Android AU

[worthallthis]

Coming in out of the snow, he says, "Hey, Misty, I'm home."

Since the robot isn't even finished, let alone powered up, she's not actually able to answer. He doesn't care. It's not like he's got anyone else to talk to besides the cat, and the cat's not in here, out catching mice or maybe sleeping in the attached little barn.

"Got some parts that might finish you up, finally," he continues, stamping snow off his boots and hanging up his coat. The metal arm vibrates a little, trying to shake the cold from its circuits, and he puts a kettle on the stove before padding over to the mostly-finished robot in the corner and dropping his pack next to her. She doesn't look perfectly human, but she's as close as he can get with the spare parts he's been scrounging up on his trips out into the world.

What's left of the world, anyway. War and disease and famine have made a mess of things, and he's long since given up on trying to do what he can do to stop it, and just helps where he can. The arm makes him stand out, though. That and his general good health. It's getting harder and harder to keep a low profile, except among the one local group that considers him "theirs". Hence, android. With more clothes and a better wig, with a few upgrades once he knows he can make her work, she might pass better than he ever will, especially with the awkward way he imagine's she's going to move until he gets some better upgrades. Besides... he could use the company, way out here.

He puts together a little sandwich and mixes the cocoa into the hot water, then comes to see if what he's found can at least get her running.

It's late in the night, another sandwich and cocoa later, with only a brief break to let in the cat and give her a pet and dinner, that he finally sits back and says, "Well. Let's give this a try." And he reaches behind her, finds the series of switches, and sets them in their careful order. There's no one switch, there's a pattern. Then nobody can turn her off who doesn't know how.

Then he sits back to look up at her, and wait for her system to power up.

Comments

[shadowsran]

There's no sentiment, and so no sentimental reaction. Notes made to keep a keener eye on internal processes, a subroutine created of comparing speeds to past averages. It can be tweaked later.

"The original me," she repeats, regardless.

"Such a lot of work on minimal resources, are my new functions important? Time sensitive-?"

[worthallthis]

"Nah, not really. I didn't even expect you to work this well right off," he says with another smile, eyes back down on her elbow and the delicate work he's doing aligning some very small gears. "I built a lot of extra tweaking and fixing time into my schedule with you, Misty. The goal is to have you ready for the outside world by the time spring rolls around and taking you out won't freeze your circuits."

[shadowsran]

"Outside sounds nice..." A murmur, thoughtful. "Will I take that long? I can tend to mechanics myself with hands free. When you sleep, of course. Wouldn't take up time." Software will be on him; hard bans, there. "More time to talk?"

[worthallthis]

"Be pretty hard for you to get at things on your back, or your elbows," he points out with gentle amusement. "It's okay, I like doing mechanical work, too. Once you're familiar with the new parts, and we've got them all in working condition, you can handle your own maintenance, though. I know that feels better than having people work on you."

He closes the casing on her elbow. "Besides, we can talk and work at the same time. Try extending that arm again."

[shadowsran]

"Whatever is easiest feels best." It is known. The less direct work asked of him, the better. Of course, his liking it means whatever he deems best is best, so it hardly matters either way.

The arm extends fully, to her visible pleasure. "Thank you! What would you like to talk about?"

[worthallthis]

He pulls the other kitchen chair over to sit, and the cat-- a scraggly-looking gray tabby-- jumps onto his knee as soon as he has it propped up, apparently disturbed by all the moving around. "This is the cat, she's allowed to be here, but she's outside a lot, too." He pauses, stroking her gently with the flesh hand while she rubs her fur all over his shirt. "Never did name her, actually."

[shadowsran]

This is the first she's seen one in the flesh, and it's clearly something delightful. So small, so affectionate, tiny friend.

"She's beautiful, look at that. Do I look after her?"

[worthallthis]

"She looks after herself, mostly, but when I'm gone you'll need to know how much to feed her and how to clean her box." He scratches under her chin, then offers, "Want me to set her on your knee, see what it's like?" He knows the cat is used to Misty as an inanimate object, so she ought to get used to Misty as a moving person, too.

[shadowsran]

"Please?"

It would be so nice to pet a cat.

[worthallthis]

"Okay, prop your heel on the support bar of the chair like this--" He moves his knee so she can see how he's sitting. "--to give her something to sit on."

Once Misty's positioned right, he scoops the big tabby off his own lap and drops her lightly onto Misty's. The cat gives him a dirty look for disturbing her, but doesn't jump down. "Stroke in the direction of her fur, gentle-like," Bucky advises. "Head to shoulders, behind her ears."

[shadowsran]

Simple directions, and a great, great deal of incentive to performing them well. Nothing about a cat to take directives from, they just...are. They be, and need nothing further. And as she quickly discovers, they're so soft.

"Hello," she coos, "Look at you-!"

[worthallthis]

Bucky watches her with a little smile, kind of amazed. Nothing about his hard-learned and patchwork knowledge of coding made an android who could so clearly enjoy petting a cat. How had he managed to pick up the best ruins of a bot he possibly could have? Jesus.

The cat rubs her cheek on Misty's fingers, then tilts her chin, clearly demanding the scritches continue there, next.

[shadowsran]

There ought to be something productive to say, and yet all she's got, gently scritching as requested, is an, "Eeeee." An honest squeal. So soft. Lacking appropriate means of venting it when the critter won't appreciate speech.

"Look at you! So pretty-!"

[worthallthis]

Holy shit. Seriously. While he had always been prepared to treat her like a person, because he knows intimately the way it feels like when you aren't, this might be the moment she actively becomes a person in his brain. She had no experience with cats before, and now she's expression actual pleasure in his in a completely unique way, not just mimicking him. That's a personal reaction, which is something a person has. Jesus Christ, he has a roommate now.

He has to chuckle after a moment. "I might be jealous. Took me a week before she'd let me even touch her," he says, but with a smile that says he's not really jealous. In case she takes that literally, though, he adds quickly enough, "She clearly likes you, and that's good."

[shadowsran]

"I like her," she replies, still half-cooed in a pet friendly tone before clearing up. "If I've been stored here, maybe there's just been time to acclimate. She's clearly sociable enough, aren't you?"

Animals! They're cool!

[worthallthis]

"Only person she's really spent time with is me," he allows. "So maybe she is. Or. Maybe she just likes you." The cat is now kneading on her knee, which Bucky is glad he covered with a skirt so she's not needling into the patchy synthetic skin and hard plastic casings. "You seem pretty likeable, so far, to me."

[shadowsran]

It seems as likely as favoring a scratching post, so she doesn't resist the idea. The latter is in fact met with pride.

"I'm designed to be inoffensive and pleasant, so I'm glad to hear that. If anything stands to improve, please do tell me."

Still petting. So soft.

[worthallthis]

"You're allowed to be anything you want now, designed or otherwise," he tells her firmly, then pushes up from his chair to let her keep the cat occupied while he starts cleaning up the various dishes he's left sitting around while he finished tinkering with her. "I should probably sleep. It's late, and I was out all day. Your power cells probably aren't very full, I only just added one of them today, so if you need to recharge a while, this would be a good time."

[shadowsran]

Unlikely, but kind. Clearly not a demanding owner, or one not yet accustomed to it. She smiles, bows her head.

"I'll recharge and hopefully be prepared for the day."

She's largely happy to plug herself in and keep stroking the unnamed cat as long as she's able. It doesn't last forever, what ever could with a feline, but it's soothing and she manages another twelve minutes and forty-two seconds before she leaps away. Hibernation is an easy if uncanny mode to slip into. The shutting of her eyes is purely cosmetic, and without any breathing to slow or heart to steady she all but ceases to be. Subroutines are running at all times, hearing processed and monitored for any signs of distress or disturbance, maybe, just maybe, another cat in her lap.

The night passes without incident, and upon 'waking' she rises, very slowly, to pad around. Care is taken to ensure nothing locks up. Movement is considered and slow. She has to understand her surroundings to be of much use, let alone efficient.

At any creaking of a bedframe she's quick to spin on her heel.

"Good morning."

[worthallthis]

Even after all these years, he's a light sleeper. The cat regularly wakes him up, jumping on and off the bed, even if it's only for a moment. The faint sounds of someone moving around the cabin is more than enough to make him come awake all at once, and only when he registers the faint mechanical sounds rather than a heartbeat does he even remember...

... Misty. There's a surge of grief, old but still strong.

Right. Christ. He really shouldn't have gone with that name, should he.

Well. He'll get used to it. He lays there quietly, breathing as if he's still asleep, listening to her move around and tracking where she goes and what she does for a minute or two before shifting a little and opening one eye.

"G'mornin'."

[shadowsran]

He'll hear nothing intrusive or particularly unusual. Three laps of the immediately available space, any rooms on this level, and some returning to points of interest. There's no digging. It would be poor behavior. What isn't in her line of vision is currently not her business, and she's happy to occupy herself skimming spines of books, trailing fingertips across the outer edges of record sleeves. Carefully, delicately turn spice shakers around to read their labels.

It's exploration and inventory all in one. Imprinting. Measuring. Points of entry, which window will face a sunset, the ingredients he chooses or is able to keep on hand. All important to know. He isn't in her sight when he speaks, but she straightens up and moves immediately to remedy that.

Nothing but smiles, as ought to be expected. "Good morning. Would you like breakfast?"

[worthallthis]

The building is small, basically one big room with a closed off corner for the bathroom and bathtub and showerhead, the kitchen separated from the living area only by a peninsula counter and a change from layered rugs and carpet swatches, to tile. The walls are all paneled wood, hung here and there with pretty quilts that both brighten the space and keep in more warmth. There's a trap-door in the ceiling that likely leads up to a loft, but it's closed and locked.

His spice collection, though, is pretty impressive. For a long time, people didn't scavenge spices, and he's good at making them last. And now that people are starting to want things like that again, they make good trading items. Mostly, though, he just clearly likes to cook, based on the number of dishes, pots, pans, and ingredients, in the fridge and a large freezer off to one side. There's not a ton of room in the kitchen area, but it's all well-organized and neat, perfect for one person.

He pushes to sit up, swinging his feet down onto the floor and rubbing at his eyes with the flesh hand. "You cook?"

[shadowsran]

"I can't account for things like uneven heating or weathered tools," she explains, "And personal customization will have to be learned, but I have a catalog of basic recipes for all meals. If I can help, I would love to."

She stands prim, proper, with an enduring and calculated cheer. Not so high-energy as to overwhelm someone just waking, but warm. Prepared.

"Do you have favorites?"

[worthallthis]

"Sure, a bunch. I've been cooking a long time. Let me just. Clean up a little, and I'll show you where things are." Not that he hasn't heard her poking around in the cupboards, but he can then include things like good recipes and how much of a particular ingredient to use and which burner is the safest.

Damn, he's going to be the teacher, this time. That makes him sad all over again. He picks himself up and trudges over to the bathroom, collecting a clean flannel and jeans from the dresser on his way.

[shadowsran]

"Of course." Trailing is rude and basic comfort guidelines involve allowing space for grooming, dressing, and bathing, so she picks a neutral spot and waits, feet together and arms akimbo. Conversing is fair game however.

"Do you have any allergies or deficiencies I should be aware of?"