Andrew isn't what you'd call a "typical roommate."

He never eats, no matter what. Not even when he cooks the food.

He's very particular about how laundry is folded. I can't count how many times we've gotten into arguments because I don't fold laundry in just the right way.

We mustn't forget how he fails to grasp that like most people, I need to sleep.

He's one of those that has no concept of how different we really are.

I will say, though, that it would be unfair to say that he's totally at fault here. He is an android after all.

Even so, he still manages to add interesting moments due to being synthetic. It's because our experiences are different; we literally experience the world differently. Emotions, imagination, even just the ability to feel pain.

He's missing out, and he doesn't even realize it.

Then came last Tuesday. I remember it was Tuesday because Andrew's annual diagnostic was scheduled for the next day. I was lying on my bed, reading when he came up to my door and knocked softly.

I know it's weird, but I know Andrew; he has whatever's a few steps from a cop knock. Something was up.

He wasn't in usual stance when I opened the door. Normally, he would carry himself- Well, like a human. I know, I know. I know all about how androids are almost exactly like humans. But you look me in the eye and tell me that you wouldn't expect a walking junkyard to have stiff moves.

This time, his head was down. He lightly wrung his hands in front of him. What was really strange, though, was the lack of eye contact. Weird as it sounds, I'd say he was worried, maybe confused.

"Samuel?" he asked. I keep telling, it's Sam. But he "prefers" proper names for now.

"Yo."

"I think I'd like to have one of those talks again."

"Another one? I thought we did this two weeks ago!"

That's right, even though he's an advanced android, there still some things about humans he doesn't quite get. So I help when I can. Last time, I got to explain why the space battles in Star Wars aren't portrayed scientifically accurately; I even had to Google some of his questions right in front of him on my phone.

"That is correct, and I just want you to know, I really appreciate you helping me to get the bang of things."

"That's 'hang'," I sighed.

He quickly realized what he'd said. Only after he swore up and down that it important did I let him in.

"Okay, Andrew. What are we talking about today?"

He gave a heavy sigh, not that he needed to.

"Samuel, I-." I don't know how the hell it was happening, but I could swear he was stammering. He's good, but he's not that good. "I wanted to ask you about death."

Have you ever had that dream where you have to take a test that you haven't studied for? If so, you probably understand why I was now the one stammering. Unfortunately, finding my voice wouldn't be the solution I though it would be.

"Wow," I said. And for a solid minute, that was all I could say. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting this. What brought this on?"

"It's Sylvia," he said. She worked as maid for a family a block away from us. A hacker managed to crack Sylvia's firewalls and take control. She had already gotten mom and oldest son, and was going for the youngest. For her crime, she took a .45 hollow point through the head, courtesy of the man of the house, himself. It was the reason androids were now, essentially, second-citizens.

I only said, "I heard."

"She's offline now. I never really understood it, anyway. Not even when it was just humans. But Sylvia was an android. We're supposed to live forever. But now that it's happened to one of us, I-- I don't what to make of it. What to do."

"So, what are you asking?"

"I want to know, Samuel," he said, turning to face me. "I want to know what death really is."

If you ever decide to cohabit with an android, they make you take a test make sure you're safe for the android to be around. They didn't train me for this.

"Well, it's kinda-- It's hard to explain," was how I started. "It's when a person just stops living. Or, if you want scientific accuracy, all organs cease to function." I had to fight off a chuckle at that.

"I am aware of that, Samuel," he replied. There was a faint frustration in his voice. "But what happens, exactly? How does it feel to die?"

"Depends on how they die, I guess. There are a lot of ways to die. There's disasters, injuries, illness. Some people die from just plain being old. There's too many ways to count."

"So it hurts?" Andrew asked. Now, I know I heard a quiver in his voice.

I decided in the moment that he did deserve the truth. "It can."

"How?" he asked me.

"If they're injured, the pain can be really bad. Sometimes it's more than the body can handle. Sometimes, when people are sick, it can cause pain in their body. Sometimes, when people get sick, the sickness destroys them."

"And murders," he added quietly.

"Yes, Andrew," I agreed. "That too."

He thought for a moment, and he said, "Do you think Sylvia was hurt"

"She wasn't in control, Andrew," I said. "We don't know what all the hacker was doing. Maybe she was in a kind of pain, I guess. But she's not hurting now. That pain is gone."

"What do I do now?" he asked me.

"Most people have a funeral. It's to honor a person when they die. They meet in church and then they bury the body. The idea is to always remember them."

Andrew absorbed what I'd said, and thought on it a moment. This was a rare moment of deep consideration. Then, he stood, thanked me, went back to his room.

It was about 2 in the morning when I heard Andrew's usual knock. I had to be at work in five hours, and he knows this. So I open the door and ask what he wants.

"Samuel, do you know how I can arrange a funeral"