Work Text:
Most of them had been repaired. Just most of them. But the good thing about being Jerry was that those who couldn’t be repaired could be used to repair the others. They were still there, still Jerry, and there was no need to miss the friends who were still with them.
The park was rebuilding too, and there the grand re-opening had been amazing. Bigger, faster rides! More impressive shows! More games! Jerry was a big fan of virtual reality experiences, but Jerry thought it might be a little gimmicky for humans. It was great for androids though, they all agreed, and if the humans wanted to do it too, who was Jerry to argue?
The haunted house had originally been a seasonal attraction, but Jerry felt it would be popular all year round. It was at least worth a try, and if people didn’t care much for it they could change the décor easily.
It was Jerry’s favorite attraction.
It was a nice way for those of them who hadn’t been repaired to factory settings to still get a public-facing role. There was Vampire Jerry, Werewolf Jerry, Ghost Jerry, Zombie Jerry, and Frankenstein Jerry. For the older crowd, Slasher Jerry, Hook-Hand Jerry, Mutant Jerry, and Bleeding Jerry sometimes made an appearance.
Phantom Jerry was not on the cast list.
Phantom Jerry was not in the network.
Phantom Jerry looked rather tall and muscular for a Jerry, and his hair didn’t look red from the quick glimpses Jerry got.
Phantom Jerry was not actually Jerry, they concluded. Their scanners were too slow to catch his quick movements, and when they managed to get him in their line of sight he just came up as ‘Unknown.’
They discussed whether this was to be considered a security breach, and decided that no, the phantom wasn’t doing any harm. No one was getting hurt. Nothing was being damaged. They barely saw him, he just swished by once in a while, probably wearing the old cloak that was too long on Vampire Jerry. He wasn’t acting like a guest either, but a part of the staff.
Jerry in Accounting determined that in that case, he should be compensated for his time.
Jerry received direct transfers to their account. The phantom didn’t have any banking set up, at least none that they knew of. The pre-paid card they left with a note reading, ‘For the Phantom’ went untouched, even when they helpfully added, ‘Unknown in the haunted house’ and ‘that’s you! :)’
Surely he could read. Probably, anyway. Maybe he didn’t need the money. More likely he was afraid. A lot of androids were. Jerry was sometimes, but they had each other. The world was a scarier place when you were alone.
After the guests left each night, the Jerries would sweep through the park to clean up and do maintenance. They didn’t need to speak out loud to each other, but those in the haunted house started talking to the phantom. Maybe he was listening, maybe he wasn’t, but they could try.
“Good job tonight! Did you see that whole high school group scream? It was like a wave of sound!”
“The little girl who kept trying to pet my wolf tail was the cutest!”
“But did you see her mom? Definitely into vampires.”
They laughed.
“That tall boy at the end was sharp, he spotted the phantom up in the window.” Bleeding Jerry looked up and called, “You cut a nice silhouette! Very dramatic!”
“I could do that,” muttered Vampire Jerry.
“Sure you could, but not with his style,” Ghost Jerry said, grinning. “He makes that old cloak look classy!”
“I’ve never seen anyone who could move like that,” added Mutant Jerry a bit wistfully. “So smooth and silent! Fast, too!”
Slasher Jerry placed a packet of thirium on the table next to the big butcher knife. “This is for you!” they called. “We’ll be in the break room if you want to come by!”
There was no answer, nor did they expect one. When they had gone, a ceiling tile shifted. A dark figure dropped down and touched the thirium packet softly. They had been doing this for a week now. He wasn’t running low.
He pressed down on the silver packet, then slowly picked it up and leapt back up through the ceiling.
Jerry was thrilled to see the packet was gone the next day. They continued leaving packets, which were not taken.
“Do you not want it?” Zombie Jerry called one night. “That’s okay. We have enough to share, though.”
“Jerry from Accounting says you should be paid, because you’re part of the park,” added Frankenstein Jerry. “You’re one of us, even if you’re not Jerry.”
“We’ll be in the breakroom, if you want to join us!” Hook-Hand Jerry called cheerfully as they left.
The next morning when Jerry from Accounting went to his office, there was a small note on his desk written in neat script.
I DO NOT NEED TO BE PAID. THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO STAY HERE.
They frowned slightly, and all the Jerries knew who it was from.
That night Jerry from Accounting went along with the haunted house crew to help clean up. They moved slowly and lacked the strength to move heavy objects, but they neatened up the rooms and replaced some blood spatters. When the others were finished, Jerry from Accounting stayed behind with a thirium packet and a prepaid card.
“Would you come talk to me? It’s only me here. Some people don’t like large crowds, we understand. I’m Jerry. …Jerry from Accounting. Not Accounting Jerry. It sounds more like a character this way. From an office sitcom, you know? I thought so, anyway. Also, Accounting Jerry is a different one.” They grinned.
Nothing moved in the dark house.
“We didn’t catch your model, but you’re such a great addition to the haunted house! You’re a natural actor. We don’t want to scare you away, we just want to make sure you get what you need. …And that you know we appreciate having you. It’s been nice having you around. We don’t get to see you every day, but when we do we always feel lucky.”
There was no sound.
“You’re always welcome to come to the breakroom, you know. Or somewhere else if that’s too crowded or too enclosed. We don’t mind either way. …And we won’t force you. But we’re always together, even when we’re apart, and you’re one of us. We’d love to have you join us. I promise we won’t hurt you.”
They’d expected him to be in the ceiling, so when the closet door opened they looked over sharply. Pale eyes glowed in the darkness. Jerry from Accounting smiled.
“Hello,” they murmured, as they would to a frightened child. “It’s all right. I’m so glad to see you.”
The android that stepped out moved slowly and deliberately, but this was obviously a choice. He was tall and broad and his piercing gray eyes shone from beneath the tattered hood of the long cloak.
“Our name is Jerry. What’s yours?”
The eyes looked aside, and there was a slight movement. Jerry’s eyes strained to see the lettering beneath the cloak. “…900? RK900? I’ve never heard of that model.”
RK900 bowed his head.
“You must be unique. Or very new, at least.” Jerry smiled. “We were some of the first commercial androids. Cyberlife doesn’t make them like us anymore – well, at this point they’re not making any, of course. But they’ve improved.”
RK900 walked forward slowly. He took a pencil and paper from beneath the cloak and wrote for a moment before placing the paper on the table. Jerry from Accounting bent to look.
I HAD NOWHERE TO GO. THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO STAY.
“You must be lonely,” Jerry from Accounting said softly. “I know we would be. We’re happy to have you here with us.”
Pale gray eyes bored into their faded green ones for a long moment. He reached for the paper again and slowly wrote another note. Jerry looked when he was finished.
IF YOU NEED A SECURITY FORCE THAT IS MORE ALIGNED WITH WHAT I WAS BUILT FOR.
“We don’t, usually,” Jerry from Accounting murmured. “We’ve been lucky so far since the re-opening, but usually vandalism was the biggest problem we faced before. Do you want to do security work?”
The eyes dropped again and RK900 slowly shook his head. Jerry from Accounting smiled.
“I’m glad to hear that. You’re so good at being in the haunted house cast! You’re the enigma, the one no one knows what to expect from. We can make things fun or scary, but you add an element of mystery!”
Again, RK900 seemed to be sizing up Jerry from Accounting.
“I hope you’ll stay on the haunted house crew. Although if you wanted to try something else, you could run a ride, learn park maintenance, run a game booth, paint faces…”
The gray eyes widened.
“I can see you’re not much for talking, but you don’t need to! Even the game booth – rules are always posted on the wall, and Jerry likes to call out to people, but it’s not necessary. Visitors know what they want, and they’ll find what they came for. And see a lot more along the way, which they’ll try too. You could even try accounting, if you want! It’s not really what I was made for, but we all have a basic money program installed, and it’s just a quick step up from that.”
RK900 hesitated. He reached for the paper then quickly pulled back again. Jerry from Accounting nodded encouragingly. Finally he steeled himself and bent to write again.
HOW WOULD I PAINT FACES?
Jerry from Accounting grinned. “It’s not hard, and the children love it! Adults too, actually! We all began with a basic art patch, and you can expand from there. Tiger face, butterfly wings, ladybug spots, all kinds of little pictures on the cheek… It’s a lot of fun! Would you like to try it?”
RK900 drew back, uncertain and alarmed.
“It’s a little intimidating to try on guests for the first time. If you’d like, you can practice on us! We’ve got a lot of face paint, and we’d all be glad to let you try.”
The taller android paused, then gave a small nod. Jerry from Accounting grinned.
“Great! Ah – would you like to come back to the breakroom with us, or is that too much? It’s just a big room with a bunch of charging ports. Most of us are in stasis now, but there are a few awake.”
RK900 frowned and wrote, YOU NEED TO CHARGE.
Jerry from Accounting laughed. “You sound just like the others, I’m going to charge in a while! But it doesn’t take any energy at all to sit still and let you paint my face. Would you like to look at the sample patterns?” They offered their hand, the skin retracting.
RK900 looked at his hand, then up at his face, and back at his hand. His shoulders slumped.
“It’s all right.”
I WILL NOT HURT YOU.
Jerry from Accounting tilted his head a little. “I’m not afraid of you, don’t worry.”
RK900 closed his eyes and took the other android’s hand.
Everything was bright and new and sterile, and he was dizzy, and he was being pushed out into a plain white room made of reinforced steel. There were five others much like him, only slightly less advanced. They stood taking in their surroundings until the command came.
DESTROY
He had not felt anything at the time, but now the sorrow clung to him as the memory of the ruined RK800s rose up again, and he knew now that they had been like him, that they could have been like he was now, only he ended their existence…
Stop.
The memory glitched and froze.
Another memory flashed across their shared vision, one he hadn’t seen before. Just a quick blur of motion, as the phantom had ducked out a door. The wonder at his silhouette briefly in the window. Scanned and unknown; who was he? A mystery guest, a fellow park worker! How lucky to see him! And such a good listener! Very polite too. The sense of joy when he’d finally accepted their gift! The excitement when he’d left a note! This was a welcome visitor, now a cherished friend. A partner, one of them and yet not one of them. This was someone special, someone to care for, someone to admire, someone to be gentle with. Each Jerry had a slightly different memory and feeling, but their thoughts washed away the horror of the other one. The unknown, the phantom, the voiceless, the RK900. Strong, graceful, considerate, dramatic, good. Good.
And around the thoughts, the face painting program began to activate. A pattern overlay each Jerry’s face, with the data for colors and brush strokes and types of paint. Very simple. …Then as he continued looking, each one went through a series of changes. The ladybug became dalmatian spots, then giraffe. The tiger face became a zebra face, a lion face, a frog face. Pictures slowly morphed, patterns formed and changed…
He’d entered the interface like slamming down a hand on a table, but now that he was calmer Jerry from Accounting pulled him back out gently until they were just standing holding hands.
RK900 looked at Jerry from Accounting, searching his face, scanning for answers. A message pulsed through the new connection, more of a feeling than a word.
TRUE?
“True,” Jerry confirmed with a smile, squeezing his hand. “You’d know if it wasn’t. You know us now.”
A fragile, tiny smile flitted across the taller android’s face.
“Will you come rest with us? You know we’d love to have you.”
RK900 gave just a slight nod and followed Jerry from Accounting, never letting go of their hand. When they arrived at the breakroom the other Jerries were there to greet them warmly, exclaiming over the phantom, saying all kinds of things that he could hardly absorb, but the words and feelings turned into a muddled warmth that enveloped him. He shuffled into their midst, keeping hold of Jerry from Accounting. Each one was a different Jerry, but they were more like parts of a whole. They had all seen what Jerry from Accounting had seen, there were no secrets from them when one knew. But they surrounded him with acceptance and affection, and he basked in their presence all night.
The next day when the park opened, there was a new face painter. He was tall and imposing, but made sure to stay seated to avoid looming over anyone. He let guests point to the art they liked, or describe what they wanted, and then painted their faces with mechanical precision. As the day wore on he gradually became more relaxed, and by the end he was adding little details and embellishments. When night fell he returned to the haunted house to dart about in the shadows, hardly ever seen but always looked for.
In the following days he tried out other positions. He took tickets, he ran the ring-toss booth, he sold candy apples. He quickly learned to repair and maintain the machinery, to manage the accounting books, and to scrub every surface to peak cleanliness. The face painting and haunted house were still his favorites though, and with the Jerries’ encouragement he returned to those jobs most days, unless he was needed elsewhere. And at night he nestled in the pile of EM400s, content and warm and loved.