Chapter Text
Fazbear Entertainment was dying, and everyone on your side of the tracks knew it. As much as the corporate side of the business managed to hide that speck of info from the world, they couldn’t keep that tidbit from the locals, just as they couldn’t hide the sheer amount of deaths and injuries that plagued the place when it still employed people. The rich folks who lived in their nicely sheltered community, a little ways north of the plex, were never any the wiser. But between the blood coating the walls of the pizzaria and the gentrification of your area over the years because of Fazbear and company, the news of the impending death of the business brought cheers, even if no one knew why it was dying in the first place.
That’s why you kept getting looks when you talked to people about working at the plex in the first human position offered in almost a decade. No one had died in the role yet, but it was an inevitability. You had to be a special kind of stupid to walk in voluntarily. You’d just come back home with your second degree and a professional license. You had options. You didn’t need to apply for a position at an upper class Ducky Deez. Your friends laughed, and then stilled when they realized you were serious.
They were right, of course. If the official stats ever came out, which they never would, it’d show that Fazbear Entertainment held the record for mortality rate on the job of any company that ever existed, never mind the sheer amount of non fatal injuries. The last thing your loved ones wanted to do was see you hurt. If you had any sense in you, you’d agree. And you knew that.
But you continued to stare at the job listing on your laptop nonetheless. Caretaker . It wasn’t anything like previous jobs you’d heard about before. Mechanic, Daycare Assistant, Security Officer, Playtester. A Caretaker seemed, calming. Like a groundskeeper. Not that you really knew what the job was about. The listing stated the name of the job, the company, and nothing else. Simply, apply to learn more about this position.
You never applied to jobs like that. They always turned out to be scams, set on roping you in by having you take the first step. Four other open tabs promised much better work with clearer guidelines and stated benefits and pay. They were shoe-ins. With your internship experience and recommendations, they’d jump at you the moment you formally looked their way.
And yet. The job you were seriously considering was this one. Not working in a palatable clinical setting, designed to be friendly and calming. No, a greasy, loud, neon nightmare with a bratty child infestation. The very opposite of what you spent years working towards.
So why did it seem so appealing? You’d never even set foot inside the damn place, and growing up around the industry killed any sort of nostalgia factor from your childhood. You bounced your hand against the laptop’s casing, mouth pressed together in a thin line. This was stupid. Idiotic. It might look badly on the rest of your career. You could be throwing away years of work. You could die .
…
……
……….
Maybe you just wanted to be stupid for once. Maybe it’d be nice to have just a bit of fun for the first time in memory.
You sigh and shut the screen. Fussing over it now made no difference when you’d already applied a half hour ago. At least you can say you took the chance if it turned out to be nothing. The only option now was to wait and see if they reached out for an interview.
The idea of the job kept rattling around in your brain, however, as much as you tried to set it aside by doing chores to distract yourself. Instead, it just gave your mind an excuse to derail while you did dishes. Caretaker . What did that mean? Was that just a fancy word for attendant? Helping parents buy tickets, or wrangling lost kids? For whatever reason, that just didn’t feel right. The plex hadn’t needed human hands in forever. You highly doubted that changed any time recently.
Why the position, then?
You toss a bowl onto the drying rack with a little too much force, wincing as you feared for the integrity of the item. “Sorry,” you mutter, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” You make a point of releasing the tension in your jaw, as anxious as that made you feel. Just breathe. You probably weren’t even what they were looking for. It’s not like any of your experience was relevant anyways.
Your phone beeps a few hours later at the end of the business day. An email from Fazbear Entertainment with options for interviews over the next three days and a short blurb at the top.
‘ We are looking to fill this position as soon as possible. If you cannot attend one of these interviews, we will unfortunately have to decline your application. We at Fazbear Entertainment thank you for your understanding. ’
You grimace, half at the email and half at yourself. A company saying they needed to fill a position quickly was a sure sign that things weren’t going well, and that the applicant really shouldn’t apply if they value their own sanity. A good old fashioned ‘don’t open, dead inside.’ Everything about this role screamed sketchy. You’d turned down positions for fewer red flags than this.
Despite that, you were still interested, excited even that they wanted you onboard soon.
What the fuck was wrong with you?
Aaaaand there it went, a reply email with a cheery greeting thanking them for getting back to you soon and a request for a ten o’clock meeting tomorrow morning. You don’t have time to even set your phone down before you got a confirmation of the appointment. As much as you buzzed with anticipation, it still weirded you out a bit. Everyone here knew Fazbear was weird, but this? This was a lot. You roll your eyes at yourself, a half smile still stuck on your face. You’d been considering the role for days, but it still all felt so fast.
You finish up a few more daily tasks before settling in for the evening, just to keep your hands from worrying. The boxes in the corner stare accusingly back at you while you ate takeout for the god knows how many time in a row.
Kind of hard to cook when you hadn’t unpacked your pans. Or plates. Or much of anything, really. You were living out of your suitcase while you got situated back home. It wasn’t like you knew if you were going to stay, anyways.
“I’ll get to it, leave me be,” you grumble around a mouthful of chicken. You turn your back pointedly on the cardboard, all the while it bored daggers into your back.
———
Waking up next morning proves little trouble since you had such difficulty sleeping the past night. You make yourself presentable, ensure a neat background for your interview, and settle in a few minutes before scheduled. A good choice, it seems, since your interviewer is already here. You know how to keep a straight face, so you appear easily happy when coming on screen despite the growing worry. No interviewer ever came early to these things.
The hell was all of this about, anyways?
The man in the interview, Clark, by his nametag on screen, glowers at the paperwork in front of him, dark eyes matching his slicked back salt and pepper hair. He tilts his head up so he can read a certain piece through the bottom of his glasses, that same disdain never leaving his features.
What a cheerful recruiter. You really hope you’re managing to keep a straight face so you don’t look as aghast as you feel. This is the first impression they want their company to have? Maybe it makes sense. They haven’t hired people for the plex in almost a decade. But still. Their main competitor is Disney, after all. You had imagined more polish than this .
Clark sets down his paper with a low exhale and faces you fully, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. “I’ll be frank with you, since I think that this position is a waste of time and I’m not keen on pointless projects. If you want the job, you have it. All of our Caretakers must be vetted first by the CEO, and he is instantly taken with your qualifications. No need for our normal extended interview. Not exactly my preference on how to do hiring, but I digress.” He huffs and tosses his palms upwards, that same aggravation seeping into all of his actions. “Do you have any questions?”
You cover your mouth to hide the fact that your jaw dropped open. You just have the job ? Because the CEO handpicked you?? Oh, this was making less sense by the minute. You shake your head to clear it, like if you just reset yourself like an etch-a-sketch this would all get better.
“I, uh… I’ll admit this isn’t what I expected for an interview, but, um…” Your logical brain finally catches up with the reality of the situation. Right. He offered you a job. You took a breath to steady yourself. This is still an interview. “I have to say, I don’t know anything about the role. The online listing was less than clear, I’m afraid.”
“Right.” He scoffs. “Another one of our parent CEO’s brilliant decisions.” Clark rubs his temple, taking a long moment before speaking. “God I didn’t sign up for this. Ugh.” He steels himself before continuing. You almost have second hand discomfort from the amount of pain he’s going through. When he does speak, it nearly sounds prerecorded, a script he’d run through several times.
“The role of Caretaker will put you in charge of the wellbeing of the animatronics at the Pizzaplex. You will be tasked with ensuring their needs are met and that they are well attended to. It is explicitly not your job to attend to the guests of the Pizzaplex, although we at Fazbear Incorporated expect you to have appropriate conduct while working. This is a temporary position with the opportunity to move into a full time role, depending on your performance. You will be paid once a month commensurate with your experience and skills. I’ve heard the pay is good, but we don’t discuss it and it isn’t negotiable, so don’t start. You will have benefits beginning on day one. I will be your immediate supervisor, unfortunately , so I do ask that you refrain from bothering me. I have more important matters to attend to than this pet project.”
Your eyes narrow. A lot of that set off alarm bells, but one thing at a time. “Attending to the animatronics’ needs? How does that work? I’m not a mechanic. On what grounds will my performance be evaluated?”
He barks out a laugh. “If you can figure that out, let me know.” When your expression turns doubtful, he clarifies. “Maybe this will help. It’s important to stress that this position is temporary. While I am directly over you, the person who decides if you stay on or not is the CEO. He’s let go of all of the previous Caretakers. Don’t expect your experience to be any different. I’m sure you’ll do your utmost and all of that, but I have no idea what he’s looking for in performance. Every time he’s just ‘disappointed.’ Whatever that means. I’d recommend having another job lined up for a month from now.”
You grimace. Being let go after a month wouldn’t be ideal. But it’s not like you really wanted to do this long term. It’s just a spur of the moment decision. Even if it’s only for a month, would that be so bad? It’s a contract position for now, so you won’t even be fired, and you can just leave it off your resume.
“I don’t really understand though,” you say. “If I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, what’s the point of this?”
Clark rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what he’s looking for in this role. Just, do your best, if you accept. Do you have any other questions for me?”
So, if you got it all straight, you’d be working in less than ideal conditions, in a temporary role with no job security, with no guidelines for what you’re supposed to do, while everyone you know from home looks at you like some kind of freak for making this choice. And you won’t even know what the pay is. You chuckle to yourself quietly. It’s just so convincing when you put it like that.
Hell, why not. One stupid decision before you start a career. What could go wrong, other than dying?
“Sure,” you state before your nerves can get the better of you. “When do I start?”
Clark eases somewhat, turning his attention to the second screen next to him. “The day after you sign all of the forms we have for you. There are some introduction videos to watch and a brief manual provided about the animatronics.” He gives you a sidelong look. “Please try to abide by it. We’ve had mishaps before due to employees breaking safety protocols.”
You give a forced smile. Mishaps. Right. That’s what they call it when a person is torn open by a machine. Or crushed like a tin can inside one. Or just straight up eaten.
Why were you doing this again?
Your interviewer keeps going. “Due to confidentiality concerns, we can’t have you on as a true human operative until you’re employed full time. That means you won’t be allowed the completed schematics or access to the maintenance room until after a month, if you’re still here by then. Otherwise you can go wherever in the facility. I’ll be sending you the paperwork to complete shortly.”
You nod and begin to utter a ‘thank you,’ but the connection breaks before you can. You blink at the screen, stunned. That… sure was something. Possibly the worst interview you’ve ever been in, and nothing due to your own fault.
And you’ve still agreed to this.
“I’ve lost my mind,” you mutter. Despite that, there’s the ghost of a smile on your face.
It’s exciting, you have to admit. This is a horrible choice. When was the last time you made a horrible choice on purpose?
You snicker to yourself and wait for the paperwork to start rolling in.
———
It was worse than you thought. Paper after paper about release of liability, and how Fazbear isn’t responsible for the injury or death of any employees. It took the better half of the day, but you got it all done before the end of business. You were spent and needed a long bath by the end of it all, but you did it, and managed to skim all of the introductory material too.
A few things stuck out, other than how the company hadn’t changed in regards to employee safety. One was that the video, which must have been taken in the late 1990s from the quality of it, insisted, repeatedly, that the robots be shown kindness. Everything else in it was to be expected, from the ‘we’re a family here!’ lines to the ‘have a Faz-tastic day!’, but it surprised you to see such an insistence on kindness towards the machinery. It was rather ironic, with how poorly the human staff fared in the past.
The other was the written recommendation that the Sun and Moon animatronics were to be given priority, as a note from the CEO. Not a requirement of the role, just an email tossed your way with no explanation. Odd, but sure. If that’s what they wanted, you couldn’t see why it’d hurt to oblige. It was the only lead you had right now, anyways.
You went over it all, the strangeness of the interview and the application and the absolutely cryptic instructions for your role. You should be running for the hills. The sight of the plex now from the front seat of your car, all early 2000’s nostalgia in its design with the faint screams of children echoing from inside, should be more than enough to send you packing. You had options, for this first time in your life, and you picked this ?
Some of the nerves abated at that thought. Yes. You’d picked this. You. All by yourself, with no outside input, just because it seemed fun. You had enough squirreled away that you could afford a month or two here while you waited to see what this all was about.
So you got out of your car, grabbed your bag, and headed inside. The choice was yours, and you were making it.
It takes a second for your eyes to adjust from the midday sun to the cool interior of the plex. The air has a musty tint to it, a mix of human sweat, cleaning supplies, carpet mildew, and old machinery with parts in it that probably caused cancer. A little fresher than what you remembered at Ducky Deez when you were a kid, but only marginally. It matches the requisite arcade floors, patterned in enough odd shapes to make a microbe blush, that shine brightly under the dark neon lights. Kids dart back and forth across the floor while others scream excitedly at the games they played. A few parents mill about, but for the most part, it all appears unsupervised except for the rather obscene amount of cameras tucked away in the ceiling.
A wave of relief crashes over you that these kids weren’t your priority. You’d quit on the spot if that ever changed.
It’s an assault on your senses, the cool air even a drastic difference to the late summer heat outside. Such a change from years of quiet rooms lit in soft yellow. It’s noisy and kinda gross and a bit of overload, but alive. Your shoulders fall a degree. Yeah, this might be alright for a few weeks.
“Take a map!” A security bot, at least from what you recognized from the introductory package, waves a pamphlet at you. “Take a map!”
“Oh, thank you.” You already had a map downloaded on your phone from what was sent over, but it felt impolite to refuse. The little thing just had this one job right now, after all. You take it and stick it in your bag. “I’m the new Caretaker here, so I guess I’ll be working with you.”
“Employee verified.” It stares back for a minute, then wheels off elsewhere. You watch it go, mildly curious. Your job is to take care of the animatronics here, but did that one count? Your packet introduced you to the Glamrocks and the Daycare Attendant, and it mentioned these bots, but were they all under the same category? You shrug, then move onto the main stage area.
Every security bot and each cleaning bot receives a wave and a smile on the way there. Most continue on as if they hadn’t seen you. A few barely acknowledge you, a pause on their route or a slight turn to look at you as they keep going. But they seem to actually notice you. You hum to yourself, pleased. Maybe that’s what being a Caretaker is, just attending to the AIs here. Why the security and cleaning staff would have AIs is beyond you, but nothing at Fazbear ever made much sense.
The Glamrocks are playing on stage when you enter. It’s a little past one, so they should be wrapping up, if you remember correctly. One little boy though, right in the front and no older than five at best, kept hopping up and down, gleefully asking for another song. You chuckle at the sight, but don’t think much of it. A live band could edit their set time, but animatronics? They have a set programming.
At least, that’s what you assume. The current song ends and another begins, much to the kid’s delight. Your eyebrows raise. Curious. Maybe they have a software that allows them to know when an audience is engaged. But that would make things so much more complicated, right? You’re not a computer scientist, not in the slightest, but you can’t imagine how a nuanced program like that wouldn’t conflict with the other protocols of the system. These things have a set schedule, after all.
Then again, the Fazbear company certainly has enough money to throw at a problem like that.
The kid’s parents seemed to have the same idea as you. The father, sitting a few tables away from his kid, groans and picks up the tyke, uttering something placating that you can’t hear over the background noise of the place. The kid’s wailing is certainly audible, though, as they head for the door. Poor thing, but everyone has to go home eventually.
You step up closer to the stage as the song begins to trail. The group looks at you when you wave. It’s… slightly unnerving. It’s not quite in unison, but it’s close, like they all knew you were coming, even the wolf, who had her eyes closed for the show.
You brace yourself and offer what you hope is a warm expression, your hands folded nervously right under your diaphragm. “Hello! I’m the new Caretaker as of today. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I know it’s always busy here. But I did want to stop in before I get used to the place.”
The croc (Monty, right? You think so, at least) growls at you before stalking off stage, taking his bass with him. The wolf (and that’s Roxy) turns up her nose before glaring down at you. “We don’t need a caretaker here. We’ve done just fine by ourselves, thanks.”
Freddy is unmistakable. You didn’t need the packet to tell you who he is. He waves Roxy down, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now now, there’s no need for that. They’re just stopping by.” He turns his attention to you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, kiddo. Sorry to greet and run, but we’re a few minutes behind for a couple of parties. I’d love to finish this later though, if that’s alright?”
“Sure, no problem! I figured as much. I grew up around here, so I know it can get really hectic.”
“Appreciate it, doll!” the bird, Chica, calls out, a bit nervously. You give them all a thumbs up and head out as they pack up. Once you’re in a connecting hallway, out of sight and away from their route towards the birthday rooms, you double over, nausea hitting you all at once.
“Oh jesus fucking christ,” you gasp, one arm around your abdomen and the other hand around your mouth. It’s one thing to know about the murder bots that played with children, another to agree to work with them and be a ‘Caretaker’ for them, and something else entirely to see them in person. They towered over you, with Chica and Roxy standing at about six feet while Freddy and Monty stood out at least six and a half.
“Why the fuck do they have to be so big…?” You give it a minute to allow your hands to stop shaking. “Couldn’t just bar hop for a rebellious phase like a normal person, or have an identity crisis and travel, no . I had to come here . With the giant fucking robots that kill people . Fuck me…”
Even as you say it, whine about it really, it doesn’t feel like an option to leave. Of course, you could . No one said you couldn’t quit after day one. But… something about the idea of this role, of being the animatronics’ Caretaker, draws you in. It feels comfortable in a way it shouldn’t.
And if you aren’t going to leave, you might as well get on with it.
You gather your courage and head off again. The ‘fun-e-teria,’ the playplace, the giftshop, the ‘chill zone,’ the go kart tracks, the mini golf course, and a peek inside the birthday rooms, as to not interrupt the families there. It wasn’t a complicated layout, probably to prevent kids from getting lost. You say hello to all the bots on the way. One cleaner bot chitters at you and spins in a happy little circle. It was rather adorable, if not a bit odd to have just the one cleaner with a personality.
In less time than you thought, you end up outside the daycare. The employee-only routes that the service bots used also opened for you, luckily enough, and they still seemed serviceable for humans. They were tight, almost single file, but workable.
The area behind the daycare’s walls are littered in different posters and stickers, with the floor covered in brightly colored polka-dot carpets. A few toys sat scattered here and there. It looked a bit weird, seeing as no children would ever come back here, but you figured that it was necessary, seeing as there were a few windows looking back into this area.
Through them, you see the last animatronic. On first impression, he’s a little creepy with his all white eyes. That alone keeps you in the hallway for now. A gaggle of young children all crowd his ankles, laughing as he tossed another of their member into the air. He says something, but between the thick glass and the sound of the kids, you can’t make it out. The metallic rays around his face flare and spin, then he throws the child high, far higher than you’d ever dare.
Your breath stops. This will be another incident, and this time with just an itty bitty-
And then he catches them seamlessly by rolling them down his arm, across his shoulders, and then sending them a little ways up again before snagging their little body midflight. Throughout the whole routine, he took dancing steps, maneuvering carefully around the youngsters despite their erratic movements. He sets his charge on the ground where they collapse in a fit of giggles. Sun (because who else could this be with those rays) places his hands on his hips and speaks again. All of the tiny hands go sky high, some bouncing as the kids jump for attention. He points at one, then another, in what you recognize as ‘eeney meeney miney moe’ from your schoolyard days, before picking one with an expression of delight.
This child isn’t nearly as adventurous, hiding their smile behind an upturned shirt, but Sun somehow entices them up in the air laughing anyways. He doesn’t toss this one quite as high, but the children are all elated just the same. He performs a one handed cartwheel while managing to keep the kid upright the whole time and the room erupts again.
The atmosphere is contagious. Despite your initial worries, you find yourself smiling as well. It’s just too good of a performance. His movements are so fluid and expressive. It’s like watching a well animated cartoon come to life.
This might even be fun, if this is one of the two bots you’re supposed to pay the most attention to.
You open the door and shut it softly behind you. The children don’t notice, but Sun certainly hears you. His back is to you, and he crouched down in front of the mob.
“Oh my oh my, sounds like we have a visitor! I didn’t order any more sundrops, so I wonder who it could be!” He covers his eyes with his hands and tilts his head. “Let’s make it a game for you and me!” The children giggle as he taps his fingers over his faceplate, little metallic clinks resounding. “Hmm, is iiiiiit, a cleaning helper?”
The kids all laugh, like it’s the best joke they ever heard. “No!”
“Aww gee, I guess you guys win that one! Is iiiiiit, a security robot?”
Another round of peeling laughter, and another denial. Sun’s torso spins as he throws his arms out to either side in a grand exclamation.
“Well I guess it has to be Freddy himself, come to visit us!”
Some of the kids fall to the floor from their giggle fits. One girl, overstimulated, hops up and down while pointing in your direction. “It’s a person, Mr. Sun silly!”
He looks back and startles. If you weren’t trained to notice small changes in expressions, you would’ve missed it with how quickly he bounds towards you. You startle in kind when he quite literally sweeps you off the ground, taking you by the waist and lifting you into the air. He turns in a circle with you before setting you down.
“Why hello new friend! It’s just great, great, great to make new friends, right everyone!” They cheer, although a few hide behind their compatriots. While you regain your bearings, Sun leaps back towards the little ones, booping the last child he picked up on the nose. “You’re it, Hannah!” He turns to the rest. “I gotta talk with our new friend, so I’ll join you in a minute. You guys better use your head start! Get ready to run in three, two, one!”
The group breaks off like oil poured onto water. Sun bounces back up straight, legs together and hands on his hips as he proudly observes his work. You can’t help but stare. He’s got at least a foot on the other animatronics, and Sun’s so gangly, too. In motion, he’s elegant and a little silly, but at rest, you notice his arms and legs are a little longer than they’d be for a normal person.
And then he just, backflips back to you, doing a twist in midair so he faces you when he lands. Your breath hitches and you begin to move back, but Sun already has an arm around your shoulders.
“Heya! Haven’t seen you around here before! You’re not one of the parents, right? Are ya here to pick up one of the little ones? Or maybe you’re lost? I can help you get to where you go!” You open your mouth to speak, but something connects for him and he pinwheels backwards. Is it possible for an animatronic’s face to go ashen? Sun manages it, somehow. “O-o-oh gosh g-golly gee, I-I-I f-forget we, we were g-getting a n-new Caret-taker today! I-I- uhm, o-oh gosh I’m s-so sorry! I m-must’ve sc-scared you s-s-so bad, and now we c-can’t be friends, and-”
“Hey, hey, easy.” You step in, eyes wide. Who in their right mind gave this robot anxiety? You take his hands in yours, stopping their fretting. He still won’t look at you though. “I’m not mad, maybe a bit surprised. But not mad. It’s okay.”
“Y-you’re n-n-not…?”
From the way he’s curled in on himself, it’s easy to forget how he towers over you. You reach up and place a hand on his cheek, gently turning his face towards you. His rays stop and start in little spin cycles, but they flare and cease when you touch him. You smile when he glances at you. “No, not mad. I think it’s my job to be your friend, you know? That’d be pretty awful of me if I was mad at you on the first day of work.”
The movement of his rays becomes less jerky as his posture unfurls. “W-well that’s just s-swell! I’m still s-sorry for picking you up, though, t-that wasn’t very nice of me…”
“There’s no harm done, so there’s no need for an apology.” You rest back down on your heels again, seeing how Sun’s calming down. “I saw you with the kids through the window. You’re quite the acrobat. I haven’t seen anything that impressive since I went to the circus several years ago.”
He brightens significantly at the praise, his smile back in full force. “That’s super duper nice of you to say, new friend! The kids say that I’m cool all the time, but it’s really really special to hear it come from a grown-up like you! I can show ya if you stick around a bit longer!”
God, his happiness really is contagious. You felt a grin creep back on your face as well. “That was the plan, actually. I was going to spend some time here, if that’s alright.” You peek around him to the kids, some of whom are hiding in the ball pit away from the currently ‘it’ child. “But it seems like you’re busy?”
Sun throws his hands up in the grandest shrug you’ve ever seen. “It sure is a full house today! I don’t think that’s a bad thing, though! That just means I have a bunch more friends to play with!” He winks at you. “But it’s pickup in a half hour, so we can talk more then!”
Without further warning, he bounces off, announcing that he’s going to tag everyone before anyone has a chance to tag him. You chuckle as the kids all peel off away from him. It’s like an unfair game of hide and seek.
As the immediate excitement dies down for you, so do your energy levels. This place is… a lot. You knew it’d be weird, yes, but this is pushing your expectations. By a good margin. You sit down next to the wall, watching the scene absently. Every so often Sun looks over at you, and you have to smile, because in the moments you don’t, he looks afraid of you. Subtly, barely, in a way you think he doesn’t expect you to notice, but it’s unmistakable.
And that’s what gets you. Those moments of fear, the hesitation you saw in the other animatronics. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say they were wary of you. But that would have to be programmed in, and that made no sense. These were machines made to be around people. If they feared newcomers, Fazbear would’ve sunk before it ever started its engine.
Which implied these were learned behaviors. That’d be fine on its own, learning AIs and all of that. However, the micro expressions you saw from Sun and the delight you noticed in Freddy when he performed for the kid, they felt genuine. Maybe it was a really convincing replica of human emotion. Still, if it was that convincing, so life-like that you were starting to wonder if they were alive, where did you draw the line? What was the difference between realistic programming and consciousness?
What implications did that have for you as their Caretaker?
You huff quietly. See, questions like these are why you didn’t want to work in ethics. Yet here you are, presently the sole arbiter of what counted as sentience in robots designed to entertain children. Your shoulders tense. This should be a job for someone with far more qualifications than you.
Maybe you’d gotten in over your head. But damn it all if you weren’t an inquisitive person. At the very least, leaving without the semblance of an answer put a bad taste in your mouth. It might be a bad idea, but you’d stay until you could say with more confidence if there were people or not, or until the month was up. Whatever came first.
In the meantime, while you wait for the kids to go home, you watch. Sun figuratively juggles the kids expertly, completely at ease amongst the little monsters. If he stops to comfort one, he just as easily reaches behind him to wordlessly separate a squabbling pair and end the fight with just a look. Not that any kid ever cried for long. You’ve never seen someone dry tears as quickly as Sun.
And man, is he fast . He takes the longest, most dramatic pauses in between tagging children, but when he decides to actually fetch one, the chase is over within seconds. The difference between playfully chasing and intent to tag is striking. He makes it all effortless, though, with grand sweeping gestures and long statements of being bested until he actually grabs one. None of the children catch on, and none grow bored with the show. Sun makes the best use of the daycare possible, from climbing up the play place and hanging off of it, to lifting up tables where the children very obviously are not. At one point he tags three at once and carries them back as his “beautiful bouquet,” which they all find hysterical.
Sooner than you expect, you hear parents filing into the daycare, although you’re out of their sight from where you sit. Sun has the right kids matched to their adults in a jiffy, along with all of their things. Once again, his efficiency is impressive to watch. Most of the parents thank Sun, although some simply gave a stiff, strained nod. Apparently not everyone is entirely comfortable with an animatronic watching their kids, which you get. However, even the most anti-robot parent would kill to get their kids in here. The prestige of getting into Fazbear’s daycare is legendary. From what you’ve heard, there’s a waiting list a mile long for this place, and the tuition is as least as much as one of your degrees total per year, if not more.
Once the last kid is out the door and Sun’s waved them goodbye, he leaps back over to you, sliding in criss cross applesauce once he’s a few feet away. He manages to stop his momentum just in time so he’s not in your space. Well, maybe he’s a little in your space, but not egregiously.
His expression is oddly distant, though. You tilt your head. If this was a proper job where you’d have to analyze him, you’d say Sun’s attention was elsewhere, ungrounded. For a robot, though, that makes no sense. You figured he’s just decompressing after a long day of kids, and leave it at that. He blinks a few times after a minute or two and finally gives you his attention, as if nothing was wrong.
“So Sunshine, what’dya wanna talk about? I’m an open book, so feel free to ask away, anything goes!”
In the now quiet daycare, his voice rattles you. He sounded like an appropriate volume when all the kids were yelling. The bombast knocks you off guard now, though. You take a breath to steady yourself. It’s fine, it’s just how he is. “Well, is there anything you want to know about me? And how can I best help you? Those are my two big ones. If there’s anything you want to share about yourself, I’m not opposed to that at all either.”
He freezes, eyes wide. You realize just how much he moves in small ways only once he stops. Sun touches a hand to his chest. “You… you’re gonna let me ask about you ? Oh no no no , I’m the Daycare Attendant! I’m supposed to help other people, and I can’t see how asking about you would help you at all! And you’re staff! I’m not supposed to be bothering staff! And this is your first day on the job! I can’t be getting in your way!”
You chuckle. “If you know how to get in my way, please let me know. At least then I’d know what I’m not supposed to be doing. I haven’t been told much about how to be a Caretaker here, and there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of confidence that I can do my job well.”
Sun’s rays fan outwards. “Oh but you’re doing a wonderful job! We haven’t had such a lovely Caretaker ever, or even such a nice Daycare Assistant when we had those back, um, before.” He fidgets with his hands while you nod, waiting for him to get his bearings again. It takes a moment. He fades out, his movements slowing, then jumps back into animation. “But for how not to get in your way, I know lots and lots about that! I can’t be too loud, I can’t be all over you, I shouldn’t get the children too excited even if I think I know what I’m doing, I don’t need to get in your way, and I shouldn’t make a fuss over nothing!”
Your heart breaks, not just at the words, but how he wholeheartedly believes what he tells you. Who the hell would’ve said those things to him? He must’ve seen your face fall, because he quickly throws his hands over his mouth. “Oh goodness me, have I been talking too much? That’s another one, I can’t be talking too much, Sunshine. O-or calling people too many nicknames, that can be rude you know, s-so I-”
You lean in and he flinches back. It gives you pause, since you don’t want to scare him after all, but you continue anyways, wrapping the lanky robot in a hug. His arms hover at his sides as he stutters. You press a hand in the middle of his back, lingering for a moment before backing off, keeping your hands on his shoulders. You don’t know what his boundaries are and you might’ve already crossed them, but you couldn’t leave him looking so miserable.
“None of that,” you state firmly. “I won’t have it. I know literally one thing about this job and that’s that I’m supposed to make sure you’re okay. All of that, those things the other people told you, that’s the opposite of okay. That’s just bullying you. I mean it when I say you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been delightful while I’ve been here, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen someone be so skillful with children. You’re doing a wonderful job too, and I don’t see any part of you that needs to change.”
He stares back at you, eyes like saucers, his barely visible pupils tracking your face. Almost like he expects you to pull the rug out from under him, to tell him that what you said was just a poorly made joke.
You break the silence first, allowing your arms to return to your sides. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Sun followed your hands forward just a touch as you pulled back. “Where did you learn all of that, Sun?”
“A-ah, sorry? W-what was t-that? I d-didn’t quite, catch it…”
“Where did you learn all of those phrases? They’re awfully mean. I can’t imagine you just coming up with them on your own, and it doesn’t sound like you like them very much.”
He sways back and forth, his head bobbing a bit more than his body, giving him that cartoon look again. The speed at which he rebounds is dizzying. “Gosh, I can’t really say, it’s been so long! Here and there, a bit of everywhere. Everyone’s got something to say, and it’s important to listen to your friends so they know you care about them, like I care about you! We’re friends now, so I want to be the very best bestest friend I can ever be! Just tell me what you need and I’ll make sure I’m there for you, Sunshine! No matter what!”
He throws a closed hand across the space in front of his chest, a gesture you’re sure is meant to assure you. His cheerful demeanor is infectious, sure, but you’re not so easily distracted. You snatch his hand out of the air (he flinches again - your stomach rolls at the sight) and lower it gently. You hold it for the moment, brushing a thumb over the thin layer of silicone. His shoulders hitch upwards when you offer him a small smile.
“Sun, really, I’m supposed to be the Caretaker here. It’s okay if you let someone else look out for you for once. That’s what I’m here for. I already think you’d be a great friend. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
His fingers twitch near yours, as if he wants to hold your hand back, but he stops himself for whatever reason. “That’s super sweet, Sunshine! I can see why they brought you here as Caretaker, I feel taken care of already! I bet there’s nothing you can’t do!”
“Well at least that makes one of us,” you sigh. You realize what he’s done, and okay, maybe you’re a little distractible. You let him get away with it though. “Thank you, Sun.” His rays spin at the praise and you smile. “Actually, now that I think about it, there is one thing you might be able to help me with.”
You lose your grip on his hand as he clasps his hands to his cheeks. “Really? If I can I’ll definitely do it, anything for my newest bestest friend! Just say the word and I’m there, no trouble and no complaints from me!”
You lean back, at ease now that the conversation seems to have settled. “I’ve been trying to meet with everyone today, and I’m pretty sure I’ve managed it, but I haven’t been able to say hi to Moon yet. I don’t know where he is. I’m also a bit confused? I thought there were only five of you guys here, but with Moon, that’d make six animatronics. I can’t imagine corporate making a mistake on how many of you are here, but something’s a bit off. I just want to make sure I’m not leaving anyone out.”
A flurry of emotions pass over Sun’s face, too quickly for you to recognize, before he waves his hands in front of him wildly. “Oh no, that can’t can’t can’t happen! Moon is on security duty only , he doesn’t get to meet new people, not until we’re sure he’s calmed down!” He goes quiet as he looks askance, quieter than you thought possible for him. “He’s… h-he’s definitely not calmed down yet, you can’t meet him. It’s not safe for you.”
Well, you don’t have to be told twice not to interact with a dangerous animatronic at Fazbear’s. You give Sun a decisive nod. “If you say so. Can you say hi to him for me though? I don’t know where he is.” A pause, then you frown. “Actually, that might be a problem. I really don’t plan on running into Moon if, if it’s not safe, but I would like to know where he is so I don’t run into him on accident.”
Sun’s hands worry the frills on the top of his pants. “U-uh, well, j-just don’t go into the d-dark. T-that’s it. Really simple! Just, don’t go into the dark and you’re a-okay! No ouchies or boo-boos when you’re in the light, and then we can all be friends and everything is alright!”
That… doesn’t make much sense. It’s pretty dark in a few places out in the main areas of the plex. Maybe Moon’s just not active during the day? You considered asking a few more questions, but Sun already seemed pretty stressed. The last thing you needed was to make one of the animatronics cry on your first day here. You pat his knee in an attempt to console.
“That’s helpful, thanks for letting me know. Are you sure you don’t want to ask me any questions? I feel like I’ve learned about you a bit but you don’t know much about me. Not that you have to know, but I thought I’d offer.”
“No, but, um…” He deflates before he even speaks. “You probably have to go soon. I have to clean and get things ready for tomorrow and then Moon will be here, so I don’t have a whole lot of time left in the day, and it’s not safe for you while Moon’s here…” His hands curl around the fabric and his voice raises several pitches as a realization hits him. “N-not that I-I’m telling you w-what to do!! No no, not at all! I-I just want my best best best friend to be s-safe, and for the kids t-to be safe, and for the p-parents to be happy, and oh my stars I-I’m talking too much a-and you’re not g-gonna come back and I ruined it Imsosorryplease-”
“Sun!” He flinches when you raise your voice, as well intentioned as you meant it, and you instantly regret doing so. “Sun, hey. You’re okay. I’m okay. It’s all alright. No need to worry.” You slide your fingers in between his and the frills, teasing out his grip until he’s holding you instead. The two of you linger there, his hands trembling slightly. “Thank you for telling me, really. It’s helpful for me. I’m supposed to know what you need, right? That’s my job. That’s very important, for me to know what you need. I don’t know what the last Caretakers were like, but that’s the kind of Caretaker I am. I want to know what you need, okay, Sun?”
He nods shallowly, not taking his hands back from you. You smile. “That’s it. Good job.” Some of his smile returns at the praise, so you give his hands a little squeeze. “This is my job for now, so I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“M’kay.” He sniffles a bit. You wonder if he has the capacity to cry, not that you want to see it, but with his expression, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could.
That’s a lie. But it’d be nice if there weren’t any more big surprises here.
You get to your feet, and this time Sun’s fingertips definitely trail after you when you leave. That gives you a moment’s pause. Was the robot… touch starved?
You know what. That’s a tomorrow problem.
You wave as you head out the door. “See you tomorrow! Promise!”
He waves back, a little more tentative than you expected. “See you tomorrow, bestest best friend! Be safe!”
And then the door shuts, the warm yellow walls of the daycare replaced with the harsh white of the fluorescents overhead. You take a breath and head back through the employee tunnels, intending on finishing up your day.