Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing she sees when she comes to is grey. Everything is blurry at first, accumulating into a mix of colourless blobs before her. All of it is dull, devoid of any life or colour. It mixes together in her sight into a muddled mess of shapes and light reflections.

Upon initial glance, with her interfaces still booting up, she almost thinks she's staring at a pile made purely of stone and concrete, stacked high in front of her. Maybe she's laying on the ground, looking at a bunch of debris. It's near impossible to decipher her environment with the dodgy quality of her vision.

As the signals powering her brain activate, and the code focuses on what's in front of her, the realisation begins to creep up that what she is looking at is not debris. Focus sharpening, her eyes twitch and flicker over to an object catching light at the edge of her sight; a metal box. She recognizes it–partially by shape, but mainly by the distinct, cross logo pressed onto the side. It's been half crushed, dented in multiple areas by force of some kind. She doesn't care about the damage or what caused it, though.

That cross should be green, but it's not, it's entirely in grey scale. It should not be in grey scale.

Her head is struggling to compute what that means properly. It must mean she's damaged–her vision isn't working properly, so that must be the case–but why? How did this happen? When did this happen? Is it even- can this even be fixed? She doesn't know what exactly is broken inside her. She doesn't know enough about her own blueprints to even start to guess what’s causing this error. All she knows is that this is wrong.

It occurs to her now, as she lay motionless on the ground, that she hasn't moved this whole time. A swift panic takes over, and she tries to send currents to the gears in her mechanical body in a feeble attempt to move or rotate any part of her. She can feel the sharp slide of metal against metal as one of her fingers–she’s pretty sure it's her left pinky–twitches in place. It lifts a miniscule amount at her insistence, then falls back into its previous position quickly. She can't move her eyes enough to see the movement. Her head is held stiffly in place, locking her field of view in place, but she can feel the joints twist in their socket gently. No other parts listen to her commands.

She can't feel fear, she's not programmed to, but if she could, she'd be awfully afraid right now.

As she rushes through her interfaces to decipher what's going on, a new problem makes itself known. Her model number, her purpose–what were they? She can't remember. To be honest, she can't remember much of anything. She's not even sure if she's supposed to have memories at all. Gem knows she's an android, and she knows she's meant to provide aid to people, and that's all. When she tries to sort through the limited files she can access in her database, no additional information comes up. Such an important, core part of her being has vanished in an instant.

Where did the people who made her go? She can't have gone to this place, wherever this is, of her own accord. She is an android, she follows orders and goes where her people go. If she's here alone… Does that mean they left her behind? Was she unwanted? Or was she damaged beyond repair? The thought is disturbing enough to make the electricity pulsing through her system sizzle with distaste. Surely if she was online and functional, actively thinking and fully independent, she must be fixable… right?

No sounds come to greet her at her resting place, and yet the atmosphere is howling, a cacophony of despair lurking in her ears. She doesn't blink, yet her vision flashes black and spotty in a mockery of what the bodily function would be. Unruly seas of emotion are threatening to toss her overboard, and the storms overhead are pooling water into her chest. She should be waterproof, but with this many errors in her system, there's no way she's sealed off properly. If the water finds its way in, if she loses control…

Someone’s going to find her. They will–she just has to wait. She can't lose hope now, not when she's only just come back online.

She’s an android, anyway. She doesn’t feel fear, so she has nothing to worry about. As long as her core stays self-sufficient, she can wait forever.

===

She has never really been envious of humans all that much. Besides their capacity to have free will, there isn't much she really felt that she was lacking from her existence. Although, until recently she hadn't thought much about her existence at all. Still, humans are squishy and get scrapes and bruises. They bleed, they cry, and after their lifespans progress far enough they die. None of that really seems all too appealing to her.

Right now, however, she really wishes she could sleep.

Androids can sleep, technically, but it's a manual function that happens when their systems need a break, or an update is required. It isn't something she could really force to occur. Androids just aren't programmed to be able to sleep the way humans do; they need to be constantly alert to properly do their jobs. Humans, however, can sleep whenever and however they want. Most importantly, they can sleep dozens of hours away at a time.

She really wishes she could pass time like that right now.

The time sensor in her internal interface is broken. The digits haven't progressed at all since she's come back online. All that reads is a frozen, analog-style timestamp and date; 11:47PM • 2206/09/14. Another system error that needs to be fixed, along with all her other faulty pieces. At this point, she's having difficulty keeping track of each malfunction and error that pops up in her code as she lays here.

Thanks to the defective clock, she has no clue how long she's been here. She can't see much beyond the pillars of concrete rubble and abandoned supply cases in front of her. There’s no light from any stars or moons to indicate a day-cycle, at least from her current perspective. She’s stuck inside an enclosed structure, from what she can tell. The only light is coming from overhead–presumably a ceiling light from whatever building she's in. There's no way to know how long she's been here, or even an estimate of what the present date is.

Despite her best efforts, she hasn't been able to recall much. She hasn't remembered her model number or any nickname her creators may have given her, but she has begun to recollect her purpose. Brief flashes of medical boxes, handling bandages and drawing up syringes of medication. She was designed to be a nurse, caring for a wide variety of humans and aliens alike. Saving people was her one and only job.

A bit ironic, really, that she's now the one who needs to be saved.

Glimpses of patients in her care are all she's gotten so far. Each one is fleeting. Every time she thinks she's grasping hold of a more concrete memory, it slips between her fingers like water dripping into an endless ocean. She's wondered, more than once, if her memory hard drive is damaged. Given the lacklustre capabilities of most of her machinery, it's entirely possible her whole memory system could be corrupted. If it's not surface damage clogging her mind, that would mean any number of her memories could be permanently lost.

She can't think too hard about that. If she does, she gets sad, and that emotion is so bizarrely foreign to her that she's trying to avoid it all together. She isn't supposed to feel anything. Androids don't get sad, because it would impair their ability to do their job. Therefore, she can't get sad.

If she says it enough, she can convince herself it's true. All she has to do is ignore the swath of unpleasant emotions, and keep hoping that someone will find her.

===

A faint rustling noise alerts her to the presence of something new. A shuffling sound she can only identify as something moving. It's too far out for her to extrapolate any more information about what it could be, but she knows something is there. She knows there's something here, and she knows her hearing works, and that's what matters.

A few beats pass with no additional noises. She's all too aware of the subtle hum of her own hardware whirring in the background. She tunes it out the best she can, dialling into the present moment in hopes of identifying more sounds.

The quiet subsides to a thump, then the rhythmic pattern of what can only be a creature walking. Soft footsteps click on a hard surface–likely a tile floor, assuming the room she's stuck in reflects the layout of the whole building. It's too far to tell what direction it's moving in. She can tell that it's bipedal, though, which means there's a good chance it's a humanoid or alien she can commune with. She has to get their attention.

Her gears click helplessly as she tries to move. Her lone finger makes a feeble attempt to lift up, a meek accomplishment in her goal to draw attention to herself. The synthesiser in her throat is faulty and she knows it–it doesn't stop her from desperately rattling it with signals, doing anything possible to produce a sound.

She needs this being to find her. She can't lose this opportunity.

The universe seems to be granting her wishes today, because the scuttling noises get louder, bit by bit. Whatever is present seems to be moving to an area, waiting for a few minutes, and then proceeding to a new location. She imagines it's probably scouting out the place–for other living things or for supplies, she isn't quite sure.

The pattern of noise from the footsteps doesn't sound familiar to her, so she assumes it's not a human, though it does sound bipedal. It follows a rhythmic pattern, with no delays or pauses as it moves between its destinations. Even as the sounds get louder and presumably closer, they still seem muffled in an unnatural way. Perhaps fur was deafening the beings footsteps. She knows from her brief memories that aliens can look like almost anything.

The snail's pace at which the noises get louder is agonising. All she can do is hope they'll check the room she's in, and that they'll be able to help her. Willing to help her–she doesn't know what this being is looking for, or what they intend to do with what they find.

A partial shadow appears at the edge of Gem’s vision, and the world goes silent. Whoever is present has arrived at the space she's in.

“Gosh–what a mess.” The sudden speech takes her by surprise. There's a lilt to the stranger's voice that she isn't familiar with. She can only recall a few voices from her database, and none of them sound quite like this one. An accent from some planet she's never been to, presumably.

The shadow shifts, and the sound of footfall returns as it enters the space. The shadow slinks across the rubble in front of her slowly. They appear to be cautiously traversing through the room. She can't quite see where they are, but she can only imagine the entrance to this place is just as demolished as the carnage that's in front of her. The sound of walking continues, accompanied by the clink of stones knocking together or tumbling to the floor.

Then, everything freezes. The shadow halts its movement, and the sounds die out into nothingness. The atmosphere goes stale with anticipation, and she can only hope that it's not for a bad reason.

“Now who would leave a perfectly good android behind? That's just wasteful.” The voice says.

Perfectly good… What?

She feels the code in her head get stuck on loop, continuously repeating the phrase. Surely the figure can tell she's broken, right? It feels terribly unlikely that someone would value a broken android, as much as she wishes it to be true. Sure, she can still think, but that doesn't matter if nothing else inside her works. She was failing to fulfil her purpose, laying in the rubble of a location she can't even identify. Nothing about her currently was perfect, let alone good.

Not to mention the emotional turmoil in her head that she isn't even supposed to be capable of experiencing.

The figure shuffles around some more, the cast shadow creeping forward. As it does, she sees the taloned toes of two strange feet peek into view. They appear to be bird-like, yet their form isn't solid–the appendages seem to be made of some darkly coloured fog, morphing shape as the individual steps closer. Specks of light twinkle in the shape–the sight attempts to trigger a memory, but one she's unable to access. Finally, the cloaked being gets close enough to lean into her view.

First she sees the colourless shape of their cape, wrapped half around their upper torso with the hood pulled over them. A marbled swirl of dark and light hair spills out of one side, waves curling down over their shoulder. Beneath the cloak is a dark leather apron, a large, embroidered flower covering the front pocket. Strapped across their body are various bags and satchels. They seem to fight for space with one another, stacked atop each other or squished up against their neighbours.

Then, the figure leans down far enough for her to see their face. The same foggy dust pools across the left side of their face, star-like lights speckled across what would be a vibrantly-coloured galaxy–at least that's what she thinks it would be, if she could see any colours.

“Huh.” The figure stares at her for a moment. She sees them narrow their eyes and pull closer, studying her own face. As they do, she catches the bright white irises in their eyes–the shape of a crescent moon. The movement makes Gem send a surge of power through every part of her body. Feeble attempts at turning gears and making them do something. She's never tried harder to work her voice synthesiser in her life, though it continues to refuse cooperation.

Then, the person's eyes grow wide.

“Wait a second… Are you… Online? You're online, aren't you?”

She doesn't know what gives it away, but she’s the happiest she's probably ever been. Hearing those words feels like the weight of all the rubble on top of her has floated off into orbit. This stranger knows she's online, that she's still alive. It's a monumental relief, almost easing the rust in her joints. Her gears whir uselessly, spinning around in joy despite lacking the capacity to do anything productive.

“Gosh, how long have you been out here?” The figure worries their bottom lip between their teeth. A few seconds pass where they stare down at her, and they seem to realise then that the android can't do anything in response. “I guess you can't answer that.”

The alien sighs, leaning back on their heels. Their head swivels to scan around the room, taking in sights that the android herself can't see. Their eyes turn back to her, and what she knows is a smile forms onto the alien's face.

“You know what? I'm taking you with me. I think I know a guy who can help with… whatever is going on. You'll be fixed up in no time, friend.” The figure reaches out and pats her on the shoulder reassuringly. She feels the softest vibration that her systems pick up, the first tactile sense she's felt in ages. She thinks that, if she had the ability to, she could cry right now. This stranger has no reason to save her, and yet they're willing to get her fixed. Nothing could equal what this means to her.

“I don't really know if you can hear me, but my name's Pearl.”

Pearl. Her saviour's name, Pearl. She frantically logs the name into her database. She positions it at the very top of her important titles–usually her own name would go here, alongside some manufacturers or employers, but she doesn't actually know any of those–right now Pearl is the most valuable name she has. She can't let herself lose the name of her only companion.

“I don't know what to call you. Maybe you've got some kind of serial code somewhere…” Pearl squints at her, and begins to lean out of her field of view as she leans over the android’s body. She assumes her new friend is looking for her model number. She's pretty sure it's stamped onto her exterior somewhere, but considering she can't even remember it herself, there's a chance it's gotten scraped off.

Pearl hums to herself as she gets up to walk around the android. She hears the sound of rock grating against itself, a grunt of effort, and then the weight on her shoulder is gone. She gives a futile test of the motors in her shoulder–they don't work, and she knew they wouldn't, but it was worth a try. They can only make a dull whirring noise as they struggle in place. Still, even if she can't move, the relief from the discarded weight is enough to make her feel blessed.

After a bit more shifting debris around, Pearl seems exhausted. She watches the other sit down in front of her again, a defeated expression on her face. She taps her chin with a star-covered index finger.

“I guess I can just give you a name. You wouldn't mind that, right? Beats calling you a robot or something.”

She finds herself agreeing with Pearl. While she isn't so sure about a name being given to her rather than choosing it herself, she knows she doesn't want to be called some generic old android term. Letting someone else pick would make it a whole lot easier. Not that she's really capable of informing her companion of a personal name choice at the moment.

Honestly, she doesn't even know how she would begin to pick out a name for herself. All she's ever been was a line of letters and numbers. Now, that information is lost inside the crevices of her broken code.

“How about… Gem? Gem is a nice name, isn't it?” Pearl says. “And it's fitting, really. You're a hidden gem that I've found out here.” Pearl laughs to herself. Her smile is wide, amusement casting over the moons in her eyes as she beams down at the android.

Gem. For now, at least, her name is going to be Gem. She can't try it out for herself with her voice synthesiser busted, but the way Pearl says it sounds pleasant to her ears. Her mangled interfaces prevent her from simulating the audio–an annoyance, though it’s hard to be upset when Pearl is giggling in delight across from her. The android voice in the back of her head, the one that pleads to be helpful and fulfil its purpose, insists that as long as Pearl is happy with it, she will be too.

Besides, Gem can always change it later.

Chapter Text

The travel to their destination feels brief when comparing it to the long stretches of emptiness Gem’s gotten used to. Realistically, she knows they must have spent a decent chunk of time in motion. Pearl had to carry her out of the ruins of her encampment, try to fit her into the back of a small space shuttle, and then start flying to wherever they were heading. For Pearl, it must've been an eternity. With how long Gem has been lost with her thoughts, frozen in permanent stillness against her will, their travelling feels almost too fast for her. It's overwhelming—or whatever the android equivalent of that is. She's still trying to figure out what phenomena she's experiencing.

The way Gem’s body has been positioned allows her to see through the glass along the roof of the vehicle. At this angle, there are no stationary landmarks she can use to calculate their speed or trajectory. Those would be fairly useless statistics in this situation, though. She doesn't know where they're headed or where they came from, and without that information she can't research coordinates for anything. On top of that, she can't even communicate with her pilot. So all she can do is stare out into the cosmic blur of the galaxy; the sole subject of her point of view. A mix of swirling desaturated colours that blend together like watercolour, only broken up by the occasional twinkling star or spacecraft passing overhead.

Their arrival is signalled by a change in velocity, and now Pearl has to wrestle her back out of the vehicle again. Gem can’t say she enjoys the process. It would be a lot easier if the majority of her joints weren't locked up.

Grey concrete greets her once more as she faces the ground, then she catches a glimpse of the street they're on. It doesn't strike Gem as familiar at first glance. A multitude of different rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other form up most of the buildings. They appear almost like someone haphazardly stacked shipping containers atop one another, complete with mis-matched colours. The one closest to her has a bright, neon red and white sign on the lowest level. Junk N’ Stuff, it reads, with a large trash bag icon stamped to the right of the text. The building has a few large windows and a glass door, but both are covered in white, criss-crossing bars.

Pearl moves Gem away before she can analyse much else on the street. They pass by a street post, the metal obscuring Gem’s vision for a moment. The jingle of a bell coming from behind tells her Pearl has likely opened a door now. She watches the black of a door frame slowly come into view, the clear glass of a large window following suit. The door closes behind them and Pearl turns to place her on one side of the space.

Gem can only see about a quarter of the shop from where she’s positioned. She seems to be propped up off the floor, so likely sitting down on a chair of some kind. There's not many interesting subjects to look at. A few posters hung up on the walls of famous ships and engineering blueprints. A shelf full of trinkets with usages she can't identify. None of it piques her interest very much, and none of it seems particularly useful either. Everything displayed either doesn't have a use or exclusively showcases ship engineering and repairs. She trusts Pearl to bring her to a reputable technician, but she can't help but worry.

Gem’s internal monologue results in her missing most of the conversation between Pearl and the front desk worker. Before she processes what's going on, she's being lifted into the air and placed upon a hard surface. There's the sound of hard plastic meeting tile, combined with a rumbling vibration beneath her feet. Based on the way her vision is moving through the space, she figures she's on a rolling cart of some sort.

The journey through the shop is a blur. The hallways are lined with posters about ships and inventions. Some silly motivational signs break apart the serious tone of them all. They occasionally pass a closed door. Sometimes Gem will catch the plastic sign plastered on the wall next to them as she rolls by—most of the single doors are offices, while the double-doors workshops. Everything looks the same in the room, a fact that isn't helped by her monochrome vision. She's taken further and further into the building, passing by identical walls and doorways.

At last, they come to a halt, and Gem hears the sounds fade away. Footsteps echo throughout a room she can only see a small section of; it looks no different than the other spaces she's been in so far. The muffled buzzing from electric machinery purrs through the solid foundation of the building.

“You can leave her with us. I'll let you know of any updates.” The voice of the other person–the storefront worker–says. Gem notes now, actively listening to their voice, the distinct tang of an accent, different to the one Pearl has. Her database can't provide any regional information that would allow her to guess the origin, but she still slots the information away. Maybe she can find out later.

“Alright then..” Pearl says, somewhere off to Gem’s left. Her voice trails off with uncertainty. There's the silent shuffle of footsteps, a sound that she recognizes immediately as Pearl walking. The sound carries Pearl into her field of view, until her companion is standing directly in front of her.

“They're gonna fix you in no time, alright?” Pearl smiles, but it feels peculiar in a way she struggles to articulate. Her sensors recognize it as appearing different from Pearl’s previous happy expressions. When she pulls up the memory of Pearl grinning at her when they first met, her eyes had scrunched up with positivity. Now, the roundness of her cheeks doesn’t meet her eyes, and her lips are pressed into a thin line even with their curve. She wishes she could inquire, but her faulty code will allow her to do no such thing.

“I'll see you later.” Gem watches Pearl turn and disappear from her sight. The sounds of her traversing the space fade away, until all traces of her have vaporised into nothing. Gem hears the loud creak of a door moving, then slamming shut. Finally, the space settles into the mechanical hum of the workshop she's been left inside.

===

Quelling her fear of being alone is almost harder than smothering a flame with a single drop of water. It's all too easy to put herself back into the empty space she inhabited for so long, an endless stretch of time she would never know the reality of. The plain, fluorescent lights of the space she's in aren't helping in that regard.

Amid the constant hum of machines, Gem’s auditory processors will dial in on another person's voice. If she focuses hard enough, she can adjust the frequencies and amplify it enough to hear the syllables with clarity–this is one of her only internal systems that's still functioning adequately.

As she listens in, she recognizes the voice from the front desk. The voice is discussing something related to business or paperwork. There are other voices mingling into the flow of conversation, but they're too muffled for her to distinguish. It sounds like maybe two people, judging by pitch. She suspects they all have similar accents, making it hard to differentiate between the speakers.

The shuddering sound of the door's hinges being pried open interrupts her focus. Her estimation of time is unreliable, but she's certain it hasn't been that long since Pearl left. A good sign that someone has arrived, she hopes.

Heavy footfall echoes off the ceiling and walls. They do not clang like metal clanking against hard floors, nor do they shuffle with a windy whisper like Pearl’s. Gem can only describe it as generic, like a humanoid wearing a pair of shoes. She didn't catch sight of the front desk worker, but the sound of them moving had a similar rhythm. Whatever they are, these two must be similar beings.

The being approaches Gem's right side. An object thuds onto the surface next to her, rattling something beneath her. Loose items in a drawer, she presumes. There's a subtle, metallic click followed by thick fabric rustling. It reminds her of the sound Pearl's satchel made when she was loading up her spaceship. She wonders what mystery material the person is searching for in their bag.

A light overhead flickers, causing the person to pause their rummaging about. She hears them place something onto the flat surface beside her, and at last there's the clunk of their shoes meeting the ground. In a few brief steps, the figure appears in front of her.

Gem only takes in the sight of a dark headband before her view is obscured. A small, handheld device is positioned in front of her eye. For once she is certain of the emotion she's experiencing: confusion. She can't parse what the tool’s function placed so near to her vision sensors, but nothing about it makes her feel comfortable. Her vision is already partially mangled as is, and she would really appreciate not having a reckless stranger damage it further.

Blinding white seers into her screens, brighter than any light her limited memory has ever experienced before. Her instincts tell her to jerk her body away, her gears twisting in places. Any miniscule movement she can produce is performed without her active input. As her sight is distilled into a melting pot of star shine, a memory is triggered, deep within her internal storage. This has happened before–not her being blinded, but instead her performing the action this stranger is doing, shining a light at other creatures' eyes. No more information slips through the errors in her code. She can only assume it had to do with her manufactured purpose.

There are implications there, Gem is positive of it, yet they slip from her grasp as the light disappears. She is stunned once more, this time by the sudden decrease in luminosity. Her eyes seem to buffer as they process the visual overload, frames of her vision skipping as it tries to catch up to the present. Gem can only imagine that the compromised software isn't doing her any favours here.

“Oh snap.” A voice says. She tries her best to focus on the blurry outline of the man before her. He has to have some form of profound answer here.

“I guess Iskall was right after all…” The person mutters quietly this time. He raises his hand to enact a movement, hesitates, and then aborts the motion. Gem struggles to interpret his actions as the world finally starts to fall back into place.

Her screen’s tear as they normalise themselves again. In front of her, two dark eyes squint back into her own, expression unreadable.

“Uh, hello… Gem?” He seems uncertain of the name–she’s not sure why, it's not like she can correct him. “We’re gonna get…” he pauses, considering his words. “this, sorted out.”

===

Gem's vision has slowly been improving over the last little while. It should be a reassuring sign, but unfortunately, progress in every other area has not been as fruitful. She still can't move, her motor controls refusing to accept any input commands. Her vision is still glitchy and desaturated. Her memories are the same, spotty mess they've always been.

Even despite her poor ability to interpret the environment around her with her broken sensory systems, Gem has been absorbing as much information as she can. Primarily, she's been studying the engineer who is actively disassembling her. It's a little disconcerting to watch parts of her plating being unscrewed in places, unable to make any comments or complaints about it. It's even worse knowing that with any mistake she could shut down in a second. Any fatal error in a line of her code or misplaced redstone component could do it. Really, Gem doesn't even know this guy's credentials–Pearl never mentioned any specifics besides “knowing someone who could fix her.”

Despite the unnerving situation of having a stranger essentially deconstruct her mechanical organs while she watches in forced silence, Gem has become a bit more confident over time that it will be okay. There has been progress after all–her eyes have started to recognize the blues in the environment around her, which she couldn't do before. That has to count for something, right?

If there's one thing Gem’s learned during this whole ordeal, it's to focus on the positives. There's a lot of those, actually. For one, she's not alone anymore. Plus, these people are actively trying to help her!

Her current favourite positive so far, in this bleak situation, is the commentary of the engineer–Etho–who’s fixing her.

Etho is… strange. Not in a bad way (probably), but just… odd. Different from her expectations, based on her own programming’s idea of an android engineer. Although, she truly can't remember the last time she was serviced, and her memories aren't exactly trustworthy right now, so she could be relying on false assumptions there.

Making assumptions about personalities is a thing she can do now, apparently. Another weird, humanoid phenomenon that she has to get used to.

It's been hard to get a good grasp of Etho’s appearance, considering the first time she saw him she got flashbanged. Neither can she actually direct her head around to look at him. From what she has seen, he presents like a human on the exterior, though there's a permanent mask covering the lower half of his face. It fully obscures his nose, mouth, and jaw, and most of his lower cheeks. She can only assume the covering is for safety purposes; redstone seems to be much dustier than she originally expected. His hair is a pale colour, pulled back into a short ponytail. She's only gotten a brief glance at his eyes, but she did catch the long scar sprawled across his right eye. Other than that, there's not much else she can intake about his appearance with no colour perception.

Initially he would speak to Gem like an awkward, mechanical physician. Every action was hesitant, punctuated with an explanation, as if he'd somehow scare Gem off if he didn't. Slowly, it progressed to him talking to her in a sort of one-sided conversation, including asking her questions she cannot answer. He continues to ramble and elaborate on what he’s executing like before, but it feels much more relaxed. Periods of long silence will occur, only for them to be broken by some absent thought he feels the need to voice aloud.

It’s entertaining–at least while she has nothing better to do.

So that's what she amuses herself with while she waits for progress to be made. Every moment of time spent cataloguing a new, intriguing behaviour from her latest companion. Gem files them away in a dedicated folder, just like she started doing for Pearl. It seems she's gaining a lot of new friends from this otherwise poor experience. Another positive to hold onto.

Once in a while, an additional voice will echo into her consciousness. One of them she recognizes easily–the distinct accent of the person from the front desk. During the brief conversations between Etho and them, she learns their name is Iskall. Iskall stops by frequently, much more than any other person who interrupts Etho's work. She supposes this makes sense, considering Iskall was the one who Pearl spoke to initially. Iskall was probably the one who relayed the job to him. Another note from her limited observations, is that Etho seems quite fond of them. There's never any genuine annoyance when Etho’s work is interrupted, he always seems glad to see his coworker. Every now and then when Iskall appears, they'll pull Etho away with the promise of a fresh meal, and Gem will be left to wait for his return.

There's another voice that stops by, too. She hasn't seen the person it belongs to yet, but she assumes it's Etho's boss from the brief but serious conversations they've had. Etho seems to like this person as well, based on his tone, but their conversations tend to lean into being more dull than goofy. The topic is almost always about something work related.

Of all the people to visit, Pearl hasn't been one of them yet. Deep down, Gem is hoping it's because her friend isn't allowed to. It would make sense–they’re in an engineer workshop of sorts, there's probably some sensitive equipment in here that can't be touched without adequate training. That's what she's choosing to convince herself of, anyway. Gem isn't really sure what she would do if she walks out into the storefront and Pearl isn't there.

A weird, suffocating emotion pulls at Gem’s wires. Gem tries to twitch her finger, and the motors in her wrist buzz to life. They snap upwards, and suddenly her whole hand has rotated almost a dozen degrees to the left. The movement is once again halted by a mechanical limitation of some sorts, a blockade preventing her body from functioning the way it should.

The emotional distress that triggered the movement is lost in a rushing wave of excitement. She couldn't move like that before. The progress has her brain running at a thousand ticks per second–she’s starting to work properly again. Gem is going to be able to move again. She’ll be able to leap and frolic and stumble her way across the star systems.

“Oh–that’s a good sign.” From the corner of her eye, she can see Etho watching her hand oscillate with its limited mobility. He pauses his work, contemplating the movement with a hand pressed to the bottom of his face mask. His eyebrows furrow, trying their best to inch like caterpillars towards the central point between them.

“That could work…” He says, and then without explaining his boots carry him to the left, out of sight of Gem's peripheral vision. She listens to the ambient sound of him typing something up on the device he's been using to analyse her software. Gem hasn't actually seen what it is, she just knows it's some kind of computer with a clicky keyboard she likes the sound of.

Etho refrains from speaking as he begins typing something up. He's been regularly checking her code this way, or at least that's what he tells her that he's doing. She hasn't felt any significant updates in her programming that would warrant a warning or a pop-up alert yet. When her vision first started improving it had flickered to life suddenly. Gem isn't entirely sure how Etho is even updating her programming. She knows there's cables involved–she watched him wrestle with them earlier on in the repair process. The select memories she has access to don't include any servicing, so she can only make approximations.

The typing comes to a halt, and there's an audible exhale. Gem can't place the emotion behind it. “You're probably not gonna like this…” Etho says beneath his breath, far enough away she has to repeat the sound internally to ensure she processed the words correctly.

Then everything snaps into an infinite black void.

Chapter Text

Consciousness is a creeping fog on a cold morning. It rolls into the bay of her mind with a silent call, pooling into grooves and motherboards until it's too dense to be ignored any longer. The cool humidity tugs at her awareness, coaxing her back to the front of her mind. The clouds overstay their welcome even as Gem realises she's online, loosening her grip as she reaches for her primary system controls. She shoves away the blurriness as best as she can. She needs to figure out where she left off and what she's doing.

Where she was… Oh, right. The memories from her last time active start to trickle their way down electrical highways. Gem knows she was shut off at some point without warning. It wasn't her employer's doing–no, she doesn't have one of those anymore. She was last with the engineer, Etho, which means he must be responsible for shutting her off. Now that she thinks about it, she recalls what he said before it all happened. Apparently the thing she wouldn't like was effectively stopping her brain for a while.

Etho was supposed to be repairing her, though. He had been repairing her. There was proof in the fact her vision had improved, and the articulation in her movements was getting better, too. She found it hard to believe he thought the best course of action was shutting her down for any reason. Was he not aware that she could've lost consciousness forever? Self-aware androids are almost never turned off for that exact reason. There's no guarantee they'll come back online the same. Gem can't imagine losing her precious memories, even despite how few there are, because some engineer guy flicked the off switch as an experiment.

Gem's vision isn't loading the outside world yet. Instead, her internal displays produce dozens of pop-ups, all regarding software updates and changes. She closes them all without much thought, which maybe isn't the best idea, but she's too overwhelmed by her entire brain rebooting to care.

Pieces of knowledge flash into her mind. Articles about sentient androids and the mysteries behind their causes and function, how they can be lost to programming updates and hardwares changes. It rattles her with anger, but she doesn't dismiss the fact she's beginning to pull information she couldn't before.

Gem steels herself, watching the update percentage tick higher and higher for her vision. She swats at the strange sensation of anger in her wires; she's never had to calm herself down before. Really, she shouldn't assume the worst of Etho. While she believes wholeheartedly it was stupid and reckless to shut her down, clearly she was still functioning like normal. Better than normal, if the shiny new software was any indication.

One of the other major updates finishes before her vision does. It's labelled “Motor Controls.” Her capacity to control her movement. She distinctly notes that the label is slightly different from the previous version she remembers. A quick internal command changes the title for her. Even if her system muscle memory has faded from her lack of use over time, she still wants it to stay consistent.

While Gem can't see what she's doing, she knows her body controls well enough to use them with no critical thought. It only takes her a moment of going through all the options and coordinating her position for each axis to test them out. She raises her left arm above her head with a long swing. The joint twists effortlessly, spinning her limb high into the air at her command. She rolls her wrist in a circle and bends her fingers at each of the digits to check. There's no resistance besides expected physical limitations. She has her full range of movement back in her arms.

Gem then rotates her head to the side. It's almost strange how easily it moves where she wants it to. Being stuck in a stationary position for so long had become normal to her. She expects her gears to grind to a halt at some point, staunching her movement, but it never happens. She's able to tilt her head from side-to-side like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Gem can't see him, but she hears the moment Etho shuffles on his feet. He must be observing her movements, though he provides no comments on her functionality. Whether or not he has anything to say, Gem doesn't really care. She has half a mind to tune his voice out completely, which is something she couldn't have done before. She wouldn't have gained that ability back without him, though. As much as she craves to roar and shout at him for his carelessness, it would serve no use to either of them besides emotional satisfaction. Another emotion-related thing she has to get used to.

“Oh snap- Um… wait here..?” Etho trips over his words, stammering as he tries to spit them out. His words are followed by the sound of soles sliding against linoleum flooring as he moves. Then, the heavy repetition of footsteps rushes off to a different part of the room. They fade away until they stop abruptly. The hinges on a door creak with complaints as it's pulled open, and then it slams shut a few moments later, cutting off the sound of Etho running down the hallway.

What a weird guy.

Gem's final update finishes, brandishing one more tab for her to acknowledge the changes before they initiate. She relaxes in her spot and prepares for the onslaught; she's done this before, just never at such a large scale. It feels pointless to draw it out, so she accepts the changes, watching the digital button darken as she does.

In a single instance, she feels herself catapulting from the calm of her internal displays and dunked under a tidal wave of digital information. Every major system springs to life all at once, and with it comes a truck-full of stuff. Memories hit her square in the face one after another, hurling themselves through endless loops of circuitry to be processed at light speed. She's a robot, an incredibly complex computer, and she can process the information being handed to her faster than any human could, but it still floods in so quickly she gets dizzy. She struggles to fully isolate each bit that races past, and everything melds together into symbols and images.

“Huh-” The new noise startles Gem, causing her to jolt in place. She barely registers the computerised noises as her own–it’s been so long since she's heard her own voice, she nearly forgot what it sounded like. Once she acknowledges that–alongside a hundred other files being rocketed through her software–she begins to desperately unpack her synthesiser controls. Locating them is easy; they're always tucked close by due to their importance. She doesn't get a chance to use them, because her eyes have decided it's their turn to invert her world.

Gem can't even begin to address her vision, because there's colour. Everything that was once dull and flat, devoid of any character or vibrance, has suddenly come back at her in full, kaleidoscopic force. What was once a monochrome workshop is suddenly an actual environment. There's a shock of teal along the panelling of the wall in front of her, and she sees now the white of the walls has a warm tint to it. The cabinets lining the walls are bright reds, scratches of silver metal shining through where the paint has gone. The schematics plastered on the walls have gained a rich blue backdrop for the sketches on top of them.

She moves her head downwards, feels the joints twist properly, and sees the pink and orange plating along her limbs. She brings her right hand into view and flips it over so she can look at both sides, and then does it again, mesmerised by the simple hues before her. Gem has no idea how much exterior damage she had sustained after being abandoned, but looking now, her paint appears to only be slightly chipped in some places. A pleasant surprise, considering she was so badly damaged she couldn't speak. There's a dent in her left thigh, but it's shallow enough it could probably be fixed without much effort.

“Gosh.” It's the first thing she can think of saying. It comes to her naturally; she remembers Pearl saying it before, when the other had first found her. She's not quite sure the exact usage of the word, but it feels right to say. She can't quite think of anything else that encapsulates her feelings right now.

Gem looks up again, at the empty but colourful room she's in. She's half expecting Etho to be off to the side, having snuck back into the room to witness her reboot, but as she scans each corner of the room she finds nothing. Her scanners–now fully functional–tell her there's no living beings occupying the space with her.

“Weird.”

Looking down, Gem finds herself staring at her feet. She hasn't seen her lower body in so long, it almost feels new to her, even though it very much isn't. Tentatively, she tests moving her legs. She lifts her calves up a few inches, her feet following through and arching upwards. Everything flexes the way she expects it to, so she decides to try standing properly. Bracing herself with her arms by gripping the surface she's sat on, she places one foot on the tile floors. She can sense the cold through her exterior, though the heat from her electrical insides prevent her from really feeling it. With a cautious pace, she shifts her weight onto her foot. Nothing in her joints feels unsteady or weak, which she takes as a good sign, so she continues with the second foot. Again, her body is maintaining itself. With a new wave of confidence acquired, she pushes herself up to stand.

At first, she wobbles. Her balance hasn't been active for a long time. Combined with an update that altered her core functions, she was bound to be unsteady. For a moment Gem is afraid she's going to crash into the floor like a baby deer. Her code is faster than her wiggly limbs, though, and it calculates any redirections instantly, allowing her to reorient herself into a stable position.

Gem lets her hands drop down to rest at her sides and turns to look at where she has been sitting. It's a long, steel workbench–she assumed it would be something like that, but she never really got a good look at it before. She takes a few slow steps backwards to take in the sight. The top is a reflective metal surface. It was probably perfectly smooth when it was first built, but now it's covered in scratches and dents. The bottom is painted the same red as the other cabinets in the room, and it's filled with drawers. The paint has chipped away in the corners, and there's a few small stickers across the front of it. Nothing about it is particularly interesting, but now that she has a chance to see again, she just wants to stop and observe everything.

When she's done ogling the piece of furniture, she concludes it's likely just a generic engineer's workbench. Gem has been wondering where Pearl had taken her, as she never really said it aloud. She did suspect based on the ship-themed memorabilia that this place didn't specialise in androids. Now, seeing the setup here, she’s certain her suspicions are correct. While it's hard to pick out memories still with everything being so new, she does know that there's a lot more custom machinery in android engineering. It makes her question why Pearl brought her here in the first place, but she trusts her companion enough to know what's best. After all, she was fixed properly. She can't really complain about the methods if it was successful.

Staring down at the cabinets, she finds herself taking small steps back towards it. She places a hand on top of the surface to steady herself as she attempts to crouch down. It's a slightly awkward movement, too slow to feel natural, and at some point she nearly topples to the left, but she manages to get down. Gem is eye-level with some of the old stickers on the drawers. The vivid-green face of a cartoon alien smiles back at her. Next to it, there's another sticker of an object that resembles a video game controller, though she can't identify the model. Another sticker that resembles a logo is faded and peeling, unrecognisable in its current state. She wonders if the person who put it there cares that it's faded away.

A loud, mechanical noise interrupts her contemplation. For some reason, Gem gets the sense she shouldn't be investigating a stranger’s space–snooping, her mind provides–and she rushes back to the workbench she was previously on top of. She plops herself back down on it as footsteps race down the hallway towards them. She recognizes the muffled noise coming from the first pair distinctively as Pearl. The second sounds like a pair of actual shoes; probably the engineer or the human that they spoke to in the storefront.

Pearl. Gem knew Pearl had to be waiting for her—it wouldn't make sense for her to leave—but the distinct fear of abandonment had been gnawing at her wire insulation since they'd parted ways. Her processors feel scalding hot. Gem can feel her fans ticking into max speed inside her chest cavity. She knows this has to be an emotional response, since there's nothing else indicating why she'd be overheating. Yet she can't place the feeling at all. All she knows is it's getting increasingly difficult to focus, everything she looks at is a slideshow, and the deafening sounds of fans and electricity sizzle in her ears.

She just hopes Pearl is happy to see her.

The same doors Etho had escaped from swing open with terrific force. Gem swivels her head over in time to see Pearl dash into the room, stumbling to a stop as she enters. The alien spins her head around as she scans the area, searching silently. Gem can see her body rising and falling with the effort of breathing. As her eyes lock onto Gem, a second person she doesn't recognize trails in after Pearl, jogging at a much more reasonable pace.

“Pearl?” Gem says. The name feels strange buzzing through her skull, even though she's thought of it countless times prior. The syllables are foreign to her synthesisers, yet she can't imagine saying anything else. One of the first things Pearl ever did was try to find Gem’s name. Now, she finally gets to say Pearl’s own name back to her.

Watching Pearl stand in the room, Gem is struck by just how brilliant she is. She knew the alien had to have been colourful, based on the galactic-style fog that covered so much of her body, but to see it in full-colour is almost shocking. Breathtaking, she believes the expression is. Never before had she understood the meaning, but she thinks she does now. The masses of space dust on her body are a mix of deep blues, purples, and greens, constantly churning under a spackling of stars and constellations. Pockets of the galaxies, scooped right out of the universe and bestowed upon her skin. Her hair is a mixture of blonde and brown, streaks of chestnut and beige that fall down to frame her face and shoulders. The pale, faded dyes of her outfit, despite being dull in comparison to the rest of her, suit Gem’s companion so well.

She could never have pictured what Pearl would've looked like in full colour. Glancing at Pearl now, with her eyes of moonlight staring back at her, Gem knows any image she could conjure would never live up to reality.

The room is stale with silence. At first, Gem panics. She worries her hearing has gone faulty once more, despite the clear rumbling of machines in the background. A mental jolt knocks her away from the rabbit hole, but it doesn't dismiss her nerves entirely. She stares at the two figures in the doorway. The human–she sees now that it's not Etho–seems surprised at the scene. Pearl is staring at Gem, unresponsive. She's making a face Gem has never witnessed her make before–eyes wide, void of any clear emotion, and mouth agape in shock.

Is Pearl… upset with her? Is this not what she was expecting? Pearl had saved her from the crash, given her a name, surely this was what she wanted.

What if… what if she was expecting a non-sentient android, one she could order around?

Gem’s troubles are knocked right out of place by the sight of Pearl launching herself into the workshop. Like a comet speeding through the atmosphere, she darts forward, starry skin creating brand new constellations in a mesmerising blur of movement. Gem’s mechanical eyes flicker, a phantom blink enacted without her permission. Before she can re-orient herself after the visual error, her screens are crowded with the sight of a person. A bright, smiling face shoves itself into proximity with her own. There's a pressure placed onto the exterior of her arm plates. She quickly processes it as being in the shape of hands; Pearl has grasped her upper arms, holding Gem close.

“Gem! You’re alright! And you're–gosh, you can talk. This is brilliant!” Pearl exclaims. There's a peculiar twinkle in her eyes, and it's not one caused by the stars scattered amongst the alien’s skin. It swirls in the depths of her irises, and Gem knows, even despite her limited emotional experience, that the shimmer is a manifestation of pure joy.

A strange, uncontrollable urge starts to tug at the gears in her head. Gem finds her own face beginning to move involuntarily. It mechanically contorts upwards, her cheeks swelling and lips curving. As the movements come to a halt, the shapes on her face become clear. She's smiling. She started to smile, despite never issuing the command to. That hasn't happened to her…. well, ever. Was this how humans felt all the time? Was this how Pearl was feeling right now? Gem stares into the grin that mimics her own, all too aware of how the fans in her chest pick up additional speed.

Now that she has the capacity to, she feels the desire to say something to Pearl. A thank you for, well, everything: finding her, not abandoning her, getting her fixed, giving her a name. There's a thousand things she endeavours to say, to encapsulate her gratitude and affection. Infinite combinations of words soar through her consciousness. She can access any word in the world instantaneously, in any language she pleases. For as long as she's known her new companion, she's wished to speak to her, engage with her by any means at all. Even with the vast options presented to her, the weight of the moment bears down on her shoulders. Nothing feels right. Nothing can contain the emotion Gem wants to convey—and isn't that just the strangest thing.

So all that comes out of her mouth is, “Oh my gosh.”

Gem feels herself short circuit at her own words, a static zap of embarrassment flooding her core. All her joints stiffen and lock into place, and she desperately scours for literally anything else to say. The lines of letters seem to blur together in her interface as she rapidly scrolls through the options. Since when was thinking so hard?

Pearl stares at Gem in disbelief. Gem holds her gaze, and while she tries to remain calm, she feels her fans prattling away with every beat that passes. After an endless stretch of torment, Pearl's smile blooms into the biggest grin Gem has ever seen.

“You- Gem! You're amazing!” Pearl’s laugh is a symphony of elation. She pours her ecstasy into the atmosphere with every sound. Gem can't help but join her giggling. It's an infectious feeling, foreign but not unpleasant, and she feels all the stress of her past drift away, allowing her a reprieve in this space. The fans inside her machinery still whirl away, but as her mood eases, so too does their speed.

===

The three of them walk back to the front of the building. She learns the person who followed Pearl is Iskall, Etho's coworker and apparently also the front-desk worker. Gem doesn't spot Etho again on their way out. She peers into each door they pass, as subtle as possible, but his masked face is nowhere to be found. She finds herself feeling disappointment at this fact. While bitterness still coursed through her veins at him, she was still grateful to him for his effort. She would've liked to thank him for fixing her properly, and maybe smack him once or twice in the process.

Oh well. Perhaps one day in the future she'll get that chance.

Gem is thoroughly distracted during their walk back, and she misses most of the conversation between Pearl and Iskall again. It's hard to stay present when she's still unpacking loose memories and discovering information she didn't know existed. The two discuss some matters at the front, but the chatter only serves as background noise for Gem to think with. When they stop at the store front, she finds herself too busy examining the advertisements on the wall, the ones she saw when she first came in. She finds the shop much more inviting with actual colour in it–funny how that works. Her mind continues to wander until Pearl gestures for Gem to follow her once more, and then she's trailing behind her like a pet dog. Her absentmindedness only leaves her behind once she crosses the threshold of the doorway with Pearl.

“You know what this means, right?” Pearl asks, turning to look at Gem with a cheeky expression. She begins to reach for something in her front pocket.

Gem tilts her head in confusion. She really has no clue what Pearl is trying to imply here. “What does this mean?” She inquires.

Pearl finds the item she's looking for in her pocket. It clinks, that distinctive sound of metal-on-metal as she pulls it out. Pearl dramatically raises her right arm, a pair of keys jingling from in her hand. She points in the direction of the parked vehicle in front of them–her shuttle, parked in what Gem is pretty sure is the exact same spot as when they first arrived.

Gem had only seen portions of the ship when she was being moved by Pearl. She takes a moment now to study its appearance, take in all the detail and commit it to memory. The ship is mostly dark blue, with a white underbelly and splashes of rusty orange painted on in splotches. The most notable feature is probably the hand-painted flowers and foliage decorating the doors. Leaves curl around the exterior handles, and some vines coil down towards the white section.

It occurs to her as she studies the exterior of the ship that she hasn't figured out what Pearl is implying with her words. She turns back to face her companion, a quizzical expression on her face.

Pearl gives her a toothy grin, “You get to pick your own seat!” She says, her eyes wrinkling as she smiles wide.

The alien turns and runs around to the opposite side of the vehicle. There's the click of a button, and with a whirring sound all four doors open, rotating upwards and compacting themselves to allow plenty of room for entry. Pearl slides herself into the driver's seat with ease. She leans over the center console–a flat, black storage box fit with two cup holders and a charging station–and shifts so that she can look at Gem from her seat.

“Well? Are you gonna call shotgun or not?” Pearl calls.

A laugh tumbles its way out of Gem without her even noticing its arrival. Without a moment of hesitation, she steps onto the edge of the shuttle, placing a hand on the upper frame to support herself as she climbs in. She sinks into the passenger seat of the vehicle, rearranging her feet so they're resting more comfortably.

“Is this shotgun?” Gem asks. Turning over her shoulder, she finds the straps needed to buckle herself in behind her. She pulls them down over her lap, securing it in place with a click. When she's done, she turns back to Pearl expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Pearl presses a button on the dashboard and the doors drop back down. A dull hiss sounds as the ship airlock engages. She swivels her head over in Gem’s direction to answer, “That it is, my friend.”

Gem can feel strange fireworks of emotion ready to burst inside her. It's a foreign sensation, something new and vibrant she's never experienced before. The force it explodes with is almost terrifying–if it wasn't so aggressively joyful, she'd be concerned she screwed up her repairs already. Whatever it is, she can tell it's a good thing. Gem didn't feel before, but she does now. And her non-existent android heart tells her that everything is great, and she is going to be okay.

“Well, from now on, shotgun is mine.”