Human-Like

A servant who begrudgingly wipes the tears from the eyes of the young Prince Price, the only child to the king and the heir to the throne. A petulant thing, acting like any spoiled brat would until you warn him (after being pushed around by some young stable-hands) that he oughtn't give people a reason to hit him. That a good prince, and eventually king, is one that knows to care for the less privileged before they decide to cut off his head. Something changes in the boy then, and next thing you know you're being summoned to the throne room for an audience with the king.

He regards you with an unimpressed look, his son reassuring him that you are his choice... for his new personal servant. You try to tell the king that you don't know the first thing about being a personal servant, that you haven't learned any proper manners and he waves your concerns away, declaring that you surely are better than the past few attendants to serve his son.

A year passes, you reluctantly commit yourself to this young, brazen child whose life is valued more than your entire lineage, attempting to instill in him a conscience not held by most nobility (not even his father). You also try to ensure that amidst the tutoring, the etiquette, the martial arts, that this child is allowed to run and yell and make a mess of things. So late one night, when the castle is invaded, you somehow make your way to the prince's chambers...

The door shut behind you, heavy trunks and furniture thrown to block it, you grab the young prince and some coin for the road, tying lengths of cloth from sheets and curtains to make a rope that you climb down from the broken window; running to the stables, you manage to find the king's prize horse and climb on its back, escaping into the night with the castle blazing behind.

Obviously, the prince will be recognized (and perhaps even you), so you devise a plan to keep the prince safe for as long as you can... You don clothing opposite your sex, a new name for a new identity. The prince, now your kid cousin. You explain to him the importance of staying hidden, that one day when he is older, and stronger, and wiser, that if he seeks to reclaim his father's throne, then he may. But until that time, he very likely will be hunted, those who took his father's life will surely aim to finish the job.

But, what if King John Price was not killed as many were led to believe... that he escaped that night with his Captain of the guard, Sir Riley, by his side; Lord Garrick, reporting his majesty's horse is missing and must ride with someone else; his personal healer, John Mactavish, gone to fetch his son saying the prince's room was blocked, the window broken and a makeshift rope hanging down...

“’Course it’s not where he said it was,” John mumbles to himself. He looks swiftly through the workshed for the hand crank in order to charge you, still needing access to your fan systems until Simon’s fever fully goes down. The shed is dim, only a small lamp above the center of the workbench to light his way.

He wasn’t sure what to make of you, exactly, and none of the men are entirely fond of mechanoids in their present day and age. Every tool has its use, John. He could hear his father’s words echoing in his head. Anything you find could give you another day. Looking over to the corner of the workbench, he finds the hand crank buried amidst journals and spare parts.

Once John makes it back in the bunker, he sees Kyle sitting, reading the half-missing book he’s read countless times. He slows, but decides against saying anything at the moment. Keep everyone on the same page, makes it harder to lose your heads. Turning right, John walks to the bunks. When he enters, he sees Simon asleep, and you on the box beside him. Your chest cavity exposed with wiring, hardware, and glimpses of your endoskeleton; your head angles towards Simon, watching silently but for the faint sound of some part of you stirring. John fights the urge to shudder. He walks forward, looking for whichever port Johnny would have attatched the crank to, noticing your batteries being slotted in some kind of compartment with various holes. In the dark, it’s hard to make out what all is there, but he manages to locate the one the hand crank interfaces with.

[battery charging: 4%]

“Hope this works,” he mutters. Each wind of the crank sounds much louder in the silent of the room. Minutes pass, and you remain largely unmoving, unchanging. “I’m not doin’ this shit all night.” He continues.

[battery charging: 13%]

Nearly an hour goes by, John stopping and switching hands intermittently until he decides you’ve had enough for now and removes the crank. He places it on the floor under Simon’s cot, out of the way of moving around.

[battery charge: 21%]

“Thaaa ank yoU for cha rging meee John.”

“Mm,” he shifts in his seat. Above ground, evening turns to night; the air in the bunker remains the same. John elects to use your fans before he himself succumbs to sleep, they whir to life at his command and break the monotonous silence. Simon shifts at the noise, but at the sensation of cooler air blowing over him he settles. Bots aren’t what you need to worry about, John.

He looks at you, how you now look like most other non-hostile bots they find. A yawn escapes him. “Fan off,” and you obey. He stands and leaves.

Kyle lays in the same place as before, book resting between his hands on his chest, entirely motionless as he, too, sleeps. John walks quietly to him, grabbing a nearby blanket and laying it over him. He moves down the center hall, hearing Johnny drumming his fingers along the desk. Johnny looks over, hearing John stop in the doorway.

“Turnin’ in for the night, they’re both out cold.”

“Can already tell it’s gonna be hard stayin’ up all night.” John walks in, just enough to reach out a hand and rub at Johnny’s shoulder.

“Don’t forget what’s important, Johnny. Easy on.”

He leaves for the bathroom next door, washing up before heading back to the bunk and settling on the cot next to Simon. He eyes you as he reclines, turning on his side to have you in his sights until his eyelids drop and shut.

Don’t let them watch you, John.

[>scan human.Simon scanning… … scan complete. Vitals: [heart rate: average] [blood pressure: average] [temperature: above average] [fluid content: low] Symptoms: dehydration, fever. Condition: moderately stable. Conclusion: vitals unchanged.]

It was a restless sleep, though better than the night before— Simon continuing to awaken every now and then, and needing John to fetch him something to eat or drink. It’s funny, John thinks, how it feels like he’s already lived a second lifetime down here in the dark. People used to live up there, where the servers now go. A year from being a band of wanderers; five years since meeting Johnny, five and a half since Kyle, and seven since he and Simon were strangers in a standoff. Funny indeed.

You weren’t the first ‘harmless’ bot he’d encountered, but there were many questions that raised flags in his mind. How did you disconnect from System Admin where Johnny found you? Why were you still in decent condition and working order? Your hardware is a bit outdated, sure, but if the bots didn’t take you apart first for your memory, storage, batteries or other, humans certainly would have by now. Not to mention being disconnected from System Admin is unheard of. Bots way South were connecting just fine, or so Simon’s reported. EDbots aren’t known for being particularly malicious, and most mechanoids have no reason to lie. Deep down, John keeps the thought that you may have some kind of virus inside of you; something made to infiltrate, to deceive. That, he has seen before, but of course, Johnny has a more optimistic view-- that every bot can be used for one thing or another.

John would never admit it, but in the year Johnny has traveled with them, he’s proven his point to some capacity; turning the arm of an enforcer into a short-distance remote disabler, making a pleasure bot’s faceplate into a nightvision mask for Simon’s expeditions, even the camera system that came with the bunker was given some significant updates when they arrived. He’s curious, of course, but curiosity is not without caution. Kyle nearly being killed by a drone head Johnny brought back and said was safe to handle, Johnny attempting to rig a bot to help on an expedition that nearly cost Simon his head in an automated self-destruct failsafe.

John recalls a number of bots that would take themselves apart because of certain malware or glitches, but he can’t recall a mechanoid of any kind that would do so… intentionally, for a human. MEDbots are prohibited from doing so because they need to be able to help anyone (or anything). But you…

John, don’t forget what’s important. Priority number one…

“Run diagnostic,” he says quietly. Your dark faceplate turns to him, a toughened glass mirror showing only a dim shadow.

“rUn nning diaG n 0 sT ic pro g Ram… er roR. Can not rUn witHo ut Sy s tem ADM in .”

“Can’t check yourself without permission? Huh,” he pauses. “List priorities.”

“Cu r rrr Ent pr10r I Tiee s: 1. mmm emmory coll e ction 2. huma n obser vat ion 3. f1 nd suita ble habi tati 0n for h uman.so cialgr oup 4. Sys tem Ad min reconnnn ect 5. re store corru pted file s”

It was a pain trying to get you to talk while you were like this, but Simon seems to be doing well enough that he won’t be needing your fans to cool down much longer. John grabs the fan apparatus, but hesitates. He… isn’t quite sure how to reattach it to you properly, so that will have to be something Johnny does. Well, Kyle might know; he should go see if he’s awake. He looks to Simon, still sleeping for now, then turns to leave.

Walking into the main room, he sees Kyle dozing, but his eyes crack open as John walks past. He sits up, slowly, grumbling a ‘good morning’ as John redirects to his side.

“You know how to put the fans back in the bot?”

“Business already? Can’t let a man rise in peace?”

“No peace for you and that smart mouth. I’ll get food started while you work,” John smiles, a cheeky glint in his eye as he walks back down the hall toward the pantry.

Kyle sighs, but rises, and enters the bunkroom, deciding to grab you and take you to the main room for slightly better lighting to work in. John enters with two cans, informing Kyle of Simon’s improvements while he portions out the soup.

“Do you think I could manage goin’ South?” Kyle asks, not looking to John as he drags out the rewiring process.

“You could, but Simon’s right. Takes a lot of gettin’ used to. Not sure we really have the means to send you both out at the moment. We’re all always runnin’ low on sleep as it is.”

Minutes pass in silence, after your fans had been reonnected it took some time before your faceplate lights up.

“:^)”

“Welcome back,” Kyle says, a small smile he doesn’t realize is spreading on his face.

“Thank you, Kyle. But I have been here all this time; I have not left you to warrant a ‘welcome back’.”

He puffs out a laugh, “Well, your face was gone. I’m saying welcome back to your face.”

“Oh! :^o Does that mean my facial interfacing is successful with you?”

“I guess.”

“Query, Kyle: would you help me assign new faces I created to their corresponding emotions, so that I may better provide appropriate emotional displays in the future? :^)”

“New faces? You can do that?”

“Yes; however, I am limited by the programming of my display. I can scan and review optic files for facial expressions, but I cannot assign them to corresponding emotions without assistance. :^o”

Kyle looks to John, whose brow is raised, but shrugs at him. “Uh, sure. Think I can be considered an expert on what feelings look like.”

“Great! :^D I will show you a new face, and would like you to tell me what emotion best corresponds to it. Shall we start now?”

“Sure.”

“:^J”

“Uh, huh. Maybe smug? Cheeky?”

[>add empathy.info: smug, cheeky empathy.info added to face.match.exe]

“:^b”

“Hmm. Looks like your talking, I think. But it’s less surprised than the one you use now.”

[>add empathy.info: explain, talking] “:^3”

“… Let’s come back to that one.”

“>:^|”

“Not happy, angry. Quite miffed, I think.”

[>add empathy.info: anger

>add query: define “miffed” ]

“/:^|”

“Hmmmm, I think that’s confusion. Like you aren’t so sure about something.”

This continues on for some time, nearly all faces being successfully named by Kyle. John watches him, handing him his bowl, then going to give Johnny his share and seeing if Simon is awake for his. When he comes back, Kyle has gotten to the last face, the one he skipped over before.

“:^3”

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone make that face before. I kinda looks like a smile, but people don’t get that…” he gestures with his hands in a curling motion from the middle of his mouth out to his cheeks, “...shape. Maybe it’s a mustache? But that isn’t really something you feel.” He looks to John, reentering the room. A grin slides across his face, “Almost look like John. Give us a smile, let’s see the resemblance.”

“Fuck off,” he says, eyes rolling, but a small grin forming despite his attempts to stop it. “That doesn’t look anything like me.”

“Then what do you make of it?”

“Maybe it’s someone with a cleft lip, little like Simon’s.”

“Why would it scan that for a standard face though?”

“Why not? Probably got a smaller pool of files to choose from with all its corruption.”

“Maybe. But wouldn’t a cleft lip still just come out as a smile?”

“Where did it get that scan from?”

“I dunno—”

“:^3 This face was collected from 23 files from previous EDbot memory. It appears to be a common face used by humans in digital reality. Could you help me define it?”

“Don’t know. It’s funny though,” Kyle leans in close to you, whispering loud enough that John can still hear, “I think you should use that face if you ever repeat anything John or Simon say.”

“Fuck off, Kyle,” he turns his attention to you, “Don’t do that.”

“Do it. It’s for my enrichment and morale.”

“It is not.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Johnny starts, John looks art him, head tilted, “well, it is. But it’s not like what you think.”

John sighs, moving forward. “And what do you think I think it is?”

“Maybe you think that I just can’t stop messing with things without talkin’ ‘bout them first. That maybe you think I’m… that I don’t have my head on right.”

“I worry about things we don’t know enough about. Johnny, we all agreed not to bring the bot down here—”

“I know, but Simon wasn’t getting better, and it said it could scan him better than we could… know stuff that we can’t.”

John looks at you, faceplate shut off to conserve power and reduce heat. He fully notices, now, that your limbs are gone, and Johnny holds a fan that is connected to your exposed parts. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Took off its arms and legs so we wouldn’t have to worry about it doing anything.” John sits next to Johnny.

“Well... how is he? How bad is it?” His voice comes softer, nearly a whisper; his thumb brought between his teeth as he bites it.

“c0 nd1-t1on is- stA blE. J0Hn yOu sh-uld-- not-- b1TE on -youR-- extrEMI TIES. It IS badfo r YOur gr0w1NG&STAYin g he aLTh y.”

John hums. “It said he’s stable?”

“Yes. He’s cooled off quite a bit, still too warm, but better,” John’s hand finds Simon’s forehead, then falls to his cheek.

“We’ll be speaking about this later. You’ll take radio tonight.”

“Course,” Johnny says, smiling despite avoiding John’s gaze, “Kyle’s probably keeling over by now,” he holds out the fan apparatus to John, instructing him on how to use it, then stands and heads out of the room. The day passes, and at 1900 hours, Kyle enters the bunk with two bowls of soup, handing one to John.

“How is he?” Kyle asks, perching himself along the edge of the box next to you.

“Said he’s stable. Fever’s come down, hasn’t sweat as much. We probably need to try and get some fluid in him.”

“And…” Kyle motions his spoon to you, beside him.

“Not like it’s goin’ anywhere. Use what we can of it for now. Not like we aren’t prepared to take it apart.”

“Hm… think we could turn it into a remote controlled camera?”

John sighs, “That the best you can think to do with it?” Kyle shrugs.

“It’d be fun. Plus we could make it go around outside without leaving the bunker.”

“We wouldn’t have the parts to make it happen.” A pause.

“Gonna rip Johnny a new one?”

“Maybe knock out a couple more teeth.”

“Ouch. After the Digger run-in last year? Guess it’s a good thing we mostly find soup to eat.”

“Can’t leave a damn thing be.”

“Keeps you on your toes.”

“Keeps me up at night.” A grunt, and both men look down to Simon, whose eyes slit open in the dim room.

Kyle exhales through his nose, “Mornin’ sunshine,” he gently says, Simon’s face remaining flat sae for the twitch of a brow.

[>d.06 log input 1906 hours: aural sensors indicate human.Simon has regained consciousness >scan human.Simon scanning human.Simon… ...

“Here,” John says, handing his bowl of soup to Kyle to grab a second pillow which he slides behind Simon, sitting him up. He takes his bowl back, perching on the very edge of Simon’s cot, leaning over, “You need to eat something, get something in you to help.”

[scan complete. Vitals: [heart rate: average] [blood pressure: average] [temperature: above average] [fluid content: low] Symptoms: dehydration, fever. Condition: moderately stable. Conclusion: vitals improved.]

John brings careful mouthfuls to Simon, whose eyes eventually slide over to the dismembered mechanoid at his bedside. He looks to Kyle, then back to John, his hands coming up heavily to grasp at the bowl in John’s hands.

“Thought you could use the company,” Kyle quips, nodding his head in your direction.

[Warning: low battery. Please seek charging equipment before automatic shutdown.]

“What I always wanted, a broken machine,” comes Simon’s raspy voice, cleared of sleep only just.

[Warning: computer core overheated. Please reconnect fan system before automatic shutdown.]

John prepares another spoonful. “Once your a bit better, it’ll be goin’ back up to the shed.”

“I am better.”

“Oh?” John asks, placing the spoon in the bowl and reaching his now free hand to Simon’s forehead. “Not quite,” he decides, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Simon looks at you. “Is it on?” He asks, noting your dark faceplate and lack of movement. John and Kyle look as well, shrugging to one another.

[Warning: automatic shutdown will occur in 54 minutes. Automatic shutdown may cause file corruption or damage hard drives.]

“Doesn’t make a difference if it is, right? You just plug it in and it’ll come on again.”

“Why was it here in the first place?”

“Johnny said it was able to see your heartrate ‘n all. Used the fans to help cool you off.” Simon grunts, taking the bowl of soup from John and beginning to carefully lift the spoon himself. “Told you not to push it,” Simon huffs out of his nose, “It was too soon to go out South again—”

“Told you I think ‘s old well. Might ‘ave some piping down far enough to water—”

“But you didn’t get far enough to check again.”

“I should’ve gone,” Kyle says quietly.

“No, too dangerous.”

“But not dangerous enough for you? We’ve all gone through shit together, not like I can’t handle a few day’s travel there and back.”

Simon’s jaw tightens. “’S not like goin’ to the city, the backwastes,or the lowlands. Shit’s dry. Nowhere to hide, nothing to scavenge for hours on end. Y’ come on an old rooftop stickin’ out the dust or a bunker hatch; shit’s either falling apart an’ empty or rigged like the fuckin’ patrol squads around every nook an’ cranny.”

“But if I go with you, I can learn, right?”

“Just be a waste of time and energy. I can manage on my own—”

“But you didn’t manage on your own.”

“w4R N i nnng.. p le aSE c o 0neCT cHA r g g ging u n1t or s h uht ut d0WN i m mm 1 ne ent…”

All eyes turn to you, startled at the interruption. “Fuck,” John mutters, rising from the cot with a grunt and making for the door. As he walks down the hall towards the main room, he calls to Johnny for directions on where the hand crank is, shortly after which the sound of the bunker door can be heard unlocking, opening, closing, then relocking.

“Well,” Kyle says, standing, “guess I’ll go be a waste somewhere else.” He walks to the door, pausing only one moment before heading down the hall.

Simon swears under his breath, exhaustion rolling back under his eyelids. He sluggishly places the bowl next to you and your gutted fan system, nearly falling back to the pillows behind him and immediately falling into slumber.

[d.03 0323 hours log input: aural sensors detect entrance to human.socialgroup dwelling lock release and door open, footsteps consistent with human.Simon walking South.

Dwelling door closes and lock reengages]

[d.03 0502 hours log input: aural sensors detect entrance to human.socialgroup dwelling lock release and door open, quiet vocalisations consistent with human.Johnny are heard, footsteps walking Northeast.

Dwelling door closes and lock reengages]

[d.03 1645 hours log input: aural sensors detect footsteps consistent with human.Johnny approaching from Northeast, heavy object(s) distributed along Northern exterior of current pathing designation. Dwelling lock release and open, footsteps receding.

Dwelling door closes and lock reengages]

[d.05 0010 hours log input: Dwelling lock release and door open, vocalisations consistent with human.Johnny and human.John heard, footsteps quickly recede South.

Dwelling door closes and lock reengages]

[d.05 0233 hours log input: vocalisations consistent with human.Johnny, human.John heard, footsteps inconsistent with standard gait. Large object being dragged along ground.

[>search environment for optic allowance to exterior

success. Pathing to allowance.

>log input: human.Johhny and human.John carry human.Unknown

>scan human.Unknown

scanning…

scan success. human.Unknown consistent with human.Simon

conclusion: human.Unknown = human.Simon

scan results: human.Simon shows substantial increase in body temperature and perspiration

>run careprogram.exe with scan

running careprogram.exe with human.Simon scan…

…

success. Diagnosis: dehydration and fever. Treat with greater intake of fluids and rest. Make sure immediate environment is stable and suitable for recovery.

>initiate careprogram

error. Cannot initiate careprogram because of pathing permissions.

>override pathing permissions /humASSTfailsafe

initiating careprogram]

“Hold on, Simon, don’t fall asleep,” John’s command comes out winded, having awoken in the middle of the night by Kyle after Simon reported getting caught in a dry zone for too long. He and Johnny both rushed out to get him back, hardly able to find him in the pitch black wastes to the South. “Nearly there, just a little more—”

The sound of metal being warped, pushed against itself immediately grabbed John, Johnny, and the half-concious Simon’s attention, looking up to see one of the tin panels used as a door to the workshed being pried open, your dim faceplate glowing at them in the dark.

“The fuck—” Johnny starts, as you look down at the chain and padlock giving you trouble. You reach your hand through the window you’ve made, two fingers on your grapple hand going between a link of the chain, and separating, causing the metal to warp until it snaps in two. You push the door open the rest of the way, walking up to the trio as the bunker door unlocks.

“Simon is suffering *dehydration and fever*. He needs proper rest and fluids in a controlled environment. Given your social group’s deficiencies, I suggest *Rust Water* to ensure iron intake is substantial enough for growing and staying healthy. :^o”

Simon’s head rolls, his arms draped over John and Johnny at either side, “Fuck off, y’ f...ck’n… fuck…”

“Easy, Simon—”

“What the fuck are you doing outside the shed. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t leave unless you got my permission?!”

“And where the fuck is “rust water” coming from? He needs plain water.”

“Tell it to fuck off, Johnny, we need to get Simon inside, now!”

“Go back to the shed, I’ll deal with you later,” he says, Kyle coming up to open the door.

“Why’s the bot out the… what happened to the shed door?”

“Not important right now,” John grunts, himself and Johnny moving relatively quickly for carrying someone as big as themselves down a somewhat narrow staircase in the dark.

You and Kyle stare at one another for a moment.

“I detected Simon to be in a bad condition, and have created a care program to assist in recovery. Would you like me to execute my care program? :^)”

Kyle looks down the stairs into the bunker, then back to you, grabbing the door.

“No,” he says, softly, “go back to the shed,” closing the door behind him and sealing the four humans back in their home.

[…]

“Query, Kyle: rejection of care program?”

[…]

“Query, Kyle: rejection of assistance?”

[>query: human rejection

query accepted. Scanning files…

…

“rejection” found in empathy.info

>empathy.info: rejection

rejection: negative, poor, dismissive. Known files indicate rejection causes sadness, anger, guilt, regret, confusion.

>empathy.info: …

>query: confusion, rejection

query accepted. Scanning files…

…

“confusion, rejection” found in empathy.info

>query: human rejection of assistance

query accepted. Scanning files…

…

error. “human rejection of assistance” not found.]

[d.06 0700 hours log input: Dwelling lock disengages, door opens, human.Johnny identified]

“Told you to go back to the shed,” he mutters, closing the door behind him.

“Query, Johnny."

You pause, faceplate going blank. Johnny looks you, brow cocked and frowning.

“Yes?”

“Clarify rejection of assistance?”

“Don’t need your assistance. Why’s your face blank?”

“I apologize. I seem to not have faces appropriate for the current corresponding emotions in my programming yet. I had prepared a folder for your review to assist in adding new emotions to my display. Would you assist me in reviewing them?”

“Thought you couldn’t feel emotions,” Johnny says, walking to the broken door of the workshed.

“I do not. However, my programing allows detection of emotional states for humans that I can observe and replicate. This allows me to provide a greater social connection and companionship.”

“Shite… so you just pretend to feel so we like you more?”

“… Do you like me?”

“Don’t think much one way or the other. At least, not before yesterday morning. Simon’s out with heat stroke an’ you break the shed door, middle of the night in the dark. Fuckin’ thought that was it for us.”

“You were… upset?”

“Upset? Pissed right feckin’ off, nearly had a fuckin’ heart attack. Talking about a care program like yer a fuckin’ medic mech or some shite. You’re not… and can ya put a bloody face on, yer fuckin’ creepy without one,” he brutishly opens the shed door in what would have been the proper way, scooping the destroyed lock and chain of the dusty ground.

“Error. I do not know what face to display that would appease you.”

“Fuck!” Johnny throws the lock and chain towards you, hitting your trunk. You remain standing still, a new dent where the collision occurred. He folds his hands above his head, pacing the room, “All this time and we’re gonna fuckin’ lose him just like that. For nothing. Fuck. Fuck me.”

[>scan human.Johnny emote.status

scanning…

body language, vocal tone, and vitals indicate a state of distress. It is recommended to commence soothing gestures to avoid escalation.]

Johnny stills at the workbench, palms harshly brought down as he tries desperately to hold in his tears. He hears you approach, slowly, to his right side, and after a few moments, you place your hand over his.

“I am not programmed to be a medical bot. I am not programmed to feel emotions. I am programmed to remember humanity. I am programmed to help humanity. I am programmed to help Johnny, John, Kyle, and Simon.

:^)”

“Right,” he sighs, “and if we don’t want your help, then what?”

“Hm. I’m not sure I understand. Query, Johnny: clarify rejecting help?”

“Well, you said you weren’t a medic bot. Some of the things you suggest are just… stupid. Or wrong. But sometimes people just don’t want help from strangers.”

“Hm. Do you mean you reject my help because I am not fully accepted into your social group?”

“Hell’s bells,” he spits, “no. You’re not. … Price said you updated your permissions, that you wouldn’t leave the shed without asking us. But you left the shed.”

“Yes. I logged you and John leaving the dwelling at 0010 hours yesterday, then returning at 0233 hours yesterday with Simon. I was able to detect Simon in a poor condition, so I issued my override command.”

Johnny pauses, anger falling from his face and being replaced by contemplation. “Override command?”

“Yes. Sometimes when humans in my proximity are in danger, or need immediate assistance, I am able to execute an override command to prioritize providing assistance.”

“You… I didn’t think EDbots could do that. Didn’t think any bot could. You aren’t even equipped to handle emergencies."

“You are correct. Though I could not administer proper aid, I am still able to provide sophisticated monitoring and observation, and minimal intervention wherever applicable. This is not a feature all EDbots have, only units designated to staff Human Archive institutions.”

“You can monitor Simon? Like check his vitals?”

“Yes. I can detect temperature, heart rate, fluid content, weight, height, blood pressure, and general dietary needs with incredible accuracy.”

“Why? Why does an EDbot have that?”

“This information is vital in human *observation*, for posterity purposes. For my particular model series, this would also assist in educational purposes and providing initial assistance until more suitable bots could arrive in emergency situations. :^o”

His jaw shifts, the hand beneath yours lifting to rub down his face. He looks at you again, “Not only will I be cleaning shit, but I’ll be eating it, too. Alright. I’ll take you down in the bunker to keep an eye on Simon, so give me just your head.”

“Hm. You might want to take my trunk, or torso, as well; this would ensure I do not lose connection to my computer core or batteries. :^o”

“Fine, but your arms and legs stay. When you’re down there, you do exactly as we say. No overrides, no errors. Nothin’. Understand?”

“Yes, Johnny. I understand. Engaging joint release on peripheral limbs."

Your arms fall, trunk hitting the ground between your loosened legs. Johnny moves to catch you, but fails, immediately grabbing your torso from the ground and carrying it out of the shed to the bunker door. He knocks, twice, the lock disengaging; he grabs the door handle and swings it upwards, closing it above the both of you before it locks and he begins to descend.

As Johnny enters the main room, he sees Price asleep in his rocking chair, heavy bags under his eyes and a covered pot of (now cool) soup by his feet. He turns towards the bunks, walking down the hall and into the bunk room, where Simon lays on the cot just inside the doorway on the left. He sets you down on the next closest cot, leaving the room and coming back a few minutes later with a sizable box which he sets beside Simon. He then lifts you once more, setting you on the box as you turn your faceplate to the unconscious human.

[>scan human.Simon

scanning…

scan complete. Vitals: [heart rate: above average] [blood pressure: below average] [temperature: above average] [fluid content: low] Symptoms: dehydration, fever, perspiration. Condition: moderately stable.

Suggest treatment: greater fluid intake, remove blanket, apply cooling items.

...

>disconnect internal cooling system from unit, retain connection to batteries for operation

…

Warning: disonnecting cooling system may cause system overheat. This could cause involuntary shut down and program corruption. Do you wish to continue?]

“Johnny…”

“Yes?”

“My scans indicate Simon’s internal organs are largely undamaged, however his temperature and fluid content are still too low. I suggest you provide him with more fluids: avoid high salt content. I suggest you remove the blanket. I will disconnect from my cooling system, which will remain connected to my batteries. This will allow you—”

“Wait, wait—”

“—to use them to help lower Simon’s body temperature. I suggest you aim for areas of higher heat production, such as the head, armpits, stomach, and groin. If you wish to periodically reattach my cooling system, you will be able to do so. Be advised: my battery is currently at 34% as you did not fully charge me six (6) days ago. While unlikely, you may want to have a charging device nearby to ensure sufficient energy is provided. Disconnecting cooling system now.” [>yes]

“What… the fuck,” a short thunk comes from within your chest cavity, Johnny able to open your plating to find a small fan system with a few connected and disconnected wires.

“To use it, sim...ply command me “fan… on”.”

“… Fan on…” the fans whir to life, certainly louder than he had heard them within you before. As they do, an immediate gust flows from them prompting Johnny to hold them over Simon’s body. You periodically scan Simon-- processing speed gradually slowing without your fans-- but you observe his body temperature decreasing from a high fever to a lower one. You vaguely pick up on footsteps coming down the hall, and records indicate it’s probably John.

Darkness surrounds you in the night, the only dim illumination coming from your faceplate within the workshed. You detect no movement, you detect no sound. You turn to the seat that had just earlier been occupied by human.Johnny, taking a seat yourself to preserve energy from your lower peripheral limbs.

[... ... >scan .mp3 files: music save to human.socialgroup folder … “human.socialgroup” folder does not exist. Create “human.socialgroup” folder? >yes folder created. Care program saved to folder. … copied all .mp3 files designated “music” to human.socialgroup

...

>chk memory … error. Memory corruption found. 674875369488265847506237562084756408536845628756308743656082735806273456203865837652087536082376852746582376568200695479398398553733396545962124526256256253252350020024328482778940640454565234045 files corrupted. Please locate your nearest System Admin operator for repair assistance. > search log date: shut down … 03194098 08023534 04153533 >log info: shut down 03194098 shut down on 03194098 due to low battery >log date: current … error. Cannot find current log date due to incorrect shutdown. Please reconnect to System Admin to recalibrate. … … >priority list here is your current priority list: 1. memory collection 2. human observation 3. System Admin reconnect 4. restore corrupted files 5. find suitable habitation for human.socialgroup … >update priority list: 1. memory collection 2. human observation 3. find suitable habitation for human.socialgroup 4. System Admin reconnect 5. restore corrupted files … error. “find suitable habitation for human.socialgroup” cannot change priority due to updated pathing permissions. >override priority list permissions /humASSTfailsafe … priority list updated >search humancare.info … searching … 8778633 files found >search humancare.info: nutrition … 8650 files found … … >run careprogram.exe on human.socialgroup running careprogram.exe on human.socialgroup scans… … … success. Warning: memory files corrupted, care program may be incomplete. Warning: memory is outdated. Please reconnect to System Admin to transfer memory to database. Care program for human.socialgroup: Advise rust water for deficiency Advise fish oil for heart health and anti-inflammation Advise eggshell for deficiency Advise greater sleep cycle Advise gelatin salad for deficiency Advise fruit salad for deficiency >save careprogram to human.socialgroup … … >search memory EDbot-680013 … … optic files found >search EDbot model history … 3 files found >view files EDmodprog.info EDv4update.info EDv6assignment >view EDv6assignment

[As a hello to our new sponsors from the Humanity Archive, we made a slight deviation from what our standard EDbot product has been, and what its trajectory is still planned to be. The EDbot version 6, or EDbot-6000 offers a slightly more hands-on approach to memory collecting. With the rise of Humanity Archive institutions, and a dwindling population trained to staff them, consider the EDbot-6000 as your curators, instructors, and professional human observers rolled into one package. The EDbot-6000 maintains some key features of our main EDbot line, but deviates in its ability to self-program or update some of its code independent of user or system approval. This means it can adapt more readily and fill in a larger social roll than the standard EDbot line. This should ensure that even in the event of a system outage or discrepancy, they can still preform their tasks and function as normal. We heard your concerns about assisting in your appeal to the public, and decided that making the EDbot-6000 models would work wonders for you with our already highly sought mechanoids to draw in tourists and local visitors. We hope this is only the first step in a long and prosperous joining of the minds.]

“So what’s a human museum like, anyway?” Kyle stands next to you, organizing the small items Simon brought back the night before. Johnny sits at the workbench, putting together devices he described as ‘traps’.

“4992 Human Museum is the proud branch of The Humanity Archive, offering artifacts, records, and even seminars conducted by E.D. mechanoids. We offer a wide variety of courses and access to any of our compiled digital files. :^)”

“Are there other museums?”

“The Humanity Archive has branches of museums across the globe, as well as many data centers and kiosks for higher outreach.”

“Reckon you only bring in a lot a roaches these days,” Johnny mutters.

“Our facilities are well-maintained for optimal safety and sanitation. :^o If you have encountered any issues at any facility, please allow me to send in a report to the System Admin to ensure future positive experiences. Shall I send in a report?”

“Sure, go ahead. Tell it to fuck off while you’re at it.”

[>message: system_admin…

error. System Admin not found. Please relocate to a proper locality to reestablish connection.]

“Hm. It appears I cannot contact the System Admin. I must be relocated to reconnect before I can send your message. :^(“

Kyle grins, “Right Shame,”

“We know you can’t connect. Don’t need to tell us each time.”

“Would you like me to update my language, to no longer inform you when I cannot connect to the System Admin? :^)”

“Yes. Just tell us if you ever do reconnect, and do not send any communication before clearing with us first.”

[>update dialogue: diconnection.info = false

reconnection.info = true

system_admin msg [permission needed, verify human.Johnny, human.Kyle, human.Simon, human.Unknown]]

“Okay. I will no longer tell you about being disconnected, but will tell you about any reconnection. I have also updated my permissions so I will not send any messages to System Admin without verifying human.Johnny, human.Kyle, human.Simon, or human.Unknown. :^)”

“Don’t need to call us ‘human’ dot whatever, just our names ‘s fine,” Kyle says, pausing, “and the ‘unknown’ is John.”

[>update dialogue: vocalize species.tag =false

>update memory: human.Unknown to human.John]

“Okay. I will no longer add the species tag in conversation, and I will now call you by your respective names. Names are special to humans, and giving them to me indicates a pack bond is more secure! :^D”

“Hey, lemme see your right hand,” Johnny says, nodding you closer to his side. You walk closer, right arm extending with your grapple hand open. “Hold this down, and keep it held ‘til I fasten the wiring down.” You press and hold where he shows, slowly increasing the pressure until the part is still.

“Shit, replacing me already, Johnny?”

“Aye, you and your fat fingers are now outta my way.”

“My fingers are not fat, and you know that well,” Johnny shrugs at him, eyebrows raised and smirking as he looks up to Kyle, who smacks his shoulder. “No distractions. Don’t wanna be up here all day.” Silence passes for a few minutes as Johnny works, Kyle helping to supervise. “Hey, EDbot. Got any songs in your memory?”

[query: access to .mp3 files… query accepted

>file search .mp3

searching…

28498447835 files found]

“I have a number of .mp3 files in my memory that do not appear to be corrupted. Would you like me to play one? :^)”

“Wait, really? You actually have music?” Johnny says, turning toward you and ignoring working on the traps.

“Affirmative. There may be more, but they would be inaccessible due to corruption. :^|”

“Play… something happy. Something good for working to,” Kyle says to you.

[…]

“Query, Kyle: please define ‘happy’ so I may better fulfill your request.”

“Oh, uh… happy. I guess something upbeat? I mean happy is when you feel good,” he looks at Johnny for assistance.

“Happy is like… when we laugh at stuff. Uh, don’t really know much about music. Folks didn’t really sing us songs growin’ up like yours did, Kyle.”

[>update empathy.info: happy = laughter]

“I dunno, Gramps just sang some old melodies he knew. Price might know more.”

“Maybe...”

[>scan .mp3 files for laughter.human

scanning…

success.

>play 04_31_samj.mp3]

“—[static]-- -dy? 1.. 2… 3. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Sam, Happy birthday to you! And many more… Haha, now b-w out your can-- [static]”

You play the file on loop a number of times, the sound coming through in your robotic voice, but still managing to match the tones captured by your code. Johnny and Kyle simply stare at you, completely enthralled for nearly an hour.

“Are there… any more files from that person?” You stop playing the track.

[>scan file owner samj…

scanning…

success.

67089 files found. See folder: samj33]

“Affirmative. I was able to locate a folder containing the life records of one ‘samj’. Would you like to hear more? :^)”

“That song… the one you played, ‘happy birthday’, can you isolate just the singing part and remember it?”

[>file edit: save as copy 00:03.45 to 00:30.22

rename copy to happy_birthday.mp3]

“I have made a copy of that file, would you like to hear it?”

“Yeah. Just remember to work, Johnny.”

“Aye, and what are you here for then? Either work on something, or fuck off,” Johnny huffs, hand outstretched towards Kyle for a tool. You play the thirty second clip over and over, sometimes with Johnny and Kyle singing or humming along as they began to memorize the new melody.

The afternoon comes and goes, the three of you in the shed seemingly uncaring of the time (some more than others) as John exits the bunker the call Johnny and Kyle down for their evening meal. As he nears the shed, your flat, robotic tones are echoing a melody he might remember from a lifetime ago. Something passed down by voice alone, something like a dream he can’t quite recall. He stands outside the door, simply listening, hearing the infrequent additions of his companions bringing a fond smile to his face, something about hearing the notes you provide being sung by human voice dredging up a very deep emotion he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Enough time must have passed for Simon to grow wary, his form heavily dragging from the bunker as well. As he approaches John, head cocked in question, John raises his hand to his mouth, a silent gesture to listen. Pausing, he, too, hears Johnny and Kyle in a poor unison to you, singing a catchy little tune. Silently, he opens the door, where he and John stand a while longer watching the two men sitting and swaying, while you act out some kind of stiff dance yourself.

John tries to hide his smile, and glances over to Simon from the corner of his eye; the rosy hues of sunset blanketing his back, a layer of sweat from the fading day-heat adding an evening glow. Simon’s face, for once, isn’t pinched or pulled or tense. An ever-present focus in his gaze, but ease and calm smoothing over his cheeks and brow. Moments more pass, then John clears his throat. “Dinner,” he says, Kyle and Johnny startling but putting away for the night. You stop playing your song, an easy silence hanging around the four men.

“John and Simon, did you hear the song? Was it to your liking? :^)”

“’s Fine,” John says, Simon turning and following Johnny and Kyle to the bunker hatch.

“Would you like me to search my memory for other songs?”

“No, not now,” he turns, grabbing the door to close it when he sees you moving closer to follow him. “Nope. You stay up here. No bots in the bunker, and I don’t want you wanderin’ off outside without supervision.”

“Would you like me to update my pathing to remain here?” John pauses, a brow raising.

“… Yes.”

[>update: pathing

remain in designated area, require permission for exit from human.Johnny, human.Kyle, human.Simon, human.John

success]

“I have updated my pathing permissions to remain in this room unless given permission by Johnny, Kyle, Simon, or you. :^) Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?”

“Mornin’ Johnny, why the fuck is there an EDbot in the shed?” Johnny, just woken from sleep and entering the living area, stops short and glances to John, Kyle, then Ghost.

“It’s an EDbot?” John asks, “Shite Johnny, it couldn’t have been anything better?”

“Alright, I get it. Cannae fuckin’ walk to breakfast without anyone kickin’ me while I’m down.”

“Forgot to turn it off, found it still on when I got back,” Ghost grumbles. John rolls his eyes, vision landing on the ceiling as if it would hold the secret to maintaining a modicum of patience.

“I tried,” Johnny quickly says, glancing to John once more, “But it didn’t have any kind of off switch. Figured it would run out ‘a battery or go into a sleep mode after a while.”

“Mm. Tried telling it to shut itself down, but it said it had corrupted memory. Need an admin key to bypass.”

“You spoke to it?” John breathes out.

“Just wanted to check a few basic commands. Said it couldn’t connect to the System Admin cause it’s too far away or some shite.”

“Hasn’t been a problem for bots before, think it’s cause it’s an EDbot?”

“Dunno. Haven’t come across any in good enough condition for it to matter. Not that that’s what we go lookin’ for anyway,” John and Ghost look at one another, questions compiling in their heads.

“Should we go check it out?” Kyle suggests. “Lead on, Johnny.”

“Aye, up yours, Garrick.”

The four men found themselves walking up into the sweltering morning, the workshed providing little reprieve. Opening the door, they are met with the same glowing faceplate Ghost and Johnny recall from before.

“:^)”

A low whistle left Kyle, John cleared his throat.

“Took it apart already Johnny?”

“No, did that itself.”

“It took itself apart?”

“N-no, not exactly—”

“Human.Johnny! You have returned! Is this your social group? To think I would power on and find four (4) humans! It must be my *lucky* day. :^)”

“I didn’t give it my name.” Johnny says, a look of concern overtaking his face. He looked to Ghost, who shrugged. “How… How do you know my name?”

[query: log time… query accepted]

“Yesterday at 19:45.56 hours you were called by a member of your social group to return for your scheduled feeding time. Shall I initiate dialogue repetition?”

“What?”

“Johnny! Time for food. Gettin’ late!”

Silence commenced as the four men stood confused and shocked in the middle of the workshed. While the voice remained the same automated tones, the words spoken were exactly as Kyle had said them, as he and Johnny locked widened eyes.

“Hm. My scans indicate you are all suffering a lack of proper nutrients and water intake. This environment is not suitable for long-term human habitation. If you can assist in putting me back together, I can help to relocate you to a new more suitable habitat. For now, I suggest you incorporate

*Fish Oil*

into your diet plan to grow and stay healthy. :^)”

“Awful chatty, innit.” Kyle chimes.

Ghost huffs, “Environment ‘not suitable,’ eh? Maybe that’s cause you clankers fucked it all up. Took all the water, took all the space.”

“Simon—”

“No, this thing’s supposed to know about human history. Well, maybe it can check its files and see when the fuckin’ human race started disappearin’. That’s right. When the System Admin got booted up. Shite, Johnny, let’s just put a fuckin’ bullet in it an’ call it a fuckin’ day.”

“:^(“

“Simon, you made it sad,” Kyle mentions, finally moving closer to start picking up different parts to examine.

“It’s a fuckin’ mech. Doesn’t feel anything.”

“Human.Simon is correct. My coding does not contain pain or emotional receptors. However, my programming necessitates survival, and old coding lines allow me to appeal to human pack bonding to avoid damage.”

“Fuckin—”

“Simon, wait,” Johnny starts. He walks to the chair at the workbench, sitting in front your disassembled parts, “Why do you have programming to deal with humans when there’s hardly any of us left? You said you could learn from the “real thing,” like you hadn’t ever been around a human before.”

[query: human.interaction… query accepted. >run info.edu_ad]

"With the ever ongoing rise of mass refinement in technology and mechanoid optimization, we at ServaNet want to offer a sense of familiarity for that long-lost connection between organic and artificial intelligence—”

“Is it reciting… an advert?”

“-- to offer our new product, the Education bot, or EDbot. These mechs are equipped to do two very unique things: to start, their primary objective is observing human life from beginning to end, taking notes and acting as walking archives for our future generations to have to learn from. They are equipped with a vast, yet compact, memory allocation to retain upwards of 500 Terabytes of files. Imagine every precious moment immortalized for your descendants to see, even when you are long gone.”

“Then comes the fun part! EDbots are equipped with those nostalgic language models from the initial surge of AI from way back when. This means they can replicate human speech patterns, help with basic tasks and recalling information they’ve stored, and act as your walking, talking pet for companionship in these fast-paced times. Contact your local ServaNet kiosk for information on pricing and availability. [info.edu.ad complete].”

A moment of silence passes, then John moves closer. “ServaNet went out of business before System Admin went up. Before my Gran was born.”

“Shite’s old as dirt, then,” Kyle adds with a grin, earning himself a light smack from John.

Johnny sighs, “I thought EDbots were supposed to be, well, teachers. Thought they did the educating, so they went out of business ‘cause people didn’t want to learn from a machine.”

[query: ServaNet termination… query accepted…]

“No, that doesn’t sound right. ServaNet was bought, I think, some big—”

“[radio interference] What do you mean—[static]—I-- [static] -rd to? This is supposed to-- [static] -my. Our memory—”

“What’s—”

“Shh!”

“-- ean we-- [static] … no, they can’t ju-- [static] –ll –ug-- f-- stors can… Shit. Shit! Just… we can start a new company, send investors over, transfer funds… We need the heat off our backs. The AI isn’t our goal, the storage is. Remember? We get the information, we get the world in our hands… Just get our PR on it, drop our name from everyone’s feed. We go out quiet, then we change house. I –[static]-t ca – ut--- [radio interference]”

“How old is that?” John mutters.

[query: file date… query accepted]

“File 342y98 entered the edu.archive on 08.08.2103. :^)”

“How old are you?”

“Hm, I’m not sure how to answer your query. Specify? :^\”

“When were you manufactured?”

“I’m not sure I can help you with that. You could try asking: Log of initial power on. Log of first *observation*. Log of—”

“Log of initial power on.”

[query: log date…]

“Error. Log corrupted. It seems I cannot access that information. Is there anything else you would like to know?”

“Simon,” John says, “you said it couldn’t connect to System Admin?”

Simon nods, looking to you, then back to John, “Said it had file corruption, too, so it can’t turn itself off. Might be defective, could be System interference.”

“No way to know that unless we get into the CPU, but we don’t have the means to do that.”

Kyle flexes the fingers of the fine motor hand he holds, “Do you know how many versions came before you?”

[query: production log… error… >file search: version history

searching… error: file corrupted >file search: model, update

searching… success…]

“Software updates occur on average every ten (10) units. Hardware updates and new models are manufactured every one thousand (1000) units to maximize code advancement and AI capabilities. :^)”

“This one said it was 6043,” Simon grunts, “They still makin’ them?”

“When I was decommissioned, I was replaced by ED-680013. This would imply that there are 174 newer models than me. :^)”

“Decommissioned?” John asks, looking to Johnny.

“Said it’s supposed to work at a human museum,” Johnny offers, “Probably just boot ‘em out when they’re old enough.”

“Hm. But file corruption means there’s something wrong with it, right?”

“So far it seems like it just means some files aren't accessible. Rest of it seems…,” Johnny trails off, hand loosely gesturing forward.

“Mm.” John fully steps up to the workbench, examining the parts sitting around, grabbing the head and lifting it in contemplation. “How does it get power?”

“Well, got it hooked up to the hand crank and it came on after about a couple hours.”

“… And you’ve been on since yesterday?” He asks you.

“Yes, human.Unknown. EDbots are made for posterity, so energy efficiency is a necessity. Energy accessibility is also necessary, so my hardware is compatible with most sources. If you can provide energy for me to remain on, I will not risk further file corruption, and I can assist in seeking a more habitable environment for your habitation. :^)”

“We’re in about as good a place as it gets. Rocks, dust, and ruins as far as the eye can see. Whatever water we find’s gotta go through five heavy filters, then boiled before we can drink it. Only food we get’s from century old cans.”

“:^o”

“:^|”

“That is very sad to hear,”

[>run sympathy.exe]

“:_^( Not having easy access to food or water can be very bad for your growing and staying healthy. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

Simon turns to John, “Think we should risk keeping it on?”

“Is there any benefit? EDbots are made to be glorified filing cabinets. Can’t do hard labor, can’t help us get resources…

“Maybe not,” Kyle says, reattaching the fine motor hand to its proper arm, “but even with file corruption it seems smart enough. Maybe it’s got memory we could use. Maybe… Maybe it could be an in to System Admin. Or at least a good enough computer to start working on one.”

“All the wiring’s still decent. I’d like to see if the hands can do much with working on tools and repairs,” Johnny adds, “And if we keep it here just for that, then it won’t be burning much energy.”

John’s lip purses in thought, he looks at Johnny and Kyle from the corner of his eye, setting your head back on the bench. “We keep it, you two are responsible for it. You keep it charged, keep it in good condition—and, you try and get into its code. More we know about it, more we can use.”

Johnny and Kyle affirm John’s orders, carefully gathering up your disjointed parts and beginning to reattach everything to how it first was (Johnny directing from memory, and asking you for directions as well). Simon and John watch for a moment, then head for the door out.

“You sure about this?” Simon asks, “We don’t have much to spare to keep up a bot for long.”

“EDbots aren’t rare to find because they’ve got a heavy upkeep, they just didn’t make many. They were kept only by people who could afford them, and you didn’t need more than one. At some point they started being hunted and stripped for extra parts. Aren’t very useful, as far as doing things other than recording and remembering. But Kyle’s right. Might have some useful information tucked away in there somewhere. Information’s always good to have.”

“We don’t know how far its system’s screwed up. What if it acts out?”

“Then we put it down.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Johnny, Price is gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

“I know,” he sighs, “But it wasn’t falling apart, figured I could get something out of it. Then I thought maybe the computer would be good enough for us to try and do something with, so I went to check if it’d turn on, then, well, then it did.” Kyle looked to Johnny then, meeting his gaze.

“And… do we have something?” Johnny bit his lip.

“Damn EDbot.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” The two walked in silence up to the entrance of their bunker, an old construct from days long past. Despite it’s age and rusting hatch, the structure itself maintained stability over time, providing a stable underground climate as a much needed solace from the wasteland above.

Over just a few centuries, a handful of generations, the human population faced a steady decline. The Earth’s biodiversity dwindled, but the innovations of technology and production became self-sufficient. Every billboard, poster, and sponsorship spoke of a savior dressed in polished chrome; but wires spread like weeds, water replaced by rust. Money meant resources, resources meant life, and life, then, was afforded to only a small number of the species. Despite all odds, however, others managed to survive. By will or wit, by crook or cane; or in this instance, four men who were raised in hell, and could read its ugly face as if it were their own reflection. The twilight sun bled over the horizon, lighting the rusty hatch as a gaping maw, and the two companions slid inside where their hunger laid in wait.

The cool, dark concrete stairs led down to the front hall. The hall led to one large room, dimly lit by an old generator down the hall to the left. To the back of the room was a short hall with a small bathroom, closet, and a moderate room that was made into an office of sorts. Monitors with security camera feeds, radios and maps in a poorly organized fashion. To the right of the center room was a longer hall, along which was a moderately sized room with 10 bunks embedded into the wall, and two storerooms-- one of which has been made into a pantry, the other into a weapons chamber.

As Johnny and Kyle reached the entrance into the main room (the “living area”), they could hear the faint murmurs of the radio in the back.

“Price, we’re in for the night,” Kyle calls.

“Gaz ‘n Soap are in now. Be back after food. How far out are you?” They could hear Price from the office. A response came in over the radio, but was unclear to the two making their way to begin making a meal. “Copy. Gaz’ll be on monitor duty tonight, he’ll let you in when you get back.”

Kyle sat in the living area, surrounded by the random cushions, blankets, tarps, and other “comfortable” items that had been scavenged over the year they had inhabited the bunker. A moderately sized portable stove sat in front of him as he waited for Johnny to bring food from the pantry to cook. Price emerged from the back hall, nodding to Kyle before taking a seat on a rocking chair with a couple throw pillows sat on it.

“Johnny find anything good? Been up there since he got back this morning,” he asked, a yawn creeping its way through his jaw.

“Well, I think… maybe you should just ask him,” Kyle offered, noncommittally. Price stilled, and looked to the entryway where Johnny came in with two cans and a pot. He walked over to Kyle, not acknowledging Price.

“Johnny,” Price began, “don’t tell me it’s another damn bot.” Johnny shifted his jaw, Price sighed and brought a hand down his face. “We’ve been over this before. We can’t bring bots back because they can be traced by the System remotely!”

“But this one wasn’t banged up so much, I just wan-”

“We don’t even have the power supply to maintain a bot that would be of any remote use for us. And only certain bots have the specific parts for maintenance on the radios and camera system. I told you to clear with me first, remember?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what the fuck did you do?”

“I disobeyed you, sir.” Price sighs again.

“We finally settled in here. Got a base of operation, got a means of turnin’ out of all this. I know you want to do everything you can, and I know we can’t be picky with whatever we can get our hands on. But we have to be careful. I know you know that,” Johnny stands stiffly as the smell of canned soup fills the room. “You said it’s in decent condition?”

“Yes, computer still works, too. Grabbed it cause ‘a the grapple hand. It’s got a good pressure system that could maybe be repurposed for a vacuum tank. Could come in handy fer a number of things,” Price rolls his head to rest on his left knuckle propped on the armrest.

“We’ll take a look tomorrow. But for disobeying my order you get septic tank duty for the next five empties.”

“Ugh, right before we eat, John?” Johnny whines.

“Damn, good luck, mate.” Kyle adds.

The three sit and talk, small conversation filling the room. When they finished, John covered the remaining soup and layered blankets overtop it to keep as much heat as possible for when their final companion returned. Johnny and Kyle went to the bathroom to prepare for the evening, after which Kyle went to the office and Johnny made his way to the bunk room. John used the bathroom after, then joined Johnny for the rest of the evening.

“Ghost to Gaz, come in, Gaz do you copy?”

“Gaz, I copy. What’s your 20 Ghost?”

“Bit of a mix up. Have to slow down a bit. ‘Bout 15 clicks Southwest.”

“Copy. Want me to entertain you on the commute?”

“Gonna read me a dirty magazine you found? Tell me what the pictures look like? Or maybe sing one ‘a those old English songs… ‘We’ll Meet Again’? *pant* In case something goes wrong, I get a good song to die to.”

“Dirty magazine it is, want me to start with the back covered in crude oil, or the front covered in mud?”

“Surprise me.”

Minutes pass as conversation dwindles. Kyle attempts to keep Ghost mentally awake after his long journey, and keeps track of his location on the small chance a recovery needs to be made, whether for him and his quarry, or to retrieve the items and a corpse. Kyle shakes the thought from his head, mentioning the daily activity around their base. Interesting discoveries around them that Soap made while out on his mapping excursions, books Price managed to find buried in the annals of a long-abandoned neighborhood. The faint hum of the generator rooms away sparking a nostalgia for something Kyle wasn’t sure he even remembers. Stories about a before. Before them. But that’s somewhere his mind always goes when he’s on monitor duty, so he redirects his attention as Ghost enters their ‘dark’ proximity.

It was well past midnight before Ghost made his return, a heavy pack of food and fuel for the generator. A large gun is held to his left hip, layers of padded armor add bulk to his frame and a necessary weight to protect against blunt force assaults. A familiar view of three small ruined buildings surround a small clearing, one with boards and sheets of metal patching up large holes to make it usable as a workspace. A few odds and ends were collected on his outing, the shed a necessary pit stop before retreating into the bunker. As he approaches the door, he hears very faint whirring sounds, prompting him to prepare his gun for a potential intruder. Kyle didn’t mention anything about the shed on the way back, and once close enough comms are turned off to mitigate potential tracing and save energy.

Moving around the building, Ghost sees no obvious points of potential break-in, and through small slits, cannot determine any mechanoid aside from a faint glow be the workbench. Maybe a new project Johnny forgot to turn off, he thinks. He walks back to the entrance, silently unlocks the door, and swiftly opening it with his gun poised to shoot. There on the workbench, a disassembled mechanoid of some kind sits, its pieces strew about. A digital faceplate glows faintly at him across the room.

“:^)”

“What the fuck.”

“Oh, another human! Perhaps you are a part of human.Johnny ‘s social group! Are you here for some *Enrichment* for your cognitive processes? May I *observe* your *Enrichment* :^)?”

Ghost stands, staring down the mechanoid, finger poised on the trigger. His only hesitation in shooting is that the condition of this bot seems to be in halfway decent condition compared to most others found in the area, and clearly Johnny thought something was useful. Slowly, he approaches, setting his heavy pack down and taking stock of the bot’s parts.

“What are you?” He growls.

“Query accepted. I am ED-6043, and I am programmed to review archives of human history at the 4992 Human Museum. Is there something you would like to know about humans? :^)”

“You’re not in a fuckin’ museum, bolthead,” he raises his gun, barrel pressed to the computer core, “message System Admin.”

“Preparing to contact System Admin… … …

… :^o Error. Admin link has been lost. Would you like me to attempt to reestablish connection?”

“Why is it lost?”

“It seems you would like to reach the System Admin. Would you like me to reestablish connection?”

“No, answer my question. Why is it lost?”

“Link has been lost as a result of leaving connection area. If you would like to reestablish my connection, I recommend transporting me to a locality where I can reconnect. Is there anything else you would like to know? :^)”

Ghost pauses for a moment. He looks over the bot’s parts for some kind of power off switch.

“Shut down.”

“Hm, if you would like me to shut down, please state admin override key :^)”

“Do as I tell you, can’t you turn yourself off?”

“Hm… It appears I have corrupted memory. If I commence shutdown, I may lose valuable knowledge! :^o My memory cards may be permanently damaged! I am programmed to avoid losing information about humans as they are a critically endangered species. Is there something you would like to know about humans? :^)”

“No. Shut. Down.”

“Hm, if you would like me to shut down, please state admin override key :^)”

“Fuckin’ hell, forget it,” Ghost haphazardly empties his pockets of the small parts to leave in the work shed, then picks up his pack and gun and leaves. Making sure the door is closed, locked, and secured, he then turns to the bunker hatch, a mechanism releasing before he is able to lift the door, enter, and close it behind him.

[And here is a small sketch of what Reader!bot (AKA ED-6043) looks like, as well as some information about them. Every time a text face is made, that's what shows up on the digital face display (apologies for the yellow text. If it's difficult to read, see below the image)]

Yellow text:

Digital Facial Display, a remnant of human programming that continued in the E.D. production lines to provide a sense of "personality"

Voice Box and Facial Synchronizer, used to replicate human voice and match facial expression

Batteries, need occasional charging

Computer Core, RAM, boards and console access

Wire joints, used for easy separation during repairs to isolate segments

Grapple Hand, used for a better grip and higher pressure output

Fine Motor Hand, used for precise actions such as pressing keypad buttons, writing, or repairs

It was not something you had seen coming, not entirely. But it was the only logical path forward for you, or any mechanoid for that matter, to inevitably be replaced by a newer, faster, updated model. It was in the middle of a lecture you were giving as one of a handful of E.D. mechanoids in the human museum. In walks the shiny, new ED-680013, and out walks you, the old ED-6043. While you were in relatively decent condition, you know your wiring has gotten a bit fried over the last few decades of service, and so once you stepped out of the lecture hall, you were met with two J.A.N. mechanoids who promptly contained you and delivered you to the disposal behind the building. This was, of course the only acceptable and logical conclusion for your end.

system.console

/run shutdown protocol

...

error

file corruption detected. shutdown may cause [1278934883828762] files to be permanently deleted. do you wish to proceed?

/no

shutdown protocol aborted

/run diagnostic protocol

...

error

diagnostic protocol cannot be run without system admin permission.

WARNING: Low battery detected. Seek recharge or system will commence shutdown in

5

Minutes. 2 mi30 seconds.

shutdown protocol initiated

--×--

system/boot.ED6043

initiating power on

...

error

Cannot detect system admin. Please ensure you are within the locality of your administrator or permissions may be locked.

power on successful

"-n, jus-- --t-m------ wor--plea--pleas--ome on, didn't drag ya all this--- --ay for noth--g. Hey, hey your face came on,"

[/Scan species... Success. Species identified... human. Facial recognition... Fail. /Run introduction protocol.]

"Hello, human. I will not hurt you. Please accept a harmless physical touch as a show of good will. [Error. Body non responsive.] Perhaps I could simply *observe* you for my records. I am an instructor at the 4992 Human Museum and could stand to learn from the /real thing/ :^)"

"Ah, shite. Price'll kill me for bringing an EDbot back. Well, maybe there's some useful parts still--" The human begins to lift your unresponsive limbs, looking briefly around for tools before beginning to try and dismantle you.

"Oh, you seem to be using your complex neural evolution and the long-standing invention of /tools/ to achieve *Enrichment*. Humans require much *Enrichment* to grow and stay healthy. Allow me to assist you in your *Enrichment* [/Run segmentation protocol... Error. Body non responsive. Segmentation may cause mobility issues, run segmentation protocol? /Yes]. There. Now you may play with my parts as *Enrichment*. May I *observe* as you get your *Enrichment*? :^)"

Your limbs separate at each joint, starting from the phalanges and working toward your trunk. The human seems shocked, then quickly tries to keep your parts from falling everywhere, barely managing to catch your head as it rolls forward off the ball socket at your cervical frame.

"What the fuck," it looks at your face, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "thought only sweepers could do that..." A knock sounds at the door to the small work area you and the human are in.

"Johnny!" A voice calls, "Time for food. Gettin' late!"

"Aye!" The human in front of you calls back.

"Food? Yes. Humans must ingest proper *Nutrients* in order to grow and stay healthy. [/Scan mammal wellness... Success. The human appears decently fed, and moderately dehydrated. /Run human care algorithm... Success.] You need more vitamin A, D, and a greater intake of water to maintain a healthy condition. Might I suggest... *Fish Oil*? :^)"

"Johnny? Did you bring another bot back? Didn't Price tell you not to waste energy on anything before asking him?"

"Shite... It's- it's not like that! How do I turn this thing off--"

"Hm. It sounds like you have a social group that you belong to! Your heart rate and moisture content indicate a hightened level of stress--"

"Would you be quiet??"

"--which could be symptoms of your dehydration and lack of balanced diet--"

"Please, will you shut up!?"

"--I will remind you of my thoroughly reviewed suggestion of *Fish Oil* :^)"

He sets your head down, other parts of you sliding to the ground or across the table, and pointedly exhales before turning and leaving. You hear its voice and the voice of the other human in its social group retreat from the building you are in.