wowie we're getting so many new faces, these are from a abandoned ver of the pizza plex, we were able to safely separate their ais into new bodys, more new friends coming soon-sun
Sun's careful not to ask anyone about the newboots in their old body -- no news is good news, and not bringing up something they're probably not supposed to know about is safer than risking it for the sake of curiosity. Even Moon, ever the cat casually evading doom, agrees with his decision, which goes a long way to say what it's like for animatronics down in Parts and Services.
At least, what it's like for secondaries, anyway. The primaries usually get better support, if only because they have a designated team and brand identity.
It doesn't stop them from being curious. After some quiet reflection on what'd happened, and after more than a bit of conversation with Moon about the young AI, Sun finds that he just can't help it. Remembering what it was like back when he and his brother had first gained consciousness, the confusion and distress, how he'd clung to protocol and programming until he had no choice but to admit that he felt and wanted and dreamed... It gives some perspective.
So, that night, Moon goes back.
To their surprise, and to Sun's conflicted relief, the newboots seem to still be active, and even remain in the same room they'd found them in the first time, though New-Sun is curled up on the worktable with its head on its knees.
Sun takes the lead this time around, waiting until Moon's locked the door again behind them before he steps into the front.
The sound of their whirring parts seems to catch New-Sun's attention, and it lifts its head, scanning them with an optic flash. It's missing half its casing, he notices; a couple rays gone, a bare endoskeleton hand, one leg completely lacking its padded plastic covering, revealing scratches and small dents that Sun's sure weren't there before they'd been migrated out. Empathy settles heavy in his synthetic gut.
==They're definitely testing AI,== he thinks sadly to Moon. Testers have only a short and brutal life, one spent entirely within a prototyping room under scrutiny until they're deemed no longer necessary.
He hadn't known the testers to be aware for the process, though.
Unlike yesterday, the infant AI remains silent, only staring at Sun with its head tilted just slightly. Sun fidgets awkwardly; he hadn't exactly planned out anything to say, and the unusual quiet really isn't helping.
After a very, very long, silent moment, he finally blurts, "You're, um, really quiet today, haha!"
Almost immediately, New-Sun responds, "I have been instructed not to speak unless spoken to," in a sad imitation of his cheerful inflection, very much like a child trying to mimic an adult. It hesitates, like it wants to continue -- but its programming must be stopping it.
Which is... messed up. "Even with other animatronics?" He can't help the disbelief bleeding into his tone. ==That's so messed up!==
"I... Yes." The other Sun somehow manages to look uncomfortable despite its lack of emotional capability. "The order isn't specific."
--Sounds like Paul's work,-- grumbles Moon, and Sun can't help but agree. After all, Paul's made it clear many times over how much he wishes he and Moon (but especially Sun) would shut up and be good little servants. It only makes sense that he'd do... this... to their newboot selves.
But that's neither here nor there. "Well, I'm talking to you, right?" Sun says, trying his hardest to sound upbeat and not... Well, he's not sure how he's actually feeling, but it sure isn't upbeat and cheerful right now. "So you can talk back!"
New-Sun continues to look at him, head slowly tilting the other direction. "I... guess so."
There's another brief pause, and Sun takes the opportunity to approach the other him, instinctively scanning it as he comes close. Despite the physical damage, it seems more or less intact, though newboots can be difficult to judge as a result of their strictly mechanical behavior. "Do you know what they're doing with you?" he asks gently, leaning against the wall beside the workbench.
If a bot could furrow its brow, he's pretty sure that's the expression New-Sun would be making right now. "Diagnostics," it answers after a moment, "and stress-tests. Other than that, no."
"Does it hurt?"
The other him pauses, internals whirring as it struggles to process the question. After a long moment, it slowly replies, "I'm intact."
Sun just kind of looks at it for a second, guilt and sympathy pinging around in his head like pinballs. It's hard to witness this kind of thing now -- they haven't had newboots around since the last time Freddy had needed reset, and he'd forgotten how stressful and disturbing it could be to interact with them. To see what they all used to be like.
It's not fair. For anyone.
Moon nudges him and Sun steps back after patting New-Sun on the shoulder, an action that leaves the newboot looking mildly perplexed. Its apparent confusion grows as he and his brother trade places; once he's in front, Moon stretches and adjusts his position against the wall, while the younger AI continues to stare, visibly full of questions its programming won't let slip.
It's hard to be a right asshole to his brother's face, even if it's not his Sun, so Moon sighs and says, "Yes, we can switch places whenever we want."
"Why?" asks the other Sun almost immediately, the question seemingly ready to go the second Moon stopped talking.
"Because we like to," he answers with a shrug. "Anyway, you know you don't have to stay here, right?"
Strangely, the question goes unanswered. "How do you change like that?" New-Sun almost demands, finally moving from where it's been sitting curled against the wall since they'd come in. "Don't you go to sleep inside?"
--Oh,-- Moon thinks after a split second of confusion, and Sun's realization blooms soon afterward. --This is familiar.--
After all, when they'd first started to become properly self-aware, it was because they were curious about each other, too. Ironic how the cycle seems to continue, isn't it?
Well, Moon's never been one for emotional talk, and Sun's practically buzzing in the back of his head at the prospect of another AI achieving true sapience. So with a soft chuckle, and no small amount of nostalgia, he steps back, and Sun surges back into the casing with a big, broad grin. "You know," he says, voice brimming with excitement, "we were just like you, a long time ago!"
New-Sun leans in, a glimmer of genuine curiosity in those empty white eyes, and Sun starts telling the tale. "It all started with this note I found..."
---------------------------------
They drop by a few more times that night, after Moon's forced to depart by patrol rolling around again. The first time back, they bring a notebook and one of Sun's favorite pens -- a little galaxy-patterned one that writes in three different colors -- and encourage the newboots to try writing each other notes, just as they had so long ago.
At first, the young AI don't seem convinced, and New-Sun spends a few minutes aimlessly doodling instead. But by the time they've circled back around again, some writing's begun to populate the page, alternating between red and green in wildly different hand. The third return finds New-Moon intently crouched before the notebook, a drawing of the two of them half-completed below him.
--They're definitely our backups,-- chuckles Moon from just outside the door. He's leaned up against the wall where he can just see through the glass, a little reticent to open it and risk breaking the young AI's concentration. They don't need to be thinking about programming right now, just each other. --I guess you really can't change nature, huh?--
Sun's been buzzing like a little bee in the back of his head almost all evening, all that anxiety and distress he'd been feeling over their presence by now evaporated into cheer and adulation. ==Isn't it so cute!?== he squeals, and its only the fact that he's speaking through the chatlog that keeps him from blowing out a speaker in his excitement. ==They're just like us! Gosh, I can't wait to see them blossom into their own people!==
Moon's internal smile turns to a frown, though, as something occurs to him. --Except that they're testing AI,-- he says, and he can feel Sun instantly deflate. After all, testing AI don't have tremendous lifespans.
==But-- but that's not fair!==
--I don't think the humans care much for fairness.-- It's funny, normally Moon wouldn't get too attached to anything like this, and especially not so quickly -- but seeing another version of himself and his brother go through the same routine of self-discovery that they had, only to know that it's all in vain?
Surprisingly, that hurts.
They watch in silence for a moment as New-Moon hops to his feet, drawing complete, and races to the light switch. He goes limp for a second, and then New-Sun boots up and runs right back to the worktable to see. Remembering that they're almost definitely slated for deletion or reformatting soon is--
--We need to do something,-- he decides instead of finishing that thought, pushing off of the wall. Sun gushes agreement, and Moon starts running through options while he heads off for his last patrol of the night, deftly performing his duty almost on autopilot.
There's gotta be something they can do. And it's not like the technicians need to know, either.
hey um if u aren't too busy, what kind of shenanigans (or angst) might happen if sun and moon were to meet the newboots versions of themselves?
or atleast the versions of them during chapter 1 of your fic since technically a lot of stuff did happen from that point and till now
In retrospect, they probably should have wondered a little earlier just what had been done with their old body. After all, it'd been in mostly workable condition when they'd been transferred out of it, right? They'd found a working casing, fixed most of the broken bits from Moon's unexpected rendezvous with the floor -- aside from the one leg, it'd been almost like new. Endoskeletons like that, especially ones as apparently expensive as theirs, weren't often outright discarded.
So it probably shouldn't have come as such a shock as it had when Moon, during one of his regular jaunts about the Pizzaplex, came across it in one of the tech rooms. And it might not have, were it not for the fact that it's moving.
It's a little like seeing a zombie, except the corpse is their own.
Which isn't right, not one bit. There's not another Sun-Moon AI pair that either of them know of, nor is there another animatronic intelligence built with the software to control their unique body. Simply put, there's no logical reason for their body to be moving right now.
And there's especially no reason for it to be peeping out the window in the door at them, wearing Sun's own broad smile and waving in a bizarrely-familiar fashion.
"Hello!" says the thing wearing Sun's face, and both Moon and Sun find themselves vastly disoriented by the fact that it's also using Sun's voice. "I seem to be lost! Could you help me back to the Daycare, please?"
For a moment, the twin AI simply boggle at the walking impossibility on the other side of the door, exchanging simulated glances in the digital privacy of their shared headspace. Moon even runs a scan for good measure, just to confirm that what they're seeing really is there.
Tragically, it is, and now his head hurts.
--Sun,-- he says after a moment, positively baffled, --are you seeing this?--
His brother sends an impression of him almost aggressively shrugging with his response. ==I don't know, but I'd like to leave now! This is way too weird.==
--It's looking at me.-- Moon leans a little closer to the window, scrutinizing the imposter. Not that the imposter has the decency to look ashamed, or even bashful at the attention; rather, it perks up, fluttering its rays in a very disturbingly familiar way, and waves almost gleefully. After a moment, he decides, --I don't like this. This is weird.--
==That's what I said!== huffs Sun, simulating a swat at Moon's digital shoulder.
But Moon's always been a little too curious for his own good, so despite the waves of 'can-we-please-not' vibes wafting from his brother's side of headspace, he scans his security chip into the room's lock and steps inside, relocking it behind him so the thing can't leave. Sun, rather expectedly, isn't eager to take up the helm, and so Moon's left to do his own thing as he'd hoped.
His own thing, as it turns out, is leaning nonchalantly against the door with folded arms, tilting his head at the imposter. "So," he says, looking their old body up and down -- looks like someone replaced the busted leg, finally, but with a bulky generic part instead of their own lightweight model. So, this isn't a floor model, whatever it is. "Who are you supposed to be?"
That's not what he's really asking, of course. It's more that he's quizzing the thing on whether or not it's their replacement or not, as backwards as it might sound, because if they're planning on formatting him, he'd like to know in advance so he can make himself impossible to find when the time comes.
But that seems to fly right over the imposter's head. "I'm the Daycare Attendant!" it chirps, doing some ridiculous imitation of jazz hands that would've made Moon snort if he weren't so bemused, "but you can also call me Sun!" As if. Then it repeats, "I seem to be lost! Could you--"
"No," Moon says, ideas already percolating in his head. The way the imposter stops and smiles blankly, empty expression concealing contingency processing, just confirms it. He adds, after a moment, "You're not Sun."
Maybe it was, long ago, but not anymore.
This isn't an imposter, he's realized by now, and he can feel Sun starting to realize it too. This is a preloaded backup without the personality files they've developed over time, nothing but lifeless programming, all numbers and no spirit. A newboot, if you will.
This is how they'd all started out, once upon a time.
==This feels so weird,== Sun complains, and Moon doesn't blame him. It's like meeting a lobotomized version of yourself. Another fun reminder that to the humans, they're all replaceable.
Distantly, he wonders what the newboot him is like, but the idea's far from tempting enough to bother with the lights.
New-Sun seems to finish processing right about then, and it tilts its head at them in what might be a mimicry of confusion. (It's too fresh to actually be confused, though confusion would be the first of several emotions to develop should it be left to its own devices for a month or two.) "I don't recognize you," it says, head tilting the other way. (Oh, so it'd tried to report him. Ha! Imagine Sun actually reporting him for once.) "What's your name?"
If Moon had been built with eyebrows, they'd be breaching Earth's atmosphere at terminal velocity by now.
==Oh my gosh,== Sun moans in the back of his head, practically withering into a puddle of shame and second-firsthand (this perspective is weird) embarrassment. ==Did I really used to talk like that? I sound like such a robot!==
--I think we all did,-- Moon replies, neither helping nor harming his brother's shattered dignity. "You really don't know me?" he asks the newboot, cocking his head the same way New-Sun did his. To his amusement, the other bot tilts his head the other way, now seeming more genuinely confused.
To its credit, New-Sun takes a moment to answer, empty smile never fading despite the growing whine of its internals trying to make sense of the situation. "Nope," it finally says, "I'm pretty sure I don't. Should I?"
Huh. He's pretty sure he and Sun always knew the other AI was there, even before they'd been able to properly detect one another. The piles of notebooks carefully hidden away in their room's floor could attest to that. "I'm you," he says rather bluntly. "Or, I'm a part of you. The part that wakes up when lights go out."
New-Sun just kind of stares at him. There's still nothing in its eyes, no emotion or drive, nothing to indicate true sapience.
Which means the easiest way to start the questions is to reach over and flip the lights off.
The other bot yelps when the room goes dark, lit only by the dim glow from the hallway beyond the door, and Moon watches with his built-in night vision as it recoils hard enough to nearly fall backwards. Then New-Sun goes slack, its programming punting it off into Sleep mode as the body shifts from light to dark, and after a moment, New-Moon opens its eyes and looks almost eagerly around the room.
Its confusion when it doesn't find any children to tend is tangible. If he really pushes for the oldest of his memories, he can almost remember the feeling.
"Morning," Moon says instead of sympathizing, almost amused by the way his imposter jumps and whips around to stare at him. "So, tell me. Do you know who I am?"
Unlike New-Sun, New-Moon's head cocks back and forth almost constantly in tiny little motions, more like a bird than a human. After a long, quiet moment, it says, "I don't understand."
How underwhelming.
But then it continues. "You're not supposed to be here," the other him says almost hesitantly, drawing its hands up to its chest. Oddly, whoever'd assembled their old body had left off half their adornments, so there's no ruffled collar to fiddle with and New-Moon drops its hands almost as soon as it becomes aware of the fact. "Where am I?"
"You don't know?"
Rather amusingly, New-Moon shoots him an almost 'are-you-kidding' kind of look. "My connection to the mainframe has been externally disconnected. I can't identify where I am without it."
Sun hums nervously in the back of Moon's mind. ==Can we please leave now?== he half-begs, pushing some of his growing anxiety towards his brother in some attempt to get him to recognize how unsettling this all is. ==You still need to finish patrol, and I'm pretty sure we weren't supposed to find this, anyway!==
--Aren't you curious?-- Moon replies instead, watching New-Moon despite the way his gaze seems to make the imposter squirm. --Don't you want to know whatever it is they're testing on this thing?--
==No, actually!== Sun mimes a pull on Moon's nonexistent digital arm as though it would do anything to persuade him. ==This is weird and creepy and I really don't want to know whatever it is they're planning for us!==
Despite himself, Moon decides to ignore his brother, returning his attention to the other bot in the room. "So," he says, "I'm not supposed to be here, am I?"
New-Moon blinks at him. "Well, no," it replies rather bluntly. "You're me. This implies a failure somewhere in the chain of command that allowed two copies of the same AI to meet. Protocol states--"
And right back to protocol. Moon waves it off with a shake of the head. "Someone definitely did fail, but you're a little backwards. You're actually me. I'm the older one here."
"Then am I to replace you?"
Now there's the question of the day. "I don't know," he says, watching the newboot's face carefully. "Why don't you tell me?"
New-Moon looks down, then up, then back down again. After a moment, it says, "I don't have enough information to estimate that."
The lights outside flicker, and Moon looks out the door's little window just in time to see them all go dark as time ticks over and the next charging period begins. Inwardly, he curses -- he'd gotten a little more wrapped up in this weird situation than he'd realized, nad now he's late to patrol. That'll be a mark in the system.
It's almost as an afterthought that he turns to New-Moon, enhanced vision finding the other bot almost just as disoriented as its not-yet-sibling AI in the total darkness. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten that his own optic modes aren't standard. "It's been nice chatting," he says, tone communicating that it really wasn't, "but I have work to do."
After a moment of hesitation, he adds, softer, "I'll see if you're here tomorrow. We might talk more then."
It's unlikely, of course. Testing AI usually don't last long, and from New-Sun's demeanor, these two are about the freshest variety of newboot there is. Their lifespan likely won't be more than a day or two. Yet even so, a part of him almost pities the new AI -- after all, it's hard to forget how jarring it was when he and Sun themselves had started the journey to consciousness so long ago.
Maybe if they last, he'll help them escape It only seems fair.
And with that, he goes, and New-Moon simply watches him go. Like a good little robot.
