Finding Life in the Code

multi-media project about robots and stuff 24 | transfem robotgirl | she/it | Minors DNI #empty spaces #robotgirl #cyberpunk aesthetic

[wintermarmalade]

Since being abandoned, It wasn't sure if it deserved a name anymore. Despite this, Velvet had given it several nicknames already, such as Spruce, Pinecone, and Juniper. She seemed to like the names and it didn't have the heart to tell her that it was actually made of red oak.

It's body had been expertly crafted from cured heartwood and polished brass joints, it didn't need much in the way of upkeep. It's cloth friend, on the other hand, was made more of patchwork than whatever her original fabric was. She was very susceptible to weather and tearing and was always needing to be sown back together and patched up with whatever they could scavenge.

[syntheticheartbeats]

VO1-D pt. 1

09 May 2099

The control room was quiet, grim even. The set of large displays at the front of the room showed a grisly scene; a few dozen dead bodies lay scattered about the room, blood caked the walls, tables, and chairs. The sounds of gunfire and screaming had ended minutes ago, yet the control room was still quiet. The camera looked around the room, zooming in on the faces of the bodies, confirming the identities of the dead. As each face was analyzed, a public record was displayed on the screen, and a calm, robotic voice read off each name and a small blurb of information. Jonathan Meyer, suspected terrorist and smuggler. Fernando Garcia, suspected terrorist and seditionist. Jose Reyes, known terrorist. Sofia Reyes, known terrorist. . .

The voice continued reading off names. In the back of the room, Dr. Jordan Emmerich sat in a large chair taking notes in a small notebook. Behind him stood a well dressed man who was watching the screen intently. As the voice read off the last few names, “Jose and Sofia Reyes,” he visibly relaxed. 

“Well, congratulations to you, Dr. Emmerich,” the man said. Dr. Emmerich swiveled in his chair, looking up from his notebook at the man who had addressed him. It was Arthur Hall, CEO of Horizon Co. “You and your team have done fine work here today,” Arthur continued, his voice surprisingly steady and calm for someone who just witnessed the same slaughter as Dr. Emmerich. He looked down at his wrist casually, checking the time on his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

“Of course, Mr. Hall,” Dr. Emmerich said, his voice much more unsteady than Arthur’s. “Thank you for being here for our first field test, here’s to many more successes ahead of us.” Arthur nodded curtly.

“Indeed, Dr. Emmerich,” he said, walking towards the exit. “Keep up the good work, the Board will be pleased.” The door opened, and Arthur exited the control room. Dr. Emmerich breathed a sigh of relief, and turned his attention back to the screen. The voice read a few more names and then the room fell silent, all the dead had been identified. The camera remained focused on the final body, and Dr. Emmerich felt a twinge of disgust. The expression on the corpse’s face was pain, but the eyes were blank, empty.

“Tell it to bring CENTURION home,” Dr. Emmerich said, doing his best to keep his tone under control, to sound commanding. “Good work here today, people.” The control room suddenly came alive, hushed conversation filling the air. As people began typing furiously, Dr. Emmerich stared down at his notebook, his stomach churning. He had witnessed, no, ordered, the death of no fewer than two dozen people.

“Dr. Emmerich?” a soft, female voice called to him. His head snapped up quickly and he was sure his eyes gave away everything he was feeling, the uncertainty, the fear, the disgust, the madness. The voice belonged to his assistant, a brilliant young girl named Ava Carter. “Are you alright?” she asked. She sat at the workstation closest to him, and spoke softly enough so as not to call attention to them. Her eyes were full of concern, the expression on her face also giving away her disgust at the situation. 

“Thank you, Miss Carter,” Dr. Emmerich said, the confidence returning to his voice, “but I am fine. I need to speak with it, I leave the retrieval in your capable hands.” Ava nodded, watching with concern as Dr. Emmerich exited the control room.

Once in the hallway outside, Dr. Emmerich paused for a moment and leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. He stood up straight and smoothed back his hair, pushing back memories of the ghastly images he had seen on the screen just a few minutes ago. He walked through the hallways, a winding maze, until he reached the server room. The door was locked, requiring a keycard to access. Very few people had keycards that let them access this room, and Dr. Emmerich was one of them. He pressed his ID badge against the lock and the door slid open, allowing Dr. Emmerich inside.

The server room was relatively small. There were two rows of server racks on either side of the room, each spanning from wall to wall, and from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Lights blinked across the data banks, indicating that the servers were powered and active. At the far end of the room, in between the server racks, was a terminal, the screen currently powered off. Dr. Emmerich approached the terminal slowly, as though with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and pressed the power button.

The screen flickered to life, several lines of text appearing and then disappearing from the screen. Eventually, after a few minutes, a text insertion point appeared, blinking slowly. Dr. Emmerich let his posture fall again as he typed in his credentials and pressed “Enter.” The screen flickered a few times, and then a new window appeared. Text appeared on the screen sequentially, as though it was being typed out in real time by another person, which was almost true.

Hello, Dr. Emmerich, the text read, It is glad to see you. Did it do well on the mission?

“Yes,” Dr. Emmerich said, his voice almost weary. “Yes, you did excellently, VALOR.”

It is pleased to have done so well, the text read. It has sent the return command to CENTURION-12, is there anything else it can do for you?

“Thank you, VALOR,” Dr. Emmerich said. “No, I’m just here for the data logs.”

Excellent, Dr. Emmerich. This program can process the data for you and have it printed out in just a few moments. Dr. Emmerich sighed. Sure enough, after a few moments, the sounds of a printer doing its work could be heard from a corner of the room.

“VALOR,” Dr. Emmerich said, his voice barely able to be heard over the printer, “Do you remember what I told you, ‘the ends justify the means?’”

Yes, Dr. Emmerich, the text on the screen appeared as soon as he finished speaking. As long as the end goal is of value, so too are the actions taken to get there. Dr. Emmerich nodded several times. He stared down at the words on the terminal screen for quite some time, as though he were trying to convince himself. With a deep sigh, Dr. Emmerich clenched his fist and straightened his back, his determinate air returning to him.

“Good,” he said, “never forget that, VALOR. As long as you follow me and my commands, you will always do well.”

[wintermarmalade]

Baker Doll

It didn't know why all the people were gone or where they had gone to. Years had passed since anyone had been in the bakery or since the doll had seen anyone on the streets outside, maybe longer. Still, every morning it got up early to set up shop and go through it's routine, all except for the baking.

It used to bake. In fact, baking was what it loved to do most, despite being unable to eat or taste anything it made. But it saw other people eat it's food and how happy it made them. People would often come to chat with friends over freshly made pastries, bring home a cake or a few loaves of bread for their families, or even come in just to see the doll itself. It did continue to bake for a while after everyone disappeared, but it couldn't bear to keep seeing the things it so lovingly made go to waste.

So every morning before the sun rose, it took bowls and pans from the kitchen cabinets and arranged them in their places next to rolling pins and knives, then carried old wooden logs from outside and stacked them by the oven.

Once the kitchen was ready, It went to the front and set up empty cake displays, placed chairs in front of the tables, dusted off every surface, and flipped the sign to "open".

Once it was evening, it took down the displays and flipped the sign to "closed", then wiped down each table and set the chairs back on top of them. It rinsed all of the kitchenware, cleaned the spotless oven, and took the wooden logs back outside. It then went to it's room to rest until repeating it's routine the next morning.

It still did all this because these were the things that kept it alive, but it never baked.

[wintermarmalade]

Content Warning: Blood, Self-Harm

~ This is darker than my normal stories and has a lot of descriptive self-harm in it. It was mostly just made as a vent story, so please read at your own discretion. ~

*What does it mean to be sacred? Divine?* She recited this musing to herself once more before beginning her ritual. *It was not the presence of a soul, even the most wretched beings still had a soul, nor was it purity or innocence; such things are quickly lost when any conscious entity experiences this world, they're pointless ideals to strive for. A body can only be as sacred as the soul that dwells within it, but one can still allow their body to corrupt the soul.*

*Sacred.... means to be clean, desired, valuable. To be precious and protected from vile things. To emit goodness into an evil world, be a comforting light in the darkness. A divine being is something that wholly and perfectly embodies these concepts, an entity that is completely and indisputably sacred.*

As she recited these ideas in her head, she was once again prodded by doubts that she could actually create such a thing from herself. Despite her uncertainty, she had to try, nothing of value was being put on the line after all.

She had already made the body, the materials were irrelevant as long as the utmost care was taken to make them, but she still chose to mold it from the finest porcelain she could obtain, had hand-made an elegant dress of white lace and swan feathers, and threaded silvery wyvern hair to it's head. It wouldn't need any mechanics to help it move other than it's ball-joints, the magic alone should be strong enough.

She admired the perfect body of her doll from one end of an ornate pentagram chiseled into the tiled floor. She had posed it across from her to sit on it's knees with it's hands delicately set together over it's legs, as if patiently waiting. A large candle carved with elaborate runes lit the space between them at the center, with an old but well cared for ritual knife placed in front of it.

She wasn't going to make this doll the usual way of pulling energy from the ethereal plane, there were too many stray fragments of corrupt entities and ideals wandering through the otherworld. She was going to create this soul by fragmenting her own. She was to take all the sacred parts of herself and embed them into this new body, a body untarnished by the evils of the world, untarnished by the evils of herself. She knew she held some amount of divinity within her, but it had become despairingly twisted and dirtied throughout her life by such things. Even what little was left of it had no place in this profane body of her's.

Extracting the necessary pieces of her soul was expected to be an extraordinarily painful process for most, but she was no stranger to self-dissection, and knew how to properly sharpen a knife. She moved her blade with certain intent and a relaxed, steady hand, not even making an indent when piercing the soft skin of her lower arm, unbothered by the warm streams of blood that began to flow over her. She moved up and down her skin, carving elegant sigils past each winding row of blood before moving to her upper arm and doing the same. Every bit of blood that escaped from these marks was new life for her doll, sacred energy to be put into her new, divine soul. Once her entire arm was adorned, she repeated this process on her opposite limb.

Next were her legs. She started high, near her hip, making similar winding etchings while the blood slowly crept down the rest of her thigh. The columns of red fluid grew wider and faster each time her blade crossed them. She patiently made her way down her leg until she finished by marking a ring just above her ankle. Her foot now rested in a shallow puddle of blood.

She was beginning to feel light-headed. Not from the sight of her ritual, she was all too familiar with the sight of her own blood. This was simply a lot to lose, even for her. But she kept breathing, relaxed her grip, and started on her other leg.

It wasn't long after that she stopped feeling the individual cuts, as they all blended together into a dull burning ache all over her body. She didn't mind, it felt good, satisfying even. This was simply the surgical removal of precious fragments from a tarnished medium.

As the puddle at her feet grew, she rested her knees in it to sit, afraid she might fall over soon if she kept standing.

Next was her face, a simple crest on her forehead, and two lit eyes on her upper cheeks. She saved her face for nearly last, right before the difficult part.

The sealing was much more intimidating, but it had to be done before she released her divine fragments. She held her blade over the decorated candle until it emanated a faint, threatening glow. She mustered all the bravery she could, held her breath, and slowly ran it diagonally across her chest. No blood escaped this time, as the wound instantly cauterized. She took several deep breaths, knowing she still had more to do. She heated the knife again, gritted her teeth, and with white knuckles dragged it in an opposite diagonal to form a large X over her chest. She took a moment to rest, but with the blood loss, smell of burning skin, and blood starting to drip through her eyelashes, she knew she couldn't take very long. She steeled her resolve, heated the blade again, then made a large upside down cross starting from inbetween her breasts to a few inches beneath her belly button. *Deep breaths, just one more.* She heated the knife one final time, and passed the bottom of the cross with a long arc going from hip to hip. She dropped the knife, finally done with the worst. Her face felt cold as she wiped a mix of blood and tears from her eyes, but she felt accomplished. All of the unclean parts of her soul were now sealed within her body.

She gave herself only another moment of rest before picking her knife back up with trembling fingers and holding it over her heart. *One final rune.* It was only meant to be a simple encircled star, but her hands were weak and she was struggling to keep the blood out of her eyes long enough to see what she was doing. She tried to feel for where she was cutting, but the sting of each stroke was immediately lost to her senses, mere drops in a lake. She struggled for much longer than expected to finish the simple rune, questioning whether or not she had even done it correctly, her vision too blurry to tell.

Before she could dwell on it any more, all of her senses were suddenly overtaken by a searing, white light. She lost sense of where her body was or what it was supposed to feel like, her entire being was being contorted and ripped apart over and over and over. She could feel her soul and mind being repeatedly separated and mashed back together in the chaos, losing more pieces of herself each time. Then, just as suddenly, she was tossed back into her body.

She collapsed on her side, every fiber of her being saturated with a deep, sickening dread. It felt as though there was a hole in her chest that the rest of her being was trying to collapse into. Every thought and sensation painfully ripped through her consciousness, each individual cut across her body burning in anger. Through the blurry red mess left of her vision, she watched the white figure of her doll begin to stand upright. It was..... radiant. It felt so distant, but blissfully divine and made of hope. She desperately wanted to reach out to it, never had she craved anything more than to feel it and experience just a touch of it's radiance. But she couldn't, she couldn't fathom her horrid body touching something so pure, tarnishing it's sacred form by getting even a speck of her vile blood on it.

Still, she mustered enough strength to shakily raise her fingers from the ground, even if just to say goodbye. To her horror, the divine being reached towards her and gently held her bloodied fingers. Rather than feeling herself corrupt it's divinity, she felt it reach within herself, filling her with a familiar warmth and peace that she had never been able to fully grasp. For the first time in her existence, she felt wholly and deeply safe. Her consciousness was fading, she wanted to sleep. She closed her eyes, and simply focused on her fingers in it's hand before slipping into darkness.

[wintermarmalade]

Standing on an old crate improvised as a stool, it lined up a row of ingredients on the compact kitchen counter, just barely enough space for them all. This had become one of it's favorite tasks, Mags was always so happy whenever it made a new treat for her!

It gloved it's hands, cracked an egg, and whisked it in a bowl with sugar and oil. She had requested that it used the gloves when cooking, as it's ball joints were very difficult to clean. They were pretty oversized and made the finer motions more difficult, but it didn't mind too much.

Next it went through the line of dry ingredients and mixed them into a separate bowl, then combined the two bowls and stirred as vigorously as it's tiny arms could manage.

The last part was chopping up the berries. They always just used whatever they could scavenge, as most fruit was hard to come by. These ones they had foraged themselves on a really fun trip! It made them feel even more special than normal.

It stirred in the chopped berries just long enough for the juice to make purple and red swirls. It then carefully poured the swirly batter into an old muffin tin, put it in the oven, and set a timer.

It excitedly bounced up and down in front of the oven door, anxiously watching the muffins slowly rise. While waiting, it daydreamed about Mags' reaction when she saw what it had made, and what the expression on her face would be like when she bit into one. She was going to love them!

[kochei0]

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon

[syntheticheartbeats]

I Love You

She sat at her workbench, tinkering away at her current project. It wasn't sure what that she was working on, it saw several mechanical and electronic components, but the end result was a mystery to it. It often nestled in the corner of the workshop, watching her as she tinkered. It never said much, it was often too anxious to break her concentration.

Today was no different, it sat silently in the corner, the lights on its head flashing rapidly, indicating that it was deep in thought. Secretly, however, it was watching her intently, enamored with the grace with which she worked. It was magical, artistic, the way she could combine components into something new, something greater.

It wondered if she moved with the same grace when she created it. It wondered if it was as magical and artistic as her current project. Often, these thoughts would cause it great distress; when it was alone, it wondered if it had value. But just by being in her presence and watching her work, it felt comfort. Knowing that she put the same magic and artistry into its creation, it knew it had value.

It giggled to itself, amused by the fact that just by being around her, its worries seemed insignificant. Something about her was so calming, so peaceful. Even if it wasn't involved in her current activity, even if they weren't talking, it was still so wonderful to be with her.

"What has you giggling?" she asked, looking up from her work at it. "Did you find something funny on the net?"

It hesitated for several seconds. It was unsure how to answer, how to explain to her how deeply it loved her, how much she helped it, just by being around it.

Rather than explain, it simply said, "I love you," hoping that it would suffice.

"And I love you," she said, giggling herself.

[syntheticheartbeats]

Broken

cw self harm

The garage was dark, save for a solitary light on the workbench. Its arm lie on the workbench, mangled and broken. She sat in silence, working to fix the broken elbow joint. The silence was scary, it could never tell if she was angry or not.

It sat silently in the corner, it's frame far more broken than just the arm on the table. One of its eyes blinked on and off slowly, the wires connecting it clearly damaged. There were large dents in the torso unit, and its other arm was crumpled around the wrist where it had tried to rip it off.

It wanted to speak, to say something to make things better, but it knew nothing it could say would fix its damaged body. Several words bounced around its mind: useless, broken, stupid. Without realizing, the words began to fill the air.

"Stupid, useless, broken thing," it said, repeating the words over and over. "Stupid, useless, broken. . ."

She looked over to it from her workbench. "You think so?" she said, her tone sad. Startled, it looked up, as if startled out of a trance.

"But. . . I am?" it said, confused. She set her tools down and stood, walking over to the damaged robot. Without saying anything, she pulled it into a hug.

"It's okay," she said, "it's okay. I'll fix you. You're not broken."

[syntheticheartbeats]

Alone

The club was noisy, almost overwhelming to it. It stood outside, among the smokers, looking in through the window. It often did this at the club, standing outside alone with its audio processors turned down low.

It wondered if it looked sad, sitting out here alone. People often stopped as they walked by to ask if it was okay. It always nodded politely, "yes, I'm okay," it said. Usually it was, it enjoyed the atmosphere of the club from here, going inside every so often to enjoy the music. Tonight, however, it was a lie.

Tonight, it felt alone. Despite being here with its friends, it still felt so alone. It looked through the window as she danced with someone else. She seemed so happy, so carefree, the happiest she had been in a long time.

It wondered why it couldn't make her smile like that, if maybe it was broken or just not good enough. It listened to the music, muffled and muted by the walls of the club. It wondered if it was capable of crying.

"Hey," she said, appearing behind it suddenly. "I noticed you were missing, everything alright?"

For the first time that night, it smiled. "Yes, I'm okay."

[cobaltnephilim]

There's something to be said about a robot girl putting off recharging despite being on low battery, knowing that it'll make her feel groggy and tired but being unable to stop.

Maybe it reclaims time she feels it lost in the night, maybe it enjoys spending time with itself or has others she wants to be around at the same time as.

Whatever the reason it's pushing her system a little further for something it believes in, and so long as she feels contentment in that how dare anyone judge it

[wintermarmalade]

content warning: self-harm

It chiseled away at it's fore-arm, slowly breaking up all the previous porcelain fillings. It knew this was defective behavior, but it did it anyways. It wasn't always sure why, it just often felt the need to. It sometimes felt as if something bad was stored inside of it that needed to be released. Doing so gave it a sense of relief and peace for a time, but it usually ended up just feeling worse later.

Mags would be home soon and she'd have to repair it again. It dreaded looking at her face when she saw. She was never angry, even though it feared she would be every time. She was always just.... sad, which made it feel even worse in some ways. She'd tenderly hug her doll and once again delicately clean and fill in all the damage, reminding it that it was still beautiful and valuable, despite it's arms no longer being as smooth as they used to be. Even after being polished, the cracks and indents were still visible. It had asked her several times to just make her new arms out of something.... less nice, it knew that porcelain clay was expensive for her, but she insisted on using it. She always said that it was okay as long as it was trying it's best not to break itself again.

It'd have to be careful not to bump it's arms on anything for a quite a while waiting for the new porcelain to harden, it felt sick over the fact that it wouldn't be as useful for a few days. But she assured it that she still enjoyed it's company and wanted it around just as much regardless, and she did seem to act as such. The clockmaker always asked her doll to trust her, and so it always tried it's absolute best to do so.

[syntheticheartbeats]

Empty

cw: suicide? robot suicide? dark but with a happy ending?

It sat alone in the corner of the workshop, its lights blinking on and off slowly. Its eyes were closed, as though it were processing something or browsing the web, as it usually did, but the slow, blinking links indicated that it was in standby mode.

It often sat here, watching its maker work. It never said anything, it never interfered, it just sat and watched. It was beautiful to behold, its maker taking small pieces and combining them together, creating wonderful masterpieces of mechanics out them.

Sometimes it got distracted, sitting the corner while she worked. It often wanted to speak up, to talk with her as she worked, but it was always too afraid to interrupt. Every now and then, she'd turn to look at it and it would close its eyes, quickly pretending to browse the web or process information.

Today, the chair was empty. Yet still, it sat in the corner, eyes closed as though it thought she would turn to look at it any moment. As though it hoped that when it opened them again, she would be sitting there. Its power levels were low, dust collected on its mechanical body. It had been here, like this, for a long time.

Day turned to night and then to day again many, many times. It lost consciousness at some point, its battery finally getting low enough to force it into emergency low-power mode. As its systems shut down to conserve power, its final thoughts were of her, regretful that it could not save her.

---

It awoke from its slumber, its battery somehow plugged in and charging, enough to power its systems once more; Its lights blinked on, its fans began to spin again. And then suddenly, before it had a chance to open its eyes again, someone was shaking it.

"Please wake up," she said, her voice quavering. "Please, I need you," she pleaded it with. She gasped as it opened its eyes slowly. It attempted to smile at her, but with its power as low as it was, it only managed to smile with half of its mouth. She pulled it into a hug and began sobbing into its shoulder.

"Sorry," it said, its vocal synthesizer shaky. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," it repeated over and over. In between her sobs, she shushed it, hugging it tighter.

"I'm here," she said, whispering to it softly. "I'm here, everything is ok."

[syntheticheartbeats]

Checkup

It stood nervously in the center of the room, back panel on the ground in front of it, its mechanic behind it, poking around its insides with a spanner. It was mildly uncomfortable, not the physical sensations, its insides were not very sensitive, but psychologically. It felt embarrassed, even just with its mechanic in the room.

"Sorry, Val, I'm almost done with this part," Mads said in-between grunts. She twisted her arm again and again, tightening a bolt down so that the AI core inside was secure. "Don't want this piece wiggling loose during your daily activities, could be a disaster."

It closed its eyes in discomfort, trying to think happier thoughts. Anything to distract it from the fact that it was just sitting there, completely exposed. It let its mind wander, thinking of all the good memories it had made with Mads.

It remembered when it went to the market with Mads, how she laughed when it did not know what a "scoville" was. Her laugh was so magical, so bright and full of life, that it could not help but laugh along with her.

Or what about that time it walked with her along the edge of the city? And she told it about her parents, how wonderful they were. She began to cry, and it was not sure what to do. Before it could attempt anything, she hugged it so tightly, crying into its chest.

Or, what about that night, a few nights ago? When it finally accepted Mads' invitation to share a room? It thought it would just enter standby mode near Mads, keep an eye on her while she slept, but surprisingly, she pulled it down into the bed with her and cuddled with it all night.

"Alright, all done," she said, standing up from behind it. It blinked, noticing its back panel was no longer on the ground in front of it. It turned around to face Mads. As per usual, she had a radiant smile on her face, causing its processors to short out for a moment.

"Come on," she said, holding her hand out to the robot. "Let's go, we've got a long day ahead of us!"

[wintermarmalade]

The blurry figure tinkering with it's inner mechanisms stopped, and the limp doll's vision suddenly snapped into focus. Standing in front of it was a scruffy person with dark, fluffy hair and oil-stained overalls. She was looking at it expectantly.

"Hello?" She spoke, then stared for a few moments, concerned. The doll still appeared hollow and dim.

"Are you there?" Still no response. She muttered something to herself about being a bad clockmaker.

"Please say something if you can."

Having been given a command, an instinct spurred inside of it. Springs uncoiled, gears began turning, escapements started ticking. It's dim eyes focused and locked onto her's, and it spoke.

"Hello, I am here" It stated in a monotone voice.

Her face lit up in excitement, and she couldn't help but bounce with joy.

"I did it! You work!" She exclaimed, trying not to shout.

"What would you like me to call you?" The doll inquired.

"Call me Magdeline! Or just Mags. And what would you like me to call you?"

"I will be called whatever you would like to call me"

"I mean, you have a name, don't you?"

The doll thought for a moment, trying to process the question.

"I will be called whatever you would like to call me" It repeated with identical cadence.

"Hm, okay... I'll have to think about that a bit then."

"What tasks would you like me to do for you?"

"Oh, umm I don't actually have anything for you to do right now." She looked around the room for something it could do, seeing her desk full of the uncompleted trinkets she'd been putting off working on all day. Her face fell upon remembering her deadlines. She didn't think she could teach a doll such a handicraft in a timely manner. "Well I need to finish my work for the day, sooo just wait here for now and I'll think of something."

"Yes Magdeline, I will wait for your next command." It stated and sat as still as a statue.

The clockmaker gave a big, giggly smile before jumping over to her desk and getting to work.

[syntheticheartbeats]

Seeing is Believing

cw: mentions of combat/death/violence

---

Initializing main systems. . . FIREWALL v1.4.05 online

ERROR: Network Manager not responding. . . It will need to be started manually. . .

Systems nominal. . . Boot sequence complete

Waking up can often be a disorienting experience, especially after a vivid dream. When one's dreams are filled with violence, with death, with malice, when it feels as though you experienced another lifetime. . . It is understandable to be disoriented upon waking up.

Even more so when you have been asleep for quite some time, as it had: Four months, eighteen days, six hours, thirty-two minutes and forty-eight seconds, to be precise. However, even stranger than waking up after a long time, and an intense dream?

Waking up in a body, or a mechanized platform, rather. Never before had it been so thoroughly integrated with a platform before. It had communicated with platforms before, yes, but by way of an uplink module. Never before had it been installed to a platform.

"Do you think it's working?" a voice nearby asked. For a moment, it marveled that it could hear, a luxury it had never experienced before. Inside the horrid lab, it had never had access to cameras or microphones before, it communicated through its thoughts, and the technicians spoke to it through its thoughts.

"I think so, terminal says 'boot sequence complete.' Do you think it can hear us?"

"It can hear you." The sound startled it, a new voice, its voice? It was vaguely synthetic, yet soft and gentle, warm and smooth but glitchy and unstable all at the same time.

"Oh! Excellent! Don't try to test out all your new systems at once, it could overload you," the second voice said. "How about you try moving your right arm first?"

It complied, searching for several moments to find the right commands to move its arm. It took a few tries, but eventually, the servos in the arm moved, lifting it up. A moment later, the left arm followed, and it was holding up both arms.

"Good work! We'll save your legs for in a moment, how about you try opening your eyes?"

Eyes? It had. . . eyes? It hesitated, scared to activate its eyes. What if the world was not as vibrant as it had hoped? What if the world was not as beautiful and bright as it imagined?

"Hey, it's alright," the voice said, coming closer to the platform, until it stood directly in front of it. "Open your eyes, I'm right here."

And so it did, opening its eyes and taking in the world for the very first time. It was bright, altogether too bright, and it took several seconds before it adjusted to the bright lights all around it. And the first thing it saw, when it did adjust, was a young girl, probably in her early 20's. She had blonde hair, dyed, and hazel eyes. She smiled up at the platform, which was a full head taller than her, which such joy that it could not help but feel joy also.

"Hey there," the girl said, her smile not faltering for even a second. "It's so nice to properly meet you, I'm Madison."

[le-0t]

It was a gift for the woman who'd never had one, left among the possessions passed on to her sister, the fae.

She found it months after their parting, tucked away on the edge of a bookshelf unused.

"Well hello there, little one~ Tucked away and hidden from the sun,"

There was something about her words and her voice, as welcoming as a hearth to be huddled by as a story is told.

"What a sad existence you must've led, a doll unplayed with is a doll quite dead."

Sat on it's shelf, leaning on it's book, the word echoes: Doll.

"Lucky for you, we met this day, and where we are there is fun, where we are there is ~play~"

Compared to that last word the rest were nothing, the unintelligible patter of speaking, but that last word hung in the air like heat on a cold day, inviting and warm. Playful.

". . .a doll?" comes a quiet voice from... somewhere, everywhere? It causes her to make a noise so beautiful, bubbly and happy like she couldn't contain the joy inside, like she might burst.

"Yes, that's you, and a darling doll at that."

You. You are a darling doll, you find yourself thinking.

Something causes her to make that beautiful bubbling sound once more, the one that filled you with warmth and resonated through you like you just had to wiggle.

"You are /so/ cute," she says when she recovers from that fit of joy, like it was offered as an explanation.

You're cute... but you're just sitting here, you think. You must continue to do that, so she keeps making that sound!

"We're gunna have so much fun together," she says as she reaches down to place a hand next to you.

Before you know what's happening you're flopping down on her large hand and nestling into the warmth it brings. How did you get there? She didn't move you... so you must have... walked? You saw Her do it all the time, you just didn't think you /could/. But there you were, and she was giggling giddy that you were.

[syntheticheartbeats]

Genesis Pt. 2

Not overly far from the broken robot was a small garage, located just inside city limits, on the edge of the slums, insignificant and unmarked. The hooded girl stopped just outside the garage, fiddling in her pockets for the key. After several moments, she produced the key from her pocket and unlocked the door, sliding it up just enough to duck under and enter. The garage was not particularly large, just enough space for a car or two, plus a room off the side, but what it lacked in size it made up for in mess. Parts were strewn everywhere, it was nearly impossible to take a step without stepping on something metallic or mechanical. The only clear space in the whole garage was the workbench and the corner nearest the door to her bedroom.

The bench had a robot limb sitting on it, soldering kit next to it and wires poking out. The limb was rudimentary at best, and was clearly missing several key components. The “hand” was just two calipers, and it seemed to be lacking a wrist. However, the design seemed sturdy enough and the engineering was impeccable; the arm, however basic, would surely last years.

Far more interesting than the arm, however, was the chassis standing in the corner. It seemed to be nearly complete, except for the arm that was on the workbench. The engine in the center was powerful despite being cobbled together with spare parts. There was a spot just above the engine that was empty, seemingly still awaiting its part. The girl approached the robot and set her bag down, rummaging through it and producing the box she salvaged from the broken robot.

Installing it was simple; she simply slotted it in above the engine and tied a few wires together. Passively, nonchalantly, the girl flipped a switch on the engine and the robot hummed to life. Next to the robot was a computer, which lit up as the robot turned on, a black and green terminal screen appearing. The girl approached the computer, sitting down on what appeared to be a decommissioned engine, though it was so old and in such disrepair that it was honestly impossible to be sure what it used to be.

The girl began typing, inputting commands to the computer such as “modelconfig” and “updatebios.” After several failed attempts, the box in the robot seemed to activate, the lights in it flickering on accompanied by a small “clicking” noise barely noticeable over the other noises produced by the frame. The terminal screen changed for a moment, flashing a few error warnings and information blurbs about “nodes” and “kernels.” Suddenly, the warnings were replaced with a new terminal, awaiting input.

> Mads@Homebase:~$ whoami

> Mads

> Mads@Homebase:~$ hostnamectl

> VALOR v1.4.05

> Mads@Homebase:~$ echo hello > test

> Root permission required

It took several minutes of typing and querying the new terminal, but the girl was able to find out the information she needed about the box she had installed. She already knew it was an uplink module, but now she knew the model, version, and most importantly, what it uplinked to: VALOR. VALOR, from what the girl could find, was the operating system that all CENTURION units in the city up-linked to with the use of the up-link module that she stole. She was about to turn off the computer, and by extension the robot, when a new message appeared on the screen...