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“I have prepared your lunch,” the robot said, balancing a few bowls in its hands. “I hope you will find it pleasurable to the taste.”
It set the food down on a small table, and Myungjun glanced over at it.
Since he was brought back to the room, he was no longer bound. He was free to move, the robot told him, on the condition he did not try to escape again.
It wasn’t as if he could. The door was padlocked this time, heavily secured, and the robot kept the key hidden in its pocket.
He had cried enough, but he wanted to keep crying. While his eyes were red-rimmed and rubbed raw and his throat was scratchy from his desperate wails, he still longed to cry.
No tears were produced, however.
The robot watched him, curious, and then asked, “Is...your face alright?”
The wounds had only the night to heal. They seemed to have gotten worse. His face throbbed, and he was sure it was bruised. When the robot asked, Myungjun brought a hand to feel at the afflicted spots, but winced when it became painful to touch.
Noticing his wince, the robot apologized, as it had been doing since the incident. “I am sorry I hurt you. That was never my intention.” It stared down at Myungjun. For being a stupid robot, it looked so real . The concern in its eyes was obvious and bright, and the worry in its tone almost had Myungjun fooled.
“I don’t know what your intention was, then,” Myungjun muttered, feeling a bit daring.
The robot frowned. It appeared thoughtful. “I wanted to stop you from escaping. My new owner told me I am to keep you here.”
Myungjun sighed. He looked at the food again. It smelled delicious and he was hungry. “Who is your owner?” he asked, hating the silence that had befallen them before.
“He told me I am not allowed to tell you,” the robot said.
That figured. This person would likely wish to remain secret, to avoid capture. It meant, too, that it was a human ordering the robot around.
“Are you hungry?” the robot asked, pushing the food closer to Myungjun.
Myungjun pursed his lips. He was. He was very hungry. “You didn’t poison this, did you?” he asked.
The robot shook its head. “I will not poison you. My owner wishes for you to be kept alive. Poison would go against his orders.”
Myungjun sighed. At least he had confirmation the food was safe. He doubted that the robot would lie about it, anyway. Could robots lie? Probably not.
He scooted closer to the table, then took a tentative bite of the ramen. It was good. It was amazing. It was the first bite of food Myungjun had taken in a few days, and he quickly began to devour the rest.
“Are you enjoying your ramen?” the robot questioned.
Myungjun didn’t want to stop eating, so as he slurped at the noodles, he nodded his head in appreciation.
“That’s good!”
The phrase was said so sweetly, so enthusiastically, and Myungjun had to look up at the robot.
The smile on its face was precious.
Myungjun cautiously smiled back.
“You are so pretty when you smile!” the robot announced, as if proud it garnered such a response. “I shall hope you will smile more often now that I have remembered to feed you!”
Myungjun could tell that the robot was excited with the human interaction it was given. Likely, it never had a lot of interaction before. There were moments, like this one, where it reminded Myungjun of a child. A kind, happy child.
Then he remembered how scary it had been when the robot attacked him. He remembered how it flung him around as if he weighed the same as a feather.
His eyes were drawn down to the robot’s arm, where the tear in the skin still remained. Metal shone through.
The robot seemed to notice where Myungjun was looking. It looked in the same spot, then tapped the metal showing from underneath the fake skin. “Perhaps my owner can fix this for me when he collects me,” the robot stated.
“Did it hurt?”
Myungjun wasn’t sure why he was asking such a thing. He didn’t want to care about the robot who had kidnapped him and hurt him. However, he knew nothing else to speak of, and the small ow the robot gave still rung in his ears. Why would the robot say ow if it hadn’t hurt?
“It did,” the robot confirmed. “My creators have included nerve receptors in my skin. I experience pain as a human does. They did many experiments on me to ensure I could feel pain.”
“Experiments?”
The robot lost its smile. “They sometimes burned my skin off in order to test the durability. It was very painful to experience. I would ask them to stop, but they would not. They would create abrasions on my skin, as well, to test the limits of my pain. I do not have good limits. I am hurt easily. I asked them again to stop and they refused.”
It sounded horrible. While the robot was simply a hunk of metal, Myungjun didn’t like the idea of anything being mistreated in such a manner. Why add on pain to a robot if they would just induce that pain?
“My new owner was mad, though. He said I should not have been able to feel pain at all. I think I was mistakenly made. I was supposed to have been a war machine.”
That was news to Myungjun. He blinked, then asked, “Are they creating war machines? Really?”
“I am not sure.” The robot smiled again. “But I am not a war machine. I am a robot made to serve humans. I am serving my owner the best I can. He is a very nice owner.”
“He doesn’t seem nice,” Myungjun responded. “He’s forced you to kidnap me and he’s keeping me locked up in here.”
The robot tilted its head, examining Myungjun closely. Then it announced, “Anger.”
“What?”
“You are angry. Please, don’t be angry. I will make sure I do what I can to keep you happy, Myungjun.”
He knew he shouldn’t show his anger, especially not if the robot was going to harm him again should he act out. He was still cautious; even the food could not make him completely trust the robot in front of him.
“Oh. I have not told you my name,” the robot stated. “I am B-1N. Nice to meet you, Myungjun.”
The introduction was a bit late. It was cute. Myungjun hid a smile. “B-1N?”
“Yes, that is my name.”
“I’m not calling you that.”
B-1N was confused. It looked confused. Its eyebrows furrowed together and it cocked its head. “But that is my name,” it countered.
“That’s not a name. Sounds more like a model type. Names don’t have numbers in them.”
The robot nodded its head, though the confusion remained. “Oh. So I do not have a name?”
“I mean...we could just call you Bin. Replace the number.”
“Bin? Bin. Bin.” The robot repeated the name, as if trying it out, and then smiled brightly. “You have given me a name.”
Myungjun grabbed another spoonful of noodles and shook his head. “I don’t care about you having a name or not. It’s just easier to call you Bin than it is to say B-1N.”
“Bin is a very nice name. I like it very much.”
Myungjun slurped at his meal and shrugged his shoulders.
“I like you very much, too.”
He glanced up at Bin who stared upon him fondly.
Too fondly.
Bin didn’t seem like a robot half the time, and that scared Myungjun.