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"They're up to something."
The technician blinked, looking confused. "I'm sorry, sir?"
Batou nodded towards the cluster of Tachikoma mini-tanks, lined up and waiting their turns for maintenance. "Them. They've been up to something lately. The last few times I took my unit out, it's been asking me strange questions out of the blue."
"What kind of questions?" The technician checked his watch.
Batou got the hint, and put his signature on the weekly inspection paperwork. "If I ever had kids. What kind of aftershave I use. How many times I've done maintenance on my cybernetics implants this year. Suddenly it wanted a lot of random personal information all at once."
The technician shrugged. "Their AI's tend to cycle through periods of increased data consumption. You might analogize it to something like curiosity, sir."
"Or they're up to something." He glanced up at the group of Tachikoma that were already finished. They were huddled together, conversing with each other too softly to be heard. Occasionally one would wave an arm or roll an eye, but there was nothing to indicate what the subject of discussion was. Batou had half a mind to activate his camouflage unit and eavesdrop.
"The other day, I caught them all practicing compliments with each other. One of them even told me I had a remarkably symmetrical face. Can you believe that?" The technician smiled. "Mostly it's just harmless chatter. We don't even monitor it anymore."
Batou nodded, deep in thought. "Harmless chatter" was what had gotten the Tachikoma decommissioned and sent back to the laboratory in the first place. On the other hand, it was also what had saved them. The Major had been interested in determining whether the Tachikoma were truly developing ghosts, and had allowed their return. Now the chatter and gossip were not only allowed, but encouraged as positive social interaction. As long as it didn't interfere with their duties, the mini-tanks were allowed to be as eccentric and curious as they wished to be. Batou was happy for them.
But what were they up to?
---
There was a vase of flowers sitting on the conference room table. They were synthetic blue roses, the kind that were popular with trendy young girls. The card, decorated with mortifying pink hearts, read: "To Mr. Batou, with all my love."
"All right," Batou stood, arms crossed. "Which one of you wiseasses is responsible for this?"
"Not me." Paz shrugged. "I'd have gone with cheaper flowers." Saitou and Bouma shook their heads.
Togusa was trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. "It wasn't me either."
Grimacing, Batou removed the card and stuffed it in his pocket. If there was one person who he knew the flowers hadn't come from it was the Major, and she certainly didn't need to get the wrong idea. But more seriously, he couldn't think of anyone in Section Nine, even among the new recruits, who would pull a prank in such bad taste. That meant it was a potential security breach. "I'm going up to surveillance to get to the bottom of this. Put the bomb squad on alert."
---
"I'm never going to hear the end of it." Batou sighed, and rewound the video data for the eighth time. On the screen, clear as day, was the image of a Tachikoma mini-tank waddling down the hall at 3:19 AM, the vase of blue roses clamped between two utility arms. Batou knew the little rascal well enough to recognize it as his own unit, the one he'd slipped organic oil to last year. "I knew something was going on."
"Do you suppose the Tachikoma was hacked?" Ishikawa offered. "As far as I can see from the preliminary scan, the camera feed is fine, and the image hasn't been tampered with."
"Somehow, I don't think it's going to be that easy," Batou muttered.
Ishikawa paused, frowning at the screen. He obviously still thought the problem was mechanical, and Batou was reluctant to correct him. "I think you might want to bring this to the Major's attention."
"I think there's someone else I should have a word with first."
---
"Well you see, Mr. Batou, we've been having the most interesting discussions about human interactions." The Tachikoma bobbed up and down in excitement.
"Especially the mystery of the love connection!" chimed another.
A third interrupted. "We've isolated common variables, but the process seems to be highly unstable and subject to multiple conditional requirements that we just don't have sufficient data for. That's why we've had to do some of our own experimentation!"
There were murmurs of agreement throughout the assembled crowd of Tachikoma, all gathered around Batou. The few technicians still around so late in the day weren't paying them any attention, busy with their own work.
"And you decided that I would make a good guinea pig." Batou sighed. "Who put this idea into your heads?"
"Well, we had an odd number," said Batou's Tachikoma.
"An odd number?" Batou blinked, and then it clicked. "You've been pairing off, and somebody didn't get a partner."
"The best data is collected through participation!" declared a Tachikoma in the back of the crowd. There were murmurs of agreement.
"We all agreed that you had the strongest existing attachment to one of us, so your involvement would be ideal," chimed another.
Batou smiled. Could Tachikoma fall in love? Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to find that out. He was willing to believe they could form attachments through familiarity with each other, but love was a different animal all together.
He was tickled enough, that his first instinct was to agree to the Tachikoma's scheme. Still, he couldn't let them think they were getting away with anything. "You realize I'm going to have to talk to the Major about this," Batou warned sternly. There was some hushed whispering in the crowd. "I don't want you to get carried away with this little experiment of yours. If this starts to affect your job duties, and you keep breaking the rules, there are going to be serious consequences."
Nervous tittering spread through the crows."
"But if you're determined about this, I'm not going to object. And I don't mind being a part of your experiment, though I would have appreciated being asked first."
"Yay!" His Tachikoma was happily waving its arms, rolling its sensors happily. The others followed suit, whooping and squealing. "Thank you so much, Mr. Batou! I'm sure this will be a great success!"
Batou chucked, and rubbed the mini-tank's head affectionately. It was always nice to see the Tachikoma so happy. They just needed a little advice on social boundaries, and there wouldn't be any further problems.
---
A blip on Batou's optic sensor indicated an incoming call. There was no signature, but it was on the Section Nine private channel, so he ducked into the restroom before answering.
"Batou here."
"This is Tachikoma!" Batou had to suppress a groan. Letting the Tachikoma intrude on his personal life had to be the worst mistake of he'd ever made. The Major had approved of the experiment, bemused, but supportive. Batou, in a spontaneous act of generosity, gave his personal Tachikoma unit his direct number in case it had questions or wanted to talk.
Two days after the meeting with the Tachikoma he'd found chocolates in his locker. Then it was expensive cigarettes and imported beer. When asked where it was getting the money for the gifts, Batou found out about the perfectly legal tele-banking jobs that the Tachikoma held when they were off duty. Since they never had to rest, apparently they got bored when they weren't working. Batou had been a bit miffed to learn they were pulling bigger paychecks than he was. Individually.
And then there were the calls. For the first few says they had been every hour on the hour whenever Batou was off duty. He had a few serious conversations with the Tachikoma about phone protocol, and then gave up answering his home telephone entirely and put up blocks in his Net channel. No matter what he told the Tachikoma, and how well received the advice seemed, the infernal machine just did whatever it wanted.
Despite Batou's insistence that the presents and the constant off-duty communication should stop, the Tachkoma called every day, "just to chat," and the gifts had gotten more personal. Fuzzy slippers. A monogrammed toothbrush. Yesterday, it had asked him out for dinner and an oil change.
Still, there was always the possibility that this was legit business. "Yes, what is it?" he asked quickly, trying to sound busy.
"Mr. Batou… what are you wearing?"
Batou had never hung up on anyone so fast in his life.
---
"They have no concept of privacy," Batou grumbled, slamming his locker shut. The latest gift had been a pair of boxer shorts with patterned with little cartoon Tachikoma. And it had been delivered personally, in front of the rest of Section Nine. Ishikawa had laughed so hard, he had to take a sedative and lie down.
"I disagree." The Major was waiting by the door. "The Tachikoma are intelligent AI who are built for problem solving. If they see this whole experiment as a new challenge to overcome, it makes sense that they would try multiple tactics in order to ensure the greatest chance of success."
"I'm not sure what you're trying to say."
The Major inclined her head. "Human-machine interfacing isn't for the faint of heart. No one will think less of you if you break up with the Tachikoma before someone gets hurt."
Batou forced himself to smile. "You and your very unfunny jokes."
---
"I'm withdrawing from the experiment," Batou told the Tachikoma. "There's nothing you can do to change my mind."
They were sitting outside of a small French Café about an hour away from headquarters. After repeated cajoling, Batou had finally relented to the Tachikoma's requests for a date. Fortunately for Batou, the café was empty and nobody was there to stare at them strangely. As for the Tachikoma, it had mercifully only rolled up the outdoor table instead of trying to balance itself on one of the stools.
Now, it let out a dejected little sigh, and its head drooped. "This is very disappointing, Mr. Batou. I thought we were making great progress. I've been able to collect all sorts of wonderful data from our relationship, and I was hoping to access a little more."
Batou gritted his teeth. "There isn't a relationship." Some of the heartfelt love letters crammed in his mailbox were a little too heartfelt for comfort. He honestly didn't want to hurt the poor thing, but this was obviously going nowhere.
"Of course there is!" The Tachikoma's eye revolved rapidly. "It's what our research indicates is called an 'unrequited love.' The most dramatic and cruel form of human interaction."
There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Batou stirred his coffee and considered the machine sitting across from him. It had been a damned aggravating week, and he chose his words carefully. "Do you mean to tell me that you've been stalking me and harassing me and acting like a lovesick cat, knowing that this was never going to work from the beginning?"
"Of course, Mr. Batou. We're very serious about this. Failed love connections are just as important to study as successful ones." It leaned forward, and the volume of its voice dropped. "And to tell you the truth, Sir… Uhh…" It wiggled back and forth, nervously.
"Yes?" Batou wondered if it was possible for his dignity to sink any lower.
"You're really not my type."
---
Owari~