bakerstreet | [ beeps in sad robot ]

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[meme] shipping

[ beeps in sad robot ]

NOT just A ROBOT
shipping meme

There's always a right tool for the job, be it as simple as a hammer for a nail or on up to the much, much more complex. In this, the near future, the new tool for the abstract, post-modern job is no longer from the humble tool box - it's robots. Robots have taken over most sectors, such as assembly, law enforcement, and even health care. Things run so much smoother when they're automated. Yet the most impressive factor is that robots have just recently begun to enter a sector previously believed to require human touch: the personal sector. From personal assistants to robo bodyguards to pleasurebots, most anyone who's anyone has a personal robot these days. Of course, humanity being the narcissistic charmers we are, all "companion" sector robots are made in our own beautiful image, or close to it.

But you know this. You have a personal robot, after all...or you are one.

Whether owner or robot, it's important to remember one key rule: robots, no matter how human they appear, cannot feel emotions. Any appearances thereof are programming in the AI.

Robots certainly, absolutely, cannot fall in love. Again, any appearances thereof are programming in the AI. If that's not the case, and "love" still seems present...

...well, a toll that no longer functions correctly may not be right for the job.

HOW TO PLAY ➟

Comment with your character, preference, and whether you want to play a human or a robot.
Reply to others.
Use the RNG to choose a prompt or pick one yourself.

OWNER ➟

Long Time Owner → You and your robot are a well-oiled machine, no pun intended.
New Purchase → Congratulations, you have your brand new personal bot!
Second Hand → Someone else owned this robot before you, but it can't be too damaged. There's no way you could afford a brand new one, anyway.
For Science! → Your interests in robots are purely scientific. No matter how yours begins to act towards you, honest!
Rescue → Whether you took them from the dump or from a bad owner, you brought this robot from the jaws of deletion.
Reluctant → You never wanted a robot, but you've got one thrust on you anyway.
Cruel → They're just a fancy computer, so you'll treat them however you like.
See the Humanity → Even if you know it's all machinery and programming, you can't help but see the human side of your robot. They shouldn't have to be a servant.
What's Real and What's Not → The lines are beginning to blur between real people and their emotions and your robot.
Incompatible → You can't be with a machine, either romantically or sexually. You're simply not compatible.
Too Engrossed → They say you've created a fantasy world. You're forgetting reality, or choosing to ignore it.
Don't Care → You won't listen to what the others say; you know how you feel.
Have to Pull Away → The close relationship you had with your robot has to be put aside for your own good.
Live a Normal Life → As much as you can, you and your robot live like a normal couple.
Bad End → Your robot is taken away, reprogrammed, or destroyed.

ROBOT ➟

The Perfect Robot → You know what you and exactly what you were made to do. You will not stray.
More Human than Human → Whoever programmed you made you to be just like a human.
Conflicted → There is no way you could have what they call "feelings." But what is this stirring in your circuitry?
Confused → Why do people treat you like a robot? You're a living thing, damn it!
Damaged → Somehow, you've been corrupted. You're a blank slate and have to be cared for, though it should be the opposite. Or it could be that you're showing erratic behavior that no robot should...
Shown Kindness → When you're treated kindly by a human, you are unsure how to process it. It makes you feel - content.
No Longer Just a Program → Your "love" and "affection" may have been shades and imitations at first, but that's not the case any longer.
Obsolete Model → You know you're old. Will you be forced to leave your master's side?
Jealousy → A robot should not feel jealous. Still, you envy those close to your master.
Job is Personal → You were programmed to protect or to serve, though you also do it because you...care
Second Chance → Your old master tossed you aside and now you are wary. But you've been given another chance instead of being used for scrap.
Rogue → There is no way you will be tied to the oppressive system. You refuse to serve the Living Things. Somehow, though, you've become aligned with one.
One of a Kind → There are no other robots like you, and perhaps you are intended for a sinister fate. Rather than face your true duty, you have escaped to take refuge with a human.
Specialty → You were created specifically for this one special person.
Reprogrammed → Because of previous defects, you were taken back to factory settings before. However, that treacherous virus, "love," is bubbling back up.
Android → You can't just forget the part of you that was - still is - organic.
Learn to Be Human → Despite the odds and the prejudices you both will face, you have decided to live as a free, living person with the one you care for most.
Bad End → You're to be junked, impacted, wiped clean, or taken away from your owner.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Oh.

She just wanted to be a good host now that she has an actual guest. And make a good impression on Celina, who's definitely more interesting than the rest of their neighbors. Maybe it's working despite how unprepared she was.

"What other perks come with your modifications?"

"Aside from damage-resistant skin, increased reaction time, increased strength and agility...? I have an adrenal pump. When I need to, I dump adrenaline into my system to give me a boost."

She spoons another mouthful of soup, a wry smile on her face.

"Sometimes it goes off if I'm under too much stress, though."

The way she leans her arms on the table is a learned habit, more human than most of her body language.

"I hope that doesn't happen often."

Ten doesn't need to be told that it could be dangerous in extreme circumstances. She's also well aware that being shot at tends to be very stressful for humans and assumes it must be for Celina too, despite the enhancements; she's seen for herself that Celina's skin is resistant but not impenetrable.

Seeing Ten lean is a bit of surprise. She'd have expected her to be a bit more... rigid. Weird. She flashes a lopsided smile and raises her free hand in a dismissive gesture, spooning more soup into her mouth.

"Eh, you learn to work around it. Anticipate it, even."

Which doesn't mean it's fun if you get a dump of adrenaline you didn't specifically ask for.

"It's handy in a tight spot, let me tell you."

"It must be."

What a rush of adrenaline feels like is a mystery to her, but any description of it she gave someone would seem perfectly at home in a textbook.

She lets Celina focus on her soup for a minute.

"If you don't mind the question, has your work ever followed you home?"

Celina is happy enough to devour as much of her soup as she can. She is hungry and, canned or not, hot food is very welcome. She spoons a few more mouthfuls and then pauses to swallow, looking a bit thoughtful.

"No, not recently, anyway. I'm usually very good about making sure that doesn't happen. It would be... bad if it came knocking. That doesn't mean it won't, one day. No one's perfect!"

She seems rather casual about that.

Ten pauses. Nothing Celina says is false, but she's much more casual about it than expected.

"That's true."

It's interesting to her. She had to be coached to show a certain amount of care when threatened by guards, particularly humans. At the time she had assumed it was about possible charges if they were caught and what may legally be considered destruction of property versus a loss of life, but there was probably more to it than that.

Regardless, danger clearly doesn't keep Celina up at night.

"It sounds as though you've been doing this for a while."

"Since I was a kid," Celina acknowledges, "Or at least... since I got kicked out of the program."

She looks as if she's about to say more, but then thinks better of it and shakes her head.

"Long story. But I've been fighting a lot and I've made it this far. Hasn't let me down yet..."

It's still kind of an unfortunate lifestyle. One that's going to catch up to her eventually. Celina doesn't like to think about that, though. She doesn't really plan that far ahead and she honestly didn't expect to live this long.

That just gives her more questions.

But she's not entirely incapable of reading people. If they were closer or touching she could pick up on a variety of mildly interesting things about Celina -- temperature, heartrate -- but across a table she has to rely on physical and verbal cues, and Celina definitely made this a shorter story on purpose.

It makes sense. They've been on good terms, but this is the first significant encounter they've had. Ten would like for it to stay a good one, so she doesn't pry.

"You know who to visit if you continue to put yourself in front of bullets."

And she obviously will.

"Hopefully it won't happen again anytime soon," Celina says with a lopsided grin, "But I'll drop by and say hello, anyway. I don't want us to only meet when I've been shot."

She means that. It's painfully sincere and she finds herself surprisingly comfortable with Ten in the room. Not to the point where she feels as if she can share everything, but comfortable enough. She finishes up the last of her soup.

"Should I get out of your way, then?"

This seems more and more like a successful interaction, even meaningful by her typical day-to-day standards. Should she feel pleased?

She does.

There's no real desire to chase Celina out, but she's both stitched Celina up and fed her. There may not be more she can offer to help her new friend -- is it too soon to call her that? -- decompress after getting shot.

"I should probably let you escape." A minor distinction since she doesn't feel like Celina's in her way, and only somewhat of a joke but her inflection is still lighter. "But I've enjoyed your company and hope you'll take care of your arm."

"It's been fun. Despite getting shot," Celina replies, seemingly rather chipper. She flashes a wide, bright grin as she pushes to her feet and stretches. Her arm she gives a few experimental rotations and then nods, as if she's decided something.

"It'll be alright - you did a bang-up job!"

She laughs, low and pleased and then nods.

"If you don't mind... maybe I'll see you tomorrow?"

Tentative. Probing. Hopeful.

She... did a bang-up job? As Celina grins Ten suddenly understands how people -- fully grown adults, no less -- can be cute.

"Yes." The answer comes out 0.734 seconds faster than the large majority of her answers do. Fortunately that's probably too small a difference for Celina to notice. "Tomorrow."

A moment after that she stands, and on her way back toward the door she easily picks up Celina's bag and carefully hands it over, aiming for her uninjured side. "Have a good night."

"You too!" Celina gathers her things and heads out, pausing to give Ten one more wave, a spring in her step as she scoots back across the hallway. She spends the rest of her evening rather buoyant and she's not entirely sure why. She goes to sleep and the next morning she makes breakfast and putters nad cleans before curiosity and temptation get the better of her.

She shows up at Ten's door, cigarette dangling from her lips and a lipsided grin on her face, waiting for a response to her knock.

There's a lot to think about when Celina leaves. Like how nice it was to have someone else here. And how their goalposts for seeing each other again kept inexplicably moving up. And how long it may actually take someone like Celina to heal around the stitches.

And that charming way Celina's accent thickened when she was amused.

As she always does, she retreats to the bedroom closet to go into sleep mode for the night. It always seems to her that the quiet darkness helps her achieve a proper rest, but tonight she overanalyzes a bit before she slips into a thorough system scan.

There's less preoccupying her the next day, some of the excitement lessened. It had never occurred to her to have hopes for the encounter when she let Celina into the apartment, but now she's glad she made a good impression. She makes an early morning trip to the grocery store so she won't be caught so woefully unprepared again and does some much-needed dusting in corners of the apartment that she doesn't use as often, scanning headlines for interesting news while she works.

When she hears a knock at the door and peeps out to see Celina again she's genuinely surprised. Tomorrow, they'd said, but she didn't expect it quite this soon.

She hastily opens the door. "Hello Celina. How's your arm?"

Celina's not too worried about the smoke bothering Ten, but maybe she should ask. She takes a quick drag, raising one hand in a little wave, carefully exhaling away from the door.

"Doing OK, thanks to you," she laughs in response, "Thought I'd come over and say 'hi' again. Check up on my nurse."

She's being far too hammy and she doesn't really know why.

Smoking isn't a healthy habit for humans, but Ten suspects that Celina's enhancements may keep it from being as detrimental to her as it is to others.

And the smoke doesn't bother her, though she notices with a certain metaphorically wide-eyed appreciation that Celina takes care not to exhale at--

My nurse?

Oh.

That's so unexpectedly charming there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it flash of white light beneath her faceplate.

"I'm glad I could help." They aren't just words, something her programming or watching TV makes her think is the correct response to give in this situation. She feels glad. "Would you like to do something?"

"Sure. I don't know what, but I've got an off day - made enough after my last job that I can relax a bit," Celina shrugs, "Plus, my arm - it has to heal. So nothing going on for a bit!"

She's cheerful, energetic - if anything, even moreso than last night. She takes another drag from her cigarette, considering. She wants to spend time with Ten. Learn more about her. There's something that makes her pulse quicken, makes her want to see her. She's sorting through that right now, putting words and a description to it.

"Anything you like to do? I'm not that picky. Or you could come over and I could throw some trashy vid on."

She's just starting to connect to the city events calendar and look up local showtimes and park hours when she hears that last bit, which instantly seems like such a good idea it rules out everything else. It'll let her see Celina's apartment and give her insight into what Celina likes.

"I'll make the dangerous trek across the hall to your place." Her core temperature rises by a degree for no apparent reason. "You can show me your favorite bad movie."

She's never really been invited into someone else's home before, other than Mrs. Beaumont's. Somehow she's not convinced that should count.

"I'll grab my keycard."

"I have a lot of favorite bad movies, I'll need to pick one out," Celina laughs and then pushes away from the door frame.

"I'll see you over there? Door will be open."

And it will be. The apartment itself is a bit messy in some respects. There's some laundry scattered, a couple take-out boxes that still need to be tossed, but it's clean enough. Relatively spartan, but she has a vidscreen and a couch and that's all that really matters, right?

She's making herself comfortable by the time Ten shows up.

It's only a few steps across the hall but it's an unreasonably exciting trip. The door's open for her, as advertised, and she takes a moment to quietly close it behind her before she steps into the room, eyes finding Celina first and then taking a long look around.

"I'm ready for the worst you have to offer," she says to announce her arrival.

Somehow Celina's apartment is both more and less lived in than her own. On the utilitarian side, but full of evidence that someone's eating and sleeping and living here.

Celina pats the couch next to her. She's already got a beer in one hand, although she doesn't offer one to Ten. Probably quite reasonably, since she thinks that it might not do great things for her circuitry.

"How about The Arena III: Return of the Colossus?"

Which is probably as dumb as it sounds.

Ten has sat beside people on couches before. There's no reason for her core temperature to creep up again.

But she moves in and claims the offered spot on the neighboring seat cushion.

"If I'm not mistaken there are now six The Arena movies." She's rarely mistaken when she can so easily confirm her facts. "I've only seen the first one."

It wasn't what she thinks of as profound, but it had a lot of action scenes.

"It sounds perfect."

Celina's also sat beside people on couches, but for some reason she's anticipating this one. LIke she hasn't for a long while. It hasn't clicked to her consciously. Not just yet.

So she just looks pleased as Ten sits and Celina powers on the vid screen.

"It's not a good movie," Celina admits, "But damn, it's fun to watch."

There's something that could be thought of as prim about the way Ten sits on the couch, a body without any real need to relax, no instincts to stretch out or curl up. She takes up exactly as much space as she takes up.

And for some reason she feels a sort of heightened awareness of Celina to her side, the shape and color and heat and sound of her. "That's what I asked for. Next time you can show me a good one."

Fortunately she multitasks with ease. She can watch the movie and be very aware of Celina.

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