⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 01 Chapter 01 | origins⌟
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You were once a child who knew nothing of struggle or scarcity. Life on the upper decks of the Weyland-Yutani starship felt like a dream. The air was clean, filtered to perfection, and your every need was met without a second thought.
Your parents were brilliant, their minds always buzzing with the latest programming codes and technologies. They were among the best, head honchos of the engineering department, and their talents kept them in high demand.
You, their prodigy, were a happy child, blissfully unaware of the harsh realities below.
But ignorance, as you would learn, could only shield you for so long.
As you grew, you became aware of your intelligence, a budding brilliance that mirrored your parents'. They often boasted about how you could write basic code before you could write your own name. Yet, with brilliance came curiosity, and with curiosity came questions—questions about the world outside your pristine bubble.
You remember a time when your family didn't have to worry about the smog suffocating their very lives. You could run through the gardens, feeling the warmth of artificial sunlight on your skin, never once thinking about what lay beyond the walls. But everything changed when your parents began to speak out.
They'd seen the reports, heard the stories from the miners, and it disturbed them. They became voices of dissent, advocating for those on the lower decks, the ones who toiled away in the filth and grime of the mines, who could barely breathe through the toxic fumes.
Their activism was a risk—a risk that cost them dearly. Accused of inciting unrest and defying company orders, your family was demoted, stripped of all privileges, and sent to the Weyland-Yutani mining colony, Jackson Star.
It was a far cry from the life you knew. Gone were the days of endless blue skies and breathable air. Now, you were surrounded by a world of gray, with the stench of sulfur and smoke clinging to your clothes and filling your lungs.
The fall from grace was swift and brutal. The once-respected engineers became just another pair of hands in the mines, their skills deemed useless in this new, harsh reality.
You watched as the light slowly faded from their eyes, their spirits crushed under the weight of their circumstances. Your father, once so proud and strong, became a shadow of his former self, and your mother, who always had a kind word, grew silent and withdrawn.
And then came the sickness.
The smog that choked the colony was more than just an irritant—it was poison. Day by day, it sapped the life from your parents, their health deteriorating before your eyes. You did everything you could to help, scavenging for medicine, trading anything you had of value, but it was never enough.
You remember those final days vividly. Your mother's labored breathing, the way your father’s hands shook as he tried to comfort her. They were wasting away, and there was nothing you could do but watch. One evening, as the dim light of the colony's artificial sun began to fade, your father called you over. His voice was weak, barely more than a whisper.
"Y/N..." he croaked, his hand trembling as it reached up to cup your face. You leaned in closer, tears blurring your vision as you tried to hold onto every word, every moment.
"Hold on to what's important to you," he rasped, his eyes searching yours, filled with a depth of sorrow and love you'd never seen before. "Never let go... no matter what."
You nodded, a sob caught in your throat, and clutched his hand tightly, feeling the frailty of his grip. "I promise, Dad..." you whispered, your voice breaking. "I won't let go."
He gave you a small, pained smile, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. "Good... that's good..." His voice trailed off, and you watched as his eyes slowly closed, his hand slipping from your face, leaving a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.
You sat there, holding onto him, as the weight of his words settled into your heart. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint, distant sounds of the mining equipment outside.
You felt a hollowness festering inside your 12 year old body, a void that seemed to swallow everything. Your world had crumbled, and all you had left were his final words echoing in your mind.
In that moment, something inside you hardened. The innocence of your childhood was gone, replaced by a steely resolve. You would survive, no matter what. You would hold on to what was important. You would never let go.
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After your parents died, you found yourself alone and lost, wandering the vast expanse of the mining colony. Without any clear direction or place to call home, you eventually took to the scrapyards, using what little you had—a keen mind and nimble fingers.
Every day, for the next 3 years, you sifted through the piles of discarded machinery and broken parts, looking for anything of value. You used your skills, the ones your parents had taught you, to piece together whatever you could: small trinkets, makeshift tools, anything that might fetch a few credits in trade.
You built yourself a makeshift hovel in the middle of the junkyard, hidden from sight by towering heaps of scrap. It wasn't much, but it was yours—a sanctuary in the middle of chaos. The days were long and hard, but the work kept your mind busy, away from thoughts of loss and the life you once had.
One day, while rummaging through a particularly dense pile of debris, you stumbled upon something unusual. It was an android, half-buried under a mass of metal beams and broken equipment. Its face was scratched and dirt-streaked, revealing a complex mesh of synthetic skin and exposed circuits beneath.
The android had a human-like appearance, with dark skin that was scuffed and cracked from years of neglect. Its eyes, though lifeless, seemed almost too real, capturing an uncanny valley between human and machine.
The android's limbs were twisted at odd angles, with wires protruding like exposed veins, and its clothing—a faded, grey jumpsuit—was torn and stained with oil and grime. Despite its rough exterior and the damage it had suffered, there was something about it that drew you in. Perhaps it was the way its expression, frozen in a state of calm observation, hinted at a life once filled with purpose.
You spent hours digging it out, piece by piece, until you could drag it back to your hovel. Even in its broken state, you could see the remnants of advanced engineering—smooth, precise joints that suggested strength and agility, and a flexible, durable frame designed to withstand the harshest environments.
You marveled at the craftsmanship, recognizing some of the programming patterns from your parents' work, and wondered what stories this android could tell if it could still speak.
For days, you tinkered with the android, trying to bring it back to life. You knew a bit about androids from watching your parents work, but this was beyond anything you had attempted before. Still, you were determined. You worked late into the night, using any spare parts you could find, trying to restore its power core, to no avail.
As time passed, you continued to scavenge for more parts, your father's words echoing in your mind: "Never let go... no matter what." Bit by bit, the android slowly began to look more presentable, but even then, it wasn't enough.
Until one day, it was.
You were digging through a pile of freshly brought scraps when you spotted it: a small, seemingly insignificant power regulator bulb. It was the kind of part that, while easy to overlook, was a crucial part to getting an android's systems up and running.
The bulb had been haphazardly tossed a few feet ahead of you by a group of scavengers, its glass exterior glinting faintly under the dim overhead lights.
Your heart raced, your mind running thousands of miles a minute. Zoning in on the piece, you slowly stood up, casually making your way toward it. You knew better than to rush; showing any sign of interest could draw unwanted attention. In this place, the second someone realized you wanted something, they would place a price and drive it up, child or not.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
You were just a few feet away when it happened. A man, covered head to toe in soot and wearing a worn miner's jumpsuit, trudged over with a small wicker basket. His shoulders sagged as if he carried the weight of the world, his face etched with deep lines of exhaustion. He reached down and picked up the bulb, turning it over in his hands.
You held your breath, praying he would dismiss it as junk and toss it aside. But instead, he placed it carefully into his basket with a few other scraps.
For a moment, your world seemed to collapse. That part was your key to finally completing the android, the culmination of all your hard work. Your father’s words surged back to you, steadying your resolve: "Never let go."
Determined not to lose this opportunity, you put your plan into motion; the distant hum of machinery a constant reminder of what was at stake.
You'd become an expert at blending into the background, a necessary survival skill your parents had once joked about, saying you could disappear in plain sight.
As you trailed the man, you kept to the shadows, watching his every move while he searched for more useful scraps. He finally set the basket down to dig through a pile of metal parts.
Seeing your chance, you moved in. Almost soundlessly, you walked over on the tips of your toes. The man glanced your way but then returned to his task, not seeing you as a threat. You slouched slightly to appear even less noticeable and then made your move.
Heart rattling in your chest, you crept closer. Instinct took over, and before you knew it, you’d swiped the bulb from the basket and slipped it into your pocket with practiced ease.
You turned to leave, adrenaline pumping through your veins, but the man was quicker than you anticipated. His hand clamped down on your shoulder—firm, but not unkind.
"Hey," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "Now what are you planning to do with that?"
You froze, certain you were about to be dragged off and punished. But there was something in his eyes, a curiosity that made you pause. "I... I need it to fix something," you mumbled, not meeting his gaze.
"Fix what?" he pressed, crouching down to your level. You could see now that his face wasn't unkind—worn, but not harsh. "Show me."
Swallowing hard, you decided to take a chance. Maybe it was the way he spoke, or maybe it was the loneliness that gnawed at you every day, but you found yourself leading him back to your hovel.
It was a small space carved out among the towering heaps of discarded metal and machinery. The majority of the space is filled with scraps and trinkets you've collected, tools scattered around like fallen leaves.
On the left, a table was piled high with what appeared to be completed gadgets and tech—your attempts at salvaging something useful from the wreckage. The man paused at the entrance, taking a moment to absorb the chaotic arrangement of your makeshift workshop.
His eyes roamed over the space, and before he could ask where you managed to gather all this, something else caught his attention. Among the chaos, there was one object that stood out—a small, pristine picture tablet sitting on a shelf. It showcased a beautiful family of three: a gorgeous woman, a handsome man, and a young child who bore a striking resemblance to you.
He would have brushed it off as just another trinket, but he recognized the faces in the photograph. It was hard not to on Jackson Star. The infamous Tallings family—once high-ranking members of Weyland-Yutani, who fell from grace after daring to speak out about the harsh realities of life in the colonies.
Suddenly, everything about your hovel started to make sense to him. Rumors had circulated for years about what happened to the Tallings' child, the prodigy. Many believed the child had died from sickness, just another casualty of the harsh conditions on Jackson Star or some other far-off base.
Seeing you here, in the flesh, was a surreal revelation. The man was snapped out of his thoughts as you moved further into the surprisingly deep hovel, heading towards a large tarp in the back corner.
With a determined look, you pulled it back to reveal the broken android underneath, its once smooth features now marred by scratches and dents.
The man let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned," he murmured. "You found yourself an android. And you've been working on it all by yourself?"
You nodded, suddenly feeling very small under his gaze. "I don't really know what I'm doing outside the coding," you admitted quietly. "I just… I thought maybe I could fix him."
The man looked at you for a long moment, then at the android. "I think I might be able to help with that," he said finally. "Name's Marcus. And this here is a rare find, kid. N-D-255's were one of Weyland-Yutani's first artificial people. You've got a good eye."
Hope flickered in your chest. "So, you'll help me?"
He smiled. "On one condition. You let me take you back with me when we're done. Can't have a kid like you out here alone."
You hesitated, glancing around your makeshift home. It wasn't much, but it was all you had known for a while now. Still, the thought of a real home, of not being alone... "Okay," you whispered. "Deal."
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Over the next few weeks, you and Marcus worked together to bring the android back online. It wasn't easy, and there were many late nights where you doubted it would ever work, but Marcus was patient and kind, always encouraging you to keep trying.
You grew to trust him, even look up to him.
As you carefully lifted the flash drive-shaped device, which Marcus called the "Reboot Key," he stood beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. "Alright, kid," he began, his voice calm and steady, "this is the moment of truth. Remember, it's okay if things don't go as planned the first time. Sometimes, you have to go back to the drawing board. What's important is that you keep trying, alright?"
You nodded, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you. You were standing above the android's head, both of your faces level with one another.
The android had a gentle, almost puppy-like expression on its face, its synthetic features designed to seem approachable and non-threatening. Its lips, though motionless now, had a subtle pout, giving it an almost childlike innocence.
You couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for this machine that seemed so lifelike, yet so fragile in its current state.
"Okay, here we go," Marcus said softly, guiding your hand toward the side of the android's neck. "You need to insert the Reboot Key right here, in this small port. Make sure it's aligned properly, then give it a twist."
With a deep breath, you carefully inserted the device into the port. Your hands were steady, but you could feel your heart racing in your chest.
As you twisted the device, a small spasm shot through the android's body, its limbs twitching for a moment. You gasped and pulled back slightly, but Marcus squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.
"Just a momentary glitch," he said. "Let's see if it worked."
A second later, the android's eyes flickered to life. They were dark and deep, with a subtle glow that made them seem almost alive.
For a moment, those eyes zeroed in on you, and you felt a strange connection, as if the machine could see right through you. Slowly, you backed away, moving to stand next to Marcus as the android sat up.
It felt like an eternity as the android continued to stare at you, its gaze unblinking and intense.
Then, it blinked, its expression softening as it turned its head to look at Marcus before shifting its attention back to you. "N-D-255, Weyland-Yutani synthetic human with mining and guard functions."
You felt a surge of joy like you hadn't felt in so long. Your body trembled with excitement as you stepped forward, a smile spreading across your face. "What is your name?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
The synthetic's lips seemed to fall into an even deeper pout, and its head tilted slightly to the side, almost cutely. "I...I don't know."
You fidgeted awkwardly before turning to Marcus. "What should we do?"
Marcus looked as if he were holding back a grin, finding the entire situation funny. "I dunno kid, how about you name him? I mean, you did find him after all."
"N...Name him?" You began to suddenly feel self-conscious as you turned back around only to have the android staring intently at you. You glanced back over at Marcus, who gave you an encouraging nod, a warm smile on his face. "Uh… how about… Andy?" you suggested hesitantly.
The moment the name left your lips, you wanted to punch yourself. Andy? Really? What did it even stand for—android? How original… But as you looked back at the synthetic, you saw its lips curl into a slight smile, its head nodding in acceptance.
"Designation accepted: Andy," the android replied, its small. "Thank you for giving me a name."
With a happy squeal, you turn and throw your arms around Marcus in a rare moment of unguarded happiness. "We did it!" you exclaimed. "We really did it!"
Marcus chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Yeah, we did. And you know what? I think it's time I took you home."
True to his word, Marcus introduced you to his wife and daughter, Rain. She was about your age, a few years younger—three, to be exact. When you first met her, you were about fifteen, and she was twelve.
From the moment you arrived at her home, Rain was like a shadow, sticking to you like glue. She had a fiery spirit and a boundless curiosity that quickly became apparent.
Despite the age difference, she admired your resourcefulness and determination, and the two of you formed a bond that was hard to break.
Over the next few months, Rain was your constant companion. She'd be there every time you and Marcus worked on Andy, eagerly watching as you updated and built upon the android. Her eyes would light up with every new piece of tech you explained, her enthusiasm infectious.
Whenever you went diving for scraps in the junkyard, Rain would tag along, insisting on helping you find whatever parts you needed, her small hands surprisingly adept at sorting through the debris.
She was determined to learn from you, often mimicking your actions and hanging on your every word. There was something about her unwavering trust in you that felt both reassuring and heavy—a reminder of the role you’d inadvertently taken on, not just as a friend, but as a protector and mentor.
You found yourself growing fond of her fierce spirit and relentless curiosity, her presence becoming a bright spot in the otherwise grim surroundings of the colony.
As the weeks turned into months, the two of you became a team, navigating the scrapyards and working on Andy together. With every shared adventure, every quiet conversation under the stars, your bond deepened, forging a bond that would stand the test of time and adversity.
It was then you realized: you'd do anything to protect her.
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One late night, Marcus came home from the mines, exhausted from a long day's work. The house was dark and quiet, with only the soft sounds of his wife sleeping in the next room. He expected to find both you and Rain asleep as well, but instead, he saw a dim light flickering from the corner of the workshop.
As he stepped closer, he spotted you hunched over one of Andy's arm panels, a single candle casting long shadows around you. Rain was fast asleep in a chair next to you, which you had padded with some old blankets to make a makeshift bed. She looked peaceful, her small body curled up and her face relaxed in sleep.
The android, still in a state of disrepair, stared intently at you as you worked, its dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the candle. You were rambling softly to Andy, explaining what you were doing and why each piece was important, almost as if teaching him as you went along.
Your concentration was so deep that you didn't notice Marcus until the sound of his heavy boots on the floor pulled you back to reality.
Looking up, your face broke into a warm grin. "Hi, Marc. Can I get you something?" you asked, quickly putting Andy into sleep mode to not startle him.
Marcus just smiled and shook his head, walking over to where you sat. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Rain's forehead before settling into a chair next to you.
He didn't need to ask why you were still up; he already knew the answer. This wasn't the first time he had found you working late into the night, lost in your thoughts and projects.
The two of you sat in peaceful silence as you continued upgrading Andy's arm, the only sound being the soft clicks of your tools and Rain's gentle breathing.
After a while, you broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for everything, Marcus," you said, still focused on your work to avoid looking at him directly. "Really, I mean it."
Marcus chuckled softly. "You thank me nearly every month, Y/N. There's nothing to thank me for."
You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I know," you replied. Your gaze shifted to Rain, who was still sound asleep beside you. "But truly, if you hadn't found me and taken me in, I don't know what I would've done…"
Marcus nudged you gently, his voice soft but firm. "You'd have done what you've always done—survive," he said, gesturing to the various trinkets and gadgets you'd built and sold over the months to help support the family. "You've got that spirit in you, Y/N."
You waved his words away, a bittersweet smile on your face. "I know that, but eventually, I think I would have lost the fight, ya' know?" Your eyes lingered on Rain as you spoke. "Life isn't really worth living if you don't have something—or someone—to live for."
The room fell silent again, but this time it was different. Marcus looked at you with a newfound respect, seeing not just the lanky teen he'd taken in months ago, but a young person who had grown and matured in ways he hadn't quite realized.
You were more than just a survivor; you were becoming someone with purpose.
"I'd like to code Andy with a specific directive," you said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "To always ensure Rain is safe…"
Marcus started to object, suggesting that both of you should be Andy's priority, but you cut him off gently but firmly. "If there's ever a situation where one of us needs saving, I want it to be her. No point in having a synthetic get confused by probabilities or choices. I know what I'd do—I'd always choose her. No matter the chances of success."
Marcus sighed, understanding your resolve. He knew that even if he wanted things otherwise, you would probably find a way to change it behind his back. With a resigned nod, he agreed. "Alright, we'll do it tomorrow," he said softly, standing up. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, a gesture of quiet affection, before carefully lifting the still-sleeping Rain into his arms with a small grunt.
As he turned to leave the room with Rain in his arms, you watched them go, a sense of determination settling over you. You knew then, more than ever, that you would protect her at all costs.
A/N: hi guys, this was a sort of deep dive into the backstory of Y/N and the growing bond with Rain, so others chapters won't be as long. see you guys next update; don;t mind the typos, etc..... AHHH I couldnt help myself, i fear I've fallen in love with a synthetic being 😩🫶🏾 Andy, my love~