Chapter Text
Today was the day.
Your first day at your new job, a parts and service tech at the Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex. You’d be working up close and personal with some of the country’s most advanced animatronics. This was any robot nerd’s dream, yours included. Luck would have it that your robotics professor just so happened to know someone in management in the company and knew they needed a replacement, pretty desperately or so it sounded. Enter, you.
Somehow, after two years of showing up late and forgetting homework assignments like this course wouldn’t define the rest of your life, your professor still recognized your talent and recommended you for the position. Which you’re still reeling from. You’re not one to shy away from the occasional brag, you’ve been taking apart machines and putting them back together since you could hold a screwdriver and learning code since your underfunded middle school finally introduced computers to its curriculum, but to have someone else recognize it in such a real, tangible way is something else entirely. You keep feeling the need to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.
Sleep was hard to come by last night… and the night before. Truthfully every night since your professor pulled you into his office after class has been fraught with more insomnia than you’ve come to get used to. Your brother, Matt, nearly locked you in your room after the second day to keep you from pacing a trail into the living room carpet.
Your alarm goes off next to you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You reach over and silence it before it even gets out a second BEEP, turning to your desk to rifle through your backpack for the fourth time that morning to make absolutely sure you’re not forgetting any essentials (anxiety be damned, you will NOT be forgetting anything on your first day). Wallet: check. Phone: check. Employee handbook with your system login scribbled in the corner: check. Old ass iPod Nano and accompanying shitty earbuds: check. You’ve been fighting back and forth with yourself all morning on whether or not you’re supposed to bring your own tools and, realizing it’d be pretty ridiculous to make you lug a heavy tool box back and forth, settled on the fact that you’re thinking too hard again. You were definitely going to bring your lucky screwdriver with you, no way you’re leaving that behind. Heaving a totally not at all anxiety-riddled sigh, you zip up your backpack and throw it over your shoulder before slipping out your bedroom door and closing it with a soft click.
Down the hall you hear the sounds of cooking and soft conversation coming from the kitchen before the smell of pancakes hits your nose. Following your senses, you step into the small, warm kitchen just in time to catch the bright laugh of your brother’s fiancé, Lisa.
“Good morning!,’ she greets you from her seat at the little dining table. Her red hair is tied up in a sleek bun and she’s dressed in a clean white button up and slacks, she must have work today.
“‘Morning, Lis, I thought you were off for the weekend?,” you ask, setting your backpack on the table and taking the seat across from her. She slides your favorite mug (an old promotional mug from a long dead hole-in-the-wall diner) filled with hot coffee over to you as you sit, before taking a sip from her own cup and rolling her eyes.
“She’s supposed to be off for this whole week,” Matt quips from his station at the stove. “But she’s just too damn good at her job.” He turns to set a plate of fresh steaming pancakes in front of Lisa, pecking a quick kiss into the top of her head while she light-heartedly glares at him over her coffee.
“I got a call from a new client a couple days ago and it’s a pretty urgent case.,” she explains, looking back at you. She picks up her fork as Matt returns to the table to set down your own plate of pancakes, lightly ruffling your hair before turning back to the stove.
“Believe me, if I could I’d be taking a vacation and parking my ass on that couch until January.” She punctuates her sentence by pointing her fork at the 30 year old beat up sofa seen through the entryway between the kitchen and living room. The poor old thing was on its last leg (literally) but somehow still held up fine. Hell, you could say that about the entire house. It was pretty comfortable though.
“You know there’s no way in hell you’d be able to stand sitting still that long, hon,” Matt laughs, taking his seat between the two of you with his own plate and mug in each hand. Lisa lightly kicks him under the table, an easy chuckle falling from her lips. “You’re probably right but I’d try really hard.”
Conversation flows as the three of you eat your breakfast. A lot of mornings are like this now, quiet, warm, and friendly. Before Lisa moved in, it was just you and Matt. It had always been you and Matt, ever since you were kids the two of you were inseparable. He’s the only family you have left, and if you think about it, the only family you ever really had. When he introduced you to Lisa for the first time he was terrified the two of you wouldn’t get along but you ended up becoming good friends by the end of the night, telling her all your favorite embarrassing stories about your older brother. That was 4 years ago, now Lisa’s in her first year of working in a private law firm, Matt has a stable job as a pediatric nurse, and you’re about to be juggling your first semi-well paying job while getting your degree in mechanical engineering. For the first time in your life, things were starting to look good. Normal, even.
“So, you nervous, kid?” Matt looks at you with an eyebrow raised, shoveling a forkful of pancake in his mouth. You put a hand over your chest, mustering up all the dramatics you possess. “Me? Nervous? I’m offended you’d even suggest such a thing,” you scoff, turning your nose up at him. Lisa barks a laugh and Matt rolls his eyes, putting on his own theatrics, “Ooooh, do forgive me. I forgot I was talking to my brother, who is definitely, absolutely, never, ever nervous.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, you laugh and smack his arm.
“Yeah, I’m nervous, you ass. This is only like, one of the coolest opportunities you can get in the robotics world!,” you say giggling, fiddling with the fork in your hands. “I mean, I know I can do it but it’s still nerve-wracking. Like, Fazbear is the robot company, you know? And I’m working on their robots.” Not only did you know you could do this job, you knew you could do this job well. Maybe not better than anyone else they have hired, you assume Fazbear surely has to have a decent team of mechanics to make sure their stars are in tip-top shape, but you’ve never lacked confidence in your skills.
“I still don’t like that it’s contracted work, especially for a company like this,” Matt grumbles into his coffee. You hum in agreement.
In all your excitement, you had nearly forgotten about that. Your professor had warned you that if you accepted the position you’d be under a 2 year contract with the company. The pay was a little more than what they usually pay for the position, you’d be guaranteed Tuesdays and Thursdays off (unless there was an emergency with an animatronic or you opted to come in), and you’d have access to healthcare a month into the position. The only downsides were needing to be on call on days off (not like you have a social life anyway), your shift being overnights (9pm-6am, not that you sleep much at night anyway and it’ll give you plenty of time to catch up on schoolwork, since your shift’s only really that long due to the security lockdown every night. A little overkill you think but you’re not the multi-billion robot company in charge.), and the fact that they have to put you under contract because the turn-over rate is so high in this job apparently. Not that they told you that, of course, but you can put two and two together.
“Yeah, I don’t really like it either but I can’t pass up an opportunity like this,” you sigh. You really couldn’t. As much as you don’t trust the company (despite your admiration for their work) this could be a bright shining star on your resume if all goes well. People talked about Fazbear, you’ve heard plenty of the horror stories in your brief few years in this city, but you couldn’t doubt the quality of their work. No one could.
“Besides, if anything goes sideways I’ve got the best lawyer in Washington County on my side,” you say with a smirk, taking a bite from your plate. Lisa laughs lightly and rises from her seat, plate in hand, to turn to the sink. “Just make sure you have an actual case this time, and I’ll be sure to represent you to the best of my ability,” she calls over her shoulder teasingly. You laugh and return to your breakfast.
“Seriously though, I want you to be careful,” Matt says, catching your attention. “You know as well as I do that these big business assholes’ll do whatever they can to weasel out more than they deserve,” He mops up the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his pancakes and points it at you, looking at you seriously. “Don’t work yourself to death over this job. I’m really excited for you, Newt, but I know how you get when it comes to your robot nerd shit.” He lets his tone lighten slightly with the small jab.
You roll your eyes, finishing your own plate. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks dad.” You stand and grab both your plates to rinse in the sink, narrowly missing Matt's hand darting out to slap at you. Lisa chuckles lightly from the doorway, putting on her jacket and grabbing her purse from the little table by the front door.
“You two are the cutest, makes me wish I had siblings”, she hums. Matt huffs, grabbing his coffee and getting to his feet to see his fiancé off to work. “You say that, but then you have to drive across the city at 3 A.M. to pick their wasted ass up from the dive bar they thought was a good idea to go to on their 21st birthday and having your backseat destroyed as thanks.”
“Hey!,” you exclaim, turning on your heel to point at him. “I apologized and paid for that piece of shit to get reupholstered. You agreed to not bring it up again.” Matt chuckles and waves a hand at you placatingly. “I know, I know, sorry.” You huff and turn back to the sink to finish rinsing your dishes while your brother kisses Lisa goodbye and waves to the other people in the carpool from the door. Placing the plates in the sink, you turn to grab your mug from the table and check the time. 7:22 A.M. Miraculously you’ve still got a bit before you actually have to leave.
Matt walks back into the kitchen, finishing the last bit of his coffee and placing his mug in the sink with the plates. He turns to you, leaning against the counter and says, “Are you sure you wanna bike today? I could drop you off, you know? I’m off today.” The idea of riding your beat up old Schwinn back and forth to work every day was not appeasing in the slightest. You didn’t live too far from the ‘plex but your house was still a considerable distance away from the city. Hence why you had to give yourself an hour and a half to get there. Plus it was about to start getting cold with November just around the corner.
“Hm, I might actually take you up on that. I’m gonna have to get used to the ride eventually though,” you say after thinking for a second.
“True, but I could still drive you when I get the chance, right? Lessen the load a bit. I could ask Lisa if she’d mind when she has the time, too. I’m just not too fond of the idea of you biking through the city alone all night.”, He grumbles the last sentence. You smile, watching him pick at a piece of loose tile on the counter. Matthew Wilson, ever the protective big brother. Telling him no now would only make him double down in the future.
“Alright, but only because an hour and a half commute every day sounds worse than the 10 hour shift.”, you relent easily, finishing your coffee and handing Matt the now empty mug. He smiles wide, placing your mug among the others and pushes himself off the counter. He claps his hands down on your shoulders and pushes you toward the small bathroom in the hall behind you. “Good!,” he says brightly, “now go brush your teeth before you forget again.”
Shit. You spent so much time worrying about what to bring with you, you completely forgot to take care of yourself. Again. It’s a shitty habit to break, and you’ve never quite gotten rid of it despite things being generally better nowadays. Sometimes if you’re focused enough on whatever project you have going at the moment, you’ll forget to eat or drink for days at a time. You pay the price for it when it catches up to you but you can’t help it. You’re pretty sure if it weren’t for Matt, you’d have died years ago from accidental malnourishment. Or earlier but you don’t want to think about that.
“Ugh, yeah, sorry. I’ll go do that,” you mutter sheepishly.
“What would you do without your big brother?”, Matt retorts playfully, hands on his hips and looking down his nose at you. You roll your eyes and shut the bathroom door, his question ringing through your head. What would you do without your big brother?
~
You pull up to the massive building in record time, 20 minutes early to be exact. With it being a Sunday, the parking lot isn’t quite as full as you’ve seen it before in passing on your way to the grocery store down the road. Matt pulls the car up to the front entrance putting the car in park before ducking his head to better see the building’s entrance through the passenger window.
“Jesus, never realized how big this place is. Can’t imagine what it’s like inside.”, He mutters. You look back at him and he grins at you, “Good thing you’re night-shift. You’d probably implode with all the people in there during the day.”
You give him a withering look, but know he’s right. The thought of the crowd that must be in the mall during operating hours is enough to make your already nervous stomach churn. One-on-one conversation? Easy. Small group of people? No problem. Crowds of strangers with no regard for you or anyone’s personal space? Absolutely not. The only reason you’re here so early in the day today is for orientation. You’re supposed to meet with your manager to be shown around the building and get a feel for where everything is. You’re also supposed to fill out on-boarding paperwork and complete some basic computer training. Joy. After today though, you start your job in full, working from 9 PM to 6 AM, or at least until you’ve finished everything on the day’s schedule, you just can’t leave until 6. Security lockdown and all that. No bustling crowds of exhausted parents and screaming children then, thankfully.
“Showtime, kid. Got everything you need?” Matt pulls your attention back to him. “Oh, before I forget, when do you need me to come pick you up?” He asks suddenly, remembering you need a way to get home.
“Yeah, I have everything, or I should. I checked like 7 times before I left. Uh, I think I get out at 3 but I’ll text you if it changes.” You don’t think computer training will take too long but companies really like to pat themselves on the back via PowerPoint presentations they force new hires to sit through for some reason. You still remember having to take a quiz about the founder of fucking Walmart after an hour long slideshow about the guy. Miserable.
The walkthrough of the building will probably take the most time out of the day, given how massive the building is. You’re dying to know how they have the maintenance room set up. You can only assume it's more advanced than your shabby little workshop you set up in the backyard out of an old RV and some tarps to serve as a makeshift extension. You loved your workshop, you spent a lot of time and effort setting it up, but you were itching to get your hands on more advanced equipment than you could afford as a student.
“Sounds good, I’ll be here then. Good luck, Newt. I know you don’t need it but ya know.” Matt says as he ruffles your hair. You snort and push his hand away, then grab your bag and step out of the car.
“Thanks, love you,” You say, bending to look back into the car.
“Love you too, kid. Now get outta here.” You turn and make your way towards the entrance, hearing your brother’s old car drive away behind you. Every step closer to the doors made the ball of anxiety in your gut grow tighter. If you had taken this job a few years ago, before you were put on the joy in a bottle that is your anxiety medication, you probably wouldn’t have even made it to the car. As excited as you were for this new experience, you were equally as scared. You had no idea what to really expect. You only knew two things about Fazbear Entertainment. First, they were the countries leading powerhouse of AI and animatronic advancement. Their reach didn’t end at the several pizzaplexs dotted around the map, they even made a few household bots for basic chores and a few lines of robotic toys. You even had one of their older model toys that you were working on in your spare time, a little robotic lizard you named Ozzy. Second, they were as shady of a business as you could possibly get. Missing persons cases, cover stories, lawsuits settled and promptly swept under the rug, finding forums talking about rumors where half the replies are deleted and the account suspended, you name it. Good luck finding anything about the company if it doesn’t paint it in a good light. Rumors still circulate through word of mouth though, and people talk about this place. Your hands shake as you open the massive glass door.
Apparently, the glass the massive front doors and windows are made of are both slightly tinted and nearly sound-proof because when you pull the door open, a tidal wave of sound and light come pouring out to crash upon your unsuspecting senses. Lights, both neon and fluorescent, force you to squint your eyes a little against them. Children scream in excitement, teens and parents speak loudly to be heard over the ever-present synth-filled pop song played over the speakers, and the room is so massive that all the sound bounces and echoes around much like it’s doing in your head right now. You take a deep breath after you see a couple parents staring at you oddly, just standing in the open doorway, and take your first steps into the lobby.
The door doesn’t even have time to fully shut behind you before a robotic hand shoves a piece of paper into your face. “Map. Take a map.” You jolt back slightly at the intrusion and look at the bot in surprise, it has a big exclamation point on its chest, a plate on its head to mimic a wide-brimmed hat and big circular glasses. It actually looked a little cute.
“Free map. Take a map.”, the bot repeats in a monotone voice, moving the map it’s clutching just a bit further into your space. “Oh! Right. Thank you,” you say, taking the offered map. Just as fast as it showed up, the bot turns and disappears into the crowd without another automated word. Giving up trying to track the bot’s movements through the groups of patrons, you tuck your new map into the side pocket of your backpack and let your eyes scan the room to look for your manager. You met him before in your interview so you knew what he looked like, a taller man, about a head taller than yourself, mid-50s, balding brown hair, with way too kind a smile to be working in a management position. He introduced himself as Kevin Moseley. You spot him after a minute, narrowly dodging a boy high on sugar barreling through on his way to the gift shop, and walk over to him. He smiles and raises his hand in a small wave when he recognizes you.
“Mr. Wilson!,” he exclaims in greeting, lowering his raised hand to hold out for a handshake, “It’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moseley. It’s good to see you, too. I’m really looking forward to getting started,” you say with a small, nervous laugh, taking another glance around the lobby to avoid his eyes.
You miss the look that passes over his face but turn to look at him in as he smiles and claps a large, warm hand on your shoulder, beginning to lead you further into the lobby. “I’m glad! We could really use someone with your skill. Your professor spoke very highly of you, and believe me, I’ve known the old bastard long enough that even the slightest bit of praise coming from him is something worth mentioning.” You flush slightly, you knew among classmates that your professor’s approval was hard to come by but you assumed it was just in class.
“Well, I do know my stuff. I fully plan on giving this job my all, don’t worry.” you say, walking in stride with Kevin. The two of you walk up to a door labeled ‘Security’ and he slides his nametag through the card reader by the handle, opening the door.
“Confident too? Hold on to that,” he chuckles deep and warm. You follow him inside the small security office, standing near the doorway as Mr. Moseley walks fully into the room. The room is barely larger than a storage closet, the desk and lockers taking up most of the room. There are a row of 4 lockers lining one wall, all with names written on the little dry erase placards, safety posters litter two of the walls, along with a large dry erase board with what looks like a schedule and little notes to various security staff. On the opposite wall is a desk with several monitors above it, showing a few different views of rooms in the pizzaplex. Kevin goes up to the desk and, using a key from the ring on his belt loop, unlocks a drawer to pull out a bundle of items. He turns to you and holds out a small plastic card, a Freddy-shaped wrist watch, and a small packet of papers.
“These are for you. You got your nametag, that has a barcode at the bottom that you’ll have to scan to get through doors. In your security level, of course. You’ll also use it to clock in and out at the terminals. That,” he says, pointing to the odd little watch in your hand, “is a Fazwatch. You can receive and send messages from other staff in the building with it, control the lights of the room you're in depending on if you have clearance, and it can even tell the time.” He grins at his own quip and picks up a tablet from the desk.
“Your security level is M for maintenance. That means you have access to any staff door level 7 and lower, and access to the maintenance halls and doors that lead to some of the attractions. We’ll cover all that on your tour, though. The paper is just an employee handbook, it’s mostly just a waste of printer paper but it does have info on manufacturers and our suppliers as well as the staff in charge of inventory here. So keep it for that if nothing else.” You nod in understanding, shuffling to stow the paper and nametag into your backpack before righting yourself to strap the watch to your wrist. Closing the metallic snap around your wrist brings the little screen to life, playing a tinny start-up tune.
“Alright, I think it’s about time we start the tour. Are you ready?,” Kevin turns and opens the door, holding it open for you.
The prospect of finally seeing the rest of the building reawakens your forgotten excitement. You feel your heart jump with it and return your manager’s smile, nodding, and step through the door.
~
All-in-all, the two of you were making good time with the tour. You were briefly shown around the main atrium and led to the far back of the building to see the main cast’s rooms in Rockstar Row. The place was mostly vacant of customers and entirely devoid of beloved animatronic rockstars since the announcement overhead alerted everyone that the first show of the day was starting in a few minutes. All of the rooms were different, obviously they were themed to their respective star, but the way things were laid out were all different from one another, you noticed. Chica’s was messy and disorganized, with empty food containers strewn about in a few places, while Freddy’s would have looked like a stage set if it weren’t for the children’s drawings hung up on the walls and a few plushies haphazardly strewn around the room. Roxy’s looked like she favored staying near her vanity with how unused the small sofa seemed, and Monty’s was…odd. Everything in it looked relatively new but there were dents in the concrete walls in some places. Like something with a lot of force hit it repeatedly. Weird. Maybe just leftover construction damage? Yeah, go with that. Kevin continued your tour by bringing you through the maintenance door in Freddy’s room to lead you out to the utility tunnels.
By noon you had seen almost all there was to the sublevel of the pizzaplex, ending your tour with the maintenance room itself. You walk into the room and the large glass cylinder immediately catches your attention. Curiosity getting the best of you, you walk up to it. It had a large reclining chair in it with two restraint straps on each arm and leg. It reminds you of a fucked up dentist’s chair, the large, circular overhead light only adding to the image. Except there were also robotic hands and tools suspended from arms above it, making it look more like some sci-fi torture device. There’s a panel off to the side with groups of multicolored buttons with led lights above them. Do they play… Simon fucking says to repair the animatronics? You think incredulously. Kevin speaks up behind you.
“That’s the repair cylinder. Catchy name, right?,” he says sarcastically. “That’s what the last few maintenance guys used to do the job. It’s supposed to be easier and… safer.” He walks over to lean against the glass, looking at the machine indifferently. “It’s preprogrammed to give instructions for basic things like repairs and part replacement.”
“They did… everything with this? What if it didn’t have a program for the problem?,” you ask, still eyeing the strange contraption. This thing couldn’t possibly solve every issue these animatronics had. What if it was a coding issue, or a problem with the delicate circuitry inside? How could this bulky machine handle delicate work at all? You couldn’t place why but it made your skin crawl. Maybe the aforementioned dentist chair thing. You look back to Kevin as he sighs.
“I’d have come down to see if I could do it myself or call in someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing.” His shoulders sag a little, looking at you fully now, you could see how tired the guy really looked. Maybe it was the shitty fluorescent lights but he looked like he was one more strongly worded email from calling it quits and burning the building down himself.
“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Newt.”, Kevin said, completely dropping the managerial tone, making you tense up a little. “We haven’t had a competent mechanic down here in a while. A long while. Mostly just guys who can barely change a tire let alone service a fully articulate animatronic. Any time we’ve hired someone who was at all qualified, they quit within the month.” He looks you in the eyes, his face serious.
“I don’t want to scare you off, especially on your first day. But I also don’t want to sugarcoat it.”
“Why did they quit?” You’re almost too afraid to ask but it’s a question that’s been burning a hole in your head since you found out about the position.
“Well, first off it’s a lot of work,” Kevin says, rubbing a hand across his jaw and looking away from you to rake his eyes over the room. “Long shifts, demanding labor, both physical and mental. Not a lot of people could keep up with it. Not to mention some of them claimed they just found the animatronics ‘too creepy’ and that’s why they wanted out.” Is that all? Just a lot of work?, you think. If that’s it then I’ve literally hit the jackpot. That can’t be it though, right?
“Also…”, Kevin drops the hand working his jaw and sighs again.
Of course not.
“Some of the animatronics can be… hostile.,” He says, finally meeting your confused eyes. You raise an eyebrow. “Not many! And they’ve never outright hurt anyone,” He rushes to explain. “It’s in their programming, they can’t actually harm anyone. Mostly it’s just threats and aggressive behavior. Or scaring people. We haven’t been able to figure out if it’s a bug or anything because no one we hired knew enough to be able to look into it. They… seem to only single out maintenance. They’re mostly indifferent to all other staff.” He ends his ramble with a nervous look, waiting for you to respond.
“…Is that all?”, you ask.
Kevin looks at you like you sprouted a second head, his mouth opening to say something and shutting again before he actually speaks.
“I mean… yeah. Yes.“ he says, confused. You nod and think about what he said for a minute. So the reason the turn over rate for this job was so high was because the robots don’t like staff? You could probably handle that. You weigh the possibilities in your head. It could be a bug making them aggressive, possibly even a virus corrupting part of their code. Maybe someone tampered with them and screwed their AI as a joke before they left. It could also very well be a learned behavior, their AI is extremely advanced after all. You had to sign an NDA when you got hired, stating that you would not, under any circumstances talk about specifically the animatronics builds and AIs. You’re still not entirely sure how apt they are at learning and you won’t know until you can start to work with them but it’s a possibility.
“I’ll figure it out.” You say after a long pause, lost in your thoughts. Kevin stares at you for a moment.
“That’s it? You’re not… worried? About them being hostile to maintenance staff?,” he continues to stare at you, almost warily.
“Well… yes. Mostly because it’s an unusual behavior, though. I’m not scared of them if that’s what you’re wondering.” I’ve seen a lot scarier shit than a temperamental robot. You think to yourself.
“That’s good! That’s… good.” Kevin sighs. He doesn’t look quite convinced. “They’re really not so bad. I’m hoping whatever the issue is can be dealt with easily.”
“Which ones have the problem? And when did it start? I assume it isn’t a recent thing.” You reach in your bag to pull out your notebook and mechanical pencil. Might as well start taking notes to keep track of what you know. You flip to a blank page and look at your manager.
“I couldn’t tell you exactly when it started but we noticed it about a year and a half ago. As for who’s affected, that would be the daycare attendants.” Your eyebrows raise as you write the information on the paper. The animatronics tasked with keeping small children safe are the ones acting aggressive to staff? Kind of ironic.
“Plural?,” you ask, idly scribbling in the margin of your paper, waiting for more information.
“Yeah. Sorta. Two AIs, one bot.” Your eyes widen.
You have to physically refrain from squealing like an idiot in front of your boss. Your brain goes crazy thinking of how that could work. What were protocols for switching? How did that look? Were they two separate people or the same guy just repurposed for something else? How could their processor handle that? You nod calmly as you write that information down a little sloppily, and attempt to calm yourself from the absolute storm of nerdiness brewing in your head. You could geek out about how interesting the concept is when you’re not in front of your manager. You make a mental note to look for a manual for them later.
“But like I said, the behavior seems to be isolated to staff only. Sun and Moon haven’t had serious complaints from outside the company in years.” Kevin states before looking at you seriously again, though this time he looks almost sad. “Despite that fact, corporate is thinking of decommissioning them if the problem can’t be solved. They think it’s becoming too expensive of a problem. You… might be their last chance. No pressure or anything.” He laughs humorlessly.
You feel the anxiety you’ve pushed down over the course of the day swell back into place. They were just going to decommission them? After hardly any attempt to fix the issue outside of hiring anyone who’ll take the job they were just going to… throw them away? That didn’t seem fair at all, what would the kids think? How would they fill the sudden vacancy to keep the daycare running? How would… the animatronics feel? You haven’t even met them yet but there was no way they were ok with that. Did they even know? God, did they not know that their fate was being decided by their behavior right now? By money hungry millionaires and some no-name idiot mechanic, no less. They were advanced AI, people always talk about how life-like the animatronics here are. How ethical is it to kill something so close to life? You shudder at the last thought.
You must have taken more time than you thought to think because Kevin suddenly firmly lays a hand on your shoulder, stirring you from your thoughts.
“Don’t worry too much about it. You’re not gonna get in trouble if you can’t fix them, It’s just preferred.” He says, with a small smile.
You try to let his reassurance quell your nerves but it’s like dumping a bucket of water on a burning building. You can’t quite shake the parallel. Your right hand flexes around your pencil. Being the deciding factor of a death. You take a steadying breath, willing yourself to focus on the present, and return his smile with a nod. Kevin, oblivious to your inner turmoil, stands from where he was leaning and motions you to follow him. “Last thing to do today is online training. You’ll do that in my office, then you’re free to go!” When he reaches the door he wheels around and you almost run right into him.
“Oh! Almost forgot, sorry.” He steps past you to lightly jog across the room back to the desk the two of you were talking at, pulling out a bundle of cloth with a black flashlight resting on top. He walks back to you, slightly winded and sets the bundle in your arm. “Uniform and flashlight. If you ever need a spare of either let me know.” He says, continuing on his original route out of the door. “Come on, we’ll stop by the food shops so you can eat something while you work at the computer. I’m buying.” You take a breath to politely refuse but he beats you to it, holding up a finger. “I want to. It’s the least I can do after unloading all that on you,” he says with a small smile. You relent, figuring a free meal is better than having to pay for it yourself, especially with the ridiculous prices in this place. Just a few more hours and you could digest all the new information you were given today. You really couldn’t wait to get home.
~
You close your bedroom door with a long sigh, tossing your backpack onto your messy desk.
All-in-all it wasn’t a bad day. In reality, it was one of the best first days you’d had at a job. You liked Kevin. He didn’t seem at all like managers you’ve had in the past who didn’t care about anything other than the job being done, which is surprising given who he worked for. Of course he wanted the job done, but he didn’t seem the type to bark demands down your throat. You also liked where you’d be spending most of your time. Parts and service wasn’t the most glamorous area in the plex but it made your engineer brain squeal in delight seeing all the tools and gadgets you’d be using. They had everything your robotics-loving heart could ever need, though you’d still pack your lucky flathead just because you’re sentimental. It was also quiet and isolated, free of the garish neon lighting and constant synth pop filling the rest of the place. The repair cylinder was the only less-than-ideal part of the room, but you’d been reassured you wouldn’t have to use the thing if you didn’t want to. Thankfully too, it looked like some medieval torture chamber.
You’d even been given the ok to make your own schedules for the week. There was a file you could access from your fazwatch or any computer within the building that all the animatronics’ handlers would put in requests for whatever their respective charge needed to have done. Unless there were specific time restraints or the request was urgent, you could plan out the whole week yourself. Another one of Mr. Moseley’s “sorry this job is a little more complicated, have this” things. Which you didn’t mind, you’d much rather be able to plan out everything in advance yourself rather than someone else do it. It was more efficient this way. You were already planning the first week out when you saw the request file. Every animatronic needed at least one thing taken care of, so you figured you’d knock all of them out individually each day. You also noticed that the daycare attendants had no requests at all, and upon bringing it up to Kevin, found out they don’t have a handler and any maintenance requests for them would either need to be sent in from the animatronic themself or by a member of security staff, as Moon was apparently head of security. You were more intrigued by these guys with every new thing you learned about them. You really wanted to get your hands on their manual.
You dramatically throw yourself across your bed with another sigh, settling into the soft layers of blankets. You stare at the ceiling, dotted with small glow-in-the-dark stars, and try to organize your thoughts. You knew the daycare attendants needed maintenance, it had probably been months if not years since someone gave them a tune up, but you had no idea if they’d even let you. They probably wouldn’t, given what you know of their situation. It left a lot of space to worry. What if you couldn’t? What if you never find out what’s causing their odd behavior? What if it got worse and they started threatening the kids? Would it be your fault if…
You let out a frustrated hum and roll over on your stomach, eyeing the frayed edge of the rug. You wouldn’t be able to do anything until you meet them. Introducing yourself to the cast of animatronics was already one of the things you planned on doing anyway, it just felt right to do since you were going to be elbow deep in their metallic innards soon. You figured you might be able to get a better idea of what could be the issue, as well. Maybe something will be able to tip you off, like jerky movements or vocal glitches indicating a virus, or a fault in their processing indicating a bug.
As you think of possibilities, a small familiar excitement starts to bubble up through your nerves. It’s the same excitement you would get when you cracked open a music box for the first time to see the tiny gears and pins, or the time you disassembled an old furby and realized it could still function with its parts strewn about. You loved a good mystery, especially when it involved machines. Super especially when it involved the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of machines.
You push yourself up from the bed to walk over where you threw your backpack, taking your notebook and pencil from it before sitting at the desk, pushing a few sketches out of the way. Pencil in hand, you start planning out the week, making sure to write in everything each animatronic needed and giving yourself an easier day tomorrow. As excited as you were, jumping headfirst into the deep end would probably just overwhelm you more than you already are so you gave yourself the lightest workload in terms of requests: Freddy. You hadn’t seen him, or any of the animatronics for that matter unless you count the cleaning bots, in your tour, but you also hadn’t really spent a lot of time exploring the areas meant for customers. Come to think of it, maybe you could squeeze in a little adventure one of these nights. Today was your first time setting foot in the place ever, after all. You never got to see any of the attractions before and getting to see them quietly at night sounds pretty favorable to seeing them through masses of screaming children and insanely high prices.
Finishing up the schedule, you take a picture of it on your phone and send it to your manager’s email. You didn’t necessarily need to let him know exactly what you were doing every day, but you figured it’d be good to keep him in the loop with what you plan on doing, along with the end of the week reports you did have to turn in. Lisa also agreed it was good for accountability, so on the off chance that anything happened, corporate would have a harder time weaseling out of it.
Tossing your notebook back in your bag, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms over your head, earning a couple pops up your back. You glance at the time on your phone and stand up from your desk. It was time for dinner and you promised Matt and Lisa that you’d take over cooking tonight. Thinking in circles about your new job could wait, you decided. You had pasta to make.