Ze wouldn’t be waking up at all.

Would ze have a chance for better last words than “god-fucking-damn-it-all — “?

Zir knees throbbed. Zir jaw clenched and unclenched with zir permission. Little floating stars were superimposed onto Metzli’s dreary gray sky.

That could all go away. It would just take Synth along with it.

Ze massaged zir mandibular joint, trying to soothe the clenching. It didn’t work. In zir memory, ze heard Dr. Yopi say: “That’s the way it is.”

The doctor didn’t care one way or another what Synth chose. Didn’t care one way or another if it was Synth he repaired or someone else. He was more like an android than he knew, just doing the job he was supposed to do.

Synth got to Huitzi’s shop and opened the door cautiously. Huitzi looked up from her workbench, deep circles under her eyes. “Synth!”

Synth tapped a twitching hand against the doorframe. “I’ve been thinking. It’s dreary here up on the moon. What do you say we move shop down to Tlālli?”

END

Originally published in the June 2025 issue of Utopia Science Fiction Magazine.

Evangeline Giaconia is a writer of queer speculative fiction, from the mythic to the mundane. She is currently based in Washington, DC. Her work has appeared in Of Gods and Globes, Dragon Gems, and All Worlds Wayfarer, among others. You can find her online @evgiaconia.