Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    It wasn’t really a place Frie thought she would find herself in, but the rain had driven her to the closest shelter she could find. The docks were fairly far out from any buildings, besides a large barn-like structure in disrepair, so by default, she made her way to its rotting wooden doors. The locks had long since corroded, and it took little more than a nudge to snap them open. Whispering an apology at the inanimate object she destroyed, she entered. She shook droplets from her jacket as she turned on her phone’s torch, making sure that the device hadn’t gotten wet. Under her jacket, her clothes were drenched, sending the cool Autumn air into her core.

    She had chosen to walk to the secluded shores for a bit of peace as she read, but her book was now soggy in her pocket, and she internally kicked herself for lack of foresight. Frie took out her novel with a disgruntled sigh, setting it on a nearby table to dry.

    She sat in the doorway as she watched the storm pick up, too anxious to explore the building, and too anxious to fully shut the door behind her. She turned her phone’s torch off, not wanting to waste battery, and her eyes glazed over as she daydreamed. It would have been a beautiful scene, had she not been drenched in the cold. Her mind wandered, and she stayed there for quite some time before she saw the reflection of something flash in her eyes from within the structure.

    Taking out her phone’s flashlight again, she scanned the inside of the building for the source. There were quite a lot of machines that may have caused it, making her conclude that this building was once a factory or repair shop of sorts. The state it was in directly contrasted what its purpose must have been. Her eyes drifted with her flashlight as it illuminated dusty counters, tools, and schematics. Still, she thought the reflection came from further inside, and it had been of a reddish tint. She inched further still, trying her best not to stumble on the scattered metal junk and occasional puddle of rainwater that had leaked through.

    For a moment, she saw it again, the faint red that had sparked her interest, but it quickly went out. She investigated, now nearing the wall opposite the door she had entered. Her eyes widened, trailing over what appeared to be a human hunched over, though still on their legs. They were no exception to the rest of the place, for they were covered in a thick coat of dust, and their vintage attire fit right in.

    Swallowing her fear, she reached her hand out to poke it (the natural reaction one might have to the unknown). She shot back quite a few inches when the red light flickered once more, now evidently its own source rather than a reflection. However, what frightened her most was that the light appeared right below the brim of the shadowy being’s hat, where one of its eyes was located. She remembered to breath seconds afterwards, her heartbeat racing through her.

    With some deliberation, she realized that it was mechanical in nature, and as it was evidently deactivated in one way or another, she should fear the spiders around her much more. She wiped its face with her jacket’s sleeve, shining her light on its silver-and-black features. The eyes were green when they weren’t lit, and despite being in the musky factory for who knows how many years, it wasn’t terribly rusted. Every five minutes the red glow flashed into its eyes, she noted, and lacking the robotics knowhow to properly assess how this thing worked, she scrambled through all nearby literature works and diagrams. Oddly, there were schematics for multiple other bots, though she only saw one.

    “Anything on rebooting?” She mumbled, turning over what seemed to be this particular automaton’s design book. “Or changing batteries?”

    She pondered at an image of the bot gesturing with its thumb up. The words below scrawled in awful script, “They said this upgrade wasn’t worth it, but come on, harmonic automatons need something the audience will enjoy, not a series of boring code phrases. Flick of the wrist, right? No, really, that’s all that’s to it!” And below, in the same font, “Love (just like I love my job), Worker Camille.”

    “You can’t be serious,” Frie grumbled, although excited to test it out. She’d never met a robot like this one before, ever since she was a child and the government banned all AI from being developed. And from what she saw, it had quite the AI. It almost made her hesitate when she considered being on the wrong side of the law.

    Despite it, her curiosity won over. She took in a gulp of air in her anticipation, following the instructions the best she could. It took a moment to register, but when it activated, it stood erect and spread dust everywhere.

    Some got in her eyes and lungs, taken in from her gasp of surprise. She didn’t know what she was expecting. In the lowlight, despite the dust’s dissipation, she could barely make out its features, though its eyes now glowed bright green. She resisted the urge to shine her phone’s light directly at it, in fear she would startle it.

    “How ‘bout we play a song about lo--,” the automaton began in a deep voice, blinking in confusion as it slowed its sentence to a halt. It reached for something on its back that wasn’t there, even more confused, and it let its arms rest, empty and clueless, at its sides. Its movements made whirs and clicks, and as it stood still, there remained a gentle hiss and hum from somewhere in it. “Wh-where am I?” It stuttered out, wincing against the darkness.

    “Uh,” was all she managed, dumbstruck. It felt so wrong to have a machine easily capable of killing her seem so vulnerable in its incomprehension.

    “Really? Never heard of it,” it rocked back on its heels, taking in what her human eyes couldn’t see. “Who do they put in charge of naming things around here, huh?”

    “No, uhm,” she shoved her hands in her jacket pocket to keep from wringing them. “You’re in a, um, building near San Diego. Where did you think you were?”

    She thought she saw a smile cross the corner of its lips, but his eyes stayed perplexed, “I was performing on the other side of the country last I knew. I appear to be adequately banged up, too, and I can’t recall that happening.”

    “Was it from the AI Purge?” She noticed his brows raise in a question so she went ahead and answered it before he spoke, “Around 2045, the government started shutting down and disassembling AI programs and their bots. That was almost twenty years ago, mind you. Less than a year after it began, it became illegal to make or conceal them. There was a public scare when a program hacked into other (classified) programs, and though it didn’t have bad intent at the time, its implications had everyone spooked.”

    It bit its lip in a very human manner before speaking, “Where are the others… two other automatons that are roughly built like me?”

    She didn’t know who he meant, so she shrugged honestly. “For all I know, they could be here, too. Or they’re like the countless other bots that went offline back then. Do you or them have names, or, designations?”

    “I’m The Spine, on account of my titanium-alloy spine,” he turned around and gestured his thumb at a series of broken, dim lights that sparked electricity every few seconds. His eyes widened at them, and he caught some words in his mouth before turning back around and continuing. “The other two are Rabbit and Hatchworth. We’re in what you would call a ‘band.’ They aren’t here, though. I don’t see them, and I’m not picking up any wave-signatures.”

    Their fate was most probably like the rest of the bots, but she wondered why ‘The Spine’ had made it out relatively unscathed from the ‘45 Purge. Perhaps the others had been relocated and hidden like it had? “I’m sure you’ll find them,” she half-lied. It looked at the door that she had left ajar and began walking, quite comically, towards it. She forgot her anxious nature for a moment and lunged to grip its arm. She didn’t have enough strength to actually stop it, but it felt it and gave her an expectant stare as it halted. The nervousness returned, and she let go. “Y-you can’t go out there. They’ll tear you apart if they find you, which they will, out in the open like that.”

    “They can certainly try,” it declared, placing its hands on its hips and revolving to face her.

    “What I mean is,” she swallowed and shuffled her feet, “if you want to find them, it’s dumb to get caught yourself. A pile of metal scraps can’t go on a search-and-find. Besides, you don’t know where you’re going--it’s quite a ways until you find another building. Being out in the open should be the last thing you want.”

    A flash of something miserable crossed its features for a moment, which were lit by the sunlight now filtering through the cracks in the factory’s wooden ceiling. “If you have a better plan, then by all means.”

    “You wait here, and I’ll come back later today with a fresh pair of clothes that’ll blend in, and I can bring you to where I live in the city. After that, we can make other plans of action.” She winced at the idea of using her ex’s clothes for anything other than pitch, but thinking of seeing this Spine person wearing hipster clothes was almost humorous. “I can try to wash out all the grime from your suit, too, if you want.”

    “That seems tactical enough.” It grumbled lowly, taking a seat on a nearby metal trunk. “I’ll wait here, then.”

    It went into some sort of standby mode, its lights growing dim and its body going completely still. Frie stalled by the door to make sure it didn’t move before gently closing it and hurrying to the outskirts of the city.

    She stumbled over a few burnt remains of homes, which littered much of the West Coast ever since the wildfire disaster of ‘36 to ‘38. The rebuild was taking longer than anyone could have hoped, and despite decades of searching, the survivors were few. Half of the country was decimated, the fires trapping those in the center and spreading up to the west borderline of Iowa. Of course, there was an evacuation, but there wasn’t enough space for all of Cali and the Western states to find haven, and what food and water remained was at a shortage. Many were hesitant to return to the West, but Frie was just a baby when it had happened. She repaired one of the intact houses with what money she’d saved up, right outside of where San Diego was undergoing reconstruction. Being the paranoid person she was, however, she built a bunker underneath her residence, complete with consumable rations and adequate plumbing to last at least a year for one person. Almost no disaster short of a nuclear apocalypse would get through.

    She rummaged through her dressers to find her ex’s clothes. He had moved to Florida and had forgotten quite a few things. He’d never asked for them back, so she took that as permission enough.

    The outfit she settled on was a pair of skinny brown jeans and socks, ankle-high boots, a plaid undershirt, a large blue knit sweater, a beanie, a red scarf, and a large pair of black-rimmed sunglasses. She gathered everything up in her backpack, including a proper flashlight, and changed her own clothes to something dry and warm. Her earbuds were jammed into her ears, blaring whatever song played, to drown out the blood pounding around them. She was breaking the law for no reason besides curiosity and, maybe, she actually felt defensive of the robot.

    There was an urgency to her steps that was brought on by the fast tune playing, and it made her feel like a secret agent of sorts. She always loved how music could make you feel the narrative yourself, much like reading. It was something that transcended the dullness and negativity of real life. Plus, what else was someone to do when most of their surroundings were burnt or abandoned?

    When she made it back to the factory-esce building, the door was shut just how she had left it, and turning her light on, she saw that the metal man hadn’t moved an inch. She moved closer to it, and as the beam hit its eyes, it ‘woke up,’ for a lack of better words. “Um, hey, I have the clothes if you want to change.” She took out the folded fabrics and placed them delicately on the metal trunk beside it.

    “Thank you,” it said, flashing a toothy grin, despite its obvious discontentment with the entire situation. It began to unbutton its vest, and to her horror, it started to strip right there and then.

    “Hey, wait,” she turned completely red, “let me leave the room first!”

    It raised a brow, arms stopped halfway through its sleeves, but she didn’t hear the shuffling of cloth again until she had scurried out of the building. It probably didn’t think much of it, being a robot. Workers had to tinker with it somehow, she supposed, and it didn’t have any panels or buttons from the metal that had been exposed.

    “What’s your name?” It hollard through the wall, still trying to figure out how to wear the foreign clothes.

    “Frie,” she responded equalling its volume, kicking herself for leaving that information out of their conversation, “short for Friday.”

    “Why not Saturday? Although, now that I think of it, Sat isn’t much of a name.” It joked, its voice now closer than it had been, adding, “Decent now.”

    She turned to see it leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, an uneven grin and cool gaze looking over its shades expressing how cocky it felt. It was less comical than she had expected it to look, except for the small backpack it wore, and the scarf that was slung lazily around its shoulders. She took the scarf in her hands and covered ist smug mouth with it, making it laugh. “The whole point of this,” she pushed the beanie down to the very top of the glasses and rolled its sleeves back down to its wrists, “was that no one could see you.”

    It hummed in amused submission, gripping the backpack’s straps, ready to leave when she was.

    “Well, let’s go, then,” she breathed out, a little taken aback by how even in street clothes, this bot was… attractive. It was a gross thought, she told herself, choosing to forget the idea and instead focus on getting him somewhere she could help him easier.

    The automaton sat in the middle of her couch, brooding, still uncomfortable with how it had woken up in this world. It only did that when it thought she wasn’t looking, though. Anytime she made eye-contact with it, it smiled and cranked out increasingly terrible puns. “Don’t worry, sitting here is sofa-n.” Or, “Being appointed the chair-man isn’t so bad, eh?”

    She worked on her computer, trying to find the dark web for bot sanctuary, and when the screen went dark every so often, she saw the reflection of his downtrodden features. If he could shed tears, he probably would, and Frie began to see him as less a machine and more a person the more she saw past his charade.

    “Let me,” he sighed out with exasperation after about an hour of keys clicking in vain, gripping the back of her chair and rolling it away from the desk.

    “Hey, don’t mess with my stuff,” she grumbled, though she didn’t really mind. She’d cleared her search history often, another perk of being anxious, and she thanked any fathomable god that she had.

    He swatted her hands away when she went to reach for it again. “I’m not going to hack into anything I’m not supposed to, promise. At least, not if I don’t have to.”

    “That’s reassuring.”

    “This way there are two computers tag-teaming,” he laughed, although the progression of technology must have caused him some distress. To be fair, things had slowed since the government’s involvement. Programmers often had to quit their jobs for other prospects, or they led the underground rebellions. However, the majority of sites were made and secured by the government themselves. Pretty tough to break, even if you were a seasoned computer science whiz.

    “You do that,” she said, glowering at her phone’s clock when she noticed what time it was. “I’m going to wash your suit and catch a few winks while you’re at it. The, uh, kitchen is here if you want anything, and my room is just down the hall there. If you need the bathroom, it’s just around the bend there.”

    “Thank you,” he leaned his elbows on the desk and looked at her with honest appreciation, “for everything you did today.”

    “Nah, don’t worry about it,” she shied away from his sincere eyes and his spreading grin at her reaction, scratching the back of her neck as she made her way to her room. She had no idea why she had done anything she had done that day: the walk in problematic weather, the shelter in a strange place, activating a robot, breaking the law for said robot, talking to him, caring about the well-being of him, and then suggesting he stay with her. It made no sense, but in some twisted way, it seemed like the right thing to do. It wasn’t his fault he was made, and apparently, he made people happy before the ‘45 Purge. And he could very well be the last of his kind.

    She sluggishly changed into her pajamas after doing the laundry, the day’s events catching up to her, and she curled up under the warmth of her bed’s comforter. Part of her hoped that he’d still be there when she woke up, and the other part wished, selfishly, that he’d leave with all his problems.

Chapter Text

    She woke from a dreamless, unfulfilling sleep and drifted through her morning routine on autopilot. When she had showered and gotten dressed, she entered the living room to see The Spine holding her cat in his lap, letting him playfully bite and claw at his hands. She had wondered where Valentine had wandered off to, and it was clear by his light purring that he had found a friend. Her heart rose to see them both there, to her confusion.

    Frie filled Val’s food and water bowls and made her own breakfast, marveling at the two of them from behind the counter. Val had Spine’s left arm between his front paws, energetically kicking them with his hind legs. Spine poked him with his right pointer finger, causing the feline to let out a startled yowl and run along the back of the couch. Little pawsteps trotted up to Frie, and she scooped the tabby into her arms. He kneaded into her arm, and gritting her teeth at the pain, she looked to meet the disappointed eyes of The Spine, “He likes you, he’s just a mad catter.”

    He brushed cat hair off of his pants and stood, the playful expression he had had gone. “I’ve found what may be a lead to the others.”

    “Hmm?” She answered, setting the cat down in front of his breakfast.

    “The place where you found me was property of Walter Robotics,” he elaborated, “and there are seven similar properties in San Diego alone. I think it’d be worth the effort if we entertained those choices first.”

    “Yeah, makes sense.” She shoved the last of her toast in her mouth and rubbed the crumbs off on her jeans, “We can leave as soon as you want, Val spends more time with the neighbors and their cat than he does here, so he’ll be fine alone.” As if he understood, the tabby ducked under the front door’s little flap and disappeared. “And we can take my car if you want, or if you transform into one you can do that.”

    “Funny,” he swung his scarf over his features, “but too tired .”

    Increasingly bad puns, yet again.

    Before they set off, he changed back into his suit, though he replaced his tie for the scarf. He’d taken quite the liking to it, and it didn’t look half bad, either.

    The closest location was about ten miles into the ruined portion of the city. Most of the district was sectioned off as hazardous, the buildings at risk of falling, and they had been left to rust. The two of them had to desert the car once they reached it, but Spine had some kind of internal navigation that drove him forward.

    He walked with great posture, not at all phased when the ground became scattered with the fragments of old buildings and overgrown weeds. Her, not so much. He set a fast pace, and his long legs didn’t work in Frie’s favor. After fifteen minutes passed, he turned to make sure she was keeping up. She was doing fine until his gaze met hers, and she absent-mindedly shoulder-checked a pole. Concern and then amusement spread across his face, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he waited patiently for her catch up to his side and slowed his pace to hers.

    “How far is it now?” Frie’s aching legs wanted him to carry her, and she knew he could, but there was no way she was going to ask that.

    “The property should be just ahead, where that crumbled building is,” The Spine pointed his thumb at a toppled over residence about two blocks away.

    Frie widened her eyes. There was no way anything could survive that kind of damage. The Spine didn’t appear to share that mindset, for he continued on without a flicker of doubt. She adjusted her backpack straps on her shoulders and slowly let out a defeated breath. Of course they would search the place up and down, but there wasn’t much to search.

    When they reached it, The Spine began moving rubble into the street, stopping every so often when he saw the flash of something metal in the sunlight. For nearly three hours, the two of them worked to clear whatever wasn’t a bot, which was everything. Frie’s arms felt like they were going to amputate themselves and take a vacation, even though she only moved pieces as heavy as a small dog. The Spine used his shoulder to roll things as big as cars out of the way, and still, the only indication of his work was the steam that huffed out of his lips every so often.

    Once the two of them had successfully cleared the debris, there was a locked metal hatch that led into what must have been the structure’s basement or cellar. Frie noticed the lock needed some sort of letter combination, and before she could contemplate what the correct order could be, Spine stomped a heel down on it with a thunderous metal-against-metal clang. Not only did the lock snap, but the cellar door collapsed inward a bit. He shot her a sheepish grin and shrugged, not at all sorry for scaring her to death.

    “After you,” she nodded to it, not wanting to enter the unknown first.

    He tried the handles, but he had warped the door too much, so he planted his feet near the edges of the door and pulled it off of its hinges. It was almost enough to remind her that he was dangerous, but when he gave it a gentle kick to the side and tipped his hat, all she could do was giggle. He reached out his hand for her, “Together?”

    “Err,” she croaked out, flushing. She had just caught her breath, and she had hoped for the opportunity to sit down. Her heart was now racing almost as badly as when she was laboring away.

    “You have the light, dear, and I doubt you’d want to give that up,” he elaborated, knowing she used it as a shield against her fears. He changed the subject away from her by joking, “hey, these photoreceptors aren’t as keen as they crack up to be.”

    Frie narrowed her eyes in disbelief, but she clicked on the light and took his hand, letting him drag her into some pit in an abandoned graveyard of a city.

    The cement steps didn’t lead too far down, and the ceiling was only about seven feet tall. The contents of which were similar to what she’d seen back at Spine’s location. If one of his friends was here, the person that transported them went through a hell of a lot of trouble, treading through the fire-ridden crumbles of the city. To be fair, it would be a good short-term plan. If the state chose to repair the city, then they could relocate the robot and label it as just part of the wreckage.

    The Spine suddenly stopped, nudging her in the shoulder with his elbow. He released her hand, knelt down, and gestured for her to shine her light in front of him. There was something on the concrete, buried in a large crate with tools and faded notebooks.

    “What is that?” the flashlight revealed blue eyes under sharp metal eyelashes, but it seemed to belong more to a homemade toy than an automaton.

    “Is it…” he used his hands to dig the thing out of the crate, holding it in his arms tenderly, “It’s… GG.”

    When it was completely uncovered, it was easy to tell that it was a miniature giraffe robot. It appeared to be shut off, but after he pressed something on the back of its neck, its eyes flickered azure. A loud, high-pitched voice came from its mouth as it recognized The Spine, “Hey! Whatcha think you’re doing? And who’s this?” Her long neck swiveled in Frie’s direction as she hopped away from Spine’s arms.

    “I’m Frie. We’re looking for the others--I believe their names are Rabbit and Hatchworth.” She responded for him, because he was having a moment from finding someone he knew. “Would you happen to have seen them before you, you know?”

    “They should be performing with Spiney right now! Why are you here? You’re missing the show!” she headbutted The Spine in the leg with all her might, who was still crouched, but it only got him to raise a brow at her.

    “There is no show.”

    She seemed to have received the serious tone in his voice, for she glanced between the two of them in confusion. “Wh-what? No show?”

    The Spine took great care to be gentle when he explained what had happened, and Frie felt like she was witnessing a parent telling their child that ‘Santa had run out of presents this year.’ Every few sentences, GG would glance at Frie with her mouth open, blinking rapidly when she wasn’t.

    “We just got here, though,” Frie chimed in with optimism when the awkward after-silence was unbearable. “This was our first stop of seven, so don’t lose all hope yet. Whoever was looking out for you guys did a good job.”

    “Yeah… Yeah!” GG’s eyes brightened up. “We’ve got this.”

    The Spine’s brows knitted together in thought, “You know, Rabbit is usually never that far from you, GG. I think she may still be here, somewhere in this corridor.”

    Frie straightened up, The Spine following suit with clicks and hisses from his joints. “Let’s check it out,” Frie gave a genuine, reassuring smile towards them both, shining her torch in the direction they had been heading.

    The three of them searched through every room of the cellar, of which there were surprisingly many, and GG often darted ahead with energy, guided by her own luminescent eyes. While Frie and The Spine were rubbing dust off of the covers of books and picture frames for clues, GG let out an elateted squeal from deeper within the corridor. The two of them left what they were doing, Frie still having the flashlight propped in her mouth, to investigate the little giraffe’s exclamation. She was trotting in circles and hopping around something covered with a white (well, she assumed it was white under all the grime) sheet.

    When GG saw them enter, she disappeared under the sheet and scurried out from under it with a corner of the fabric in her mouth. When the fabric collapsed to the floor with a soft thud, The Spine’s features lit up like he had struck gold, which he had. Gold and pink, white, black, and a hint of turquoise. It was beautiful.

    With little more hesitation to be awestruck, he activated the automaton before him. As she came to consciousness, she flattened her hair and squinted her eyes against the light Frie had forgotten to shift away from her. “Gee-whiz, Spine, a girl needs her beauty rest.” She rested her hands on her hips and added, confidently, “But it’s a good thing you woke me, the world couldn’t withstand that much beauty at once.”

    The Spine smiled then, one that wasn’t partially dulled from his loneliness. “Rabbit, it’s great to see you.”

    “You hit your head or someth’n?” She fixed her skirt and finally noticed Frie huddled slightly behind him. “And who’s this riveting one?”

    The pun passed past Frie, her jaw still slightly agape. After a moment, she managed, “Spine, you never said your friend was so lovely!”

    “It must have slipped my mind,” he grumbled, but Rabbit gave an exaggerated sigh.

    “I don’t know where you found this one, but she’s a keeper,” she gave Frie a wink before picking GG up and showing her her own affection. “Look at you, poor thing. You need a good buffer’n, don’cha?”

    Their next stop was less than a mile away from the last, only a bit further into the ruins. Rabbit and GG were dropped of near Frie’s car, Frie not wanting to draw any more attention towards the group. Rabbit had blown her a kiss as she walked away, making her blush, and The Spine tipped his hat as they departed.

    The Spine’s spirits already seemed elevated, and despite the slight disrepair he was still in, he had a spring in his step. Occasionally he’d make humorous comments about their travels, and sometimes he would ask her about her life. “Why blue? Is that how humans are born now?” he asked after an odd tale about a wizard named Salgexicon.

    The abrupt pivot in topic had her baffled for a moment, but then she realized what he meant. “The hair? I had it dyed once my ex left. I wanted something to change, so that’s where that’s from. I liked it, so I kept it,” she shrugged, “but, no, I don’t think people can be born with it.”

    “Ex, eh?” he caught her and quickly moved back as she stumbled over a concrete slab on the street. “‘There a story?”

    She sighed, not too fond of delving into her past. “Kind of. His name was Basin, and my younger self thought we was flawless. He had that whole air of not caring about the world, but I didn’t realize that included me.”

    He responded with a quiet hum, adding moments later, “Well, I think blue suits you.”

    “Heh, thanks,” she took a sip from her water bottle to keep from covering her hair in self-consciousness. Having something without a pulse compliment you was a little less intimidating than a human, she reasoned with herself. But she cared about his opinion, to her annoyance. This isn’t the place for that kind of feeling, she thought, biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from showing her stress. She could only imagine what her face must have looked like, and she concluded she just looked pathetic.

Chapter Text

     The second location ended up being an old gas station that was mostly intact, save for the ash-covered shelves and broken glass. The Spine was the one that found the back room, beckoning her over to him with a sharp whistle. The door led to a room about half the size of the gas station store area, and wooden stairs led up to a loft. The Spine found what Frie assumed was his other automaton friend, but he only sighed with a distant memory nested behind his lashes.

     “What’s wrong?” Frie tugged on his sleeve.

     “That’s The Jon,” he gave her his best melancholy grin, “there’s no use in trying to start him back up. He’s all out of juice, or, pop.”

     Frie didn’t ask, feeling that it was still a sore subject for The Spine. The golden features of The Jon looked somber in the lowlight, despite their friendly configuration. His eyelids were half-closed, making him look tired, as if he was aware of his inevitable shutdown. She stood there for some time, lightly dusting off his faded suspenders and long hair that was held in a messy bun. He’d accumulated significantly more grime than the others, showing how long he’d really been there. It was a saddening sight when potential was lost, when there was no choice but to accept that someone was beyond help.

     Frie hadn’t noticed when The Spine had left her side until she heard indistinct murmuring from where he stood at a cluttered desk. In one hand he held an official document of some sort, and in the other he held a decoratively laced collar. His eyes flitted between the two, his lips moving slightly as he processed something Frie didn’t understand. She noticed how his thumb delicately and subconsciously ran over the accessory, and combined with the intensity of his reading, she felt as though she was intruding, yet again, on some facet of his life.

     “She was here this whole time,” he grumbled so lowly she hardly caught what he said. “And… she’s intact.”

     The Spine suddenly snapped his eyes to lock to Frie’s, although he seemed to be anywhere but in front of her at that moment. “Can you help me?”

     Frie recoiled from his quite startling shift, but she responded despite herself, “What do you need?”

     “There’s someone I haven’t seen in nearly a century,” he looked strained, recalling that he’d been inactive for years just the other day. “And if this is true,” he lifted the document slightly, glancing from it to her, “then she’s still alive.”

     She knew he was talking about an automaton, though saying it was alive seemed somewhat contradictory. They had their own sense of living, and Frie assumed it just meant they could be powered on and function. He continued, “She was placed here with The Jon, according to these records. This was a storage place for discontinued, but intact automatons.” His eyes looked a bit crazed in his desperation, “She was admitted here in 1952, the year we’d all assumed she’d shut down for good. Well, that’s what they told us.”

     “Where is she now?” Frie was still disturbed by how determined and pained he looked. It was a peculiar combination, molding his metallic demeanor in its deprivation.

     “Walter Robotics owned many estates, but it says here she was transferred to the one dedicated to our repairs, upgrades, and capability assessments.” The Spine was shifting where he stood, not wanting to waste time when he could be retrieving whoever this bot was.

     Frie gently took the document out of his hands, eyeing the details. “This address is in the most heavily populated section of the city. Is that where I’m supposed to come in?”

     “I’d very much appreciate it,” The Spine looked both heartbroken and giddy at his discovery, not quite allowing himself to have genuine hope, “if you could bring her back to me. I know I’ve already asked a lot of you, but this would mean the world to me.”

     “Do I just sneak into that place and get her?” Frie’s heart was racing at the idea of risking her neck even more than she had done, but she felt his anguish like waves crashing.

     “More or less.” The Spine tenderly folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket alongside the laced collar. “You’re going to need to find out how to activate her while you’re at it. There’s no telling what they’ve done to her over the decades.” He seemed to cringe at the thought, recalling what looked like painful memories. “So, will you do this for me?”

     “Yeah, I’ll try,” she croaked out. She had no idea that a being made of metal could have such intense emotions. But there he was, pleading.

     The Jon was left where he was, deactivated, for the time being, and the news of him was met with a nostalgic sigh from Rabbit. The Spine hadn’t said a word since the gas station, his face set in a thoughtful pose. “What’s the big g-guy’s p-p-p-problem?” Rabbit raised an eyebrow at The Spine as she leaned to sit on the hood of the car.

     The Spine’s voice cracked as he stated, with swelling misery, “Rose…”

     Rabbit sat straight up at the word, and GG peaked her head to watch him from her position in the backseat of the car. “W-what about ‘er?”

     “We know where she is, Rabbit.” He crossed his arms, “And there’s good reason to believe she’s operational.”

     “Well, I n-never,” Rabbit clasped her hands together in front of her, beaming. “Whatta day, huh?”

     The Spine allowed a half-grin and gave Frie a thankful side glance. Frie chimed in, “Tonight would be as good a time as ever to find her, if you two want to try for that.”

     “Only when you’re ready,” The Spine sounded sincere, but he still radiated urgency. Frie confirmed that she was, and he settled a bit. Whoever this ‘Rose’ was meant something great to the both of them. Even GG beamed from her seat, silent despite her obvious elation.

     The thing was, though, Frie didn’t know if she’d ever be fully ready to put herself in life-risking danger again, and she’d be without the comforting presence of a certain gentlebot. If she was caught aiding them, she’d have no way of protecting herself, and for some reason she was going to create more of a problem for herself by raising another one from its rest. It felt like the right thing to do, however. That sentiment was what drove her to act against the law and her own better judgement. She imagined what it would be like if the tables were turned. If all humans had been destroyed and she was put on ice, the odds being that she was alone. No species wants to be alone. Even if companionship was their only benefit of being together.

     The three of them entered the car once the matter was discussed, Rabbit calling shotgun and sticking her tongue out at the reluctant Spine. Frie found their interactions to be amusing, seeing clearly how they could put on an entertaining show for audiences before the Purge. The two automatons bickered playfully about things completely random, from The Spine supposedly gorging himself with pie to Rabbit telling a tale about a vampire fisherman.

     After a silence between discussions, Rabbit turned to Frie. “So, wh-what’s your story?”

     “What do you mean?” Frie kept her eyes on the road, but she drew her eyebrows together.

     “Everyone’s got one. A st-story.” Rabbit leaned in so that her nose was a foot away from Frie’s cheek. “What’s a person without a g-g-good plot?”

     “Me.” Frie frowned at the suggestion of her lack of development. Not everyone was a fantastically interesting thing. “There’s really not too much to tell. I secluded myself in San Diego so I could get away from the rest of the chaos, and some of the chaos decided to leave me as well. And, now, some is coming back.”

     “It’s all in how you t-t-t-tell it, l-love,” Rabbit leaned back away and cracked her knuckles with a loud scraping sound. “Lemme think…” She cleared her throat, trying her best to impersonate a human’s mannerisms, “My name’s Frie, like the salty snack I am, and I’m wh-wh-what you would call a s-secret agent. S-so secret, in fact, not even I really kn-know who I am.”

     “You know, the point of being a secret agent is to be secret,” Frie looked at Rabbit for a moment with amusement, trying her best not to come off as rude.

     Rabbit responded with an exaggerated sigh and reached for something on the car's dash but recoiled in distaste, “Do you n-not have a radio in here?”

     Frie shrugged, “I like the silence.”

     With that, Rabbit was practically fuming, well, even more so than a steam-powered bot normally does. Frie's indifferent attitude was getting to her, and she couldn't handle the stillness of the atmosphere. She settled with tapping her foot on the floorboards as she glowered out the passenger side window.

     “I didn't mean to upset you,” Frie tried to ease the tension, getting no help from the others in the back seat. “I didn't mean to sound like I didn't like music. I normally drive with the windows down to listen to the birds and the sound of the wind. That can be considered music I guess. But the music these days isn't all that. It's all depressing and government regulated.”

     GG perked her ears up and leaned between the front seats energetically, “Wanna hear me sing? It's nothing like that stuff!”

     Rabbit lightened up a bit at the suggestion and Frie did her best to cheer her up, “I'd love to hear it, if you want to.”

     At that, GG cleared her throat and belted out in a high-pitched cry, Rihanna’s song, Diamonds. Rabbit swiveled around in her seat to give The Spine an amused stare that Frie thought meant there was some joke she was missing. She heard the low, shameful grumbles of The Spine as he sang along, unwilling to stay silent. It only took Rabbit a few verses to add her own voice to the mix, and The Spine joined in with the same intensity she gave, no longer embarrassed.

     Though the song was popular in its day, Frie had only heard it a couple of times in her life, so she just nodded to the beat slowly. The three singers distracted her so much with their music that she almost forgot she was driving. The Spine’s range had her nearly in tears, even though the song itself was lacking in meaning, and Rabbit’s tone had such a raw beauty to it that the harmonies the two of them made almost made Frie have to stop the car. Only GG’s shrill singing kept her stable, keeping the song generally lighthearted.

     The rest of the ride home might as well have been a karaoke bar, where the robots went from songs of loss to upbeat bops. Frie noticed that Rabbit quickly changed everything to happier selections, probably to distract The Spine from whatever internal conflict he was having over that Rose person. That sibling dynamic was so pure and humanlike to Frie.

     The thought of the night to come still haunted Frie’s mind, but she was reassured that she wanted to do it for them. They weren’t anything like the government had claimed. They were more human than most people she’d met, in all honesty.