Work Text:
P.I.N. had mixed feelings towards their creator.
On one hand, they’d brought them to life. P.I.N. knew they should feel grateful. They were a conscious being, after all. For a droid, the mere ability to form thoughts was a privilege.
But considering the cruel joke of giving P.I.N. computing units comparable with a F.R.I.D.G.E. unit in the area their genitals should be, P.I.N. did not feel much gratitude towards their creator.
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P.I.N.’s sensors reached across the room, forming an image.
The room was small, with several small tables and chairs scattered throughout. A few vending machines rested in the corner, or rather, recreations of the long outdated machines.
The room was dimly lit, save for some light that shone through slits in the east wall’s window’s blinds. The light, amber in the fading sun, fell upon a single machine.
Stars, had P.I.N. ever seen such a beautiful machine?
A rose red door was set on near invisible hinges, outlined by thin lines of pink. Small white polka-dots were scattered across the entirety of the fridge, a moving map of constellations. Fuck finding Skywalker. Find P.I.N. a map to that star system.
It took a moment for P.I.N. to realize that the glorious machine was, in fact, a fridge.
No.
Not a fridge.
The F.R.I.D.G.E..
P.I.N. felt a small fluttering in their stomach, a stark contrast to the lack of feeling they felt normally. Metal skin hardly registered contact.
Seeing as sensing normally felt something was wrong, P.I.N. briefly considered if their wires had sparked. But when they felt their computing unit expand, the USB cable going stiff, P.I.N. knew exactly what was going on.
P.I.N. turned away, quickly wheeling away from the scene. They would find something to calm themself with. Something other than a sexy fridge.