KARRâs scanner continued to eye her cautiously, registering each movement right down to her joints. Her body, as clumsy as it appeared, would do little to threaten him. He had the upper hand when it came to physical strength, even if all he could do was sit there and tolerate a few uninvited tugs or prods.
In response to her questions, a burst of static and other scrambled noises rose from his cabin again. âI amâŠâ âŠFuck. Fuck. What was he? He was him, yes, but aside from thatâŠ
âŠHe couldnât admit to not knowing. Not knowing was a flaw. He would never accept being flawed.
âI am⊠Classified.â
Yes, that was a good coverup. She wouldnât know he was quite literally blanking on his own title. Hopefully. His pauses and repeats could be attributed to his systems still trying to diagnose and re-calibrate themselves.
Sara wasnât a brainiac when it came to computers (even less so when it came to socializing), but she knew both malfunction and guardedness when she saw them. Listening to thisâŠdude try to scramble for even his name was just pitiful, and despite his rudeness, she felt a tug on her heart strings. What was originally a curiously indignant stare softened, and she regarded the flickering light on the vehicleâs prow. Against her better judgement, she reached up and wiped the grime from his âeyeâ, her movements very slow and gentle. Last thing she wanted was for him to electrocute her, or split his chassis in half and bite her or something.
âWell, Classified,â Maybe she was still a little salty about being shoved over.  âIâm not a threat, and itâs nice to meet you. Not every day you meet a talking car.â She seemed at a loss for words, glancing away and chewing nervously on one of her fingernails. He probably wouldnât care if she offered her own name, and heâd probably answer all other questions about himself with the same government scripted classified shtick.
Finally, she seemed to come across a line of questioning that just might get her somewhere.
âDo you, umâŠwant to get out of here? I donât know if youâve noticed, but youâre in the equivalent of a car graveyard.â Carefully once again, she scooted slightly to the side, gesturing expansively behind her. She didnât move completely from his line of sight, though. He hadnât told her to scram, soâŠmaybe he wanted her around? She found herself hoping so.
Whatever smug feeling he might have had after coming up with such a brilliant answer was quickly smothered when he watched her arm extend toward him. Part of him wanted to flinch, to shy away. But, in this sorry state, he could not move. So much for automated.
What he was not expecting was the gentle hand on his scanner. The removal of the grime did little to improve his sensors, but somehow he found himself... Appreciating the gesture. There was no benefit to her for such an act.
For a moment, KARR found himself conflicted. Were all humans this way? Instinctively, he told himself no. But... Why? Why did he possess such a negative disposition towards them when he could recall nothing more about them?
Reasoning with it was currently out of the question, as was to be expected. He was in no condition for an in-depth analysis of the girl or her actions. All he knew was there was a human female in front of him, signalling no harm to him.
The question she prompted piqued his interest. Graveyard... Putting what he could find in his data banks together, KARR soon realized the meaning of the word. âIf what you say is correct, then I do not belong here. I am far from deceased.â The light dancing on his nose quickened its pace, almost as if anticipating something.
âHelp me escape this âcar graveyard.ââ
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