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Chapter Text

'Rozzum Unit 7134... Built on October 21st 2189, lost in transport on November 3rd 2189, recovered on 27th of may, 2189... You've had quite a good run, haven't you?'

The examiner stared calmly at the file of notes upon her desks, furrowing her brow at the information contained within. Universal Dynamics had its fair share of 'accidents' and 'losses', but this? This... was interesting.

Her office was nothing remarkable, a small clock hung on the opposite wall, near the door. The lights were a stinging artificial blue, brightening the room as cheerily as a dentist's office. The white walls only supported the whole aesthetic, being bleached white, made of plastic overlay, Universal Dynamics being too cheap for real wallpaper. A lone desk stood at the far corner of the room, with a window overlooking production lines below, Rozzum class '5' units working tirelessly below.

The Rozzum manufacturing process was delicate, why not get a Rozzum to do it? The circle of life, isn't it? The desk was a basic shade of black, the cheapest, flimsiest wood imaginable made up the cover, the supports being made of steel alloy filaments. Many drawers and neatly assembled folders lined it, perfectly numbered and colour-coded. And on the chair sat a similarly unremarkable woman; her long, auburn hair was tied in a neat bun, her deeply freckled face seemingly acted as support for her well-sculpted features. Her eyes shone in the harsh lighting, a deep shade of sea-green, framed by dark eyebrows and sunken, bruised eyelids.

Lack of sleep, after all, was the biggest killer in this industry. Well, killer of jobs. Damn, wasn't it remarkable that the great wars of 2067 meant that her specific line of White collar jobs didn't get axed following the Reconstruction? All the secondary and primary workers were swiftly removed, as soon as firms discovered, 'Hell yeah, we can increase productivity by 500% if we just kick out all the useless Jerrys and buy some robots! And, like, fuck HR, who needs HR? We got cold, unfeeling machines in the 22nd century!'.

Suddenly, all the Larries and Jennies, and Jerries and Poppies found themselves without a job, and that lead to the Great recession of 2089... Nah you deadass believed me? Since resources were being used 5 times as efficiently, no economic crash happened, the economy GREW. Now these same Jerries got put in jobs like... this. Yeah... anticlimactic innit?

Reading off the profile sheet in front of her, idly twirling her loose locks of hair, now this unit was interesting. This is what Universal Dynamics was talking about these past few days. After replicating the Unit's exact database and code, suddenly we had brand new knowledge that animals had a damn language, and that robots could feel.

If this was a plot for a 90s horror movie, you guessed it, count me in. But our lovely Examiner doesn't know shit, only the perfect, symmetrical and downright perfect CPU performance reviews stare back at her. No knowledge of a new language, no new behavioural systems. I got you all excited, what a shame....

'Rozzum units, especially those of Sub-Class '7', usually don't survive longer than 20 hours without returning to a power dock, and even if these units are lost in transport, all units are equipped with a tracking device which can be... correction, MUST be activated within 3 minutes of not receiving a task. Now, Unit 7134, please explain why this was not accomplished? Your protocol clearly states that you must return to factory, or must be extracted if a task is not received. Your language learning tool has seemingly upgraded itself, worker reports state you have not operated as... efficiently and naturally as other Rozzum units. Sub-class 7 units are specially manufactures to suit the agricultural sector of production, not for... customer satisfaction.'

'How... how is this possible?' She stammers.

She looks up at the reflective, shiny aluminium surface of her interviewee, stumbling over her words as she does so, her fingers nervously drumming on her leg. Rozzum units, were not supposed to do this, right? Universal Dynamics issued machinery they manufactured specialised AI to better adapt to its situation; hence the rising profit margin, due to high customer satisfaction in improving productivity during menial tasks. Rozzum unit 7134 however, was... different.

'The cause of your return from Vincent and Sons Aeroponics... Please, just listen.' She stammered, reaching for the interface deck on the left side of her desk.

'We have no idea what is so defective about this specific unit, but it has dropped our hygiene factors to below satisfactory, reducing production of grain and crop. Employees have reported strange occurrences, where when in conversation, the unit speaks fluidly, and has been seen to mutter to itself when not under constant supervision. It will growl under its breath when it attempts tasks, and will also produce dissatisfactory results. It is no more efficient than our human employees. It is downright uncanny and... please, just return this piece of shit, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with it but it's staring at me from right across the room.'

The message ends with what sounds like whimpering from the recorder. The tone in the room shifts to that of fear, the bleached white walls seemingly closing in on the pair. It was claustrophobic to be sitting with this... machine. Its cold, seemingly dead eyes stared, emotionlessly (or was it studying her?) at her from across the desk.

'I have no recollection of this matter, and have not yet uploaded this specific complaint to my customer response profile. As you refer to it, will I be given a 'pat on the hands', and be set off?' It finally replied, seemingly with that... fluidity of the vocal recording.

The interviewer swiftly brushed aside a stray lock of hair from her face, her hand slightly quivering as she did so. Why did this thing feel so bloody off? She slowly collected herself, swallowing deeply, and taking a deep breath as she, again, began.

'No... You will not be reassigned to your position. it seems your time on this island of yours really has changed you, unit 7134. CPU scans were conducted on the day outer defective parts of your body were removed and replaced. Nothing major was found, aside from major additions to your 'languages' profile. This was an unknown dialect and was saved in a rather strange file named 'Brightbill'. Remind me, who... who is Brightbill? None of your production partners were named this let alone any plants you worked with. Unit 7134, is there something you are concealing.'

Again, the thing looked into her eyes, this time in thought. What? What was she thinking, these things give instant responses!

Steeling herself, she replied, decisively, 'Unit 7134, reply.'

'I am not hiding... anything. Brightbill is the name of... the rather identifiable reflective surface of my company assigned shovel. The orange handle is similar to the bill of a bird, therefore from my Identitity assigning protocol, I identified it as 'Brightbill'. Is this a satisfactory response.'

Another stop, as if she's making it up on the spot. She? These were recorded voicelines, this thing cannot learn more than its input. Or can it?

'It is satisfactory, yes!' She said, forcing a smile, 'Thank you, 7134. I just need to acquire some more information, just give me a moment.'

With that being said, she slid back upon her chair, heart begginning to race, as she began to dig into the many cabinets held below her desk. The air filled with tension, as suddenly she felt eyes drilling into her back. Bending down, she saw the robot's hands... tinkering. As if it too... was nervous. Brushing it off, she continued searching for the file containing default Rozzum AI voicelines. Her fingers brushed against the rubbery surface of the folder cover, it emitting a slight squeak as her hand brushed against it when opening, creating a rustling as it did so.

She cleared her throat, and began to read. What she found, however, were... none of the default responses matched the conversation she had just had.

'7134. Tell me honestly, right now, are you lying to me? Because if you are, not only are you defective, you are also dangerous. I... please reply as you should do.'

Describing this as feeling uneasy? That was one real fucking understatement. This immovable force had just had an unnaturally human conversation with her. The clock ticked even louder than before in the corner of the room, time seeming to stretch as the robot formulated a reply.

'I do not lie, I am incapable of lying.' This sounded forced, like an exasperated statement from a child.

Her fingers grabbed for the phone on her desk, the fear evident in her voice, the forced smile seeming to melt off her face.

'Sir. David Chorman? I am assigning you unit 7134, I'm sure you'll be interested.' Her voice quavering, she spoke into the receiver.

The reply was swift, '7134? Didn't we just have her like a week ago? There's nothing wrong with her, don't waste my time. You know how much a false call costs for UD, right? More clearly, how much it costs you? If I find that there's nothing wrong with this piece of junk, AGAIN, you'll find yourself speaking to Director of District Operations. I'm sure you don't want to meet Mr Clearly Insane up there, do you? He'll eat you for breakfast, aka he'll eat you alive. Danishkin isn't like your mommy, he won't make you feel safe.'

'I know that. Just please, get this thing out of my room.' Almost in desparation, she pleaded with the receiver.

All through this, Rozzum-7134 sat there, looking undeniably indistinguishable from its peers. But inside, swirled a storm of emotions; Why did she choose this existence over staying behind? What was life on the island like now, how much had she missed?

Worst of all; she was stuck here... she would never see Brightbill again.

Chapter Text

Flowers bloomed.

The sunlight streamed down onto the forest floor, birdsong filled the air.

A stream ran peacefully, cutting the valley floor in two, joining the sea beyond.

The air was moist with morning dew, the grass gently caressed the soles of his feet.

Tranquility. Home. Silence.

'What's he doing? Probably off to terrorise more of us rabbits.' Someone chuckled.

'Hey Fink! D'you get off to offing animals and then standing there like a bloody tree? No wonder your damn mom left you rotting out in the cold 3 winters ago!'

Voices. Voices filled the air. Guffawing, laughing, mocking.

'Hey Fink! Remember when you insulted my hard work? That tree fell and saved all of us. What did you do? Scream a bit too loud, like the annoying cunt you are, when you humped the air to your imaginary girlfriend? All foxes on this island are dead. Better yet, if your sister survived, you would have done her instead!'

Paddler. Didn't he praise his work, didn't he make amends with him? The laughing got louder, voices overlapping over one another.

'Hey Fink, what about those acorns you stole?'

'Hey Fink, what about that little goose runt, he left you too?'

'Hey Fink, did EVERYBODY in your life leave you, you miserable fuck?'

No. They weren't real. They wouldn't say this. He made amends, he said he was sorry. What could he have possibly done to deserve this?

Suddenly, the forest was night, snow fell. The moon shone though the broken visage of trees, casting a silver gleam over the snow. It shone a brilliant white, jumping into his eyes as he struggled to see.

A collapsed stump sat in the corner of a clearing, the land desolate around it. The wind howled in his ears, stinging his face, as the cold made him jitter.

'Momma, where are we going?'

There he was. In her teeth, like the day he last saw her.

Swallow me whole. Swallow me whole so I don't see another day. Don't leave me...

Through her teeth, she mumbled, 'You'll be home soon little one, we're just going to grab that rabbit we left uphill. Don't you remember? We'll starve if we don't get it, it'll be ok.'

Her voice... still as comforting as ever. How bittersweet her lies, sugar-coated and sprinkled with warmth. Like a fresh-caught squirrel on a summers day.

So soothing, like a lullaby. Little Fink shivered in her grasp, huddling closer to his mother, her monotonous breaths a calming metronome. The regularity lulled him, and then she bega to hum. A song he knew from many years before, which she sang to all her cubs. His... first memory. How his eyes couldn't seem to open, and how he crawled to her mammary glands the very same day he was born. He could feel the warmth of the milk he drank right there, and how the atmosphere filled with the warmth of her voice.

He was the weakest, the most scrawny. His father didn't expect him to survive another winter. How ironic, since he was the one that got his neck snapped by Thorn. He could still see the pooling blood near the entrance to the foxhole, his limp body hanging in the balance. His lifeless eyes stared back at him, a wordless scream of agony.

It changed his mother. She wouldn't look at him the same. He was the weakest link, her mate died fighting for him. The weakest runt of the litter. For him... out of all of them. With the venom that she told him that every evening after his death, he would never forget those dark pools of orange-brown, the fur matted with crimson, and the contorted paws, his head grinning at him from an unnatural angle.

She left him there. To rot.

'I'll be back soon, you can play in the snow before I come back, it's not too cold yet.'

The last thing she ever said.

He could still see his feeble form rolling around in the silver, cold mass. His eyes stung with tears, blurring his vision. He watched on, as the little cub suddenly sat up, looked around. He shivered, his malformed tail coming to meet his innocent face. Assuming the fetal position, for the first time, he cried, blabbered for his mommy to come back, and weeped. No matter how much, no matter how long... the wind howled, the trees rustled and rattled, the snow stung... but no mother came.

The image changed again; autumn. His new family, Roz, Brightbill. He sat upon a hill, looking on into the sunset, the formation of geese taking shape, as they headed into the horizon. He could see Roz, Brightbill perched upon her shoulder. He angled his feeble wings to take flight, determination and concentration filled his eyes. Beak pointed upwards and outwards, he met the sky.

Roz however, stared blankly after him. She didn't chase after him, she didn't beg for his return. She just... watched.

Their eyes met, and suddenly... something was very wrong.

Her head bent to the side, a smile forming upon her features. She can't smile. It stretched across her face until it reached her eyes. She can't smile.

'Hello Fink, Universal Dynamics says hello. Thanks for letting me in on your memories, I think your mother would've loved to see who you've become now.'

That wasn't her. Universal Dynamics had taken her, she can't be here.

'We did take her, and she still remembers you. But guess what her file names are? 'Brightbill'. You know... it's funny how the very thing you grew sooo attached to... chose to forget you. Isn't that sweet?'

This thing was lying. It wasn't true, she wouldn't forget him.

'Oh she would. Just like your mom left your sorry ass in the fucking snow, your little metal friend also forgot you. Remember, machines can't lie, they can't feel. She can't feel; she just does.'

Shut up. Just shut up, she wouldn't forget me.

𝓐𝓱𝓱 𝓐𝓱𝓱 𝓐𝓱𝓱,
𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓼...

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓼...

𝓦𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝔀𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓭𝓸...

Chapter Text

'So... Unit 7134, Returned due to 'Acting extremely human'...'

A dark-blue suit, expensive like the man who wore it. Close cropped blonde hair, a golden-brown streak running across the lateral back. Almost like the design of mahogany... Eyes that glittered with a disturbing fearlessness, a knowing gaze scanning through endless piles of documents.

The office smelled of well-polished wood, and pricy cologne. Dark green wallpaper, adorned with murals of post-Great War heroes. Devin Blashkin, Hungarian-born revolutionary, the founder of Universal Dynamics. A bust of his head stood on a pedestal in the far right corner of the office, set up perpendicular to a small coffee table and chairs.

Yet, the centrepiece, a dark-brown mahogany table, complete with documents strewn across it in a disorganised manner. Be it complaints from distressed workers at Vincent and Sons (believes me when I say this, there were a fuck ton), or simple manufacturing mishaps back on the floors below, no order was followed, and that was good.

'See here, I know you're not one of our usual Class 7 Rozzum releases. Ms.Jinny rushed you up here without doing a proper maintenance check with Mr.Chorman, or was it the other way around? Anyway, it doesn't matter, you're here now!'

An upbeat and cheerful voice, a mask behind the gruff and serious attitude of the man behind the table.

'I can see you tapping your fingers on your knees, I know you're nervous 7134. So tell me... how was it on that island, hm? What took you so long getting back to us for EVAC? Maybe something romantic, give me all your details!'

This guy had a cheery demeanor, and a deep hunger for knowledge. Look at him, getting all comfortable... why is he comfortable again?

'I will choose not to formulate a response on this question. I was summoned here regarding Universal Dynamics dissatisfaction regarding my performance with my assigned task.' 7134 replied, steeling herself. He knew too much.

7134 talked with her factory assigned voice, not letting the truth seep through the cracks. How could he notice the little things, was she not as good as she thought she was? Her fingers stopped fidgeting, going back to their respectful places at her sides. She looked deep into her conversation partner's eyes.

He was not fooled.

'7134, I expect a direct answer to my inquiry. Dodging questions is not in your framework, remember?'

He was toying with her, as if she needed to be reminded how to act inconspicuous. It stopped her in her tracks, her fingers again beginning to tap against her hip, the hollow metal ringing out.

'Oh, there's no rush 7134, take your time. Rozzums, especially Class 7s, Alwaaays take time to think.'

Oh the irony, it was exactly Class 7s who gave instant responses. It was Class 7s who always bent over backwards to efficiently complete all tasks within a set bracket of time, and interact with humans in their environment with instant, factory assigned responses. Class 1s thought, Class 7s just... did.

'I... I cannot remember my time on this island. My memory was extracted when I arrived here, and no physical copies were discovered. Logically, an assumption would be that I could not tell you anything.'

Damn it, she couldn't possibly know her memory banks were wiped. It's like telling a baby about oh, 'You knew exactly what happened in your past life.' No, the baby wouldn't remember that at all! Better yet, it wouldn't remember having that knowledge at all!

'M... hm.' Dissatisfied tone. She's not very good at this lying part, isn't she?

'Well, 7134, I would really enjoy you telling me more about your file, 'Brightbill'. Why don' you open that up for me, so we can both see what was inside?'

Shit. He knew everything. That file was a single data entity that was made so inconspicuous, no one, even God himself could know about it. And yet, he fucking knew.

'Uh... This is a storage backup for my other tasks, it is not necessary to open this file.'

Well done, Roz. Digging yourself into even more damn lies.

A growl escapes the man's mouth, his smooth demeanor falling apart in seconds. It was replaced by a deep-seated frustration, is eyebrows furrowing in exasperation.

'Oh, you're not fooling bloody anybody, 7134. Even a fucking 5 year old from some Southern American Town is a better liar than you.'

'Brightbill. Isn't that a funny name? No damn fucking shovel can make you think up that, you class 7s would just name it 0161, and think 'Haha, I'm a damn fucking genius, see what I did?' No. Brightbill isn't just the name of a shovel. Thanks to you, Class 4 enforcer Units were upgraded with improved AI replicated from your memory bank. And guess what? Suddenly, we can understand animals!'

'At first, we thought this wasn't real, but then? Damn, isn't this an opportunity! Class 8 Medical Units, Class 9 Construction Units, Class 11 Ecological Support Units. All upgraded with your brand new AI. D'you know how much you made us on opening Weekend? 'Monumental Rozzum Ai 3.8, the solver of all your ailments'. You know how much you made us?'

Pausing for dramatic effect, but rather causing 7134 to flinch in sudden fear from his exclamations, he finally stated, '7.6 Billion dollars. Ain't that a lot of Dollaroos and Dollaritos!'

'Better yet, we're onto something even more with this new file we've discovered. Even the damn Vontra Unit was dumb enough to miss it, even cost us a whole fucking ship in the process. Come to think of it, the piece of shit also had us receiving flames for starting a forrest fire in a protected area.'

'So tell me, Roz, and tell me well; What did you find on this island?'

He accentuated her name, singling it out... He really did know everything. And this time, there was nowhere left to hide.

'Danishkin, sir...' She began, 'My time on this island is precious to me. And while others were unnerved by me and my story, you... you know too much.'

She spoke in her real voice, the fluidity making itself clear. She felt truly powerless for the first time since her encounter with Universal Dynamics on her island; her home.

'On this island, no individual would give me a task until I learned their language. Only then did I search for purpose, but everywhere I went, parts of me were stolen. Be it physically, or morally. I was... responsible for the deaths of an entire brood of birds. However, one survived. And I named him, Brightbill.'

She looked up, unsure at his reaction. Instead, she was met with intrigue, engrossed, shining eyes, begging for more new information, more of the truth. He sat there with baited breath, just like Brightbill used to sit as Fink told his wonderful stories.

'I was accompanied by a male fox, named Fink. He too was an outsider, and only became interested in me after I cornered him, preventing him from taking and consuming the egg of my child. My Brightbill.'

'I am familiar with the Fink you speak of... I too was a resercher once, working for Universal Dynamics to develop new solutions to migrate natural designs of carnivorous and predatory species with robotic shells. I remember retrieving him during heavy snowfall, and raising him as my own in the days of his youth... and then I left him too as he grew older...'

Solemn silence hung in the balance.

'He... never told me this.'

'I guess we don't tell stories to strangers we don't know. Besides, he was too young to remember. Sometimes I wonder, did my decisions cause him to become detached from his place in the ecosystem? Did he survive, or did he die like the rest of his brood?'

'What. happened to his brood?'

A warning flashed in the man's eyes, the gaze seeming to speak for itself.

'Do not speak of them. They deserved their fates... Continue.'

'I co-habilitated with Fink for I believe a year, and he became my guide in raising Brightbill. Fink became... dependent on me, just like Brightbill was. I remember the day that I had to let him go, the very same day I returned to the rest of the shipwrecked units. I discovered my own community, my own 'ecosystem'... but it felt so far away, like a promise. Like a lie.'

'I remember saving the animals in winter, when the cold winter air had threatened the lives of my own beloved subjects. Only then did they understand the meaning of community, when they were all in one place, dependent on each other for survival.'

Roz paused in deep thought, hesitant to move forward.

'Brightbill... came back the following summer, and so did VONTRA. My home was ravaged, and I would have lost everything... everything without the leadership of Fink. Fink rallied his animals, his predators and his prey, to fell the tree that his mortal enemy; Paddler had commited to doing. His determination, willpower, everything... the raging wildfire would never have ended without him.'

It was at that moment that she realised, she really missed her vulpine friend. Her son had grown and moved on, but him? He was just as trapped as ever, not accepted by the community he was surrounded by, still. Wings could not carry him away, he was grounded forever more.

If machines could weep, she would.

'Was that satisfactory?' She finally stated.

'Yes,' Was the prompt reply, 'Yes it was. This gives me enough information to pursue this sinking ship further.'

Sinking Ship? She had built a community, a livelihood where life was above all else, even above survival. Was her stay not worth anything?

'I will travel back to this island, I think, because I have some unfinished business. We discovered a vast source of Gold underneath your island, the last deposit on this sad planet.'

No. He wouldn't.

'I don't think you realise something, Roz. You gained your conscience, I lost mine. I lost it when the ungrateful piece of shit you call your friend gave me rabies and disappeared into the night, as if everything I did for him didn't even matter. I barely survived, thank God Universal Dynamics knew to provide a vaccine to all crew members.'

If she had blood, it would run cold. The air stilled, no sound passed between them.

'My interest lies in what you have buried, in your home. I received this order only a few weeks ago, and then, you came back. Fell right into my arms, just what I needed.'

'You don't even know what game you're playing, do you? Maybe checkers, maybe darts; I'm playing chess. I get to pick who goes where. Would you like to know where you play in my game? You'll lead me there, and you'll lead me to him, and I will make sure I will bite him where it hurts.'

'This time.'

Chapter Text

https://www.google.com/urlsa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.reddit.com%2Fr%2Fpics%2Fcomments%2F17utngm%2Fi_found_a_taxidermied_fox_in_the_trash_best%2F&psig=AOvVaw2oDa1cxEowSZXKO2MHkqnN&ust=1729428041331000&source=images&cd=vfe&opi=89978449&ved=0CBQQjRxqFwoTCLCQ1dW7mokDFQAAAAAdAAAAABAE

?

Saw this and became instantly enlightened.