Chapter Text
"Master?"
"Master...?"
"Master."
"Master Weller sir, I am afraid you will miss your appointed meeting at this rate.", the caution previously exuded in the electronic feminine voice gave way to an unsubtly lecturing tone.
The robot, dimly-lit by the early morning light finding its way into the hall, once again knocked on the bedroom door.
Finally, after having lethargically opened his eyes, the aging tinkerer - Devon Weller - stretched in his bed. The resulting wails of the mattress coils immediately signalled that the proper morning ritual was about to begin.
Before allowing himself the opportunity to drowse off, he took a couple deep breaths and responded:
"Okay... come in."
Slowly and gently, the door opened to make way for a short, dull-grey automaton, its short faded-purplish hair-wig put in a neat and compact hairdo, wearing an old kitchen apron over its clothes. It quickly appraised the amount of cleaning up the dark room was going to need soon, and approached a simple wooden chair next to its master's bed. As it sat down, its master, still reclined in bed, was still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Once neatly settled in the chair, hands on lap, the metallic voice resounded once again. Its tone did not fully match the simplistic, chipper expression of its owner:
"Master, it is currently 5:27 in the morning, you have approximately three hours until the meeting, shall I dispense some pills for you?"
The robot already started rolling up its sleeve to reveal a series of small custom compartments embedded in its arm, but the man grumbled, his index finger and thumb tracing invisible lines accross his forehead.
"No, have to wait this damn hypertension out, just sit here and make sure I don't fall back to sleep."
"Of course, master Weller."
With that, the robot rolled its sleeve down and reached under the bed. It took out a ruffled, faded box, its markings bordering on illegibility. Carefully taking out its content, more so that the old box's edges would not give, the automaton placed the item on an empty part of the bed and got to work. Gently, it untangled the thick rubber-coated air tube and put the grey cuff on its master's left arm, pressing a large button on the blood pressure monitor, which responded with a plastic clunk.
"Please try to stay still now, master.", the robot said quietly, illiciting no response from the man lying in bed as the cuff started inflating, accompanied by the mechanical droning sound of the device.
The cuff reached its measuring stage and, for a brief couple of moments, only the drowsy man's intentionally deep and regular breaths and the bot's internal electric hum were interrupting the ensuing silence.
After a while, the cuff deflated and the automaton leaned in to read the results off the device's small LCD display.
"Well?" the man asked, still half-asleep.
"No significant change, master Weller, for better or for worse."
"Okay." the man exhaled while taking off the cuff, the robot placing the monitor back in its box.
He was starting to straighten up in his bed, slowly shifting to a sitting position. The still figure sitting in the chair watched, as if deep in thought. Having finally gotten a proper look at his surroundings, the tinkerer suddenly stopped. He turned his inquisitive gaze over at the old machine staring back at him. He eyed it up and down, noting the cheap kitchen apron the robot was wearing over its usual brown overalls and an unfashionably old grey shirt.
"I told you that I wouldn't be eating breakfast, I'm pressed for time today and we already wasted some of it because of all that medical nonsense." he declared in a tone of someone who would rather hole up in their room instead of dealing with their daily nuisances.
"Of course, master Weller," the robot responded as soon as its owner finished, "which is why I prepared a heartier lunch you could take with you, if you felt so inclined, sir."
The man visibly sank into his bed, slowly turning his eyes towards the ceiling.
"Sure, and have those Sterling bigheads called to make any last-second arrangements?"
"No, master. The meeting is still expected to take place today at 8:30 am, in Beacon City, Sterling Tower, conference room on floor 49.", the bot recited.
Realizing that his headache has subsided, the man forced himself out of bed before the prospect of the journey ahead could get to him, letting out a couple labored breaths as he did. The old machine stood up from the chair to help, but was waved off. It followed the man out of the bedroom as soon as he'd put on his slippers, taking some last couple quick looks back, surveying the state of the untidy room.
"I will be in the kitchen in case you should need me, master Weller." the robot said before disappearing behind a corner at the end of the hallway and leaving the man to his routine.
Too tired to take much notice of what his robot had said, he entered the cramped bathroom, shut the door behind him, and proceeded with the next steps of his morning ritual, which he knew he had to rush through.
By the time he was done and opened the door again, the hallway was already visibly better-lit. The sun's morning rays were shining in from the kitchen. Still clutching a towel and drying his jet-black hair, he stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing him into the hallway before he entered back into his bedroom.
Despite today's attire differing from the usual outfit he'd wear to his workshop-store, he found his clothing in the usual spot - on the armchair at his work desk. Everything neatly folded and prepared the day before by his mechanical helper, to ensure his mornings proceeded as smoothly as possible. It didn't take him very long to put on his business clothes - his white shirt, faux leather shoes, brown checkered suit and pants to match.
Finally, he grabbed his red tie, pocketed a comb off his desk, and went back out into the hallway, going in the direction of the kitchen. He stopped next to a mirror, hanging just before the doorway, and put the loose tie on his shoulder before adjusting his shirt.
As he was tying his tie - not one of his favorite activities, but one he had to perform on his own, as his robot's hands were not dexterous enough and its outdated software refused to accept alternative modifications - his mind started trailing off into the future, and he called out into the kitchen.
"How are we doing for time?"
"It is currently 6:46 in the morning, master Weller." the mechanical voice called back.
The man could hear what little activity in the kitchen that there was ceasing before a couple dull-sounding footsteps on the tiled kitchen floor brought his robot to the doorway next to him.
Making some last perfectionist adjustments to his tie, the tinkerer, already judging his unfitting appearance in the mirror, went on to take out his comb and get to work on his disheveled hair, hints of grey visible on the sides of his head.
"They wouldn't expect me to decorate and hang fancy paintings around the workshop when they come visit, and yet all this..." he grumbled trying to find a way to make his head of hair look adequate, all the while his robot stood beside him, awaiting any possible requests.
"Did you grab the keys and keycards?" the man suddenly asked, turning his eyes to look at the machine's reflection in the mirror.
"Of course, master Weller.", the automaton, now without its kitchen apron, presented its hand. A thin compartment slid out of its forearm, revealing the requested contents inside.
The man, briefly examining his modification to the android, responded with a quiet but satisfied "mhm", prompting the machine to end its display.
Eventually, having deemed his hairstyling efforts finished, the man turned away from the mirror. His impromptu hairdo, paired with a suit fit for an accomplished car salesman, made him suspect he'd make the impression of a mad scientist straight out of a cheesy superhero movie. There was a very brief moment of silence as the robot evaluated its owner's efforts.
"You look presentable, master!" the bot exclaimed in a sincerely enthusiastic tone.
"Yeah." he responded, a faint unamused smile appearing on his face, "Did you pack everything I requested in my briefcase?"
"Yes, master, I have also just finished packing your lunch, the briefcase is in the kitche-"
The robot's answer was cut short by the ringing sound of a phone, coming from its owner's bedroom.
"The kitchen." the man repeated and nodded in the sound's direction. "That one's on my desk, means it's business. Better if you answered, you'll be manning the store today anyway."
"Right away, master Weller." the robot quickly answered and darted off in its master's bedroom's direction.
"Oh, and we'll be taking the van today, I'll pick up more parts from the city while I'm there!" the man quickly added before the bot disappeared in the room, but not before acknowledging the new information.
He sighed, only now noticing the pangs of frustration that little interruption sparked in him. He quickly shrugged the feeling off and entered the kitchen to grab his briefcase.
As he did, he stopped and took a moment to go over his morning mental checklist. Idly staring out of the window, frowning at the sight of trees swaying in the early wind, he could not shake the feeling of having missed something. Getting lost deeper in thought he reflexively scratched his wrist, as was his custom in such situations, and that was when he realized.
Right, the watch! The minor eureka echoed in his head. Briefcase in hand, he quickly paced towards his bedroom, relieved by the banality of this morning's yet another interruption. As he entered, his robot was already exchanging cordial goodbyes with whomever was on the other side of the phone. Grabbing his simple watch off the bedside table and putting it around his wrist, he asked:
"Well? What was that about?"
"Mister Kander wished to inquire about our recent Sterling-brand actuator shipment, master." the mechanical figure answered, putting the handset back down.
"Has he gone insane?" the man hissed out, "Why does he care so much to call this early?"
Having looked at the watch now fastened to his wrist, not waiting for a proper answer, he ushered the robot out of the bedroom and followed it to the front door.
"He didn't say, master Weller, but I informed him that they'll be in our stock by tomorrow." the bot added, midstep.
As the two of them made their way outside, the man closed the front door to the house and pocketed the key. Feeling the chilly April wind made him involuntarily attempt to retreat his head in between his shoulders, but imagining the sight of a checkered suit with the only thing for a head being a mass of terminally disobedient hair made him straighten out almost without pausing. He was aware of how outlandish his way of carrying himself stood to make him look, and he was not in the least interested in adding any humor to the scene. Despite everything, he did feel some pride in his image as the town's go-to mechanic hermit, and the least he could do is not ruin it.
Approaching the van parked next to the house, the tinkerer could hear the robot trying to keep pace behind him . Its dull-sounding rhythmical steps resounded on the walkway.
"Huttondale seems terribly chilly today, master! Shall I go back and fetch you your coat?" the short machine stopped at its master's side as he fiddled with his keys, the bot's simple features nevertheless betraying that it was waiting for an answer.
"I'm fine." the man exhaled, "It's not even that bad, you can barely feel such things anyway." he added as he absentmindedly entered the van.
The robot didn't linger, it came around and sat in the front seat as soon as its owner flicked the door's lock knob from the inside.
"Hold it for me?" he said, putting his briefcase on the robot's lap.
"Of course, master Weller.", it answered in its usual upbeat tone as the van was already making its way out onto the street.
The small single-family houses sprinkled all over Huttondale seemed silent, the streets were still relatively empty. The town, for all intents and purposes, was still mostly asleep. The drive to the workshop-store was not going to take long, one of the perks of setting up shop outside of the bustling metropolis of Beacon City. A quick glance at the watch calmed the man somewhat. Despite all the interruptions and hassles, he was making good time. After taking a couple turns, he remembered something.
"I was meaning to ask - you said something about a larger lunch?"
"Yes, master." the robot perked up and eagerly began explaining, "I prepared sandwiches - more than usual, there's some tea with honey in the thermos, I also packed two packs of cashews, and some leftover..."
The man listened, silently enjoying all the promises for a tasty afternoon the bot was describing.
It continued, "...there are some mints, but naturally you are not expected to eat them all today master, there's also a cookie, and also an apple," - the words made him briefly straighten up in his seat. He knew what was about to come next.
"remember, master:"
"an apple a day keeps the doctor away." - the man recited in unison with the bot, albeit clearly more bored, as if doing so would force the moment to pass a little quicker. No matter what he said, he could not dissuade this robot from throwing such boilerplate quality of life advice at him. At some point he even stopped trying. He knew that those older General Robotics all-purpose products tended to give such cliche advice, but he's never heard of any GR Jane model being as persistent as his was.
Each time it happened, he'd eventually admit to himself that it had stopped annoying him years ago.
The ride continued, and the man decided to fill the ensuing silence by doubly... triply, making sure that the day would proceed as smoothly as possible.
"So you got the keys, and you remember where all the orders in the storage are, right?" he asked, eyes still on the road.
"Of course, master." his bot responded matter-of-factly.
Scratching his clean-shaven chin before proceeding to his wrist, he continued. "Anything happens, you manually turn security back on, it's probably going to be on the charging station."
The bot's head was turned in his direction, simple blank eye-screens trained on him, the machine listening intently to its masters accelerating explanations.
"If Kander comes knocking, asking for the actuators, you just remind him what patience is, I swear..." he added.
"And the repair projects in the workshop, you can prepare th-" the man cut himself off and audibly exhaled through his nose, before continuing at a slower pace. "Not the first time you had to take care of the shop, it'll be fine."
After a short moment he heard the automaton's voice forming into a hum of agreement, immediately followed by a "Yes, master Weller."