Chapter Text
Every month the Pizzaplex goes offline for one day. Repairs are made to STAFF. Arcade machines are emptied of tokens and cleaned. Gift shops are restocked. The DJ is fed. Lights are replaced. The glass windows along Rockstar Row is scrubbed clean of all the handprints and lip prints and snot from the shrieking obnoxious fans. Kitchens are restocked. The Glamrocks get their “spa treatment”- their paint jobs are brushed up, their joints are tested for mobility, and their vast internal databases are checked for errors or rude language absorbed from bratty teenagers.
Sometimes, the higher-ups assign “Enrichment Protocols.” These are usually for the Glamrocks only and involve exposing them to small amounts of pop culture not associated with Fazbear Entertainment in order to keep their stage banter and party conversation fresh and relatable to the target demographic. They basically pay you to babysit a robot for six hours, which isn’t as great as it sounds, but it beats dealing with kids and parents.
This early morning, oddly, the Daycare Attendant is included on the Enrichment Protocol sheet. I spend a second too long pondering this as I stir my free small Fazbear Entertainment Human Employee Appreciation Coffee. my coworkers scribble their names next to the names of the Glamrocks and other, less popular but still kept around animatronics. Even Mister Hippo got picked.
Mister fucking Hippo.
I sip the bad coffee and stare at the Enrichment Protocol list and the other available assignments. I consider my options- Enrich the Daycare Attendant-the loud, excitable, spidery, obnoxious, ever-grinning Daycare Attendant- or go downstairs and read to the endoskeletons.
I sign my name next to DAYCARE ATTENDANT ENRICHMENT 6AM-12PM and begin my long walk from the cramped break room to the hellscape that is The Superstar Daycare.
-/-
When I get to the daycare I hesitate. The Attendant is programmed to work with children- anyone over 13 who is not in his database of “Parents and Guardians and Big Siblings” is treated with a certain level of distrust. That coupled with the fact that it’s a seven foot tall animatronic with the ability to rotate any of it’s parts like some sort of giant giggling yoga spider has me on edge. Still, I push the big, wood-painted fiberglass doors open and step inside.
The motion sensors trip and the daycare center activates. Lights buzz to life. The technicolor landscape turns my stomach. Insipid music starts up. It smells too clean, like the hallway of the operation wing of a hospital. The kind of clean that tells you something bad happened here, maybe a long time ago. Up above the ball pit a spotlight hits the painted-on castle and red curtains part.
“GOOOOOD MORNING!”
The Attendant hops up on it’s little stage and does a one-handed handstand, rotating it’s legs like helicopter blades before leaping up and landing on one foot. It’s head rotates in place and the bright orange rays of “sunshine” spring out from behind it’s faceplate. It’s pupil-less eyes land on me and even though it wears that enormous car-salesman grin it’s electronic voice sounds… confused.
“OH? YOU’RE A LITTLE BIG TO BE IN DAYCARE!” It springs down and skips to the entrance, backflips over the bright red rope bridge connecting the two play structures that dominate the daycare’s landscape, and stops a few feet from me.
“ARE YOU LOOKING FOR YOUR CHILD OR SIBLING? THE PIZZAPLEX IS CLOSED BUT I CAN HELP! I CAN CONTACT THE MAIN OFFICE! I CAN DRAW MISSING POSTERS! WHEN DID YOU LAST SEE YOU CHILD OR SIBLING?”
I unclip my name badge from my lanyard and hold it up to the animatronic’s eyes. “Daycare Attendant, settle down. I work here.”
It barely stops moving as it registers my badge. “OOOHH! THAT’S A PRETTY NAME!! IT’S WONDERFUL TO MEET YOU!” It holds out it’s right hand, right arm stiff but the rest of the body still moving.
I sigh and put my hand in the animatronic’s. I don’t anticipate it squeezing my hand and pulling me in for a full hug.
It’s weirdly warm.
It lets me go almost immediately and hops back. “OH NO! I SHOULD HAVE ASKED BEFORE ENACTING PHYSICAL CONTACT!” It folded in on itself like a wilted sunflower. “I’M USUALLY SO GOOD ABOUT THAT, I JUST GET SO EXCITED WHEN I MEET NEW FRIENDS!”
“It’s fine, Daycare Attendant. Really.” My words seem to bring it back to function. It jolts back up and is back in it’s weird dance-like idle motions, head bobbing side to side, big white eyes locked on to me.
Might as well get started. “I’m not calling you ‘Daycare Attendant’ all day, so… Do you have a real name?”
It shifts into a contemplative pose, complete with scratching the top of it’s faceplate as it pretended to think. “I DUNNO!” it declares. “WHAT’S A REAL NAME?”
Now I feel stupid for asking. “Well, like, Glamrock Freddy, for example,” I say, gesturing to a doll sitting on the security desk, “it’s real name is Freddy Fazbear. Glamrock is more of a title, or designation.” I falter but the robot picks up quick.
“WELL IF THAT’S THE CASE, DAYCARE ATTENDANT IS MY DESIGNATION, BUT NO ONE REALLY CALLS ME THAT- NO KIDS DO ANYWAY. THEY CALL ME SUNNY! OR SUNSHINE!” It starts counting on it’s weirdly long fingers. “I ALSO GET CALLED SUNNYDROP, SUNDROP, SUNRISE, MISTER, BABYSITTER, NOW AND THEN SOMEONE CALLS ME MOM, OR TEACHER, WHICH I ALWAYS THINK IS FUNNY BECAUSE-“
“I’ll call you Sunny for today.”
It emits a shriek of delight and launches into a dance. “WOOHOO!! SUNNY FOR A DAY!!” It stops. “OOH! I CAN MAKE A NAMETAG STICKER!!” It turns to leap back up into it’s room when I grab it’s arm.
“Not necessary, no guests are here, it’s just you and me today, and I think I can remember ‘Sunny’” I sigh, already done with the day.
“OH, OKAY.” Is it disappointed? I let go and it turns to face me again, bobbing slightly, left to right.
“SO, WHADDYA WANNA DO TODAY? PUPPET SHOW? FINGER PAINT? PUT GOOGLY EYES ON THINGS THAT DON’T NEED EYES AND THEN GIGGLE AT HOW SILLY THINGS LOOK? CANDY EATING CONTEST? MAKE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS?”
I shrug. “I have to provide you some enrichment, but the people in charge didn’t specify what ‘enrichment’ you need. So,” I can’t believe what I’m asking as the words come out of my mouth, “what do you want to do today, Sunny?”
It stops moving completely. It’s head tips downward. I think I broke it. I’m on my way to a panic attack when it slowly brings it’s hands up and places them on either side of it’s faceplate. The rays of sunshine under it’s hands retract into the spot between it’s face and the back of it’s head.
“WOW WOW WOOOOOOW, NO ONE’S EVER ASKED ME THAT BEFORE!! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER! MY HEAD MIGHT EX-PLODE!!”
It puts it’s hands over it’s stupid grin, rays of sunshine spring back out into place. “WAIT, I GOT IT!!”
It leans down so it’s eye-level with me.
“CAN WE GO WATCH THE SUN RISE? CAN WE? CAN WE? CAN WE CAN WE CAN WE CAN WE CAN WE CAN WE???”
I wasn’t expecting that. I shrug. “Uh, sure? Wait a sec-“ I poke at the screen of my Chica Watch and check if there’s an estimated time for the sunrise. 6:45AM. And it’s a quarter past 6 now.
“Yeah, we can do that, easy.”
Sunny explodes with joy. It leaps up and spins in the air, lands, cartwheels around me, all while screaming various happy noises. I resist the urge to trip it and simply say
“Sunny, if you want to see the sunrise, you need to dial it back like eighty percent. I am nowhere near awake enough for this.”
It stops mid-cartwheel and nods. “GOTCHA! NOT EVERYONE’S A MORNING PERSON!”