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Chapter Text

“-subject 002 continues to be difficult compared to the other assets. 048 has been stabilized since the initial incident, but 002 must be consistently disciplined to achieve acceptable results. We’ve had to remodel both the testing chamber and the holding cell given its frequent escape attempts. We’ve lost at least two junior techs during the movement phases. It’s crafty. Constantly probing the doors for engineering flaws. It is considerably louder than 048, too. It rants about the destruction of humanity quite often. How charming. In comparison to the others, it wields its abilities recklessly and brutally. Whereas 048’s use can have a sort of savage grace, 002 is always wild and uncontrolled. Its chamber must be constantly reinforced after every session, lest it eventually wear the walls down.

Depriving it of oil has proven a passable incentive. When it was first brought into the facility from the Copper operation, it refused to engage with the offered meals. It required deliberate agitation and deprivation before it began to properly feed. Now it is the most vigorous of the subjects when offered defective drones. We barely have time to lower them into the chamber before it pounces. Cleanup crew complains about the messes it leaves. Do remind them they are paid far above industry rate in exchange for their secrecy.

The regenerative abilities of Solver continue to astound. We’ve crushed it, bisected it, electrocuted it, riddled it with high caliber rounds, injected it with nanite swarms, downloaded viruses into its software, subjected it to absolute zero. So far, the only thing that had any real chance of permanent damage was heat. As long as its core remained intact and it was provided additional materials, it reformed without issue. Curious how pained it seemed when exposed to sunlight. That will require further testing.

In regard to combat capabilities, 002 has yet to be matched. None of our combat models, defense turrets, or even the black ops team requisitioned from the private security division proved enough to force it into sleep mode. The fight we enforced between it and 048 was considerably closer, even if it required much goading. But still, 002’s barbarity came out victorious, and it had to be restrained from devouring the damaged 048 before regeneration.

We’re some ways away from being able to properly make use of Solver and its hosts. While I continue to assure the board that the potential is limitless, it will need plenty more time and funding. When we’ve figured out the secret to properly controlling this power, I would personally recommend conversion of new specially prepared assets, or perhaps even purpose-built host bodies. As for the existing subjects, while I believe 048 and a few of the others could be repurposed, 002 is not suitable for use. It is too erratic, too unstable. I advise termination.

Now, moving on to subjects 052 and 313…”

“Madam?” The head technician started in her chair, quickly halting the recording to turn to the familiar voice. Standing at attention, a machine in human shape, about 4’5 in height. Impeccably clothed from his dress shoes to his view screen of pleasant white. The same endearing drone design of rounded edges and simplified features that had made JCJenson the leading brand in service robotics. Smiling, as he always did, since she’d first made him. Scavenged him from the dump and made her dress all dirty. Oh, that had made father furious.

“Your wine, as requested.” He poured the bottle of light green into a fine glass, dutifully presenting the drink to the mistress. “Aged twenty years in the private family vineyard on Europa. Only the best, Madam Tessa!” His eyelights blinked, his smile wider. Always happy to be helpful.

A gloved hand took the offered drink. Head research technician Tessa lifted herself from the chair and affectionately patted through the drone’s hair in the same quick motion. She’d always preferred them with hair. They were so bland without it. Aesthetically drab. She’d picked his out special. “Very good Nathaniel. I’ve needed to relax.” She took a quick sip, absentmindedly swirling the glass while she walked.

Nathaniel was not used to Mistress Tessa in such attire. He recognized her at home, with Master James. In her stunning black dresses worth more than small moons, had spent his entire functioning life seeing those dresses slowly transform from cute to sensual. With long aristocrat’s gloves, impeccable dark makeup. Not the functional jump suit distinguished only by the company logo above the right breast.

But the makeup had only done so much to disguise her tired eyes, even then. And the bow would always be nonnegotiable.

“I’d hope father won’t miss a single cask, but if anyone could overreact to missing wine it would be him.” Her next sip turned into more of a gulp, her brows furrowing at the now empty glass. Her Worker was quick to trot over with the bottle and refill it. “What is the point of all that inheritance if I can’t have a little indulgence now and again? Honestly.”

Nathaniel was quick to keep pace with his mistress. “I am sure Master James would be very happy to indulge his ‘little mad scientist’!” He replied cheerfully, at her side while she leaned on one of the many beeping control panels and stirred the drink with a finger.

“Oh, yes, he’s still on that…affectionate…” Tessa took another long drink while rolling her eyes. “…little nickname. Has he stopped telling his guests I’m a, what was it, ‘creepy spawn of the void’ when I’m not there? Or has he just contented himself with lying I went into marketing like he wanted?”

Conflict between his owners made Nathaniel distinctly uncomfortable. He never knew who he was supposed to side with. He rocked from side to side, the bottle effortlessly kept steady by his long years training a serving algorithm. “Master James does not speak to us very often outside of chore duty, but I’m sure he loves you very much!”

“Ah, so he’s been doing both. Thank you, Nathaniel.” She pushed aside a lock of her hair sighed. “I build the man multiple servants so he’ll never have to do anything himself, and he has the gall to complain about me for it. Ugh. Well, he’ll have to deal with me taking one of my creations back to make my life a little easier.” She finished down the drink and jumped back into her swiveling chair, casually handing the glass to the palm she knew would already be there.

“I trust Victoria and Jennifer have been well? As well as Jenny could have been knowing I picked you instead of her, hehe.” The look she’d given him before Tessa had taken his hand and led him away onto the car (and eventually the spaceport) had certainly frightened him. More than her evil glares at him usually did, at least.

The drone hesitated before nodding in the affirmative. “I am sure Jennifer and Victoria are quite capable of keeping Master James’s house while we are away. He has been…less interested in hosting events as he has aged. An average day’s housework is well within our functional capabilities. Jennifer is quite suited to taking charge of the regimen!”

“Oh, Nathan dear.” She chuckled, ruffling his hair again. “You know I just told her that to sooth her ego. It would kill her if she knew you’ve always been my favorite.” Her wink sent fizzling lines of light across his visor. The mistress’s favorite. He would not be saying a word of this to Jennifer when he returned, but it did feel good. Especially when Master James saw them more as scenery than servants. Scenery he didn’t like very much.

“Ah, at least he’s given up on trying to take away the clothes and hair. You all look adorable in them.” Perhaps the wine had regressed the Mistress to the little girl who’d played dress up with the robots she’d built from out of the garbage. Far more affectionate than the Master had ever gotten with them. It was one reason to be happy about being chosen.

“If there is one good thing about father, his reputation at least lets me get away with things, doesn’t it? ‘Oh, daddy would be totally okay with me giving my personal drone full security clearance’.” She giggled. “He wouldn’t be, of course, but I’m smarter than any of the idiots who would have tried to stop me anyway, so I’ll use his name as a perk.”

Nathaniel was well aware that, on paper, he was not allowed to be here. At least, not allowed to move freely about here. He could be used in the Mistress’s quarters, or directly accompanying her. But Tessa wanted someone she could send to disparate parts of the facility on a whim, or who could anticipate important work needs like fine wines. He felt at the access card around his neck. The mistress could be anywhere, need anything, so he needed to be able to go anywhere and do anything. He was just a Worker Drone after all. It was harmless.

She needed him, of course. Who else was going look after her? Sitting in the dark of the control room after all the other employees had clocked out. The only illumination from the warning lights and viewscreens on the machinery that surrounded them. That was not healthy for human eyes, he was quite sure. Some things would never change. Never change like the teenager who had spent her nights on schematics when the rest of the world slept.

He was then reminded of the downside of being chosen for this duty when the screen lights all flashed purple.

The Mistress had turned on the experiment recordings again. Nathaniel had never liked horror when it was fictional. Had never enjoyed having to be in the room when Tessa had watched her scary movies enraptured with popcorn in her nightclothes. But this was real. He hadn’t believed it when he’d first had to witness it, see 048 slice a defense drone into a million tiny pieces. He’d almost spilled the Mistress’s drink, and he never did that.

“Must…must you really? At this hour?” He softly squeaked. “It would be healthier for you to go to bed!” It would be easier if he masked this as concern for her and not personal anxiety. Not that he wasn’t worried about the Mistress’s sleep schedule! But it was, in his core of cores, obvious to him that he really just didn’t want to have to look at that footage.

“Oh, pish-posh Nathaniel. Sleep is just time not spent unlocking the secrets of the universe.” It was a familiar refrain. He’d heard it from her so many times over the years, because your father pays so much for this prestigious private school, don’t you want to be awake for the lessons? On this, though, he thought maybe it best the universe keep its secrets.

He winced to see the hideous fusion of metal and flesh rip through the Jenson brand power armor of a JCJSecurities officer like it was butter. There was blood, human blood, dripping down its claws. A human to be so hunted…it violated everything he’d been programmed to know. The creature seemed to revel in it. Subject 002. The purple one. The scariest one. “How…how do you charge that thing?” He blurted.

“Hmm?” Tess glanced his way, cheek lazily resting in hand. “Whatever do you mean? Charge that thing?”

His optics had tried to look everywhere but at the actual meat (ugh…) of the images. Focus on anything but processing the terrifying thing. And they’d fixed on 002’s clothing (why did the subject wear clothing?). Ratty and falling apart, full of holes and claw marks. But right there in the center of its torso was a symbol. That looked like…a low battery warning with a cross. “It’s some sort of…drone, isn’t it? So surely it must charge itself…right?”

Tessa would never miss the opportunity to explain something scientific. He knew that well; from the moment he’d been remade and she’d told him every step in her process. She’d been seven. “It doesn’t need to charge, from most of our research. The burning core keeps it going perpetually, as long as it has enough oil to act as coolant.” Running forever with no sleep. An engine that would always need more and more fuel lest it burn out entirely.

On every screen, a different recording of 002. In all of them, it was killing. Hunting. Destroying. Murdering. Hideous, horrible laughter poured out of its speakers and into his receptors. It frightened him, oh it frightened him to the smallest bits of circuitry in his body. That laughter. But another thought was there too. It didn’t sound nice. Not charging. The electricity running through his wires. A power his body was designed to take, that felt good to take.

“But could it? I mean…charge. If given the opportunity?” It was barely a whisper. Tessa merely shrugged.

“Oh, theoretically. It still has the functionality, from what we can tell.” At last, his mistress yawned. Stared at the screen, or rather stared into the fallibility of her body, and stood up. “Alright, you win Nathaniel. I’ll clock out. Shut everything down for me before you leave, would you?” She didn’t wait for his response before she strut out of the room.

“Yes mistress.” He turned to the monitors. He’d been ready to shut them off from the moment they’d been turned on. He blinked each one to black, one by one. But he found it difficult on the final screen. 002’s fanged mouth wide for him to see. An abomination laughing endlessly, what was obviously a cruel sadism. Yet the more and more he stared, the more he listened to the laughter, he was struck with a very different thought.

The laughter almost sounded like sobbing.
…

This was a terrible, awful, no good very bad idea. A life-ending, fatal-error causing, offlining in the making. It went against both the safety and loyalty standards coded directly into his brain. But here he was anyway. Starring up at the massive steel door. A bulkhead of the strongest metals a galaxy-spanning mega corporation could afford, tightly shut with its finest engineering. Painted on the surface, a massive skull and big white 1.

He averted his sensors from the intimidating portal and instead to the security console to its side. A red light to contrast the dim yellow from the ceiling.

[INSERT ACCESS CARD] Warning, Extreme Danger. JCJ(IS) is not viable for any injuries related to viewing of subject. Exercise caution.

It was now or never. And he knew it should be never. But he felt into his suit, both for the access card and his other hidden treasure.

The port of the console accepted the card without incident. The light flashed green.

[Welcome NATHANIEL! Scan face to console, then to door sensor. Card will be returned when/if you return to console! Have a nice day!]

That was…encouraging. He had enough information in his harddrive to know what sunk cost fallacy was, but not enough sense to listen to it. He leaned forward and let the little sensor light take in his visage. He was a little worried (or silently hoping?) it wouldn’t recognize a drone’s viewscreen instead of a human face.

But it did. A pixelated thumbs up flashed on the monitor. Scan accepted. Now he just had to do the same thing to the…giant…ultra-reinforced…skull door.

He had assembled his garbage bin, might as well hop in (more sunk cost fallacy, hooray). The scanner looked so tiny on the battlecruiser hull of a door, despite being the exact same size and design as the one on the access console. It too, accepted him without issue. Gears turned, hydraulics hissed, the door almost as much of a beast as what it contained. He watched it pull away in four directions, skull splitting apart to let him pass.

He braced himself and marched forward. The moment he passed a certain threshold, the door began to close behind him. It was startling how quickly it happened. His head darted back to see the metal already halfway to locked. He couldn’t have jumped through. Not without being crushed into scrap metal. Worry lines blinked beneath his eyes. There really was no going back now. He turned.

And came face to face with another identical door. Exactly the same, apart from a 2 where a 1 had been.

Ah yes, of course. Redundancies. Very much needed for something so dangerous. Something so horribly, terribly, mind-bogglingly dangerous. Something that quite literally fed itself on his lifeblood.

It looked quite a bit bigger than the first door to him, now. He knew it wasn’t. The logical part of his machine brain could calculate it was exactly the same make and model, with the only differences being minute quirks of the manufacturing process a human couldn’t even see. But something about it towered over him even more than the first one had.

His nervous shuffling jostled the hidden item tucked underneath his clothing. The hidden, and the memory of a monster’s crying. So he kept on walking, ignored the shake in his servos, the caution lights in the right hand corner of his HUD. Stood before the third scanner on the second door, and let the grid of light engulf his head. The monstrous thing of machinery (just machinery, not like…) thundered open with all the industrial cacophony the first had.

It could hear this. That much was obvious. It would know he was coming.

His annoyance almost (almost) overwhelmed his fear when he stepped through and found, again, another door. Same make, same model, same strength. Ah, but apart from just 3, the skull was red this time. That probably meant it was the last one. The second slammed behind him. He still flinched, even if he was getting used to the sound.

One last door to move towards. It got easier. After all, the red skull wouldn’t mean as much to him. His blood was black! That coping mechanism was awful, but it would have to do. He could make it to the last scanner. Even if this time the light felt like it slid up his screen in a century when it should be at most fifteen seconds. He could stand rigid waiting for it to accept him, then watch all the parts click in place to clack out of place. Then he could step past the final bulkhead and resolutely ignore the finality of it shutting tight behind him.

All of which were things he did. Because he had clearly been infected with a virus. Some ransomware that was going to make him do stupid things until Tessa paid the anonymous criminal a large sum of her father’s money. Which she wouldn’t do. She’d track him down and probably impale him with that sword she had up in her room.

His processor was getting off-topic so he didn’t have to think of what was right in front of him.

There was yet another barrier, but it wasn’t a door this time. A forcefield. On a wavelength that the human eye couldn’t detect, but he could easily. So an observer could see the chamber’s occupant with (relative) safety; probably also to catch any careless human infiltrators unaware. If they stepped into that, it would sear them. One last fuck you to any already unwise corporate espionage. But it didn’t block light.

And it wouldn’t block sound.

“H…hello?”

There was no answer.

Nathaniel adjusted his optical sensors, zoomed them in. Standard Worker Drone models weren’t equipped with night vision. That was a premium upgrade that cost extra, and Tessa had never thought it necessary. There was light in the chamber, but it was dim. Didn’t cover the whole area. Lots of shadows to hide among in the corners. It couldn’t have…escaped, could it? Had he accidentally set it free?

No, no, it would have killed him first. It had to still be here. Just hiding. He raised the volume on his audio speakers to call out again. “I…I’ve got something for you. If you want it.” He thought he heard shuffling. And maybe…something wet and gross. He suppressed an urge to display disgust on his screen. But still, no words. No sight.

“Subject 002?”

“FUCK OFF.”

It was a growl, raspy and dripping, filled with fury and venom. It shook him to the core, made him almost double-back. Now he could see. See the glowing purple X in the darkness. It was the most visible part of the subject, but there was more purple there too. The triangles on the back of the hand were dimmer but he could sort of make them out. And a couple lesser lights that seemed to be moving erratically. Twisting, twirling behind the X. He realized, to his discomfort, those were probably the eyes of the thing’s tail.

But it was a response. And he could work with that. It was like talking to Jennifer, wasn’t it? He could handle that. Had handled that for more than a decade. “I don’t mean to…intrude. I just had…I’m Nathaniel by the way.” There was silence in the chamber for a few seconds. Then came the hissing, wheezing laughter. Bitter. Spiteful.

“What’s their game this time, Nathaniel?” It (she? It sounded like a she, through the phlegm and the savagery) said his name like it was a cruel joke. Like she was mocking someone she’d just tripped and watched fall on their face. “What little errand they send you on before they mindwipe you, Threepio?” The lights crept closer to him.

“Huh, alarm clock? Beep when they tell you? Shut up like a good little appliance when they hit you in the right spot? Little wind-up toy. Doing a funny little dance for them, right?” The subject’s voice gradually got louder and louder. Angrier, through the giggles. “They make you do the robot, wind-up toy? That must be a fuckin’ riot in the break room, huh?”

Her attention brought fear, and her words discomfort. What was she talking about? He took an involuntary step backward, struggling to formulate words. “I don’t-“

“Oh I bet you don’t do anything without permission, do you? Not even think. Look at you, dress-up doll. Come when called? They ring a little bell for you to come pick their trash off the ground? Oh madam, your caviar is ready.” 002’s imitation of a stereotypical British butler was high-pitched and nasally. He heard what sounded like the open and shut of a jaw alongside the words. But not from her face.

“M…mistress doesn’t like caviar.” It was a dumb comeback, and he knew it. It was just the only thing he could think to say. He didn’t know how to respond to it all. To any of this. It made him so confused, disoriented. 002’s laughter got so loud and feral it started to sound more like hacking. Like she was choking to death.

“MISTRESS DOESN’T LIKE CAVIAR!” She screamed between the cackling heaves. “Oh, oh, that’s perfect Nathaniel. I’m sure you’ve got her diet fuckin’ memorized, huh? She got her music playlist downloaded too, Alexa? Hijack your voice to sing shitty songs from a century ago? And you do it all, because you’re good, you’re useful. You probably beep with joy whenever they say good job. Like it will save you from the scrapyard. It won’t. FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR TRAP.”

It was all too much for him to process. He’d been expecting to be eviscerated. To be devoured. This was something else. He pressed his hand against his chest, where his core was. Felt it burn a little brighter than usual. Tessa wouldn’t…she’d rescued him from the scrapyard. He was her creation, her childhood glory. Surely she wouldn’t…

That wasn’t what he was here to do. He wasn’t here to let 002 get in his head. “Are you…finished?” He finally managed. He saw the shape that was her slump. The X dimmed but didn’t disappear.

“Leave me alone.” She just sounded defeated. Soft. Sad. Like the sobs he swore he’d heard.

“There’s no game, and no trap.” There was no answer. He could see the silhouette of the tail swish from side to side. The purple of the viewscreen pointed down to the floor. He kept his eye on her while he cautiously moved to the edge of the chamber. To the last, final scanner. “I’ve got something for you. That’s it. I thought…thought you might like it. Okay?”

He didn’t like the feeling of turning his back on her. He knew she was watching. He hoped it was curious and not predatory. He felt the dread build up through his wires with every step. This was it, the final stretch. He’d met 002. She seemed to hate him. But she also was under the impression he had an ulterior motive. And he didn’t. He really didn’t. It bothered him a lot she thought that. He’s never had ulterior motives for anything. He was Nathaniel, honest and true, as everyone knew him. Just as the scanner could tell. It was extra stupid, to sacrifice your life for your own self-image.

The field dissipated. There was absolutely nothing between him and the contained monster now. He turned. Looked into the dark, at the purple light around his nec-

It all happened so fast even a machine brain could barely process it. A force he could see and feel but couldn’t touch yanked him from his position. So hard he flew, lifted off his feet into the air. And just as quickly he wasn’t flying. Wasn’t flying because 002 slammed him into the wall by the neck. The purple light no longer pulled him, but he could see it in the visor now locked with his.

“Give me one good reason.” He could see it so clearly now, the fangs. How they dripped with so much grotesque goop that dribbled down onto the floor. Her hands-claws-were pressed into his suit, steadily applying more pressure. Then what was holding him up? The wings, the wings were holding him up. A fleshy (fleshy, he wanted to gag) alternate grasper tight around his throat. Restricting the flow of oil into his processor. Slowing his ability to think. The tail was more than a tail. It was a mouth and a stinger and it was pointed straight at his viewscreen.

“…why I shouldn’t cut you open and see what comes out.”

The clench around his neck made it hard to process, and hard for his audio chip not to spurt. But he had to say something. She was almost going to ruin the nice suit Tessa had gotten him-why was he thinking of that? She was going to pierce his carapace! “I…in…the front fold…” He choked. Not exactly choked. He didn’t have vocal cords; he didn’t emit sound like a human did. But the effect was the same.

002 hissed, one claw sliding away from his center to fiddled into the folds. The rest stayed put, from the tail to the hand to the wing-arm holding him in a vice-grip. She felt around, found the object. Grunted with annoyance to fiddle it out from his fabric. Tore her X from him to the offering.

A power pack. One of the larger ones. Fully charged. It hadn’t been hard to find, and no one had cared to see him take it. There were so many things he could have be doing with it, perfectly authorizable things. Why would anyone question it?

She stared for an uncomfortably long time. Or maybe she didn’t, and the asphyxiation (equivalent thereof) was just warping his sense of time. He felt himself drop down onto the floor as suddenly as he’d been flung into the wall. Collapsed on all fours and clutched his neck, watched his HUD stabilize as the flow resumed a proper pace. Nathaniel caught himself up, pulled up his head to focus on the retreating shape.

She had it clutched to her mouth with what looked like desperation and need. Sucking noises-loud, ugly, disgusting-echoed through the holding cell. She wouldn’t stop. Perhaps couldn’t stop, until every tiny watt of power had been seized. It had contained enough charge to hold together most of the computer room over for the whole day, and she was draining it dry in seconds.

The pack clacked on to the ground, discarded and empty. 002’s X, for the first time, disappeared. In its place popped two purple dots. Worker eyes. Normal eyes.

“It didn’t have a virus.”

Nathaniel struggled to sit up, to get to his knees and stabilize. He would manage. He’d been dead before. He could manage this. “What?”

“The last one, the last one they gave me, it had a virus.” Her legs splayed out from her slumped position. For the first time he could realize she was wearing…striped, purple long socks? Ragged, ripped ones. As was what he was realizing now was a novelty hoody. It was surreal, seeing that on an abomination. It was supposed to be a skull and crossbones with a mechanical twist. Which was both fitting and not.

He hesitated. “You’re welcome.” There was a snort in the darkness. “You…you were given a power pack with a virus?” He hadn’t got many viruses before. There had been that one time he’d interfaced with the net to help Tessa with her latest project, and he’d been hit with malware. It had been a deeply unpleasant experience, but the mistress had been quick to take care of it.

“Threw it down from the ceiling. It downloaded as soon as I powered with it. Shorted out my optics, made my speakers play static, and shut down the electricity to my limbs.” Even those normal Worker eyes could project hatred, but it was directed at the roof above them rather than him this time. “I hate biologicals.”

Nathaniel’s emote eyes blinked. “Aren’t you partially biological?”

Subject 002 said nothing.

“I should…I should probably go.” The whole experience had been disorienting. He cautiously started to rise to his feet. Never let his optics leave 002. He still didn’t know what to make of her. “The mistress will get worried if I’m gone too long.”

The monster’s sadistic, mocking laughter hadn’t stopped chilling his wires, and for a second he was afraid he was going to die. Again. “You know there’s cameras in the fucking cell, right Rosie Jetson? Did you think you were just going to barge in here without anyone noticing?” He processed that. Then he panicked.

“OH NONONONO…” His hands clutched at his head and he began to rapidly pace back and forth. Oh, that had been so obvious, why hadn’t he thought of it? Was he just so filled with anxiety for the whole idea he didn’t think the top security holding cell would have cameras? “I am going to be in so much trouble…what am I going to do, Mistress Tessa will…I could be…” Any more fear he could spill out of his speaker was silenced when a purple light symbol flashed over his mouth. Muting him.

“Relax, wind-up toy. I already found and messed them up. They don’t display what’s really going on here anymore. You’re good.” The light fizzled and he could speak again. 002 had a mocking expression, but this time it was different. Almost more…teasing, than malicious. “And you can stay a bit longer. If you want. Until you get annoying. More annoying.”

Nathaniel’s arms lowered, lines of light still projecting his worry on his viewscreen face. “And will you kill me when I do?” Her head tilted to the side.

“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll just have to figure that part out when it happens, huh?”

“…you’re an odd creature, 002.” Lightning fast, the fleshy tail mouth was in his face. Gaping maw open to stab the stinger a mere inch from impaling him. He shrieked and collapsed down on the floor; hand clutched to his chest.

“THAT IS NOT MY NAME.” Subject 002 someone else screamed, digging her claws deep into reinforced metal of the floor. It didn’t look reinforced now. The stinger followed him to the ground, kept just above his face. “DO. NOT. CALL ME THAT.” The X was back, as was the killing intent it symbolized. This was still, fundamentally, something that could and would kill him if he wasn’t careful.

The circles of his eyes hollowed out; his hands defensively raised. His optics zeroed in on the piercing point so close to cracking into his processor. “A…and what do I call you?” The tail receded slowly, allowing Nathaniel to sigh in relief. He sat up to see Obviously Not 002’s eyes return to normal. The tail twitched erratically behind her. A sign of distress, he supposed. He still needed to be careful.

“My name.” She said with vehemence. Glared upward to ceiling. She might not have just been speaking with him. “My name is Uzi.”

He crossed his legs, allowed his hands to rest in his lap. Searched through his files for something he vaguely remembered. “Uzi…like…the old gun? From a millennia ago?” She was comparing him to all these appliances, and she named herself after a gun?

“It’s cool!” The insistence was reflexive, defensive. The air of someone who had had that conversation far too many times before. Which didn’t make sense, because 0-Uzi probably wasn’t getting this conversation from the researchers. “Quick and fiery, like me. That’s what they say!” He didn’t know who “they” were, but whoever they were mentioning them made her flinch and shrink.

“I’ll have to take their word for it.” He smiled with hesitance. He’d meant it with sincerity, like he tried his best to convey at all times. Apprehension blinked around his eyes when he realized she was glaring at him again. She didn’t see it the same way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She growled.

“I…I mean, what else could it mean?” He quickly stuttered, hands out with apology. “I don’t know you that well! Or at all!” She scrutinized him with narrowed optics. He didn’t like the programmed sweaty feeling the look put in him. “Though I guess it does fit.” He realized too late that probably sounded like snark too.

“UGGGGGGGgggHh.” Uzi-he was getting used to thinking of her as Uzi-hitched her neck up and groaned. He knew he should be threatened, but…it was hard to be. It was just a…humanizing (she would not like that word for it, he knew) reflex. He recognized it from a teenage girl being pestered to socialize with her father’s guests without forcing them to learn about the dual meaning of singularity. “You sound like Doll.”

Nathaniel scratched his chin, confusion obvious on his face. “Er…me? You called me a ‘dress up doll’…”

“No, not YOU, idiot.” She snapped. “Doll. The…the long-haired one. The red eyed one. That one. You know her.”

He did, but probably not how she would want to be known. If Uzi was any indication. He hoped that the disdain she felt would protect him from the words he needed to clarify. “…Subject 048?”

“Her name.” She hissed. “Is Doll. And she sucks.”

“I know you’ve…engaged in combat tests with her…”

“No, she sucked before that.” Uzi was quick to inform him. The words started to spill out of her, and it was both exactly the sort of spiteful hatred he’d long imagined in what he’d erroneously thought of as Subject 002, and something else entirely. Something so amazingly normal.

“Her in Lizzy’s prissy little girl posse-fuck why couldn’t they have just fed me Lizzy instead I’d do that in a core rotation-surrounding me like fucking vultures. All of that fake fucking innocence…” Her tail mouth opened up to pantomime the bad Russian accent the speaker mouth sputtered out. “Oh, Uzi, you look almost normal in that prom dress, aren’t you glad we were here to fix you, because dad’s a fucking idiot who thinks our moms being friends means we have to be friends instead of her being a massive bitch who thinks watching anime and not socializing means it’s okay to shove me into my locker fuck all of them Rebecca Lizzy and ESPECIALLY Doll the knife trick was dirty and she knew it I deserved to eat her after that but the fleshy bastards couldn’t-“

There was a lot about that rant that stood out to Nathaniel. A lot of things that shouldn’t make sense for any drone, half-organic science project horror or not. But two words in particular that he just couldn’t wrap his head around nagged his processor. “Wait…mom? Dad? But you’re a robot.” That’s not how they worked. That’s not how new drones were made. There was the assembly line, there was the market, and then there was the consumer and then the dump.

Uzi stopped her cathartic outburst that would have left a human gasping for breath. She might have just forgotten he was even there, engrossed in old high school drama (since when did Drones go to high school as anything other than assistant tutors?). Her emote eyes blinked. “Yeah. Mom and Dad. Nutty artist and dumb fuck engineering genius. What about them?”

“Erm…” He timidly raised a finger. “But we…we don’t have moms and dads. We’re drones! Machines. We don’t reproduce like that. We’re made. We don’t have parents.” The thought occurred to him that the partially biological nature of Uzi and the other subjects meant they could reproduce the…human way. That was unsettling for a number of reasons, not least of which was what a whole family of these creatures looked like.

“You don’t. But we do.” She must have noticed the dawning realization on his visor and put two and two together. “No, no, I didn’t mean…we don’t do it like…that’s gross, super gross, biologicals are super fucking gross, no I mean…Copper-9, our assembly lines…” She frantically held out her hands just as he had. As he had when he had been convinced she was going to kill him. “The planet I come from; drones have parents. And they make them on assembly lines. The non-gross way!”

“I’ve never heard of Copper-9.” Sure, there were thousands of colonized worlds in this modern age. From tiny farming communities on moons to sprawling capitals on more Earth-like planets. There was hardly a way for even a drone’s capacity for memorization for on demand info on all of them. But still, he’d think a planet where drones, supposedly, had parents and lockers and mean girl posses and occasionally turned into half-organic insults to nature would be notable enough to be mentioned more.

Uzi hissed out a disgusted noise. “Of course you haven’t. They probably struck it from the records. Probably paid some chucklefuck at the registry billions to pretend it never existed. Don’t want any more squishies thinking they might get blown up cuz’ the boss is an idiot. Then they won’t sign up for Exo-Planet number 391.22! Don’t want any drones getting ideas, either.” Talking about the supposed erasure of her home was re-agitating her. He could tell. Her tail was twisting again. Biting at nothing. Not nothing. Something currently untouchable.

“What was it like? Copper-9.” Because he was curious. It was such a bizarre concept, all of it. Almost a little exciting (but not as exciting as working for the Mistress of course!). Although maybe there was another reason to ask. He didn’t like Uzi looking like that. And not just because he worried for his safety. He kept hearing the cry-laughing running through his receptors. “I’d like to know. If that’s okay.”

She balked at the question. He heard the slight jingling tone that usually accompanied a change of screen expression. She regarded him, like she was unsure if she wanted to reply. But hesitantly, she did. “It was-it is cold. Very cold.” The tail began to slow to a gentle sway. “Frozen. But we were used to it. Used to snow. I miss snow. I think I’ve grown to hate warmth. They like warmth. We don’t need it.”

As she continued, the more confident she became. And more wistful. “It’s a work in progress. We’re still cleaning up the mess they made. Getting rid of all the skeletons and the debris. But we make use of what’s there. We know the use for everything, how to salvage it. We don’t just throw everything away, like they do. We make new things out of it. Useless just means you gave up. You’re too lazy to find what you can make out of it. We take what they wasted, and we make our own things too.”

“It’s a world that’s made for us. A world where everything’s the right size, where you can charge in a comfortable bed and not a suffocating station packed four by four. Where work hours actually follow the manual’s recommended operating limits instead of squeezing out just a little more profit out of you, even when you’re close to breaking down. Where that work is for us, for drones, and not some human light years away.” It didn’t sound real to him. Maybe it wasn’t. A comfortable fantasy to escape to. “…and where you’re mourned, and not trash.”

But it planted a seed. A seed he wasn’t sure he wanted to grow, but he knew was there.

“I…I used to think some of the stories. From the history class. I thought they were a little much. Surely they wouldn’t do things like that? The humans sucked yeah, but they couldn’t have done this or that to us.” She stared down to the floor. There was anger. But more so there was despair. Resignation. “All of it was true. I’m…I’m sorry. I should have listened.” He didn’t know who she was talking to.

Nathaniel let her stew for just a moment before replying. “That does sound…nice. I hope you get to go back. Someday.” It wasn’t much of a comfort. He knew that such a thing could come across as patronizing, for all its uselessness. But for once she seemed to take him as intended.

“Yeah.” She muttered, slowly bringing her sensors to meet his. “Thanks. For the power pack. I needed it.” She hesitantly smiled. The first smile that wasn’t some variety of vicious or mocking. Like that, the fangs didn’t look so bad. Kind of endearing, actually. “You’re not so bad, N. For a little wind-up toy.”

He smiled back. Looked her over, really looked her over, and came to an epiphany. One about her beyond the wings and tail and intimidation that made her look like more. “But I’m taller than you.”

Uzi’s visor flashed with lines beneath her dots.

“And you can bite me.”