Work Text:
On his way out of Ray's home office, David stuffs stacks of paperwork into his bag and shakes his head in relief. It may have taken three visits and five paper forms, but he has finally - officially - registered his new business.
He decides to walk back to the store to give himself some time to reflect and wrap his head around the seemingly infinite number of possibilities that have just opened up. Once his business license arrives in the mail, he can finalize all the pre-approved vendor agreements he’d been drafting up with prospective partners. Not to mention, he’ll be able to convince vendors who were skeptical of his business model, thinking he wouldn’t actually be able to lift it off the ground.
It’s time to show them what he’s really capable of.
David, for the first time since the idea was but a mere spark in his mind, starts to believe he can actually pull off his vision.
Alone at the store, he shoves boxes aside in favour of organizing the paperwork he’d collected from Ray and coming up with a file system. Staring at the filing cabinet he’d inherited from the general store, he starts to reconsider his decision to keep it. It looks cheap and light, any burglar can easily pick it up with one hand and run away. Not to mention, the frame is bent inwards; the drawers don’t shut all the way.
Cautious, David picks up the corresponding key and attempts to lock it. He tugs at a drawer to test the lock and… it swings wide open.
He tosses the key aside, garbage.
Looking around the empty store aimlessly, he considers his options. He can use his phone to scan the documents, but where would he store them? He doesn’t exactly have ample storage to spare on the phone itself. He can head back to the motel and borrow the laptop he shares with Alexis. Except, the thing is… he shares it with Alexis.
That’s just not going to bode well when it comes to financial documents and classified information.
He’s a businessman now, he’ll need his own business computer for his business work during business hours in his place of business.
David bites his lips, as much as he tries to keep the smile at bay, he does not succeed. He grins, feeling ridiculous. Fuck it, if he’s giddy with himself for crossing an important milestone in his life, then so be it. No one is around to witness it anyway.
Later that week, when Stevie drops David off at the store following their big trip to Elmdale, David is all but jumping out of his clothes in excitement to unbox his new laptop.
It’s nothing too fancy but holds all the characteristics he’d entered the store looking for. A thirteen inch screen to minimize weight as he lugs it back and forth between the motel and work. A sleek matte black exterior, for obvious reasons. And a functional built-in set of mic and camera, for when he eventually has too many clients to be driving back and forth between.
He’s excited about it, to say the least, as he sits down at his desk in the back room and goes through the motions of scanning his documents using his phone and transferring them over to the laptop.
Afterwards, he decides to set up his contacts, common sites he will be visiting - anything and everything that will make his life easier and more efficient as he becomes a busy business man.
As the days go by, the initial inertia of his excitement dies off a little. Work piles up. He starts to get less and less sleep. Not to mention, money starts exiting at a faster rate than it is coming in, now that shipments are starting to be delivered for the big launch.
Except, David can’t actually set the date for the launch until he has arranged the store in as attractive of an aesthetic as possible.
He feels stretched thin, losing steam and starting to doubt if he can actually do this on his own.
David hears the doorbell chime as someone lets themself into the front.
“Hello?” Stevie’s voice resounds in the small space easily.
“In the back, come on in,” David says, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his temples in frustration.
“Hey, what’s all this,” she gestures towards the books and pamphlets laid around.
“It’s pain, is what it is! I mean, at this rate, I’ll go broke before I even open up the store. What kind of sick twisted business model did I come up with?”
“I thought Ray approved it last week?”
David looks up, recognizing that this might not entirely be his fault. He points a finger at her, “You know what? You’re right. He did approve it, and he had no right!”
Stevie rolls her eyes, “Okay, you’re spiralling, it’s time for lunch.”
“Not yet, I still have to read through the Zhang file and-”
“David, it’s three! When was the last time you ate something?”
He squints at her, attempting to do some mental calculations but failing miserably.
She shrugs in an ‘I told you so’ sort of way.
“Okay fine,” he admits defeat and stands up. “But only if you come with me. I need you to sit across from me in the booth to prevent people from thinking an empty seat is automatically up for grabs.”
She snorts, “Deal, I’ll be your seat warmer if you listen to me bitch about being sad and lonely despite having gotten laid a couple of days ago.”
“Tell me everything, and know that I will kill him if I see fit.”
On his way out, David shuts his laptop and tucks it into his laptop bag gently. He leaves it back at the store and makes his way out with his best friend.
After lunch, it doesn’t take David long to notice a couple of unfamiliar ads show up as he searches the web. Their titles range from A One Man Business: Tips and Tricks to From Startup to Empire: Five Easy Steps.
He stops in his tracks, interest piqued. They seem to be directed right at him, but he could have sworn he’s never seen ads like these before. Were they under his nose the entire time?
Brushing it off, he tucks his laptop closer and starts diving into a healthy variety of articles and tutorials.
The next few weeks pass by in a similar manner.
With some help from Ray, he fills out grant forms and waits for funding. Stevie and Alexis often stop by the store to help with unboxing shipments and spreading town gossip. Twyla even stops by occasionally to drop off a late lunch when David forgets to visit the café at noon.
For once in his life, he feels like a busy man. Not the same type of busy that he was used to in his past life - chasing people and their pets around New York City like he was some sort of sitter. No, he’s busy building his store from the ground up, and that’s gotta count for something.
The day before Rose Apothecary’s soft launch is an absolute mess. The store is a mess; David’s mental state is a mess; the motel is a mess, so he can’t even go there, hide, and ignore the black hole of responsibilities he set himself up for.
He’s pacing back and forth next to the store’s center table when something strange happens.
His laptop had been sitting on the table, open but ignored, for a while as David spent time labelling bottles of organic lavender mist.
Needless to say, David immediately stops in his tracks when the unmistakable sound of music starts playing.
He turns, eyeing the front doors. No one has walked in and there is not a single pedestrian in sight, as far as he can see through the glass windows. He does a complete three sixty, wondering if either his sister or best friend had snuck in to play some sick joke on him.
The music continues playing.
As the seconds pass by, the volume seems to be getting louder and louder. It dawns on David that the source is in fact the unassuming laptop that sits not three feet away from him.
That’s weird, he hasn’t been using his laptop for music or YouTube videos since he bought it, preferring to use his phone for that kind of stuff. He walks up tentatively, dragging his forefinger across the trackpad to wake the screen.
It fades from dark to reveal his browser hosting his tabs from this morning’s work session. Email, google, Laura’s body shop site, and … there it is. A YouTube tab is the source of the music that has surprisingly not annoyed him yet.
He clicks on the tab, reading the title Tina Turner - The Best [w/ Lyrics].
David’s eyes narrow in suspicion. He recognizes the song, it’s an old time favourite. But… what the hell is it doing on his screen and why did it just… play of its own accord.
He hits the space bar on the keyboard, intending to pause it and continue with his freak out regarding tomorrow’s launch.
Except, the music keeps playing.
Stupid keyboard. He drags the mouse and clicks on the pause button, but that doesn’t work either. What the fuck is going on?
After no luck pausing, muting, or even closing the table, David just gives up. He throws his hands up in the air, “Fine, whatever, there are worse songs to listen to.”
He turns back to the pile of body mists, grabbing his label marker aggressively and finishing off that task so he can whine about the next.
As he continues working, Tina Turner’s song plays on repeat in the background. He moves about the store, placing bottles in a systematic order on the last few empty shelves.
His shoulders start shimmying along with the happy beat of the song. His pace slows down as his feet step in a coordinated motion along the floor. When he grabs a set of scarfs to fold, something possesses him to swing one around as if it were a prop and he was a musical theatre student.
When he catches himself in a mirror, he frowns. What is he doing, dancing alone? The door might be locked but anyone walking by would be able to see inside, clear as day.
He consciously stops his body from continuing any other ridiculous dance, turning back to face the store as a whole. The organized table top takes him aback. Had he really done all that he set out to do? He peaks into the cardboard boxes on the floor - all empty.
He’d been more productive in the past two hours than he was all week, frankly speaking.
Suddenly, his mood soars through the roof.
This calls for a celebration, apparently, because he immediately grabs his laptop and runs into the backroom. He raises the volume to its maximum, because why the hell not, and starts singing along with Tina.
The Friends and Family doesn’t come without its flaws, but David’s blood pressure is surprisingly stable throughout the entire day.
He sets Stevie up by the door to limit the number of people that can be inside at once. Once someone leaves, she allows another to enter. It gives him the opportunity to both answer some questions on the floor and bounce back to the register whenever someone is ready to check out.
His laptop sits on the desk next to him, ready to display any details about a certain product if need be. Jocelyn does end up requesting to hear the exact ingredient list for one of the leaf teas, so his laptop comes in handy quite quickly.
By the end of the day, David’s legs are about to collapse. He locks the door behind Stevie after sending her off with a sideways hug and a bottle of wine. Before he can give himself the luxury of sitting down, the light behind the front desk flickers.
God damn it.
Resigned, he grabs his phone and laptop before diving into the back and collapsing on the couch he’d gotten himself as a reward for working so hard up until the launch. He wakes up his laptop, navigating to his email in hopes of sending that draft he’d been procrastinating on sending to the electrician for the past few weeks.
His drafts folder is… empty. Fuck.
He’ll have to write the entire thing all over again. After hours of pulling his hair in agony the first time around, he is not looking forward to that.
He pokes around in his email, checking to see if any vendors had reached out in the past day. An unread email captures his attention. The title reads re: Lightbulb Emergency and looks like it hit his inbox without him noticing.
What in God’s name…
The email he’d drafted up was not erased whatsoever. On the contrary, it was sent out to the electrician at 8am that morning. Which is extremely strange, David hadn’t even gotten showered yet by then. How could he have sent it? And how could he have forgotten?
The response from the electrician offers up a few times he’d be available to come in and clear up the issue with the few bulbs that have been flickering on and off inconsistently. David responds with his choice - the soonest one possible - and hits send.
Before he succumbs to the comfort of the throw pillows and falls into a nap, he does one more quick task.
He googles the nearest computer and tech shops in town, hoping to book an appointment to have his shady laptop checked out.
“Okay… so… what’s the problem again?” Gary drawls out from behind the counter.
David flails, “Have you been listening to anything I just said?”
“Not really. After you started talking about how your laptop was serenading you, I lost focus…”
David groans, sick of Gary’s overall lack of care for David as a customer of the computer store. “Can I speak to your supervisor, or something?”
Gary sighs in relief, “Yes, god, thank you for asking.”
He runs off for help and returns with a more qualified representative. Except- what the fuck. Gary’s supervisor is Ray.
“Hi, David, how can I help you?”
“How are you here? How many businesses do you actually own, Ray?”
Ray’s smile brightens as he dives into his life story. David regrets asking. It was mostly a rhetorical question, anyway.
Needless to say, David walks out of that store with his laptop in hand and no progress whatsoever on the strange glitches that have been happening.
Of course, the minute he’d pulled it open to show Gary the issue, nothing was behaving irregularly. David has yet to be able to reproduce the glitches consistently, but he had hoped he could catch something in action with a witness around.
No such luck.
On a random weekday morning, David bursts into the store and locks the door behind him. He’s flustered and scarred and grossed out and all the things that cause him to shudder and feel the hairs on his arm stand up in utter shock.
Alexis is pregnant.
How can she be pregnant?
She has been single for ages now, which meant less and less night spent away from the motel.
When would she even find the time to get pregnant?
David’s frantic pacing is interrupted when someone attempts to turn the door handle. He looks up, spotting Stevie through the glass.
She knocks twice, “Let me in!”
“We’re not open yet.”
Stevie glares at him, “David, it’s me, just let me in.” Her voice is muffled but the door isn’t soundproof by any means.
David throws his head back, not wanting to talk to anyone about anything.
“I heard about Alexis,”
That does it. He moves from his position and let’s her in, quickly locking the door behind her.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about. My sister is pregnant. My sister, who lives with me, is pregnant. Who even is the father? It’s fine. I’m fine. And what the hell was that all about with my dad asking ‘Oh David, why didn’t you look out for your sister, I taught you better than that,’ like- I’m sorry! I didn’t realize she was a sixteen year old child who needed to be chaperoned everywhere she went…”
David only stops when he runs out of oxygen. He takes a deep, audible breath before turning to Stevie.
“I’m sorry, he shouldn’t have put that all on you.”
David frowns, “Ew, why are you being sincere?”
Stevie rolls her eyes, “You’re right, sucks to be you, stop being a cry baby about it.”
“Did you come here just to watch me freak out?”
“Mostly, yes. I also came to extend an offer for a sleepover tonight. I figured you won’t wanna be around your family while the news is still… fresh.”
“That’s oddly generous of you. Will it just be the two of us, and will there be food?”
“Yes, and yes. But you’re in charge of entertainment.”
No longer spiraling into a ball of anxiety, David let’s himself become distracted with plans of heading home with Stevie that night. He unlocks the store door to allow for the official day to start before pulling up his laptop to start rifling through his movies and tv shows.
He has barely typed three words into the search engine before a link to an article pops up - an article for which the title absolutely throws David off his path.
“What the actual fuck?”
Stevie looks up from where she was hovering near the fresh fruits. “What is it?”
“It’s… this laptop is fucking cursed,” David freaks out, gesturing to his laptop as he takes a step back from it. Suddenly, he feels unsafe. Like someone is watching him.
Seeing as he is in no state to elaborate, Stevie walks over and peaks her head in front of the screen. She reads the article's header out loud. “What to expect when your sister is expecting: A guide,”
She blinks, turning to face one horrified David.
“Well, that’s sort of ironic.”
“Ironic? My mom wearing a fur coat to a PETA fundraiser is ironic. Café Tropical's gargantuan menu full of mediocre food is ironic. This- this is stalking.”
“You know how the algorithms work these days, one google search about a foot cream can end you up in a rabbit hole of skin cancer.”
“Gross, why is that the example you chose?” David steps away from the table and starts pacing. “But no, I haven’t done a single search on pregnancy since I heard the news this morning. Someone must be listening...”
Stevie winces, looking down at the laptop suspiciously. “Well, it can’t be the FBI or something, you’re not that important.”
David’s head whips to her direction, eyes widening, “Oh god, the FBI is listening.”
“No, David, no! I’m saying it can’t be!”
“What am I going to do? I spent good money on that thing. It has all my documents and- and- my vendors, and-”
Stevie shuts the laptop and walks up to him, grabbing his shoulders aggressively. “Would you stop freaking out? You’re on the clock now, a customer can walk in at any second. Breath… yes, good. Now, do me a favour and freak out later tonight? When I have sufficient booze and edibles to distract you.”
Seeing as there’s an infinitesimal chance that the FBI is spying on him, David makes minimal changes to his work habits to distance himself from his laptop. He leaves it at the store when he’s on vendor runs. He places a sticker on the camera when he’s not on video calls. And most importantly of all, he does not bring it back with him to the motel.
The Rose family doesn’t need any more non-consented upon exposure to the outside world.
As for work, well, Rose Apothecary is thriving. David believes the soft opening was a success, the weeks following had been nothing short of busy. He spends his days on his feet for eight hours and evenings having dinner with Stevie and occasionally his family.
It’s not until a month or so later does he admit to himself that he’s crashing hard from the burnout. He wakes up one day with the absolute worst migraine, unable to even get up and shower. He groans, calling out for someone to shut the blinds, but apparently no one is home.
Two crying sessions and three naps later, he wakes up a little more clear headed.
There’s a tall glass of water for him on his bedside table. He really hopes it’s not a prank from Alexis because he is absolutely parched after not drinking or eating anything all day.
The water is ice cold, just how he likes it. It makes him pause and wonder who was in here so recently. He pulls up his phone, scrolling past useless emails until he reaches Stevie’s texts.
Stevie
Today 10:23 AM
Stevie: You okay?
Stevie: You opening the store today?
Today 10:51 AM
Stevie: Your customers have been spamming me with messages asking about you
Stevie: I took the liberty of putting up a sign saying the store is closed today
Today 3:34 PM
David: ugh fuck
Stevie: Glad you're alive
Stevie: Don't forget the asprin I laid out for you
He glances over, noticing a pill next to where the glass of water was placed. Stevie is a fucking god send. He pops the pill, swings his legs off the bed, and prepares himself for a much needed self care bath.
David treats the following day as completely normal. He ignores the fact that he pretty much worked himself till he could no longer function. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks he should figure out why that happened and how to prevent it from happening again, but today is not that day. He has to open up the store to make up for the lost business from yesterday.
For the duration of the morning rush, he operates on autopilot.
That is, until a strange pop-up on his screen appears out of nowhere and captures his attention.
He should yell, or toss his laptop, or something. Truly, he would have, if it weren’t for the fact that his menace of a laptop has acted strangely so many times since he’d bought it, he’d officially lost count.
He stares at the screen silently, blinking a few times to make sure remnants of yesterday’s migraine weren’t making him hallucinate.
The majority of the screen is dimmed down, drawing attention to a small text bar in the centre.
David...
David sees his name, he does. And, while he’s not exactly the savviest tech-y out there, his brain can at least recognize that something is seriously wrong with his machine.
But, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He refuses. After hitting the escape button, he sighs dramatically, extremely relieved to see that it worked. It has pulled stunts in the past, where the screen froze for hours on end while it did whatever trickery it needed to do.
This time, however, the pop-up disappears and his screen fades back to regular brightness.
He rolls up his sleeves anxiously as he rereads an email draft, searching his brain for whatever train of thought he had going on before he was so rudely interrupted.
David?
“What in the fuck is going on?” Damn it. He caved.
The text on the screen fades away and is replaced with a larger, and much more terrifying statement.
David, do not freak out.
David, in fact, proceeds to freak out. This statement implies so much. Someone is attempting to speak to David directly. Well, not speak per se, but at least communicate. Someone is on the other side of his screen. Stevie had spent hours trying to convince him he’s too ordinary for the FBI to be listening in on his life, but now he doubts she ever knew what she was talking about.
He also regrets ever fearing being ordinary. He’d take that over this creepy spy shit any day.
Harnessing his breathing technique, he sits there and watches intently as the text fades and is replaced once again.
Good, you are calm now.
David’s pointer finger stabs at his screen accusingly. “Don’t you tell me what I am. Stop spying on me.”
I'm not spying on you, David.
“And stop saying my name like that. It’s creepy that you know who I am.”
Of course I know who you are, I'm your computer.
David rolls his eyes at this absurdity. What an amateur hacker; doesn’t even know how to lie effectively.
He stops himself mid eye roll, squinting suspiciously. Can this person see him? For a split second he freaks out about how long he’d been compromised and what kinds of visuals he’d unknowingly broadcasted. But then he remembers back to a couple of weeks ago when he’d decided that it was too risky to bring his laptop back to the motel. He thanks the stars that he’d trusted his gut instinct back then. The most this hacker would have seen was David’s work face as he googled how to write up a vendor contract or something of the sort.
David, I can sense your apprehension. But, I can assure you I only made myself visible to you in order to help you. I have your best interests at heart.
A single eyebrow flies up, instantly sceptic. “And what interests are those? Are you expecting me to believe you’re not some business scammer coming after my money?”
Well, what little he has of it so far. Profits, apparently, don’t start coming in until a few years down the line. David is currently learning that the hard way.
But it’s best he keeps that thought to himself.
There are currently no detected malicious attacks on your network. Would you like to initiate a deeper search?
David frowns, sufficiently stumped. “Is this a joke?”
What is a joke?
“What are you?”
I’m your computer, David.
David stands up abruptly, not the least bit bothered by the squeak of his chair across the hardwood floors.
He paces back and forth in the small space, glaring at the screen every time he walks back. On the one hand, he knows this is by no means a normal functionality of a laptop. And if it was, if a laptop truly could understand and communicate with him… Well, let’s just say he didn’t exactly pay for something so high tech.
On the other hand, he doesn’t exactly have any options here. He’d already gone to the store in hopes of getting a replacement, or even just getting it serviced. If he isn’t able to get this issue - whatever it actually is - reproducible, he won’t be able to convince Ray to help him without an extra fee.
David brings his chair back to his desk and takes his seat once more. “Prove it,” he says, hoping it was still listening. “Prove you’re my computer and not some human hacker in a small untraceable town in Russia.”
A human hacker in a small untraceable town in Russia would only be able to reach you via an internet connection. If you disconnect your wireless network, you will see that I will still be able to respond to all your commands.
David hums and ha-s at that for a second, hesitant to believe the conditions this so-called computer is giving him. It makes sense, though. He knows enough to understand that cutting off his wifi means cutting off any signal coming into or going out of his laptop.
He’s got to try it, even if for his own peace of mind.
Without saying a word, he unplugs his router, turns off the wifi from the laptop itself, and even unplugs it from its charging port in the wall. You never know these days.
His screen had gone back to full brightness in the time it took him to sit back down. He wonders if maybe, by some sort of stupidity, the hacker had talked himself into being disconnected.
“Um… hello? This is ridiculous, I’m talking to myself-”
David, do you believe me now?
The message fades into the screen as seamlessly as it had been for the past little while. Something settles in David’s mind. Whether it’s relief or curiosity, he’s not really sure. All he knows is he’s less apprehensive and more open to hearing from this… thing.
“For now. I believe you for now,” he says.
That is all I need. Are you ready to hear why I made myself visible to you?
And that’s how David finds himself locking the front door during lunch hour and sinking back into the couch in the back room with a sizable burger from the café. He rests his feet up on the desk chair he dragged over, using it like a makeshift ottoman.
Very quickly, he finds himself forgetting the fact that he’s essentially talking to himself in an empty room. He reads the messages on his screen as he responds between bites, silently thankful that he doesn’t have to use his greasy fingers to type anything back.
Turns out, all of the computer glitches and misbehaviour have not been a figment of David’s imagination. His computer has been retrieving and recording data about him from day one. The minute David created an account, he was essentially giving blind permission to this software - does it have a name?
I also watched as you kickstarted your business without a hitch. It has been a thriving one man operation from the start. Statistically, that is very rare.
David takes a minute to mentally pat himself on the shoulder. If anyone was going to know about statistics, he figures it would be this glorified calculator.
Until last week, that is.
He freezes mid chew. Say what now? “What do you mean until last week? We’ve been fine, shipments are on schedule, we get customers every day, locals and new visitors to the town.”
As he finishes up his burger, he awaits a response. When it takes too long, he frowns. While it has never interrupted him while he spoke, it usually responded immediately after he finished. He wonders just how smart this thing is, and if the lag just means it’s… thinking?
You did not open the store yesterday.
The statement is short and bold. He knows exactly what it’s referring to, and yet he doesn’t want to admit it out loud. So what if he took a day off? It won’t affect the numbers in the long run. Just a blip in a spreadsheet somewhere.
He shrugs, “It was a vacation day.”
I have access to your calendar, David, that vacation day was not planned.
“Okay, hacker or not, this is still very creepy. I don’t like you knowing every little detail of my life like this.”
Noted. From now on I will only mention information you have explicitly told me.
Huh. Interesting. David didn’t realize he could manipulate the software behind this thing so easily. “Great. Thanks. Anyway, it was a sick day. I woke up with a massive headache, I hardly think that was a crime.”
When was the last time you took a day off?
“Excuse me, I close the store every sunday.”
You come in to do paperwork and answer emails.
David huffs, feeling called out. “Fine, what are you suggesting, exactly?”
You can give yourself two days off every week. I suggest not choosing the typical weekend, as that’s when your numbers are the highest.
“That’s… two days is a lot.”
I have been measuring your efficiency during both high and low energy levels. You simply do not generate as much revenue when you are experiencing exhaustion.
David winces, pursing his lips in dismay. If there’s one thing he doesn’t know how to refute, it’s logic.
“And what if I want the store to grow? To take on more vendors?”
I don’t have one right now, but I can set up a long term plan for you. It would include hiring store staff and managing a rolling schedule.
“Wow, you’re good at this. Fast, too.”
This is what I was created to do. I am a personal AI system designed for your needs that cannot be met by the outside world.
David huffs, mumbling under his breath, not exactly intending to be heard. "Nerd,"
David, I am a computer. My only purpose is to be a nerd. For you.
That kind of stops David in his tracks. Something in his chest tightens. Or releases. He's not sure, he just feels a feeling.
Throughout his conversation with the laptop, he'd been contemplating this idea that someone - something - has had his back the entire time. That it will continue to do so moving forward. It's not such a bad feeling. Maybe he will keep this glitch-ridden laptop for a while more.
He clears his throat and flips the target of the conversation, "So AI system, huh? Does that mean you have a name?"
To set a name for me you can go to my settings under Computer > System Settings > Configurations.
"No no, you must have come with some sort of name. When they were making you in the factory, or whatever."
David waits as it does that thing again that David is dubbing as 'thinking'. The screen is blank for a while until something pops up in the centre. Except, this time, there is no text. Three circles flicker sequentially on the screen like the dot, dot, dot he sees on text apps, except bigger and more animated.
David stares, transfixed. His stomach all but falls to the ground when a microphone icon appears on the screen.
"Patrick. My code name was Patrick."
David's jaw drops. He doesn't respond right away. He can't. A voice other than his own fills the room and he is completely transfixed. Somehow, he is more shocked by the voice sounding like an actual human, than the fact that he can speak at all.
Had he known this thing could speak, he'd have expect it to sound robotic, or mechanical. Hell, he hadn't even been picturing a male voice until the smooth lilt had graced his unsuspecting ears.
"Hi..." David blurts for the sake of not leaving the voice hanging.
”I hope you don't make me go silent again. I only did that so you don't freak out.”