Cybil typed a few commands into the monitor as the droid slumped over. Finally. She hadn’t taken out spy droids before but the way they talked was creepy. Almost human. The “please” was what really got her. She shivered. Government droids were good.
With a few more keystrokes, the serial number popped up on the screen. She pulled out her contract to compare the two. Perfect match. Burning off his own serial number had been smart, but she’d been a mechanic for droids before- a little damage couldn’t stop her from the info she needed.
Looking around the apartment, she did find that the price the government was paying for this one seemed steep. The hardest part had been finding him, honestly. Usually rogue droids gave her more of a fight, tried to run or self-destruct. They also didn’t buy fresh flowers at the farmer’s market or keep a well-decorated apartment. This one had just keeled over with one pulse after opening the door and said “please”.
Her mind wondered about its logic systems. What kind of programming made a droid keep plants? The contract said it was a spy droid- were they made to try and blend in? Surely a little peek at the code wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like she was looking through its documents or info caches.
She typed in a command prompt to bring up the logic systems code. The screen blipped at her. “Command not found.” Weird. She tried another command, one that worked for the last generation of droids. “Command not found.” Super weird. Maybe if she knew the droid’s model she could figure it out. She brought up the system info and brought up the model number: ALN23061912RK.
Geeze. ALN? That was… old. Real old. And the numbers, the designation- RK. That didn’t sound like a spy droid. RK. What would an RK bot-
The droid’s last words echoed in her thoughts. “I’m a record keeper.”
Cybil dropped the monitor and scrambled away from the prone droid. A bot, at least fifteen years old, government issue, and a record keeper had lied? Said please? It shouldn’t have had programming that would allow that. Record keepers stored information, they weren’t supposed to simulate emotion or tell lies. It defeated the purpose. She pulled out her contract again, scrolling through the datapad to confirm she hadn’t read it wrong. They’d sent her to hunt a spy droid. A spy droid with the serial number she’d just confirmed was this bot’s. But this bot was a record keeper. A record keeper that kept a veritable jungle of plants on his windowsill, shopped at the farmer’s market and asked her to spare its existence.
She wasn’t surprised the government had lied- it usually did to hide its true intentions around why the bot was to be eliminated or brought in. But this was- she’d stumbled on to something, she was sure of it, but wasn’t sure what.
The monitor on the floor blinked at her. She reached forward, fingers shaking, to see what had appeared on the screen. The command prompts were back up. But instead of a command, one word had been typed:
PLEASE
Cybil’s hands shook harder. She took a deep breath and typed back: WHAT
Each letter that appeared felt heavy, forced: MY PLANTS
WHAT ABOUT YOUR PLANTS, she replied.
THEYLL DIE IF YOU TAKE ME
Cybil bit at her bottom lip, feeling sweat bead at her forehead.
PLEASE PUT THEM IN THE HALL SO MRS CAROL FINDS THEM I DONT WANT THEM TO DIE
“Oh fuck this,” she said, standing up. She began to pace.
PLEASE blinked up at her from the monitor and she thought.
