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The living room window was open when Fry got home.
It was out of the ordinary, sure, but nothing alarmingly so. It was just a little bit interesting.
Bender never felt the need to crack the window, not even to smoke. He just did it in the house and stunk up the place. Fry didn’t really care. Those obnoxious fire alarms didn’t go off anymore now that they took those pesky little batteries out of them. And it was Bender’s apartment, after all. He could do what he wanted. It was just a little strange, however, that the window had been opened now. It was pretty unprecedented.
It wasn’t likely that Bender had changed his mind about smoking in the house all of a sudden, and he wasn’t anywhere near the window when Fry arrived. It was entirely possible that Fry himself had opened it before he left and forgot. In fact, it was almost definitely what happened- but he liked to think that Bender was exhibiting one of those little human urges to change his surroundings ever so slightly for no real reason. Either way, he didn’t really ask about it. Instead, he kicked his shoes off at the door and made his way over to the window.
It was a surprisingly serene night, as serene as Fry imagined a hulking future-metropolis could ever really be. He had just gotten back from a little evening walk around the block, so he already knew the weather was favorable. Once summer rolled around and it started to get warm outside, he’d wander aimlessly around in the glow of the evening until night fell, taking in the grand sights of the future. It was a routine he never planned to have, but was glad to have accidentally started.
Although he had been living in the 31st century for a while now, it was still a spectacle to just pause a moment and admire New New York’s grandeur. And although he had probably just spent about an hour out in the summer air, he was still pleasantly surprised to be greeted with it back at home. Maybe he was too easy going, but was that really such a bad thing? Sure, it wasn’t spectacular or even all that rare that they had an atmosphere and a nearby star and a temperate climate, but it made his days so much happier to be astounded by those mundane things. He was thankful that the weather hadn’t really changed in all the years he’s been alive. It was enough for him to just be able to experience life one day at a time, assured that the sun will rise without fail every day.
He pulled up a chair from the rickety table they used on poker nights and scooted it up to the window. He shucked off his jacket and draped it over the back of it, breathing the cool scent of approaching nightfall and gazing out at the cityscape as it was coated in gold.
There was pretty minimal noise, as their floor was high off the ground, and hover traffic was thankfully sparse. It was still warm despite the sun slowly sinking below the horizon, and the sky was mostly clear of ships and satellites. If he squinted and pretended the few blinking lights in the sky were planes, he’d almost feel right back at home.
“Man, nights like these remind me of when I was a teenager. Back in the 90’s.” He sighed, musing to no one in particular. A creak and some footsteps behind him indicated that he was about to have an audience to his ramblings. He smiled to himself. It was always a little better to talk to someone rather than to no one. Especially when it was a friend.
Bender emerged from his room and settled onto the couch somewhere behind him, not feeling the need to verbally announce his presence. They’d gotten close enough that he didn’t have to. Fry wasn’t sure if the resulting squeak was from the couch springs or some part of him that needed oiling. With a familiar clink and a swish, Bender took a swig of beer. A moment later, a cold bottle was pressed into Fry’s hand. He smiled to himself at the gesture, and put it down on the floor next to his chair, not once taking his eyes off the breathtaking skyline outside.
“A bunch of my big life milestones happened in the early summer.” He continued. “Like, when I got my first car, or when I had my first drink, or when I crashed my first car. Crazy how time flies.”
He traced his finger along the edges of the windowsill. He liked to do that, and he wasn’t really sure why. Just another nervous habit he seemed to have plenty of. He’d trace from the top left corner to the right, down and around, the same way over and over every time. There was no reason for that either, it just felt proper.
His mother, his father, even past girlfriends used to tell him to stop fidgeting so much, but that was a long, long time ago. Like, seriously long ago. Rather than learn to stop doing it, he had instead learned to stop being so embarrassed about doing it. He knew Bender could respect taking interest in cyclical, mindless little tasks, with his passion for bending girders. Besides, it wasn’t like it was really bothersome to anyone. The most noise he made was when the screen rattled a little as his knuckles brushed against it, but it was lost in the thrumming ambiance of the night.
“What was your first drink, Bender?” He asked, being reminded of the beer on the floor after mindlessly nudging his foot against the cold glass.
“What? Sorry, I wasn't listening.” He grunted dismissively. He must have been shifting closer, because the creaking suddenly became a little bit clearer to Fry’s ears. He decided it was probably the couch.
“I asked what your first drink was.” He repeated. “Like, alcoholic drink.”
“Mine? How am I supposed to remember that, it was immediately after I was born!” The robot griped.
“Oh, yeah. Fair point.”
“Well, I do remember my entire birth, so I’d guess a good old classic beer. And by guess, I mean remember in perfect detail. It was a beer.” He answered flatly, begrudgingly honest. Bender wasn’t the most enthusiastic when it came to Fry’s repetitive questions. Fry knew it probably irritated him, prodding him all the time, but the itch of curiosity was worse than the mild annoyance he inflicted on his friend in the process. I mean, how could you have a robot roommate and not accidentally ask dumb questions? He didn’t have any previous point of reference for what a robot was like. Now, he’s living with one. It was the perfect learning opportunity. Despite his reputation, Fry did like learning about stuff, and junk. It just actually had to be interesting to him. Like having a super cool robot roommate who runs on alcohol and magic.
“I remember mine too. Not my birth, I mean, my first drink. I was fifteen.” He giggled to himself, like he’d gotten away with something devious, though he seriously doubted Bender would get why that’s a dramatic statement. The drinking age for 1989 wasn’t exactly common offhand knowledge anymore.
“Damn,” He drawled, “You made it through fifteen years of life without any alcohol? Brave man.”
“Well, my dad let me have a few sips of his beer before then, but fifteen was when I had my own full drink by myself.”
“So, was your first drink a beer too?”
“Hard lemonade, actually. I didn't like the taste of beer so much back then, but I thought I could get drunk if I had enough sips of my dad’s.”
“Pretty fruity choice there.” Bender teased.
“Well, lemons are fruits. I think.” Fry replied, oblivious. “But it tasted nice, and it went down easy and it made me feel fuzzy. I found out I had a pretty high tolerance, surprisingly. Still do.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re powered on the stuff. But yeah, Yancy let me have a drink while we were sitting by the fire one night with his girlfriend at the time. I was stuffing my face with marshmallows and it was the only thing in the cooler. I snuck some more out of the fridge later and drank it in my room. It was really kinda nice. I felt all grown up and new.” He recalled, starry-eyed, nostalgia warm in his chest.
“You thought you were a grown up at fifteen? Human teenagers are basically glorified toddlers.” Bender scoffed.
“All fifteen year olds think they’re old, I think.”
Bender snickered. “You ever think you’d make it to a thousand and twenty-five?”
“God, no.” In an instant, Fry’s voice deflated, and the conversation took a turn.
A strange silence descended on the two. Something heavy tugged at Fry. He shifted his a little, facing his back fully to Bender, making it look like he just wanted a better view out the window. His leg started to nervously bounce in place, and Bender piped up again.
“Well, is that all there is to the story?”
“Hm?”
“I mean, did you get drunk?”
“No, no, not really. I only had, what, maybe three drinks? It was pretty light stuff anyhow. I mostly kept drinking ‘cause it tasted good. I mean, I was hoping to get drunk, just to see what it felt like, but then I just decided it tasted good and kept going because of that.”
“Hm. I wish I could taste sometimes.” Bender muttered, mostly to himself.
“Oh, that’s right! I always forget you don’t have a sense of taste. Unless you cook, then I definitely can tell.” He suppressed a shudder at the memories of Bender’s horrific attempts at creating ‘food’. “So wait, how do you even choose what to drink? Since you can’t tell the difference in taste?”
“Eh, I’m good with whatever, but given the choice, I got for the strongest, hardest liquor I can. It’s fuel efficient.” He banged on his chest, resulting in a loud metal clang. “Plus, I can sort of feel the burn of it going down- not like a human would, but it’s something. I like feeling things when I put junk in my body.”
“Don’t we all.” Fry paused again, longer than he intended to. He couldn’t think of another thing to say. He started to panic a little bit. He wasn’t great at talking, even with longtime friends, and he could feel how distant he was getting. He didn’t know what to do other than just watch his hold on the conversation drift like a lost balloon into the stratosphere.
Once again, Bender saves the day. “So, was the lemonade you had a brand, or homemade?”
“Some brand. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Was sorta curious if it was still around.”
“Eh, I doubt it. Even if it is, there's barely anything from my time that still has the same recipe. It wouldn’t be the same.”
“That sorta blows.”
“No kidding. There’s plenty of new stuff I like, though. It’s alright, I guess. It’s not like I loved the brand or anything, I just, yknow, didn’t expect that I’d probably never have it again.” Suddenly, the blinking lights in the sky seemed aggressive, the skyscrapers unworldly and claustrophobic. He shrunk away from the oppressive window, instead focusing down at the hardwood floor.
“Not that it matters.” He added quickly. “It’s just booze.”
“Booze is incredibly important!” Bender cried, offended.
“Yeah, to a robot. I could go the whole rest of my life without booze if I wanted!” Fry countered.
Bender gasped. “You bite your tongue!”
“If I wanted to, but I don’t.” He reassured the robot. “I love having you as my drinking buddy! I love having you around in general. Don’t worry, man.”
“Awww, thanks pork pie.” A metal hand snaked over to pat his shoulder. Some of the tension left his body, and he managed another glance outside without it feeling so threatening.
“It’s crazy to think about sometimes. My best friend is a robot. Who knew that companionship could come from a machine? Well, actually, I guess it’s not so weird- my best friend in high school was my Gameboy.”
“Gameboy? Who the hell is this Gameboy guy? You never told me about him!” Bender interrogated, a twinge of envy in his tone. The right thing to do would be to laugh. He felt like laughing, but he didn’t laugh. He didn’t know why he didn’t laugh. He really should’ve but the moment had passed. Suddenly he really didn’t feel like laughing, really fast. He twisted the fabric of his jeans between his fingers.
With a plaintive sigh, the cheery mood he had strained to keep up dissolved completely. “Relax, Bender. It’s another one of those things that aren’t around anymore.”
Bender fell silent.
“Hey, so, uh…”
“Yeah?”
“... Man. I kinda suck at this.”
“What?” For the first time since he started talking, Fry turned completely away from the window to get a look at his friend. Bender was, surely enough, sitting on the couch behind him. He was sitting ramrod straight, and his eyes seemed to be everywhere but on Fry, although he was facing his direction. He looked oddly...pensive. He fidgeted with his fingers, like he was mulling over what he wanted to say. Fry swallowed around the lump in his throat. Bender hardly thought before he spoke. Or in general. Dread began creeping into Fry’s chest.
“I just- you seem off, man. I don’t really know what to say.” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess I am kind of in a funk.” He confessed.
“Is there… any way I can help?” Bender asked cautiously.
Fry balked. “Are you alright? Has someone been messing with your personality unit again?” He asked, genuinely.
“What?! No!” He protested. “I’m just- it’s annoying! Yeah! It’s really, uh, irritating when you’re all sad and mopey. Yep. I can’t stand to see it. Because it’s annoying to me, Bender.” His posture immediately loosened. He crossed his legs and leaned back like he usually sat.
“You’re a bad liar.” Fry’s voice was empty. Normally, he would’ve made a joke teasing Bender for how transparent he was, but he didn’t really have it in him. He wasn’t sure what he had in him anymore. It felt like everything in his body that held him up had escaped like air out of a balloon.
It must be really obvious if Bender was commenting on it. He had never been good at concealing his emotions. He felt a hot wash of shame crash over him. He hated being hung up on the same shit constantly. Surely everyone was sick of hearing about it by now, he knew he was sure as hell sick of thinking about it, yet it never could just leave him alone.
“I… fine, okay. I wanna help.” Bender finally said, dropping the act. “I know I could never possibly understand what it feels like- but- It can’t hurt to have someone here, right? You can always talk to me. I might not understand, or listen, or be conscious during it- but I’m here.” He offered weakly.
“That’s… weirdly nice of you, Bender. But, yeah, I don’t think you’d get it.” Fry murmured, folding his arms on the back of the chair. He cast his eyes down to the floor. “There’s nobody left alive who would.”
“Like, I’ve gone to cryogenics groups-“ he continued, ignoring the way he inwardly winced at the word ‘cryogenics’. It was one of those words he knew was sick of exiting his mouth. “But none of them are like me. Frozen for a thousand years- it’s sort of unheard of. I mean, besides Michelle, and that one dude from the 80’s- but you know how that turned out.” He rambled, fingers unconsciously digging into the skin of his arms. “Plus, most of those people actually chose to get frozen, ‘cause they had some incurable disease, or wanted a fresh start, or lived in some brutal dystopian carrot society- and they go to these groups ‘cause they just need some help adjusting. But I- I never got a choice. I was just- just-“
He took a shaky breath, turning his head up to finally look Bender in the eye. “You know that feeling, when your heart stops after you miss a step?”
He paused, eyes darting between Fry and the floor. “...Yeah?”
“It’s like, imagine having one of those, right? Then, once you get your footing again, a-and your heart stops pounding- it’s ten centuries later.”
Bender’s eyes stayed down on the floor this time.
“That’s basically what happened to me.” Fry’s shoulders crumpled. “I tripped into a tube, and then everyone I ever knew was dead and gone.”
“Shit.” Bender mumbled.
“I’m- I’m sorry,” Fry said quickly, head snapping up. “You’ve heard this probably a thousand times now-“
“Hey, you were frozen for a thousand years. I think it’s fair to complain a thousand times. Math checks out.” He flashed a hopeful smile at Fry, who reciprocated weakly.
“Thank you. I just, I feel like I gotta apologize. I don’t think it’ll ever really stop chasing me.”
“What, that mutant rat that got a taste for your blood?”
Fry glanced down at the half-healed bite wound on his wrist. “Well, yes, that too. We probably should get some rat poison for the apartment, and I might need a rabies shot- But that’s not what I meant. I meant- I dunno. Everything. The past, and all that.”
“That’s the thing that sucks ass about everything. It’s everything. And everything is everything, like, all the time. You ever heard of everything being nothing? No. Can’t catch a break with all this existing crap.” Bender took a long drink, scooching over on the couch and beckoning Fry over. Shaking his foot awake, he clambered over to the couch and plopped down next to him.
“I mean, I’m glad I exist, though. At least, now I am.” Fry admitted.
“Now that you’re in the future?”
“Now that I have friends, and family. People who care about me. I had that in the past too, I guess, but somethings different now. I don’t feel so hopeless.”
“See? Silver linings.”
“But- I don’t think it came from being frozen. I think it came from me. Before I got frozen, I wanted to off myself. Like, every minute of every day.” He laughed dryly. “Hell, I might’ve jumped right off the cryogenics building that night had been a little more drunk and not been frozen.”
Bender tensed. “You… never told me that.”
“Well, I did say I hated my life.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “That’s pretty uh, suicide-y.” Fry felt a flash of anxiety at the word- that’s what he was, wasn’t he? Suicidal. The word wrought a steep sense of panic within him, more so than the actual thought of jumping that night. How ass backwards was that?
“Oh. Well. I assumed you were exaggerating.” Bender said, almost hopeful, like he wanted Fry to be joking. “Now I kinda feel like a jackass.”
“No, Bender, it’s okay. I played it off like a joke. It’s not your fault.”
“So, things did get better when you came to the future though, right?”
“Well, when I first came to the future, it was almost worse. Seeing the ruins of Old New York- I felt so insignificant. The whole world went on turning without me. I’d missed my chance to be anyone. B-But now I feel like somebody. I mean, I’m nobody spectacular, I don’t think that’s what I was ever meant to be, but I know people would look for me if I was missing. People would miss me if I was gone. And, and, I want to stay here, even if nobody wanted me here, because I like being here. I like being me. I've never had that before.”
“I’ve always relied on other people wanting me around, and once they eventually kicked my sorry ass to the curb, like Michelle did, I didn’t think I could go on. I didn’t think I should go on. I didn’t think I deserved it. Who could ever want me around? Why waste space? I would only keep myself going in case someone else decided I was worth having around. I lived off pity. Other than that little bit of attention, I was sure I was worthless.”
“And boy, did I seem worthless. I had a shitty job, terrible self esteem, no direction, no money, no smarts, looks, nothing. I didn’t know it mattered there were things in my heart, and I didn’t even know what things were in there. I never bothered to look. I never bothered with anything. I just carried on because I didn’t really know what else to do. I was too chicken to kill myself, but too pathetic to kill off my old self- Then I came here.”
“I know I might not seem that different- but you didn’t know me back then. A lot has changed. I know my habits aren’t perfect, but I don’t beat myself up over it anymore. That was probably the worst habit I had, worse than the junk food and the soda and the hygiene and all that. I’m doing so much better than I ever could’ve without that- that meanness I had. Maybe I could’ve been happy in the past, but I needed something huge and earth-shattering to really wake me up and make me realize life was so much more to life than what I had been doing.”
Fry stuttered to a halt, realizing how long he’d been rambling on. He turned to Bender, who was staring straight ahead, motionless.
He waved a hand in front of his face. “Did you switch yourself off again?”
He jolted. “No! I didn’t want to interrupt, I swear.” His reflexes were still there, which meant he was telling the truth. That didn’t mean he was listening, though.
“It’s okay. I just dumped a lot of heavy crap on you. I’d probably shut off too.” He said glumly.
“I think you needed to get that all out. How do you feel now? You look better.”
“I feel a bit better. I don’t really get it. I’ve been thinking those things to myself for a while, but saying them changes everything.”
“Probably a human thing.”
“Probably. Perspective and whatnot. Even if it doesn’t mean a damn thing to you, it’s nice to just declare it to the world.”
“And you know it doesn’t.” He teased, lightly punching Fry in the arm. “Like I said, I probably couldn’t ever put myself in your shoes. Hell, I kill myself for fun sometimes- and also for attention- but it never matters. Even Satan’s sick of me. You, on the other hand, you only have so much time here. And you know the second you drop, those organs are going straight to the professor. So you don’t even get to come back as a zombie!”
For the first time all night, Fry genuinely laughed. Bender’s face lit up like he had won a prize. Also like an LED screen, which was what his mouth was made of in the first place.
“Hm, yeah. I think that’s honestly the only reason why he keeps me around.”
“See, that’s why I’m the best. I don’t need any lousy organs.”
Fry chuckled, reclining back on the couch and leaning into his friend’s side. As a robot, he’d always expected Bender to be cold to the touch- but his metal body was actually pretty comfortable, staying just a little bit warm like an old laptop. He closed his eyes and sighed, this time contentedly.
In a sudden burst of confidence supplied by his exhausted brain, he spoke again. “Can I ask something weird?”
“Fire away.”
“Do you think anything matters?”
Bender laughed. “You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific, pal.”
“Just, like, anything.”
“Probably not.” He decided, bluntly.
“I like to think it does.”
“I figured you’d say that. Very human of you.” It was funny, for how much human was supposedly an insult, it really felt like a word of endearment coming from Bender. At least, when he talked about Fry. Kill all humans, except one, he'd said.
Fry sat up a little more, gesturing with his hands. “I mean, everything is what you make of it, right? So, even if the universe didn’t decide everything has a meaning, if I say everything has a meaning, it would have just as much meaning as if the universe said it, right?” And, we’re all in the universe, so that means we are the universe. And if we decide the universe matters, then the universe decided it too. Does that make sense?”
Bender just started blankly at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Fry paused, brow furrowing. “Me neither. I had a point, but I kinda lost it.”
“Maybe that’s how things happened in the universe. God was all like, eh, I was gonna go for something here, but fuck it.”
“Yeah, fuck it.” Fry flopped back down onto the couch, a lazy grin creeping across his face. “Things run smoothly enough, why change it now?”
“Right? Everything’s fine like it is. To tell you the truth, I’d be super pissed off if you never got frozen. You’re my best friend!” He wrapped an arm around Fry, shaking him. “You pay my bail money! You cry at what’s on TV with me!” And you make some pretty bitchin’ waffles!
Fry snorted and rested his head on Bender’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“See? There’s my meatbag.” Bender mumbled warmly. His hand slid down to rest on Fry’s hip. It was a little silly, and if he wasn’t in such a sappy mood he’d probably think it weird, but it felt natural resting there. Fry was a tactile person. Little physical gestures could be wonderful, or make him wildly uncomfortable- and Bender toed that line exceptionally well. He hummed, relaxing into the contact and letting the pleasant scene around him sink in.
“That was really sweet of you, Bender.” He said after a moment. “To like, talk things out with me. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Really, don’t.” He said quickly. “I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve gone all soft.”
“You’re not soft, you’re kind. That’s a good thing.” Fry insisted. Bender rolled his optics.
“Shut up! I am not.”
“You do have a good heart! Admit it!” Fry cried, jabbing a finger in the robot's direction and leaning more heavily onto him.
“No! I’m a cruel heartless machine!” He shouted, trying to wiggle away. Fry was persistent, closing the space every time Bender inched away.
“Says the guy with beanie babies in his room!” He taunted, a huge goofy smile on his face.
“Those are antiques!” Bender fried back.
“Squirmy the worm is more than just a display piece and you know it!” Fry tapped Bender in time with each word, making tiny little klinks and clangs.
“Okay, okay, fine!” Bender conceded, waving Fry’s hand away. “I love Squirmy.” He grumbled, crossing his arms.
Fry raised an eyebrow. "And?”
What the hell do you mean ‘and'?”
“Do you love anyone else?” He cocked his head to the side, batting his eyes. Bender gagged dramatically.
“Hell no! I only have eyes for Squirmy.”
“Awww, come on!” Fry fake-pouted, poking Bender in the cheek.
“Stop poking me!” He rubbed the afflicted area as though Fry’s fleshy little meat hands could possibly bother his metal skin.
He grumbled unintelligibly before saying, “What’s with you and making me admit feelings and junk? Of course I love you too. Why do you always gotta make me say it?”
“Because, you’re emotionally constipated! You gotta talk about your feelings, or like, your head will explode, or something. Like, was that really so hard to say?”
“Yes, it was. Incredibly.” He complained, crossing his arms and turning away.
“Oh, you’re so dramatic.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
“Well, how about this? I love you too Bender. Does that make the emotion crap equal?”
“Well, I am pretty amazing. It’s only natural you’d adore me.” He looked at the back of his fingers as though he were examining his non-existent nails.
“I do think you’re amazing. I know you put on that act to feel better about yourself, but I really do think you’re great.”
Bender paused for a beat, Fry having actually managed to catch him off guard.
“Alright, can we cut the feelings crap now?” He deadpanned.
“Nuh-uh. I want a hug first.” Fry decided.
“Aww, but you’re all gross and fleshy and sweaty-“
“Too late, here it comes!”
Before he could move away, Fry lunged onto Bender, hugging him tight. He begrudgingly accepted, wrapping his extendo-arms around the human.
“Thank you again.” Fry whispered. “For everything.”
“You don’t gotta keep thanking me.” Bender insisted, a little annoyed.
“I know. I want to.”
“God knows why.”
“Just shut up and accept it.”
“If it’ll make you cork it, gladly.” Bender had complained, but after Fry initiated the hug, he was hesitant to let it end.
Fry sat up, breaking the hug gently. “I’m gonna turn on the TV. Can you grab my beer?”
“Gotcha.”
With a zip the amber bottle was in his hand once again. After locating the remote (he didn’t like all those fancy voice-activated future TVs) and finding something of quality to ignore, he settled back into his previous position on the couch. The tiny little hopes in his mind were answered, as Bender’s hand resumed its place curled around him.
He leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. Popping off the bottle cap with his teeth, he finally took a sip of beer, unfocusing his eyes in the general direction of the TV.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bender focused on the screen. He’d more put it on for him; he could honestly sit here for hours without it on and be just fine. This is what he looked really forward to every workday- the weekend, sitting here on the couch with his best friend. When he could lay on the couch with his best friend, drink a little, and turn his brain off for a while. Some part of him felt excited that he finally made it, that he survived until the weekend, and some part of him was overjoyed that there was a little added bonus to this particular weekend that made it all the better. It made him anticipate tomorrow even more. Tomorrow, a day where he had another chance of sitting here, the weight of metal fingers on his side, feeling at peace with the world.
After a few more beers and reruns of some soap that Bender was a little too interested in, he passed out right there on the couch. Though he was still in his jeans and everything, he’d bet he hadn’t been that comfortable before in his whole life. Something about it all just worked out. As bizarre as his life may be, it was one he was finally excited to live.