Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The plaza was chaos.

Organizing a protestation here weekly was bound to rise tension, tension capable of violence.

Screams of terror exploded, insulting in a wide variety of languages the man standing before a corpse, before what he believed to be solely a useless stash of metal and programs. Rage pushed him away from his act of sinful cruelty, savagely threatening to murder him.

Huffing, he shoved them off of his chest absent of any remorse. “Fucking rusters- you do realize you’re fighting for robots, for iron at best, right ?” he reminded them, strong voice drowning in the sea of blaring menaces. “They are not human and never will be ! There, I said it !” His accusation was met with much more wrath.

Jaw clenched, a man stomped in his direction and before anyone could pull him away, he gave a harsh punch to the siderophobe that brought him to the ground. Cheers blew up from the gesture. Hungry for revenge, many started to stomp on the man’s face with boots and shoes.

“Stop that- ah !” he shouted helplessly, face repeatedly crushed by dirty soles. His skin already swelled in a deep blue, purple — of a deafening and soul-wrenching pain — which only encouraged the protesters to pursue. Curses shifted to whimpers, pain buzzing across his bright red skin, visible through torn apart clothing.

Shortly after a few more fatal hits, his thoracic cage made a cracking noise. Dizzying nausea took hold of his mind, overwhelmed by the continuous mash against bones and newfound blood. His breath, initially shallow and rapid, slowed down until his world became black.

The protestors didn’t cease to express their built-up frustrations, even when his body went limp.

Even when they noticed a large cut on his stomach, revealing dark red flesh with specks of dirt among the liquid. Even when his lips were deformed, parted slightly to display broken tooth. Even when one of his limbs went in a direction it — most definitely — shouldn’t be in.

The reason why they allowed their rage subside was the deep, painful sorrow of a lady who was a few meters away. In the distance, she overheard those gruesome and frightful noises as only subtle whispers. All she could narrow her attention to was the inert body on her lap, as she sat on her calfs.

She held onto her rapid heartbeats, onto the ringing in her ears, into the pain in her chest.

Trembling, her hand caressed her robot’s body as if it was as fragile as glass, because he was as fragile as glass. Siderophobes have threatened to end her robot in the past, but she didn’t think they’d actually do it, as horribly as one of them did. Her eyes went shut, tears escaping from them.

Lena remembered, vividly, all the memories she shared with Raymon, her robot. With precision, she recalled cherishing each compliment he’d give with a beautiful sincerity, each second of friendly affection, each mechanical laughter who possessed much more humanity than the one who brought their story to a premature, sour end.

Raymon had been attacked out of the blue, receiving several punches before his core and other components were brutally torn apart from him. Another guy blocked her from intervening, earning the inhumane privilege to watch her lifelong friend’s death.

Resentment stinging her heart, she stood up with his black, foggy core in her hand. She brandished it high up in the sky, showing it with puffy red eyes. “Look ! Another robot destroyed by siderophobia, by the extreme or irrational fear or aversion to sidero, iron in Ancient Greek. How great !”

Silence reigned over the crowd of people, substituting the past hour of wild denouncement and anger. Everyone stared at her, with both pity and admiration. “According to the ORLSS, there was meant to be no more discrimination but here we fucking are !

I am sick. Sick of having to stay quiet while they all judge me, sick of having to hide Raymon, sick of this persecution ! They would all feel so sorry if they felt even a tenth of this agonizing feeling inside me, burning me alive…” she paused, a river of misery streaming down her face.

“You may all insult me, hurt me, beat me up, kill me if you wish to ! I do not care. As long as you will all cry when one day, the ORLSS will finally do something about this injustice ! Come on, ORLSS. Hear me scream, hear me sob, hear me mourn, hear me die…!”

Her chest heaved, paralyzed by her striking, sharp speech of complete anger. Seconds ticked away.

Cheers blew up all across the plaza, expressing nothing but awe and agreement.

Lena smiled.

“Avenge Raymon, avenge the robots !”

But that day has yet to have come. One robot was the prime example of the unfinished battle.

Its body consisted of destroyed cables and damaged wires, of rusty attachments and oxidized iron, and, of dysfunctional programs and buggy commands. When the metal linked to his right side, similar to a human arm, attempted to lift itself, it squeaked before crashing back down on the floor.

The mechanical robot was slumped against a wall, the part in his brain focused on movement refused to cooperate due to too frequent and intense overheat. Its face, scraped and torn apart, had an undertone of pitiful resignation if only it knew humanity. If only it did.

Another miserable thing was its absent left leg, having been disunited due to its great monetary value. Half of its torso’s components were lacking since the ones with a past ownership had ruthlessly sold them for a fortune. After all, the robot was expensive and fancy when brand new.

Now, after years of mistreatment and neglect from careless owners, it was just a miraculously still glowing core surrounded by ravaged materials who made high-pitched, awful noises whenever moved. Nothing within it was remotely attractive to customers or buyers.

The human towering above him was fully aware of the inconvenience.

Grumbling about the little worth it possessed — assuming it hadn’t lost all of it a long while ago — the overly and hatefully greedy man harshly tugged the robot towards him by its metallic piece that serves as an ear, before dragging the useless body across the floor.

In one swift throw, the machine landed on a brick wall. It slid down it, arriving in an open dumpster whose bright green color had faded to an ugly, morose shade. In a somehow convenient manner, the robot laid down on a bed of overfilled trash bags, spoiled food and ashes.

A nauseous smell accompanied it which made the owner’s head dizzy with disgust. Repulsed and irritated, he sprinted away from his long forgotten act of cruelty. Navy blue particules enveloped him, forming a glowing bubble inscribed in cryptic programs before he disappeared.

Far away from Earth, from Canada, from some random city, from a pointless neighborhood, from the dumpster where he carelessly abandoned his private property.

Its eyes were devoid of any emotion, of any sense of hatred or regret. They were solely some savagely shaped metal stuck roughly into two shallow holes, after all. Yet, any kind soul could perceive a glint of a soul behind those materials.

The robot felt sadness, if someone had enough imagination to picture it.

Chapter Text

“Vern !” Sophist shouted from the living room, rushing through the corridor where at the very end of it, Vernias was about to leave for his university class — leave at 9 a.m. instead of 8:30 a.m. which is the ideal hour to arrive on time. To say the last, Vern was panicking.

“What is it ? I’m kind of in a hurry if you didn’t notice me running all around the place… and swallowing my breakfast in a few seconds. I feel already sick from it-” he admitted, talking much faster than usual. One of his hands held his bag pack, while the other was clutched to his unhappy stomach.

“Just wanted to wish you good luck !” Sophist smiled, catching Vern off-guard.

“Oh- yeah, thanks, Eevee. Definitely gonna need it.” He opened the door, glancing at his friend. “See you later !” And with that, the door was carelessly slammed shut.

After staying still when the door had nearly punched him in his face, Sophist eventually went back to the living room. It was spacious in his opinion, though the rather high ceiling probably gave off such impression more than the room being actually big.

Near the archway Sophist went through, there was a modest TV, in front of a couch with an u healthy amount of plushies and cushions, on a table. Video games and controllers were either properly put into drawers, or lazily cuddled up to the TV. It’s not like anyone here is maniacal about that.

Further into the room, there was the kitchen with an open counter space with blue stools who seemed to be Nick’s favorite spot to work on a few documents. Looking — a bit creepily to be honest — above his shoulder, Sophist noticed the papers were this month’s bill sheets.

Nick jumped at the looming presence behind him, only releasing the tension in his shoulders when he recognized who it was. “Puta- you scared the fuck out of me ! Holy shit…” he very calmly pointed out, with a refined and elegant vocabulary as typical since thus is his way of communication.

“You have the same reactions in Lethal Company,” Sophist commented bluntly.

“Now that’s just a low blow, come on.” He glared at his friend who sat on the tool next to him, laughing like the little gremlin he is.

“Sorry, sorry.” Sophist’s tone had nothing apologetic, nor did his gleeful face express any sign of shame, but Nick didn’t bother even trying to earn a sincere apology. “How long have you been reading the bills ? Thought that your business degree would’ve helped you out.”

Nick genuinely laughed. “They don’t really teach you about taking care of such domestic tasks in business school. And I haven’t been at this for that long. It’s just that it’s a very tedious and annoying thing to do, like bills ? Why ?” he mumbled a complaint more to himself than Sophist.

“Maybe I can do them for you, since you’ve been doing them ever since we all moved in together to save money. I just feel like being friendly and helping out today, this is a really strange feeling. I’m scared of myself.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m basically done now. But, if you do wanna help, the breakfast table awaits you.” Nick gestured at the table behind him, barely visible through the mess of boxes, juices and bread.

Sophist winced. “Yeahh… sure thing, buddy. Anything to help, I guess ?”

“Thanks.” Nick couldn’t help but grin as Sophist left to fulfill his awfully mundane mission.

Vern frowned at his surroundings, not recognizing the university campus. Reading the signs nearby, he realized he chose the wrong teleportation chamber — the fifth time this month. Exhausted by his own stupidity, he stomped across the small street he was in.

After taking a various of turns, he failed to find another teleportation chamber, instead being in some dim-lighted, tiny alley leading to some dumpsters of trash. At least he was correct about his position being on Earth, with how there are little technological equipments and lights.

Sighing, he walked in this hostile and freezing place with much caution. He heard a thump.

Jumping at the noise, he frantically darted his eyes around until his gaze laid on some rusty pieces of metal with one of them having fallen on a side of the dumpster. No, this weird combination of materials was definitely not just some iron stuck together.

It was a robot.

With a still functioning core.

Curiosity surging through him, Vern touched the core with one of his hands — backing away when it made a small flash of green light. The robot was, miraculously given his poor and miserable state, alive. He wasn’t beyond repair yet, surprisingly enough.

Vernias hastily noted down his current coordinates on a piece of paper in his backpack, before running away. He’s gonna be so freaking late to classe, but at least he might be able to save someone out of it.

Chapter Text

Excitment bubbling in his chest, Vern hastily ran through the dark alleys to stumble once again across the one with the nausea-inducing dumpsters. A smile bloomed on his face of strong determination, who spent his classes daydreaming about helping someone.

No, saving someone.

The beauty of making a change, even the slightest one, shone in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the robot outside of its house of disgusting trash before his hands promptly gave up at the unexpected weight. Bolts rolled away from its components at the sudden pressure. Heart racing, Vern sighed when the core still emitted a dim, green light.

If he recalls, cores were this round-shaped orb within a robot’s chest most of the time who emanated lights representing their strength and health : the brighter, the stronger; the clearer the healthier. As of right now, the machine had some fog among his core though it wildly shone within its dark home.

With more anticipation, Vern attempted to drag him out of it once more. After an excruciating amount of time, the robot in critical condition was now inert on the ground. He put all small, detached parts of him in his backpack, as well as a large block of iron inside it.

Confused on how to carry such heavy metals, he settled on bridal style funnily enough. He winced at the buzzing soreness straining his arms and his back, having cruelly formed after making only a few steps.

This is gonna be long.

“I’m home !” Vern managed to yell, cursing to himself as he abruptly dropped the dirty and squeaky robot on the clean and creaking floor. Immediately did he relieve himself off his backpack, soothing sensations already rubbing off the previous pain all around him.

“You got kidnapped or something ? You’ve taken a whole hour to get back from class,” Nick commented in an amused, lighthearted tone as his footsteps approaching Vern in the hallway. “Anyways, now that you’re finally here, I need you to give your advice on this debate I had with Sophist earlier-”

He stopped in his tracks.

“What the fuck ?”

His eyes were fixating at the mess of severed cables and rusty components, recognizing a tiny core among it. For solid seconds, his gaze was intrigued by the programs written on his opened up walls who, to translate into a human meaning, would correspond to a torso.

“Vern, where the hell did you find this absolutely filthy piece of garbage at ? Inside a fucking dumpster in some criminals’ headquarters ?” He glared at Vern’s frown of confusion, as if no amount of words would suffice to describe his unbelievable stupidity, his great craziness.

“He’s an android, Nick. Obviously,” Vern quickly retorted, strongly resenting the foreign abhorrence in his voice. There was a moment of silence, of miscommunication between them, similar to a stab to Vern’s heart. Oh shit. Nick was far from supportive to his action.

Nick buried his head in his hands before throwing them in the robot’s direction, horrifyingly judgmental of its state. “An android is a robot that looks like a human. This thing looks like a collection of mechanical nonsense designed to be a nightmare to even glance at. And since when do we use human pronouns for lifeless objects ?”

“Nick.” The friendly name was pronounced like a profanity. “Don’t ever call him that. Ever again.”

“I call it however I want ! It’s not like it’s gonna say anything about it,” he countered in a harsh tone, spilling words Vern has never thought he could hear out of his roommate’s mouth of all people. “How many people saw you carrying this shit around like a spectacular trophy ?”

“Why does it matter ?”

“Because, Vernias,” he emphasized his name as if to knock some sense into him. “You could‘ve gotten hurt if some siderophobe caught you helping a robot, or whatever it is. Puta, maybe even gotten killed ! Have you not seen the news ? Ever since that whole Lena situation, the whole Solar System is against each other like in ancient wars back when everyone was on Earth.”

Vern made a step backwards. “So what ? Are you gonna beat me up for believing in their rights ? Go on, do it. I dare you. Call me a ruster, see if I care,” he taunted, venom on his furious tongue. He didn’t know why Nick was so hostile towards Vern’s moral identity.

“Vern.” There was a warning in his eyes of flame, symbolic to his native planet, to Mars. “Never, and I mean never, will I ever call you a ruster. Nor will I beat you up, insult you or kick you out of the house. It’s just- you are actively putting yourself in danger by being militant.”

“How am I putting myself in danger ?! You are always stopping me from defending robots. Last month I wanted to go to a manifestation, and you literally locked me up in my own room. I don’t understand why you are so strongly against my behavior- why are you siderophobic ?”

“I’m not siderophobic !” Nick yelled, burning in rage at the accusation.

“Then why are you acting as if you were ?”

Nick unclenched his jaw, saying nothing as if conflicted before sighing. “I am not. The reason why I don’t want you exposing your beliefs to the world, is because the world will persecute you for it. Lena and her robot — Raymon I think — are perfect examples of what will happen if you keep fighting for metal. I just don’t want you harming yourself.”

Though Nick’s deep and meaningful care was there, almost illuminating his whole vision, Vern simply shut his eyes and ignored it. “You’re harming me more than I am, Nicholas.”

Hearing those words was a vivid pain, a quiet explosion of his heart.

“I brought him here with the idea you would’ve been supportive and tried fixing him, but I guess I’ll just do it by myself. Thank you for your immense compassion as a friend.”

“You brought it to save it ?” The pronouns were like a virus to Vern’s patience.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it ? If you can’t be there for me when I need you to be, then I’ll just be there for myself. While I do that, you leave me alone with your whole protecting me from the world as if I am a kid.” The conversation had taken a brutal end, bitter on both ends.

Dreadfully silent, Vern picked up both his backpack and the robot with heavy struggle. As rapidly as he could, he stomped away from the argument until he arrive in his bedroom where he dropped everything. Even the act as he felt sour tears prickling his eyes in anger.

Baffled, Nick stood there for a while before pushing the woeful guilt away. Lunch’s about to be fun.

Chapter Text

Sophist and Nick were chatting about a diversity of subjects, going from one to another without much thought. It was this easy flow of conversation — nothing too complex or deep — Sophist greatly appreciated having with his friends, after a strenuous shift at work.

Everyone loved to doubt anything they can doubt, to harass him with dozens of questions, to make sure he did his work correctly, to blurry any established clarity… and Sophist hated it. In his humble opinion, simplicity is the best policy.

Why question, when you can just shrug and brainlessly do it ? Why overthink each detail, when you can shut off your thoughts and sleep during the night ? Why try to be better than everyone else, when you can be satisfied about what you can physically do ?

Why be complicated, when you can take a deep breath and give up ?

Of course Sophist knew such a lazy view of life was a flawed one anyone could reproach him. But, he also knew the agony of enduring all the paranoia and all the worries. As a simple citizen in a small city on Venus, concerns about the future weren’t in his hands. Understanding the protesters’ mindset was beyond his will to.

Understanding Vern’s mindset was beyond his will to, too, although he deeply wishes to.

There was this hefty mechanism inside Vern’s brain, Eevee noticed it yet was unable to read it. Multiple times did he wonder about his friend’s powerful beliefs about the rights of robots, and many times he failed to wrap his head around his reasoning.

He believed robots were soulless machineries designed to help humanity. Wasn’t it the case ?

No, it wasn’t; according to Vernias.

Having finished eating lunch with Nick, he hastily washed the dishes as he seriously considered being a dishwasher like everyone else in the Solar System. “Did Vern already eat lunch ?” he questioned in a nonchalant tone, not even looking at Nick.

“He didn’t actually,” Nick responded. He physically winced as he remembered their argument, and how badly he treated the little predicament. Come to think of it, Vernias would probably — definitely — refuse to got out of his room knowing Nick would be there, waiting for him.

“Do you know why ?”

“No,” he mumbled, holding his breath as he did. Nick’s voice was almost squeaky, struggling to remain indifferent towards the throbbing guilt he was experiencing. Finally putting away the controllers in the boxes underneath the TV did nothing to soothe his remorse.

Of course, Sophist chuckled dryly in disbelief. “I thought you’d be a better liar after all this time we spent together, especially with your business degree. Lying is the signature skill of business people, isn’t it ?” he innocently asked, relishing in the resigned sigh.

“It’s not,” Nick countered sharply, slightly amused by the light teasing though he hid it.

Sophist’s grin was audible. “Sure thing, buddy.”

“But uh, about Vern,” he started unsure, words suddenly becoming hazy and confused. “Everyone knows he is very passionate about his love for robots, about his… fight against robot abuse or whatever he calls it. I don’t particularly agree with this opinion- I think you are aware.”

“Oh definitely. You are really shit at hiding things you feel strongly about, or pretty much anything. I mean, it’s both something to work on and to keep. Hypocritically, I personally find it pleasant in a person — which is obvious, since we’re kinda friends. But yeah, you can’t hide anything.”

Nick drained all his self-control into not rolling his eyes. “You didn’t have to yap about it, but okay. Point made. Earlier, he came back from class with a… smelly and broken android if you could even call that,” he admitted through gritted teeth, already seething at the surreal memory.

Eevee slightly frowned, puzzled by the declaration as he dried his hands. “And ? I don’t get why Vern not eating lunch has anything to do with a robot. Is he trying to fix it as we speak ?”

A thoughtful pause struck Nick. “I… it’s actually possible. Likely even.”

He wasn’t certain the vision of Vernias playing with the overly difficult mechanisms of a lost cause was one he would want to see, would want to have happening in his house.

“But the thing is, I am… really fucking stupid and can’t hold my tongue.” He looked away from Sophist’s gaze, remembering the resentful memories of his extremely dumb wording who echoed inside his mind. It was painfully akin to a mental punishment.

“Don’t tell me you yelled at him,” Sophist almost pleaded, though his eyes were similar to the eyes a parent would have at the sight of their child’s crime scene in the living room. Eevee disliked the avoidance in Nick’s attitude, an out-of-character reaction that meant no good.

Nick’s jaw dropped in vexation, in harmed pride. “I didn’t yell at him !”

Sophist raised a defiant eyebrow at him, making him recall the heated conversation.

“Okay, well maybe I yelled a little bit- but it wasn’t on purpose ! I was just…” He searched for a potent excuse, flailing his arms around, before allowing the shame to bubble freely inside of him. “… stupid, is the word. There is no rational explanation to how I overreacted.”

“Thank you for not shouting.” Eevee smiled in genuine happiness. It was no surprise to him that Nick had anger issues, deep-rooted ones he developed at a small age. Seeing him adopt a calmer, quieter response to an accusation was heartwarming to him as his friend.

Nick didn’t need to hear him verbally congratulate him for it to know Eevee was proud.

Sighing, Eevee went to the couch and sat down on the very left seat. He gestured at Nick to do the same, which he did, at the opposite. Nick crossed his legs, somehow nervous about this gentle approach of his explosive fury. “So. Tell me exactly what happened.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, unsuccessful, Nick took a deep breath. “It’s- I just reacted in the worst way possible. Vern didn’t even do anything wrong, I just- panicked ? Except, I show I am panicking by sharing my feelings as if Vern was the one to blame. I was agressive for nothing, overall.”

Eevee hummed, a soft sound that, hopefully, encouraged him to stay open about his emotions. “Right. Is there anything in particular you remember saying and that you now regret ?” he pressed, using his blunt tone as a sign of neutrality and not judgement.

“I threatened him, multiple times.”

Sophist frowned.

“Not like that ! I was telling him stuff like “if a siderophobe saw you, you could’ve gotten killed” or just scaring him with all the consequences his beliefs could have.” His face burned a bright shade of red, humiliated about confessing and acknowledging his immense idiocy.

“Uh uh…” Sophist was speechless for a couple of seconds, calculating his wording. “And in what objective did you do that ? Was it to convince him of throwing away the robot or even change his opinions altogether ?” he wondered, sad to see his friend so afraid of vulnerability.

“Not really. I know Vernias is the most stubborn man in existence.”

“Then why ?”

The stiffness in Nick’s shoulders disappeared. “I guess in some what to protect him ? I mean siderophobia and how far it can go isn’t new, nor is it something I can just ignore. The Lena situation is just another layer on hundreds of layers of proof. If Vern was to be seen by the same crazy people… I don’t even want to imagine.”

“So what you’re saying, is that you tend to express your fear for Vernias’s health and well-being with anger, defensiveness, and intolerance towards his opinion which leads to a breakout like earlier this morning ? Have you tried communicating this with him ?”

“I did. But he just told me I was siderophobic, and that I might as well call him a ruster.”

Sophist was taken aback by the information, eyes ever so slightly widening. “Oh. I see. It looks like the whole argument is just one big misunderstanding. But Nick, I don’t want you to feel too bad over how you acted. This isn’t something you can control.”

Nick shook his head. “That’s the thing : I can control how I react. I could’ve just shut the fuck up, leave, take a moment and then discuss calmly about this with Vern.”

“It’s more easy to say this afterwards then to do it on the the moment. And, you are very wrong about the control you think you have over your anger. You are self-aware and willing to be a better person, that’s not the issue. Your anger isn’t just temper. It’s trauma. You had an extremely stressful childhood, Nick.”

“I know.”

“You wholeheartedly don’t. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have disagreed with me. I won’t go about all the details of your childhood because that would be completely pointless, but it’s crystal clear that your struggles are deep into your psychology. It’s not your fault.

But, what you can do is let the argument sink in for both you and Vern. Only then, when you feel emotionally ready to, talk about it with him and apologize if you feel the need to. I’m sure Vern will understand and that he was just a bit annoyed in a pretty shallow way.”

Nick shrugged. “I guess. But when I do that, what will it do in the end ? Yeah, we properly resolve the argument but the robot will definitely be staying here under his supervision.”

“Then it will stay. Even though I know it won’t be simple for you and that it has become an instinct to, you should try to let go of your overprotective behavior and let Vernias do whatever he wants. He can take of himself just fine and if not, he won’t hesitate to ask for our help.”

A sigh escaped Nick’s lips. “You think so ?”

“I am convinced so.” Sophist smiled, as brightly as possible. “For too long, I also cared way too much about everything to the point I was insufferable to be around with. Fighting for way you believe is good. Allowing yourself to let things how they are can be better at times.”

Nick chose to remain silent at the advice, still reluctant at the idea of occasional passivity. Intensity and high levels of emotions were the majority of his feelings, most of the time. Imagining a future where patience is his mistress was what it was : imagination. At least, for now.

Sophist shot up from the couch. “How about I talk with Vernias first ? I can tell him you want to make everything right when you will both be prepared for it. How does that sound to you, buddy ?” he asked in a calm voice Nick was not used to hearing after all this time.

It was almost troubling. Nick nodded. “Yeah, that- that’s cool.”

Eevee smiled. “Alright then. I’ll go catch a plate for Vernias and head over to his room. By the way, on an awfully anticlimactic note, you should get ready for your shift soon. Doesn’t it start in thirty minutes ?”

Nick jumped from his seat, looking at the hour in horror. “Oh shit, it does ! I have to hurry- see you later Eevee,” he muttered, about to rush out of the living room before stopping to look at his friend. “And uh, thanks… for listening and giving advice. It helped a lot, more than you think.”

“Of course, buddy. Any day.”

Chapter Text

Waving Nick goodbye as he walked out of the front door, Sophist climbed up the creaking stairs with his hands caressing the wooden railing. Despite how technology has dominated the Solar System and its immense population, there were still some homes without that much modern presence.

Like theirs.

Following social and trend-based norms requires a stable, high amount of money to their name — something some dudes in their twenties don’t really have. But, as a sad coping mechanism, Sophist convinced himself finding his home as cozy and a tad vintage, a sense of fashion most couldn’t comprehend.

Yeah no, he cries at the sight of other, lavish and magnificent houses he can disgustingly glance at when mindlessly scrolling through social media as he lays lazily in his bed. The cocky, smug smiles on these influencers’ faces repulses the shit out of him, but he can’t blame them. He would do the same.

And by the way, he doesn’t actually cry over random pictures posted by perfect strangers.

He just drops his phone, shoves his face into a plush pillow and scream. Bad habit.

Not to mention, it got his friends delicately opening the door to his room with worried looks on their faces every single time. And each time, he would reply he’s fine and they would begrudgingly accept is as an answer.

Did he zone out again into a useless train of incoherent thoughts ?

Absolutely.

Vern stared at the bright screen of his computer, mindlessly reading the words typed on the search bar countless times. He considered the words with growing resentment, with his previous argument with Nick echoing inside of his heart. A lump formed itself in his throat.

“what is a siderophobe”

He swallowed, almost gulping. Eventually, he grazed the enter button before finally pressing it.

He clicked on the first result, AnthropoNews, a popular website known to discuss humanity and a variety of social studies from what Vernias has heard about them. With an acutely empty gaze, he slowly read the article — only making him drown in exasperation.

“Siderophobia is a term you may have heard countless times before, since the Finn accident or more recently, the Lena one. They are prime examples of the passion those militant for the rights of robots have, and how their passion can often surpass the general fear of death or pain.

But, what is siderophobia ? Because it is an unofficial term, most of us are confused on its definition. As a neutral body of information, we are here to teach you. Siderophobia is a repulsion or disagreement towards the idea of giving robots rights.

Etymologically, it is an extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to the rights of robots : σίδηρος, sidêros which stands for “iron” and φόβος, phóbos which stands for “fear”. Both words originate from Ancient Greek.

While siderophobes, the noun for people with siderophobia, are allowed and even encouraged to have an opinion about social matters since humanity has the right to freely express themselves, they have demonstrated rather violent behaviors.

A majority of them don’t go further than judgement or hate speech, but a very few have permanently stained its reputation. Single-handedly, they have given the entire Solar System a bad impression of siderophobes due to their violent, discriminatory and even murderous tendencies.

In Finn’s case, the first siderocist (link to learn about the term in another article) to have made the news over all planets, siderophobes have sent death threats to him, socially isolated him, beaten him up several times, and attempted to kill him by guns. Finn was only universally recognized when he committed suicide by knife. All because of an opinion, that is.

Now, you are aware of why siderophobes are very rarely seen as neutral or positive and of why robots have now become such a sensitive topic that even those with tremendous political and/or physical power won’t address it.

Siderophobes have also brought another unofficial term to the table. Ruster-”

Vernias quickly closed the tab. His heart seemingly sunk at the mere mention of the vulgar word. To think Nick might genuinely see him as one. Dropping his head onto his wooden desk, he barely cared if his breathing was shallow and difficult in this obnoxious position.

He heard someone knocking at his door, chest tightening at the idea of confronting Nick once more. “Who is it ?” he yelled after a calculated beat of silence, turning his chair to look at the door.

“Eevee. Can I come in, buddy ?”

Recognizing Eevee’s worried voice, Vern’s mood considerably lightened. “Yeah, sure.” His confirmation was promptly followed by the door opening, revealing Sophist with a plate of steaming for in one of his hands. A frown formed itself on his face. “What did you bring ?”

Sophist innocently smiled. “Lunch,” he simply replied, putting the plate in front of his friend. “I thought you would know eating is essential, since you used to harass me whenever I’d refuse to finish my meal. But, apparently not since you forgot to have lunch.”

A dry chuckle escaped Vern. “This is different, and you know exactly why.”

“I do.” His eyes were briefly shadowed by memories. “But that doesn’t change the fact you haven’t come down to eat with Nick and I. Are there any particular reasons that could explain why you’d prefer to stay in your room ?” he asked as he sat on Vern’s bed, still maintaining eye contact.

Vern looked away. “Not really. I just wanted to study for my classes, and I lost track of time. I was actually about to go eat lunch.” He forced a wide smile who wanted to be reassuring, but only made Sophist much more concerned.

Both of his friends had the awful habit of lying whenever something is wrong.

And he did too. He’s a proud hypocrite.

“Really ?” he challenged with an undertone of defiance.

“Yeah.”

“It’s weird how I’m inclined to not believe you,” Sophist began, staring at the walls as if he was reading the answers along the shelves of stuffed plushies. “Maybe because you suddenly decided to not have your notes all over the place. Or maybe because you didn’t procrastinate as usual.”

Vernias scoffed at the comment. “I don’t procrastinate that much. Just a little bit.”

“You do, but that’s not the point. You’re as shitty a liar as Nick.”

Vernias wanted to roll his eyes, having known his sudden arrival had another hidden intention than just checking up on him. At the moment, he chose to remain silent rather than accusing him of always acting suspiciously. He trusted Sophist a lot, but at the same time it was hard to believe.

If most of his family he thought as supportive can cut him off of their lives because of his “endangering” beliefs, then Nick and Eevee might as well be of a similar point of view.

Of course it would be the end of him, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.

“Nick told me about what happened earlier. Obviously, I’ll let you two talk it out whenever you guys want to since I’m not an online forum. But, as your friend that cares about you no matter what you may think, I’d like to know how you’re feeling about the argument.”

Vern frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t see why you would need to know.”

Sophist smiled lightly. “It’s not a question of need, Vern,” he rectified. “It’s a question of genuine worry for your well-being. We’re friends. It is normal and even expected of me to make sure you’re doing fine, and not let you drown in your thoughts I know are unhealthy for you.”

The words were true, but it was still quite bitter to hear and accept. He hummed, nearly dismissive as he played with the used sleeves of his white jacket he wore maybe once or twice seven months ago. He only took it today because it was his only jacket left.

Sighing, Sophist realized he can’t convince or force Vernias to open up. He got up from the bed, heading towards the door. “Nick left five minutes ago for his work shift. If you wanna talk, you are welcome to- or even just play a game. I won’t force you to. Finish your food at least.”

And with that, Sophist turned the handle and quickly left the room. The door was shut closed.

Vernias was now alone again with himself, his computer, and his soon-to-be cold plate.

Sophist, lying down on the couch of the dead living room, scrolled through depressing facts people had dug up about Lena. Lena, the name everyone has had on their tongues for maybe a month now ? He wasn’t sure. It’s not like he cared much about her, no offense.

Yeah, she deserves a much better life than the current one she lives in. But it’s not like he can do anything about the injustice they still live in, despite how humanity has moved on from past tensions.

In the distance, he heard the staircase creak as a sign someone was using it.

He was surprised to see Vern’s face when he glanced at the archway of the living room, unconsciously sitting up.

Vernias put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher Sophist emptied twenty minutes ago, before walking up to the couch. “Smash Bros ?” he sheepishly offered.

Eevee grinned. “With pleasure.”

They spent around an hour and a half playing together, a playful banter between them to both of their delight. To be perfectly honest for once, it was an hour and a half he wholeheartedly enjoyed — the company being nice.

Cheesy as fuck, he knows.

A few hours later, Sophist heard from his own room the entrance door open in a terrible noise they should definitely try to fix. Before he could even consider saying hi to Nick, he recognized the sounds of Vern shuffling away from his desk, the sounds of him exiting his room.

Nick and Vernias were most certainly going to have a long talk with each other.

Sophist smiled.

Chapter Text

They were all eating around dinner, chatting about anything that came to mind. Criticizing comments about random topics concerning other planets were thrown in the mix, resulting in either guilty amusement or a lighthearted debate. It was nice to have put the argument behind them.

Nick took a deep breath. “Oh and uh, I’m about to abruptly change to subject if you don’t mind,” he warned, quickly grabbing Vern and Sophist’s attention. “Have you tried to tinker with the robot, Vern ? I was wondering if it- if he was miraculously repairable.”

Sophist squinted his eyes at Nick, who pretended to not see him.

“Not really, I don’t know much about robots. I didn’t want to accidentally break him further more,” Vern admitted after swallowing a bite of his food. “But I think he can be repaired. I mean, his core is alive… I think ? I don’t really know how robotic cores work.”

Were robotic cores nearly unbreakable, precious gems too ?

Probably.

“Well, their cores work similarly to human ones. They are inserted in a part of their body that is most representative of their strength or utility, and their brightness or clarity defines their potential and current abilities. If it’s pitch black and foggy, the robot is our equivalent of dead.”

Nick’s explanation of cores made Vernias glance at his own. While robots can have them in their bodies, humans use accessories — or special clothing designed for cores if you can afford it. Vernias has a necklace around his neck, his pale pink core dangling around to where his heart was.

Meanwhile, Sophist had its dark purple one sewn at the front of his top hat who was on the kitchen counter top at the moment. Nick, on the other hand, benefitted of his Martian origins with his bright, yellowish orange core stitched onto a thick piece of black fabric covering his entire arm.

Vernias hummed pensively.

“So the robot I brought is alive. His green core is still glowing a tiny little bit.”

Before Nick could answer anything, Sophist suddenly intervened with his gaze fixated at Nick’s arm. “How the hell is your core so damn bright while mine is barely visible from up close ? It’s so unfair,” he complained lowly, his face shifting into a light pout.

Nick chuckled dryly. “Dude, I’m Martian. It was bright the second we gave me this core.”

“That’s what I’m saying- completely unfair ! I don’t get how being Martian makes you strong even just as a teenager. Martians are just so freaking privileged, what the shit.”

The comment made Nick glare at him, as if downright stupid and incapable. “No way you don’t know about Martian traditions. You don’t ?” he asked him with disbelief, earning a proud shake of the head. “Oh my god… you are the stupidest person I have ever met in my whole life.”

Sophist huffed in offense. “Well then educate me if you’re so smart.”

“Basically, Martians worship the Sun as their God while the Stars were seen as Their children. And what they do in Their honor, is inject one drop of boiling lava in the veins of newborn babies. It’s extremely painful, can be chronically traumatic and has killed thousands of children, by the way.”

“Holy shit. That’s sick, even to my liking. Why the fuck would they do that ?” Sophist inquired.

“Because they believe lava is the Sun’s blood, and injecting it in their own would make them Their children. In case you wanted to know, they inject it in the arm of the dominant hand.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense. There isn’t any lava on the Sun, right ?”

Nick shrugged. “No lava. Lava is molten rock and there’s no rock on the Sun. The Sun is made of hydrogen plasma, a rare thing to obtain on places other than the Sun and you can’t really go to the Sun, so they settled for lava. Plus, hydrogen plasma would be too hot and kill everyone.”

“Lava kills everyone too,” Sophist countered sharply in a frown.

“You’d be surprised that it doesn’t. Martians learnt that having a core near to where lava is injected can cancel any damage. It instead fuels the core’s energy to nearly maximum. Though, a baby with maximum abilities is pretty dangerous : that is where Appeasers come into play.”

Appeasers are flamethrower-shaped objects attached to the arm with the dominant hand, which consumes most of their strength until they reach an age where it is appropriate to have maximum abilities. No Martians were known to be able to detach it from them before said age.

Martians invented them after the URLSS lectured Mars for how much a menace such practice can be for the other planets, and themselves. Appeasers were the creation the URLSS has accepted as the most peaceful option, though still keeps an eye on Mars.

Sophist lifted an eyebrow, confused. “Why don’t you have an Appeaser then ? No way it is normal for you to have maximum abilities at your age,” he said.

Nick shrugged. “It’s definitely not. But that’s besides the point, what I wanted to say is : I want to help you fix the robot, Vernias.”

His declaration is met with Vern’s face beaming with joy and disbelief. “Wait, really ?!” He grinned wildly, failing to conceal how he could see a blinding halo hovering over Nick’s head.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Even though I am not completely euphoric at the idea of having a robot in our house, your happiness is more important than my own apprehension. I mean, the whole bunch of parts, utensils have to be useful somehow. We can even use the spare room as a temporary lab.”

Vernias quite literally leaped to hug Nick, who smiled. Sophist watched them, retaining himself from dryly commenting at how gay they are acting with each other. He has never held himself back this much in, in… since his birth, really. What the shit.

Chapter Text

Nick and Sophist spent a week clearing everything out of the spare room, being often interrupted by their jobs, by a need to rest or by human laziness. Whenever Vern could, he gave them as much help as he could, much more motivated than his friends.

He was absolutely thrilled to one day see the broken robot he adopted finally come to life, although still dusty and lying in a corner of his room as of right now. To be honest, he was only keeping up with university work because he was forced to by Nick.

If he didn’t, Vern would’ve completely disregarded university to dedicate all his time in the project.

Admitting it to Nick would make his huge ego go through an inflation again, so he won’t.

Walking into this makeshift lab with the bare necessities made Vern as giddy as a kid in a candy store. On paper, it’s just a mountain of leftover parts they scavenged for, a bunch of tools lounging on the ground and a random white table standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

But this pathetic excuse of a lab was where they were about to repair a robot.

Well mainly Nick, since Sophist and Vern know shit about mechanics and Nick knows the basics.

But they’re willing to learn ! Kinda.

Vern is definitely the most interested in this project of them all, obvious from his fascinated gaze on the robot on the table that he and Nick had dragged through the entire corridor. His breaths were still slightly heavy from the sheer effort of carrying this heavy load- of metals.

Meanwhile, instead of looking from a safe distance, Nick tinkered with the stability of the parts, making one of them fall off from the robotic thigh. “This is going to take so much time…” he mumbled under his breath, observing the glowing core with a hint of intrigue. “Fucking miracle it’s still alive.”

And to that, Vern eagerly nodded with a blinding smile. “Exactly. Killing him would just be very mean of us, especially knowing he probably had a rough life before us. We could maybe even befriend him ! A robot buddy, isn’t that cool ?” His eyes lit up, further insisting on the kid metaphor.

Sophist chuckled, right next to Vernias. “I gotta agree with you on that.”

“I doubt it’s going to be able to talk anytime soon, but whatever you say. But know what you can do to help me repair him ?” Nick asked as he turned around to meet their gazes, making them frown in confusion.

“What ?” They muttered in unison, curious as to what Nick might be referring to.

Nick grinned, malicious. “Leaving me alone.”

And that’s how Nick ended up pushing them out of the room each time they would try to enter it. While he would like some assistance in the future, he really needs to focus on his own as of right now since repairing basically trash is a rather tedious task.

It totally didn’t piss his friends off, but okay.

Well, they weren’t really that pissed off : they say they were, but they genuinely understood where Nick was coming from. It was spoken more out of playful revenge and lighthearted fun than actual, sincere spite. Most of their jokes rely on their strong sense of humor, anyways.

An entire week (7 whole days !) passed, each day nearly identical to the last one.

Nick drained the majority of his hours into fixing the robot, which was something he had underestimated. Slowly, memories from the few robotic and programming classes he took in university came back to him. He kinda regrets abandoning them so quickly now.

Studying mechanics was genuinely fun with classmates and with all the manual projects he had to do, much more fun than mindlessly reading through websites with either a habit to overly simply or one to overly complicate. Coffee carried him through those boring ahh moments.

Vernias has just been alternating university and the project, often going to the nearest store to buy some tools or materials he thinks might be useful for Nick. These little gifts Nick first believed as a waste of money ended up being insanely helpful, consisting of huge time-savers.

Of course Nick had too big of an ego to say he was wrong. What kind of question is that ?

Meanwhile, Sophist showed his interest in the project by listening to Vern yapping happily and being good company when Nick needed tiny breaks during the day. This week, to compensate for all of the money they have been spending lately, he has been taking extra shifts at his job.

He choses to not tell them, insisting on the fact his shitty boss was making him work extra unpaid hours. Those hours were in fact paid, but Vern and Nick didn’t need to know that. If they were to learn about it, they would probably worry about him. Never a good thing in his books.

By doing all those things, Sophist was rewarded by a feeling of usefulness. He was useful. He was essential to their trio soon to be… four-friend group. It temporarily rubbed his typical anxiety off of his mind, instead substituted by a pleasing, beautiful purpose to his existence.

That was worth everything.

And everything included his friends.

Although, he will admit : working at a recycling company was really tedious and annoying.

Well not really recycling. More like recuperation of metallic parts within abandoned buildings or campuses he will eventually send off to a faceless client, that will do something with them — with, naturally so, a risk of dying to the high levels of radiation and criminality.

Lethal Company was its name, and it was extremely fitting.

Inhaling one last time the totally-not-polluted air of freedom, Sophist let a sigh escape his lips. He hates this job from the bottom of his heart. He solemn put down his hefty respirator, adjusting it and testing it a dozen of times. A too quickly put on mask lead to a colleague’s death after all. His breathing got heavy at the memory of discovering their corpse, which was audible.

Kinda like Dark Vador.

The only funny thing about this, he thought.

He glared at the red doors, who had become rusty and grey on certain spots after all this time. Heart pounding inside of his chest, he pulled the doors open before hastily going inside. They were immediately slammed shut behind him by the strong push of wind.

And here he found himself in a rectangular, eerily empty room with a door on each side. He snickered. God was this reminding him of the back rooms. There was water leaking somewhere, the sound of drops falling to the metal ground echoing dramatically.

Rolling his eyes, Sophist chose to take the right path first.

Gotta be right.

Sophist was just going through some unchecked emails on his phone, sat on one of the stools in the kitchen when he heard someone open the fridge. Looking up from his phone, he was quick to snicker at the sight. “Someone didn’t sleep last night,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Nick quickly retorted, as if his eye bags weren’t darker than the night and his movements as slow as a snail. And saying that would likely be an offense to snails, judging from how Nick was akin to an NPC, standing still in front of the coffee machine. He eventually turned it on, the machine now humming loudly.

“You’re slowly turning into a fifty year old dude working a 9 to 5 job that just types all day long at a boring company. Hell, your terrible healthy is a rival to those of actual programmers.” And then Sophist got lost into a long string of comparisons more unpleasant than the last.

Nick shot him a dagger-like glare. “Please shut up. Time just flew by, okay ?”

He would’ve probably laughed if it was about another person, Sophist knew it.

You probably want some context to this exchange, uh ? Well basically, earlier this week, Eevee had taken notice of how much time Nick has been spending on that robot. Despite those early signs of commitment, Nick swore he would never sacrifice sleep for that pile of metals.

“I swear you’re getting attached.”

Nick put his mug under the thingy of the machine where the coffee is going to be pouring down from (I know shit about coffee machines. Is it that obvious ?). “I am not,” Nick replied, faking a joyous smile. “I’m doing this just for Vernias because he really likes that robot.”

Sophist rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, buddy.” He decided to let him stay in denial for a little while longer. “Anyways, when are we giving them a name ? It’s a bit off putting to never use an actual name, not to mention it defeats the whole purpose of turning them into a companion or some shit.”

To that, Nick shrugged, cup full of coffee in hand. He sat down next to Eevee, taking a first sip out of it. “Don’t know. Vern said they actually have names according to their license plate; I’ve seen it, but I still haven’t tried to see which name it has. It’s a whole procedure to decode.”

“Maybe I can do it then. How hard can it be to transcript a few numbers ?”

Nick took a large gulp of coffee, a flair of devilishness in the way he did (no way I am the only one to think that villains are always drinking something as they formulate their evil plans). “Honestly go for it. Vern’s been nagging me to do it, so it would definitely help.”

“I’m done !” Eevee proudly declared as he slammed his laptop closed. Sighing his frustration out, he then rubbed his face, in a futile attempt to shake the fatigue off of him. It didn’t work and now he just looked even more tired

Nick snickered, though still keeping his eyes on the robot. He was currently trying to fix a few cables, which was a particularly tedious task. He still responded : “Thought you said it’d be a piece of cake ?”

“Yeah, if the flour was replaced by cement- what the fuck is this bullshit site ? I asked for the official list of names and it gave me goddamn hieroglyphs. I’m out of here.” Eevee got up from the chair he had borrowed from Nick’s room, laptop in his right hand. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much, Nick.”

Nick smiled. “I won’t.”

But that day was the marker of seven days into the project. Seven whole days.

And later that day, the robot came to life. Under a name they haven’t figured out yet.

They were working on it.

Chapter Text

Sat on the cold floor, Nick glared at the robot. It was still greasy with dirt and emanated a nauseating odor, which isn’t a surprise considering where Vern found him, but it was about to come to life — believe it or not. Right now, it was standing still on a socle, slowly recharging.

Nick solemnly blinked several times, barely surviving the weight of exhaustion. Not to mention his back hurt so much from having to constant lean in to repair its cables and whatnot. Groaning, he turned around and briefly rested his head on the robot’s left leg. Briefly.

He was just so fucking tired.

Oh, how his poor ego that went from immense to so, so little. So little, in fact he even spent a pathetic amount of time repairing a bunch of useless metals. All for what ? Well, for Vern. Yeah, he really hates how little convincing it took for him to accept such a tedious task.

And Nick swore at that moment to never, never look at a white screen full of green lines ever again. All this coding nonsense, he wasn’t meant for that. He just wasn’t. He literally had to look up YouTube tutorials- FUCKING YOUTUBE TUTORIALS. If that’s not desperate. Nick buried his head in his hands.

Bringing his knees to his chest, he began an empty staring contest with the floor. What the fuck am I doing, he thought as he frowned. Perhaps drinking this much coffee in the morning wasn’t very wise. It’s now 3pm and he’s experiencing a shitty caffeine crash.

Oh, the world around him was spinning as he battled against sleep.

Sleep.

He really wants that. He laughed at himself and his miserable state.

Never drinking coffee again, especially so much.

That was his last thought as he doze off into a light slumber, mouth open and head against the robot’s calf.

He didn’t see the robots open his eyes for the first time.

“I’m home !” Vern shouted from the entrance, overly whimsical in his tone. Pretending to be a large family by doing that each time they came back from outside was part of an inside joke they had for a long while now, all finding it kinda goofy at the start.

At the start. Now, it was just a habit like any other family would pick up.

Shutting the door behind him and locking it with his key, Vern got rid of his coat and hung it on the coat hanger to his left. He hastily pulled off his shoes, shoving them to the side out of laziness. After reflecting on his actions, he resigned and carefully aligned them to the other two pairs of shoes.

Sophist came into view, eyes briefly still glued to his phone before he looked at Vern. “Hey, buddy. How was your study session at the library ? Had trouble focusing again ?” he asked him. The fact Vern constantly told where he was going in the group chat added on to the family vibes there were.

“No, I actually even finished my essay for Critical Studies !” he quickly replied, face beaming. “Well- the first draft at least. I still have to go through some editing and all that nonsense, but I think it won’t take that long. I mean, maybe it will but I hope not.”

“That’s good to hear. I think Nick should be done with the robot.”

Vern perked up at that. “Wait really ?!” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he went past Sophist and ran until his bedroom where he went inside. Eevee heard a thump inside. Mere seconds later, Vern sprinted out of the room and rushed up to the makeshift lab.

Watching as Vern hastily went inside, Sophist shrugged and decided to join him. Might as well.

He walked throughout the long corridor at a much slower and patient speed, closing all his tabs as he did- and shit, he has way too many fucking tabs. Eventually he shoved both his phone and his hands into his sweater’s pocket. He finally went inside the room, slightly taken aback.

“I think the robot’s awake,” Sophist mumbled, staring at it with an eyebrow raised.

Vern’s whole face shone with a newfound excitement, eyes sparkling. He made a gasp, but didn’t dare make a step closer. Instead, he watched in an intent gaze as the robot slightly shifted. It was slowly, very slowly blinking at an irregular pace. It moved his head, causing a rumbling sound.

But then, it went downward, eyeing emptily the one on his leg.

Sophist and Vernias shared a confused look before Sophist muttered : “Nick…? Is he actually sleeping ?”

All Vern did was shrug. “I mean, he did say he was pretty tired recently. I’m just surprised it was that bad- he didn’t even get to chance to see the robot awaken even though he has been working on it the most,” he pitied, a small smile of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips.

Without warning, the robot emitted a high-pitched whine as it hesitantly lifted its left leg up. It shook in the air, attempting to find its balance. Vern and Eevee watched as Nick’s head harshly crashed on the metallic socle in a loud thud. They both winced in compassion.

Nick leaped out of his sleep, eyes blown wide. A scream rippled out of his mouth, along a few both Spanish and English curses. “OH WHAT THE HELL- OWWW THAT FUCKING HURTS,” he loudly complained, screwing his eyes shut as he frantically rubbed the back of his head.

While Vernias ran up to Nick, kneeling down in front of him to check if he was okay, Sophist bursted out with wild laughter. He didn’t see nor care about the burning glare Nick shot him. Eevee’s cackle turned into an uncontrollable wheeze when Nick continued making pained noises.

“Dude ! Stop making fun of me, you fucking bitch. Oh puta I can’t believe I slept on that piece of trash…” he angrily mumbled.

Vern was sheepish to talk to him when he’s that furious, but eventually mustered the courage to. “You okay ?”

Nick met his gaze, giving him a look of both utter exhaustion and gratitude. “Absolutely not. Is that stupid thing even awake yet- oh shit, it is.” He gawked at the robot who was still moving around experimentally, each gesture a shriek or a whimper. “Thanks for waking me up, asshole.”

“Hey, don’t say that !” Vernias interjected a bit sharply, before adding : “He didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah right.” Nick was still intensely scratching his head when he slowly stood up, under Vern’s eyes. He backed up slightly, eyes flickering all across the metallic body that could do a limited amount of movements. “So… welcome to the world, I guess. Can you speak or not ?”

Sophist, Vernias and Nick didn’t speak up when the robot stilled itself, before going back to its initial position of standing motionless on the socle. Near-perfect silence settled inside the room, if it weren’t for the little hum the robot’s engine was making. Another thing Nick should fix.

The moment was suspenseful, high in anticipation for all of them. The robot tilted his head to the side, a cryptic curiosity stuck on its face- or maybe was that normal, since robots don’t typically have any emotions. But then, its chin (a metal plate) lowered itself, revealing its mouth (a hole).

“Bonjour,” an artificial voice begun, coming from the inside of the hole. “Je m’appelle… Brent.”

Nick was two seconds away from either killing himself or the robot. He mumbled an unintelligible curse. Of fucking course the robot’s default language isn’t English, the dominant language of the entire programming and robotic world, Nick silently complained.

Both Vern and Sophist glanced over at Nick, seeing how his face was scribbled in disappointment meddled with clear annoyance. They assumed this wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Last time I checked, that’s not English,” Sophist commented flatly.

“No shit,” Nick grumbled in return, a bit muffled as he had his head in his hands. “It’s French.”

Vernias raised an eyebrow, confused. “Why would he speak French and not English ? Didn’t you check the language settings ?”

“I did, that’s the thing. It only told me it was in its default language or whatever, not physically capable of saying anything more than that. I just kinda assumed it would speak English, considering all its programming is English and only English. But NO, that’d be TOO EASY.”

While Nick was thinking about the hundreds of ways he could eliminate this robot as painfully as possible (he knew he couldn’t induce pain to something without pain sensors like skin, but just the idea of it soothed his murderous intentions), Sophist pulled out his phone and quickly typed something.

When Vernias asked what he was doing, he just grinned and retorted : “Being a genius.”

Then, he proceeded to get as close to the robot as possible and clicked once before putting it next to the artificial ear. Sophist had used Google’s translation tool to ask if it could say anything else. And in return, it (proudly) stated : “Bonjour. Je m’appelle… Brent.”

Sophist’s face went jaded. “Oh, how convenient and helpful. Thanks, buddy.”

“De rien.”

“Wait- you can understand what I am saying ?” Eevee questioned, slightly taken aback by its reply. He put the phone near the robot’s mouth- or well, Brent’s mouth, so it could speak into it and thus have its words be translated.

“Oui… je peux. C’est,” the robot made a long, very long pause as if not capable of much faster. It slightly annoyed Sophist, and immensely bothered Nick who had spent so much time just to depend of Google for the whole communication. “… grâce au traducteur que…. j’ai.”

Sophist then listened to the artificial English voice, before repeating to his friends. “Basically, he has a function inside him that lets him translate any language into French. From the looks of it, he can’t give a translation of his own words or even fluently speak French.

“Well that’s because he’s constantly on an energy saving mode, since his batteries aren’t qualitative enough to manage a lot of speech. Guess what ? Another stupid thing I’m gonna have to deal with,” Nick declared, a fake smile across his face. “But that will be for tomorrow. I’m taking a nap.”

And with that, Nick left the room with a huge pain at the back of his head and with no rewarding feeling of accomplishment. Vernias and Sophist couldn’t really blame him for that, watching as the robot automatically turned off, his batteries already dead.

Turns out Brent accidentally unplugged himself when he was testing movements, earlier.

Chapter Text

“Heyyy buddy,” Sophist called out as he slid into the lab, a mischievous look on his face. It resembled a malicious goblin, which wasn’t too far from the truth in his friends’ opinions. “How’s it going ? Gone insane yet ?”

Nick shot him a glare from behind the robot, a screwdriver in his gloved hands. “You’re saying that as if you can’t wait for me to go insane,” Nick mindlessly grumbled, before his face went jaded. He rolled his eyes. “Who am I kidding, that’s definitely what you want the most right now.”

Sophist shrugged, a cheeky grin across his face. “Eh, I’d say it’s the second thing I want the most. First is world domination. But yeah, you are right : I do find the idea of you going insane very hilarious. Especially knowing you sacrificed sleep and got your head bonked for Brent.”

At that comment, Nick physically and internally winced. “Please say for the robot. Without context, it sounds as if I am sacrificing sleep for an actual human being and that’s just weird. Really weird.”

“And sacrificing sleep for an actual robotic being isn’t weird ?”

“Oh shut up, you bitch.”

He heard Eevee giggle like the little gremlin he was, and Nick couldn’t help but smile just the tiniest bit at that. Even if he swears Eevee is the most annoying person he’ll ever meet, he’s also his friend for a reason (no, bullying Vernias isn’t the only reasoning behind their friendship).

He finds him genuinely funny, although that will never be said out loud for the sake of his own ego. And if he did, Sophist would be capable of writing it on his goddamn tomb — to give you an idea of how he would never hear the end of it. In conclusion, saying it out loud is a big no.

“Wait- are those the same gloves you used for the Daisy cosplay ? Dude, no way you disrespect Daisy like that,” Eevee commented and judging how his voice was right next to his right ear, Nick knew he was really really close right now. Uncomfortably close if he wasn’t someone he trusted.

But still, there was still this instinctual urge to push him away. He obviously didn’t, instead focusing on fixing some bolts on the robot’s back. “Of course not. I bought those gloves ages ago. No, these ones, they’re different. Oil doesn’t infiltrate the fabric and defeats their whole purpose.”

Nick had quickly used gloves after noticing the dark oil that would constantly dirty and grease his fingers when he’d manually fix the robot — a pretty disgusting feeling by the way. It was absolutely filthy, kinda nauseating and quite fucking gross to even think about. Just- ew.

Sophist hummed, watching as Nick tightened a few silver bolts. He could tell they were brand new, with how clear and shiny they were in comparison to the other rusty ones. “Right, right. Uh, is there anything I can do to help ? Believe it or not, but I didn’t come here just to make you suffer.”

For a moment, Nick pondered on what he could need. Right now, the tasks he was doing were solo-oriented or at least much easier alone. But he can’t possibly pass up that kind of offer. “Not really… I mean, if you could fetch me a cup of coffee that would be grea-”

“Fuck no,” Eevee sharply interrupted him.

“Wha- why not ? You said if you could help, and you could help by bringing me coffee !”

It was Sophist’s turn to act unimpressed and, if you think about it, a bit smarter than Nick. But, since he was trying to be serious for once, he isn’t going to make a comment about it. “It’s five pm. You’re not sleeping tonight if you drink now- and don’t you know about inflation ? Coffee’s expensive.”

Nick groaned in annoyance. “Fine. I’ll grab one myself later.”

“I hid the coffee machine.”

Now THAT finally elicited a reaction out of Nick. He snapped his head at him, face screaming I’m offended and shocked. That were probably his very thoughts. “You did WHAT ? No way you did that. You did that ? Why the fuck would you do that ?” he interrogated him, frowning.

“After seeing your caffeine crash, Vern and I decided you would be best without coffee UNTIL you decide to establish a better sleep schedule again. Seriously, it’s chapter nine and you’re already miserable ? There are still sixteen more chapters to go, buddy.”

Nick froze at that. “Uh- chapters… you- what ?”

“Don’t worry about it !” Sophist replied in an innocent, whimsical smile.

Nick could not be asked to deal with Sophist’s shenanigans and crazy nonsense. “Okay… I will not be grabbing some coffee,” he resigned.

And Eevee couldn’t be prouder of himself, as he happily walked out of the room.

“Yeah, I’m totally buying some from the coffee shop not far from here…” he whispered to himself.

After one last bolt, Nick was done with the robot’s back. It should do less squeaking noises when in movement than before.

Three days later…

The door was slammed open, making Nick jump out of his skin. A few curses were either screamed or whispered, to give an idea of his startled state. He was working on the robot’s programming on his computer for the past two, three hours or so- he stopped counting time a long while ago.

Glancing briefly behind him, he wasn’t surprised to see Sophist standing at the doorframe with his chest puffed up and a wide toothy grin on his face. He groaned. “What do you-”

“I already told you at the beginning of the chapter, you little-attention-span-having penguin : world domination and seeing you go insane. Take a gamble on what dream I am pursuing right now,” he replied playfully, not closing the door and straight up walking up to Nick’s desk.

But his footsteps were as quiet as a mouse, so Nick didn’t know he was right behind him. And even if he had made a sound, Nick wouldn’t have heard it over the cacophony of his misery. “Bitch.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And why are you leaning in into my ear, you scared the fuck outta me Jesus Christ…” Nick mumbled, bringing his palms to his face as he calmed down his poor poor heart. He may have also questioned his life decisions at the very moment.

Sophist grinned, he could just hear it. “Awwww, what ? Can’t handle me ?”

“No one can.”

“Touché.”

“Since when do you know that word ?” Nick mindlessly asked, not peeling his gaze off of the screen he was engrossed in.

Eevee took a chair from the corner of the room and dragged it across the floor in a high-pitched, drawn-out squeak. Yep, Nick definitely complained about that. Eventually, he pushed it on Nick’s left side and sat down like a kid watching his father work. “Since it’s been overused and has lost its initial meaning.”

Nick chuckled at that, painful flashbacks popping up in his mind. “Fair.”

“Completely off-subject but I was wondering when do you think the robot could turn on again ? No pressure or anything, it’s just that I have to deal with an excited Vern ever since you forbid him from coming here,” Sophist nonchalantly pointed out, reading the coding lines with a frown.

That type of bullshit was boring as fuck back in middle school.

Definitely now too.

Nick paused at that. “I literally just told him not to distract me- know what ? Yeah, he would definitely distract me just by existing.” He chuckled to himself, either from amusement at that thought or from slowly becoming insanity. Noun intended. “But honestly, by Sunday it’ll be done.”

“Sunday ? You mean, tomorrow ?”

“What are you talking about- Sunday is in three days, you bozo and a half.”

Sophist mentally face-palmed himself. “Buddy, it’s fucking Saturday today,” he reminded him with an arrogant smile.

“Oh shut up no it’s not,” Nick fervently countered.

But then, Eevee pulled out his final weapon that has conquered worlds and slaughtered monsters before this moment : his phone. He quite literally shoved the lit up screen to Nick’s face.

Numerous beats of silence followed.

“Oh.”

“Yep ! You’re officially a programming loser who can’t keep track of time.”

“Fuck off, you… sucker.” Not the best insult he has spontaneously come up with.

“Suck her ? I hardly know her.”

And here is that overly proud, mischievous giggle.

“I’m gonna kill you in your sleep one day I swear to God.”

Chapter Text

Brent was staring at Nick for the past ten minutes now, not muttering a single word.

“Don’t look at me like that; your speaking module hasn’t arrived yet and no, I still don’t speak fucking French,” Nick spat at him, not meeting his robotic eyes. He let a sigh escape his lips as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms as he did. Soreness is going to be the death of him.

Brent’s head slowly and awkwardly bobbed up and down — at least he’s capable of nodding and understanding what people are saying to him. He then continued gazing at Nick, as if impatiently waiting for something.

“What do you want ?”

“…”

“Shut up.”

“…”

Nick groaned, the sound muffled by his hands on his face. “I’m going to kill you.”

Brent then tilted his head to the side. He was challenging him in the most subtle and innocent way, this motherfu- right. Nick promised to stop insulting Brent just because he was struggling to program him correctly. Still, he so badly wanted to punch the shit out of him.

It wouldn’t be reasonable. It would be stupid, since it would make all his past efforts go down the drain within a few seconds.

Yet, it was tempting.

No, no. He’s not doing that.

As of right now, Brent was in a much better state than when Vern had first found him. Which isn’t that difficult to do when the robot was rotting in a dumpster, anyway. Most of his parts were cleaned and ridden of their nauseous odors, some replaced by brand new ones.

Now, it was only his programming that Nick was struggling with. He has never had to deal with core-having robots ever in his life — and turns out, the process is so absurdly convoluted. Nick has at least screamed in frustration ten times in the span of a week.

Currently, Brent was charging. Nick couldn’t do much without all the modules he ordered online, except wait and stare at this strange thing.

“Anyway uh…” he started, unsure what to say to someone who can’t physically respond. “Vernias is currently sleeping, and Sophist probably not. He’s pretty insomniac. You’ll get to see them tomorrow morning, in a few hours. It’s currently six am so maybe near 10am ? Something like that.”

“But um, for now, it’s just the two of us, uh ? I swear you must be annoyed by me at this point.” He chuckled to himself, his laugh soaked in exhaustion. Nick had turned and rolled in his bed for hours and, when he failed to meet sleep, had just came here to talk with this dude.

Dude ? He didn’t know what to consider Brent to be anymore, since he is visibly capable of much more than what he has programmed him to do. Understanding basic human language was not an ability he manually gave him, that’s for sure. And nodding ? No, that’s just him.

Nick believed those moments of independence from his program must stem from his core. After some research, he found it must’ve initially belonged to a human. Who, was a question he has yet to have answered to. Retracing the owners of a core was a long, laborious procedure, administratively speaking.

It would be a plain waste of time, really.

“You look pensive.”

Nick frowned, his head shooting upwards. He now glared at Brent’s open mouth. “What ?”

“According to my knowledge about human facial expressions, 91% of your current ones correspond to the ones linked with pensiveness, thoughtfulness and such.”

“Since when do you have knowledge about human facial expressions ?” Nick mumbled, accusingly.

Brent would’ve probably innocently smiled if he was as human as he was. “I possess a wide comprehension about humanity ever since I have been created, thanks to my creator. Such database is stored in my core, and cannot be taken away from me unless you destroyed the core...”

“… which is basically impossible,” he completed Brent’s sentence, before sighing. “Got it.”

A moment of silence slipped its way between them. While Nick had a whirlwind of thoughts and questions about Brent’s creation and his programs he couldn’t interact with, Brent chose to grow quiet with no particular reasoning. He wasn’t nearly as fidgety as Nick.

Eventually though, he spoke up again : “You should go to sleep.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” His voice was sharp and full of bite. “Since when do robots order around humans ? It’s the other way around, bubby. Always has been and always will be. You robots are too dumb to conquer the world, anyway.”

“You are mistaking our physical limitations as a lack of intelligence,” Brent countered. Of course this dude can just reply freely, without any speaking module or program. “I am capable of walking but because you are working on me, I have assumed you wouldn’t want me to wander around.”

Nick scowled at that. “Oh so now, you have a functioning brain! I thought it was broken.”

“The brain you are talking about is my programming brain. It is only additional to my core, a bonus if you will. All that you are programming only serve to enhance me and improve my abilities, but my core suffice to make me work at a decent extent.”

Oh, not beating the shit out of this robot was revealing itself to be a very difficult task.

He groaned in his hands.

“Why didn’t you say that sooner ?”

“Because I sensed a spike of fulfillment whenever you are programming me. I did not want to deprive you of your happiness, Nick.”

Nick hated the fact Brent was this emotionally intelligent. In the back of his mind, he knew Brent was right: no matter what he says, he’ll admit that working on such a tedious project has been therapeutic in a way. It distracts him from everything else, for just a few hours.

But that’s not something he’s willing to admit just yet. Maybe one day. Not today, though.

“Whatever.”

A beat of silence followed, thick and heavy.

“Why do you hate robots so much ?”

Nick’s shoulders stiffened at the question, a flurry of answers immediately flying through him. He was staring at the ground when he chose one, eventually. “Because they have ruined lives. They have ruined mine, too. Robots aren’t even human, so why should I care anyway ?”

The question was technically rhetorical.

But Brent still replied.

“You should care because Vern cares, and you care about Vern more than you hate robots.”

A groan.

Loud footsteps.

A door slammed shut.

“I must’ve struck a nerve, then. I apologize, Nick,” Brent said, in vain, in this now empty room.

Chapter Text

“So… you talk ?” Sophist mumbled, narrowing his eyes at Brent.

Brent’s metallic head bobbed up and down once, slowly, accompanied by a sweet squeaking noise that grated Sophist’s poor ears. “Yes, I do. Do note that my communication abilities are limited, meaning my sentences can be-” Brent suddenly interrupted himself.

Sophist bit back a giggle. “Can be randomly cut off with no reason ?”

Brent nodded again, the noises so jarring Sophist covered his ears as he did.

“Dude, you gotta stop that.”

A pause followed his comment. “Stop what ?” he questioned, in a numb, robotic tone.

“Nodding.”

“Oh. Understood.”

Sophist chuckled this time, a glint of amusement shining in his eyes. Something told him this guy was gonna be one hell of a fun time. “You know…” he began, stepping closer to Brent to study the insides of his opened chest where glowed his green core. “… I think I’ll like you more than Nick.”

“Fuck you,” Nick exclaimed, tearing his gaze away from his computer to glare at Sophist.

“At least this guy is nice to me!” Sophist retorted, pointing his finger at Brent. He swore the metallic balls that served Brent as eyes shifted downwards, as if staring at the finger. Did Nick work on the movements of his eyes ? Last time he checked, he didn’t. What the…

Nick yapped about something as an answer to whatever Sophist said, but quickly realized his (stupid) friend was anything but listening. Instead, he intently stared at Brent’s fucked up face (okay, fucked up is an exaggeration. It’s messy, with broken parts and oil stains).

“Eevee ?” he eventually called out, after a good minute of dead and awkward silence.

“I think his core belonged to someone, to an actual human being,” he mumbled to Nick, although Nick already knew that information. “I mean, how else can you explain everything ? The deliberate talking and thinking, the head movements, the knowledge you did not add-”

“I refuse to restore his humanity.”

Sophist suddenly snapped his head at Nick. Ow, that hurt .

“Don’t look at me like that.” Nick rolled his eyes. “If Brent was at some point completely human, there is no way I’m doing that. It’s so much paperwork for what? To get persecuted for humanizing a robot? I’d rather not end up being yet another example to use during systemwide debates about this.”

A pang of disappointment went to Sophist’s chest at those words. “I know but like… that would be so freaking cool! Brent will stay in a robotic body but will be human in the inside, metaphorically speaking. And I’m sure Vern would-”

Yet again, he was sharply interrupted. “Are you seriously using the Vern card on me ?”

Sophist innocently beamed at Nick. “Vern would be so happy if we restored Brent’s humanity, all three of us.”

Speaking of which, Vernias made his appearance. He opened the door, came inside and carefully closed it behind him. A sense of unease grew over him as his two friends stared at him as if he was an alien from another galaxy. “Why did the conversation stop the second I walked in?”

Before Nick could dismiss it, Sophist spoke up first : “We can humanize Brent.”

Nick buried his face in his hands. This was about to be a conversation he was going to hate.

Humanization, in this case, is the act of rewarding a robot with humanity or any values associated to humanity : feelings, liberty of movement and consciousness, want for independence, will, morals, principles, the ability to be traumatized, the five senses… anything that is fundamentally human, really.

Ethically speaking, there is nothing wrong with humanization. But, there have been, especially recently, many controversies surrounding this practice. Many believe this could have awful consequences on humanity with robots that are much more capable than humans and may one day want power over them.

And there’s also a belief it fucks up the very definition of humanity. 

Anyway, humanization is deeply controversial and has been the cause of persecution against those who humanize.

Which is why it’s the last thing Nick wants to do. 

Plus, it’s an abundance of paperwork.

“Wait, we can humanize Brent?” Vernias exclaimed, a grin forming on his lips at the idea of his buddy being humanized.

“We could but we’re not going to,” Nick immediately countered, staring at his computer’s screen instead of at Vernias. He doesn’t have the strength to watch his smile fall off his face. “Taking care of a robot is already problematic. But humanizing one? It’s asking for problems, Vern.”

A silence then hung over them, and Nick internally winced. “It’s just- I don’t want to endanger ourselves further more. Even though we’ve had no consequences yet for taking care of him, we will one day. And I’d like them to be as small as physically possible.”

Vernias understood what Nick was saying. He truly did. But he also thought Nick had loosened up after spending so much time with Brent. Clearly not. Or at least note yet. “You’re not wrong, but… we can at least try to see what the procedure is? I don’t think it’s that complicated.”

“It genuinely is.”

“Then I’ll do it if that’s that complicated to humanize Brent,” Vern countered with a determined look on his face Nick didn’t see.

He didn’t need to see it to know how Vern must look like right now. After a long, thorough silence, Nick sighed almost begrudgingly. “I am not helping you with the procedure in the slightest,” he conceded. “Repairing Brent has already taken way too much time. I’m not adding paperwork to the affair.”

Sophist cackled. “No way you folded that quick!”

“Shut up, you imbecile.” Nick glared in a dagger-like manner at Eevee. “Say one more word about this and I’m shoving rotten copper down your throat.”

Brent intervened. “That is not a kind gesture.”

“NO SHIT YOU MORON -”

Chapter Text

Vern sat at his desk with dozens of papers scattered all across. While he should probably be studying for final exams, he preferred to take a look at the humanization process first. He thought it wouldn’t be that bad. But the more he stared at the mess, the more he realized it’d in fact be that bed.

A sigh went past his lips. No wonder Nick didn’t want to do this.

As he did his best to remain focused, Vern found himself regularly fucking dissociating. He swore that reading each line physically cost him . Why can’t administrative documents just get straight to the point, instead of yapping straight nonsense for hours?

Which is why Vern was glad he studied film. If, one day, he had a corporate job, it would’ve been the equivalent of chugging a cup of lighter fluid (=killing himself). 

Of course, Nick remained true to his words, in which he said he wouldn’t help him with the procedure in the slightest. After all, Vern was the one to have insisted they humanize Brent in the first place. But, a part of him had hoped Nick would’ve done just a little something.

But no. Strictly nothing. He understood. It was only fair. He was still going to complain about it.

Vern looked up on the Internet articles and blogs about how to humanize, but they left him more puzzled than anything else. So that day, he shoved all the documents into his bag and headed outside. He was going to go to a mechanics shop: surely, they know how to humanize, too. 

Although when he arrived there, Vern first noticed a graffiti on the windows that said: “BE A RUSTER, BE A TRAITOR”. Despite how his breath briefly caught in his throat, he still pushed open the door and went inside. A bell rang while the door shut itself behind him.

A vendor went up to him with a bright smile. “Hey! Don’t mind the mess around here. A few clients needed to prove a message.”

In fact, the store was a mess . Shelves had been shoved to the ground, all sorts of liquids and materials were scattered all across the place. A lot of objects were shattered, destroyed, or ripped in half. A nauseating smell then assaulted me. Thankfully, Brent’s initial state made it so I barely reacted.

Vern frowned at the sight, but quickly tore his gaze away. He looked at the vendor again. “Oh. I am so sorry for that,” he apologized, even though he had done nothing against that store. “I was just wondering… do you know anything about the humanization procedure? With robots?”

To that, the vendor’s grin faded away instantly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to humanize any robot as of right now,” they countered. “With what happened yesterday all across the planet, humanizing would just put you in unnecessary danger. The extremists are now tracking down those procedures.”

It was only then that Vern remembered why Sophist, Nick, and he had stayed stubbornly inside. Violent riots had occurred on planet Earth, in nearly every country. This store was only one of many, many others that were wrecked during those riots.

The vendor telling him to give up on the procedure frustrated Vern. “I know. I’ll be careful- but do you not have any idea?”

But all he was given were warnings.

So he left.

Vern went to store after store, seeking anyone who could help him out. But each one was more mortified than the last by the recent riots, and each one refused out of fear. They all gave him countless warnings about humanization, and how those against it are slowly integrating the systems-

Yeah, Vern zones out the moment they apologize the first time.

Any words after that just fade into nothingness, just go into one ear, and escape through the other. 

Vern went back home, utterly disappointed.

Like many times before, he found Sophist glued to his phone, sitting on the couch in the living room. Like many times before, Vern plopped down next to Sophist and let out a sigh. Like many times before, Sophist noticed. Like many times before, he closed his phone and set it aside.

“So… how’s your quest for humanization been?” he had asked, out of politeness, although he already knew the answer from the scowl on his face.

“Horrible.” Yep, what he expected. “I tried to do it alone, but it’s just really hard. All the detailed information about the procedure takes nine pages alone. And then there are fourteen other pages that are just even more details about the process in itself, needed documents…”

Sophist frowned, a half-smile now on his lips. “So you’re just too lazy to read?”

“It’s not that!” he exclaimed, taking one of the couch’s pillows and punching it once out of frustration. Poor pillow . “It’s encrypted. For each page, it’s encrypted into certain codes. I’ve only been able to decode the first one because it was pretty simple, but then it’s just nonsense.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Vernias nodded. “Exactly. Apparently, protesters have managed to infiltrate the governments that provide humanization documents, so they did that. It would’ve been illegal to have just deleted or modified everything, so they made it technically accessible.”

A beat of silence followed Vern’s explanation of his dire situation.

But then, Eevee chuckled. “This story’s getting weird. What is the author even saying? Just tryna update, uh… Hope their readers don’t mind.”

Vernias was too lost in his own thoughts so he didn’t hear Sophist break the fourth wall. It just didn’t make sense to him. People –  who have organized massacres and riots and system-wide hatred against an existence as small as robots’ – now cared if what they were doing was illegal?

There must be a bigger picture he hasn’t seen yet. Maybe this act meant something in the grand scheme of things, but he’s only gotten to catch a glimpse of a corner. But he had no idea how to find more pieces to this tremendous puzzle, frustratingly enough.

Something wasn’t right.

“Vern, don’t worry. This is only chapter 12,” Sophist casually informed his friend, as if it made any sort of sense to him. “We’ll figure everything out eventually. I mean, we’re the freaking protagonists. We need to. Anyway, go and study your final exams before you fail and work at McDonald's.”

Vernias stared at Sophist in sheer disbelief. “...”

He’s not going to ask.

Chapter Text

Weeks went by.

Nick had continued spending most of his days repairing Brent. And as ashamed as the fact made him, he’d often work on him at night during an insomnia. At this point, Brent was fully functional. Albeit a few parts that could need changing, and some bugs in his program.

But overall, Brent was doing good. He had spent a couple of hours exploring the apartment, storing in his database the memory of each wall and each object. While he needed to recharge regularly, such an improvement overjoyed Vern – and his friends too, because Vern was.

Vernias now often chatted with Brent despite the robot’s apathetic tone and his objective points of view. Explaining metaphors and irony didn’t bother him that much anyway. Honestly, it amused them more than anything. Plus, Brent was able to help him decode the humanization papers.

Although not each one, since doing so would make his battery plummet without exception. That annoyed Nick.

Meanwhile, Sophist was just happy to see Nick do other things now that Brent is well enough repaired. As much as he made fun of his friend, he didn’t want him to actually go insane . Just slightly. If Nick descended into insanity, teasing him wouldn’t be nearly as fun to do.

But maybe he shouldn’t be too relieved about that. After all, it seemed as if it was Vern’s turn to obsess over something.

Humanization.

More violent riots occurred, but this time, they weren’t on Earth. Instead, they spread out to the other planets in the system. Mercury, Jupiter, Mars, Neptune, Uranus, Venus, Saturn… None were spared from the sight of how far this system-wide debate was getting.

Something deeply concerned Sophist: barely any governments reacted to the matter. Yeah, the news incessantly blabbered about the riots, its consequences, the motives, the numbers – rambled about anything, really. But most leaders remained quiet.

Sophist was far from being the only one to notice. 

Everyone did.

… Yet, billions of people calling them out didn’t change anything.

Sophist had mixed feelings about this whole affair. Official documents being encrypted so much to the point they’re nearly impossible to decode? Already very suspicious. But almost no executives speaking up about the thoroughly alarming matter? It wasn’t adding up.

Maybe Vern was right to be perplexed.

But for now, there was nothing they could but go on with their lives.

And remember how much of a family they resembled the three of them before Brent was around?

It was safe to say Brent joined their family.

More times than not, Sophist would wake up the first since he’d have a work shift that day. He’d still make time to prepare breakfast for his friends, who’d make sure to wake up at least fifteen minutes before Eevee had to leave. Their conversations would be lighthearted.

The scent of coffee would mingle with those of toast, butter, and whatever they were eating. It became quite a familiar one, one each person would secretly relish in. While routines were usually dull, that was a routine they never got bored of.

But it didn’t disappear upon Brent’s newfound ability to move around the apartment however. No, it simply… adapted itself.

Before going into the living room, Nick would first unplug Brent and turn him on. They’d exchange a few words before heading there together. Sometimes, Vern would already be waiting in that room, next to an ‘asleep’ Brent (they considered his battery recharging as sleep).

Brent would stand next to the table, watching them eat. None would be surprised if Brent began asking questions about what they were eating, or if he started listing all the negative aspects of certain industrial foods (which made them feel bad about eating them).

None would be too bothered by it. Well, they’d obviously complain and lecture him about it but it was all in light-hearted fun.

Which they had to explain without an exception.

Brent still struggled with subtext and tone, especially when it was very subtle and difficult to discern.

But that was fine. Perfectly fine.

“You harbor hatred towards me?” he once had asked, his mechanic head wheezing as he tilted it to the side. Brent seemed almost… questioning. They all stopped wondering how he was even capable of such movements, despite Nick having done nothing to give him that ability.

“No, I don’t,” Nick rectified with his gaze glued to his phone. He gulped his first morning coffee, swallowed it, before glancing at Brent. “A lot of humans say they hate someone as a joke. Like, ‘oh you’re so annoying I hate you’ but it’s more fond than anything.”

Brent didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “You think fondly of me so you say you hate me, but you don’t?”

Nick winced a bit. “... yeah.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a half-smile.

What Nick appreciated the most about Brent was his straightforwardness. As much as he’s still getting used to the fact that there is a robot in their household, he came to like Brent. Just a bit. People tended to be hypocritical, to lie, to hide truths, to bend others…

Brent wasn’t human enough to know about deception.

Nick liked not having any doubts about how Brent felt – technically, Brent didn’t feel, but you get the point.

Although he was… intrigued.

Vernias and Sophist’s minds were all over humanization and the convoluted situation with the governments. But Nick’s thoughts remained mostly on how independent Brent can be. His movements, his words… He didn’t wait for a ‘prompt’ or a question to talk. He just did .

A while ago, he had assumed Brent’s green core must’ve belonged to a human before (probably his creator). It would explain many of his behaviors. He hadn’t lingered on that idea too long and had basically forgotten about it, up until this point. Now? Nick grew even more curious.

Retracing the previous ownerships of a core is complicated. The procedure might’ve even been messed with the same way humanization has been, but he doubts it. People retrace cores all the time, especially in the context of police or crime investigations.

Nick let out a sigh.

Was he really going to bother with this affair right after he was done repairing Brent?

Yeah.

He was going to bother with that.

Chapter Text

Fortunately, the procedure to retrace previous ownerships of cores wasn’t messed up the same way humanization was. It was thus Nick found himself sat on his bed at midnight, under the light of his bedlamp, with many papers to work through. 

Nick completed all the necessary info paper by paper, highlighted the important facts, wrote down notes about certain paragraphs, and 

After a while, it became so repetitive and mindless he kept zoning in and out. And when he did, he kept thinking about why he is doing this. Well, he knew why. It was to find out about why Brent is so independent, and thus find out about his past.

No, he didn’t know why he cared.

Whether Brent is capable of movements and thoughts of his own didn’t exactly matter. It was actually a good thing: much less programmation for him. But as he stared at the documents before him, one image stubbornly remained printed in the back of his head which was Brent’s state when Vern found him.

Just what kind of owners did Brent have to be like that? Nick had first assumed they must’ve been apart of the people that just hate robots for no reasons, or at least perceive them as tools for their personal benefits. Back then, it was also his belief. Back then, robots were just robots to him.

But then, Brent came around.

Anyway.

That theory was highly probable. Yet, something didn’t sit quite right with Nick. If Brent had a human core, there were two possibilities . 

Either one of the owners gave him their own core, meaning they stripped themselves of most of their neurological abilities – which is the equivalent of suicide. But if that was true, then it wouldn’t make sense as to why Brent has been mistreated in the past. 

No one can give basically their whole life to a robot and abuse him. That’s two-faced as hell.

Or, second possibility, it’s the creator themselves that have given him their own core. But if that’s the case, the mystery to be solved would be the reason why he would do that before giving Brent away to awful owners. It just- it didn’t make much sense to Nick.

Once again, it didn’t matter that much.

But for some reason, it’s all he could think about and it was starting to deeply annoy him.

An hour or so later, Nick was finally done with all the documents. He got off of his bed, went to his desk to grab a letter, and shoved all the documents inside. Even in a world of advanced technology where even teleportation is possible, some procedures were still physically-done.

With a weary sigh, he quietly got out of his room. He walked through the corridor and heard hushed whispers. Nick went into the living room and found his friends submerged by a sea of coded papers (the humanization documents, he quickly assumed).

“What are you morons doing at nearly 2 am?” Nick asked, effectively making them jump.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT NEARLY 2 AM?!” Sophist quickly shot back, staring at Nick like he was a ghost or something. Vern gave him a similar look.

Nick crossed his arms. “I asked first, bubby.”

“We’re insomniacs who got a rush of motivation at an ungodly hour,” Sophist blunt replied. “Now, it’s your turn.”

“I just finished… some work. I came here to go grab a glass of water.” And with that, Nick went to the kitchen that was in the same room as the living room. His friends watched him as he took a glass from a cupboard and filled it with water from the sink. Nick took a first gulp, which soothed his sore throat.

Vernias raised an eyebrow. “Some work? That’s vague.”

Nick winced at the question. He hadn’t told his friends about what he was doing. It’s a question of dignity, really. For months, he had been yapping about how stupid they all were to take care and fix a robot. If they learned he was getting out of his way to learn Brent’s past… he might as well kill himself.

“Brent accidentally lost all of his battery and it kept making annoying beeping sounds, so I’ve put him back on his charging pedestal and I’ve been trying to change the settings. I don’t wanna hear those noises again.” Nick was impressed of his own quick lying abilities.

Vern’s suspicion faded away. “Oh, okay. I see.”

Sophist would’ve probably questioned Nick furthermore if he hadn’t been distracted what Vern just said. He giggled mischievously. “What- what do you do, Vern? You…?”

Vern shot him a glare. “Don’t you da-”

“YOU SEE.”

And of course, Nick used that opportunity to make sure the topic was completely switched. “You’re a bozo, I swear,” he added with a smile.”

Chapter Text

“Overconsuming caffeine can lead to headaches, upset stomach, anxiety, muscle twitches, and more, according to many solid sources,” Brent stated matter-of-factly, eerily staring at Nick as he drank his fifth cup of coffee of the day. “I believe you are overconsuming caffeine, Nick.”

Nick rolled his eyes at that. Here he was, trying to do some research online for this very same guy who was creepily watching over him. He wondered how it came to be like this, making an effort for a robot. “No way.” There was no sarcasm at all in his voice. None. 

Brent’s eyebrows grew slowly, with difficulty, closer to each other (was he trying to frown?). “Then I suggest you stop drinking. Your long-term health will surely appreciate it.” Despite Brent not being physically capable of sarcasm, it sure sounded a lot like it.

A groan left Nick’s mouth. “My long-term health can go to hell.”

“That is not nice.”

“And the sky is a polluted, ugly grey – why are we saying obvious things now?” he shot back, glaring at Brent. “I know caffeine isn’t that great to my body. But I’ve already got two bozos lecturing me about it all day, every day. I really don’t need a third one.”

Brent fell silent, and Nick, naively so, thought that would be the end of it. But after exactly nineteen seconds, he spoke up again.

“Are two people lecturing you not enough to convince you?”

“...”

“I apologize, Nick.

Nick sighed. It was getting harder and harder to stay mad at Brent, especially with how quick he was to apologize. “Stop apologizing all the time. Apologies are useless, or so I have been told.”

Brent tilted his head to the side in an excruciatingly slow way, accompanied by a delightful creaking noise. It totally didn’t make his ears bleed. “By who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, unable to bite back a smile.

Silence fell over them again. Nick’s gaze drifted back to the screen of his computer- oh, that was right. He was doing research. While he had already posted the letter to start the procedure to retrace Brent’s core, there were still things that needed to be done.

As of right now, all work he did to Brent was fueled solely by scraps of knowledge gathered here and there, or by basic assumptions. Surprisingly enough, it got him quite far. Up until this point, he had never bothered to widen his grasp of robotics.

Why? Well, because it was never meant to take such a major part of his days in the first place. Nick had only agreed to repair Brent to the bare minimum, so Vern wouldn’t be annoyed with him. But then, he did a tiny bit more than the minimum. Just a little more every time.

To a point where Nick wanted to do many more things than the minimum, except his lack of knowledge limited him. And that deeply frustrated him. So ‘things that needed to be done’, it translated directly to ‘things that Nick cared about even if he didn’t want to’. 

So here he was, doing research about robots.

His search history is going to be fucked after this.

Meanwhile, Brent continued watching over him. He was glued to his recharging platform, but even from there, he could read Nick’s computer screen. A large part of him wanted to ask Nick why he was doing this, a not-so-logical action given he had stated he couldn’t care less about him.

Then again, Brent had noted another fact about Nick. He absolutely hated it when he asked ‘stupid’ questions.

He thus chose to keep quiet.

“Brent!” Vern called out to him. While he was sat on the couch of the living room, surrounded by encrypted documents, Brent was just standing there. He watched as he took a few seconds to react, before slowly walking up to him. “How are you doing today?”

“I am doing good,” Brent replied matter-of-factly. Technically, he didn’t have any feelings, but Vern had taught him to say ‘good’ if nothing was wrong with his system. Nothing was wrong with his system, so he said ‘good’. “How are you doing, Vernias?”

Vern nodded, a warm smile now on his face. “Good! Thank you for asking.” He then gestured to the sea of papers surrounding him. “I was wondering if you could help me decrypt some of these documents. I know it depletes your battery, but Nick’s not home so…”

Brent tilted his head to the side, in a laggy fashion. “Will Nick not be mad?”

“Nick is always mad.”

Fair enough.

After nearly two weeks' worth of work, Vern only needed to decode one last document. And then, he was finished, and he could finally begin the humanization procedure. Vern showed it to Brent, leaving him to analyze the coding the best he could.

Many minutes went by, but Vern remained patient. While Brent was much more capable intellectually than he was programmed to be, any action that required actual reflection took him a while. A long while. Vern was getting tired of holding his arms up so he put the paper down on the couch.

Brent was still analyzing. Vern watched his battery go down at an absurdly quick pace, shown through a small screen on his right arm. He winced. Yep. Brent will have to stay at his recharging station the rest of this day after he was done with decrypting everything.

But then, Brent took a step backward. “I am done.”

Vernias grabbed a pen and paper and began writing down every word Brent had decrypted and was now saying. That took a solid ten minutes.

Finally .

They could begin the humanization procedure.

But before that, Vern had to bring Brent to his station: he was getting way too close to 0% of battery.

Chapter Text

It was three am when Sophist quietly opened the front door, closing it behind it with utmost care, and keyed it shut. He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack. An exasperated sigh left him as he immediately made his way back to his bedroom.

By some miracle, Vern and Nick had never noticed him taking extra shifts so they could afford Brent’s repairing.

No one slept that well in this family, so the dark and marked circles under his eyes were dismissed as the usual. The bigger and bigger amount of money flowing into their common bank account went overlooked. Sophist assumed they were too busy to notice it.

Nick spent most of his days working on Brent and… doing research for who knows what. Most likely a project he was ashamed of. Meanwhile, Vern had to juggle between university work and the whole humanization procedure. He had just finished decoding everything, if he recalled correctly.

It was hard to be certain with such a pain pounding at his forehead. It had been such an awful day of work, at the Lethal Company. Exhaustion was scribbled on every inch of his muscle. Even walking across the wooden floorboard was accompanied by a dull ache.

Sophist wondered.

Maybe he should get a new job.

Deep-cleaning abandoned buildings – as in eliminating either monsters or nasty infections – paid relatively well, but he knew the risk wasn’t worth the money. Often, he got devastatingly sick because of a way too contaminated place that no protections were able to withstand. 

Not to mention, he nearly died a few times in the past. One time wasn’t too long ago. Sophist wanted to grab as many craps as humanely possible, so he could bring home more money than usual. It was when they were really struggling, with Brent around only recently at the time.

An indescribable creature had shrieked into his ears, so Eevee had made a dangerous jump across a metallic passerelle to another to avoid getting, you know, eaten alive . He had nearly fallen into a pit so deep he couldn’t even see the end of it.

He had once seen one of his colleagues fall into one, and never did he see them again.

Sophist entered his bedroom, the memory still fresh in his mind.

Maybe another job could be nice, but not for now. Not when Vern and Nick needed money the most, with Nick working less to afford time to spend on Brent. Sophist didn’t bother changing into pyjamas and straight-up plopped down on his bed.

Sleep embraced him immediately.

He didn’t notice Brent peeking inside the room, with the door ajar.

Chapter Text

That next morning, Nick had to go to work while Vern attended a lecture at his university on Earth — which meant Sophist was home alone. It hadn’t happened in many months, since Brent showed up really.

Usually, he’d make sure to put in an extra shift when that happened so he’d earn extra money without his friends noticing. But, this time, Sophist wasn’t able to get one. His director didn’t answer the phone.

He got out of his bed at eleven am. Although he had been wide awake since well before dawn, Eevee hadn’t found it in him to leave his bed’s warm embrace. He instantly settled down on the couch, checking his phone’s notifications.

Adds about products he couldn’t care less about, Instagram messages about people he could be interested in following, his terrifying screen time… Sophist quickly deleted all of them. Nothing useful in them.

“Hello Sophist.”

Sophist jumped a bit. His head snapped towards where the voice had come from (that hurt his neck a bit). He relaxed when he saw Brent, standing blankly behind the kitchen counter. “Hey buddy. How are you doing?” he asked.

“I am doing good. What about you, Sophist?” 

“Good.”

A silence followed, but no one was bothered by it. Brent didn’t have the ability to feel unease since he hadn’t been humanized yet, and Sophist was distracted by his phone and its painfully bright screen.

But then, Brent spoke up again: “Why do you not tell Nick and Vernias about the extra shifts you work?”

Sophist briefly froze. He put his phone away. “Wait wait- how do you know?”

“I saw you come back home late,” Brent replied matter-of-factly. “This is the seventeenth time in the past three months. And, after analyzing the common bank account, I noticed a lot of money despite all the recent expenses.”

Sophist let out a sigh. He forgot that, while his friends weren’t exactly geniuses, there was a literal artificial intelligence around. “Look… if I told them, they’d worry. They don’t need that right now with all the current administrative bullshit.”

Brent slowly tilted his head to the side, producing a squeak softer than usual. Nick must’ve oiled the metallic parts of his neck recently. “I do not understand how the situation can justify risks of burnout and emotional distress.”

“It- doesn’t,” Sophist begrudgingly conceded. “It’s only temporary. I’m bringing in extra money so they can afford the two procedures, and when it’s done, I’ll go back to my normal shifts. Don’t worry about me.”

“That is a lie.” Brent’s tone was firm, blunt as if a statement.

It was.

Sophist didn’t counter with anything.

“Burnout is not the only risk you are exposing yourself to through this behavior,” Brent continued. “Given you work at Lethal Company, you amplify risks of death, grave work accidents, and virus contaminations.”

“I know.” Sophist sunk deeper into the couch.

After analyzing him for weeks and weeks, Brent knew he had a prominent trait of stubbornness so he didn’t try to argue furthermore. “You should at least eat breakfast, although eleven am is not a conventional breakfast hour.”

Sophist went back to his phone, now using it to distract himself from his own thoughts that imagined his friends’ reactions when they would inevitably find out. Not a good thought. “I don’t have the energy to-”

“I already prepared buttered roasts and a glass of orange juice.”

“You can cook?!” Sophist frowned, looking at the robot once more. He looked bewildered.

“I would not consider laying butter upon bread and pouring juice into a glass ‘cooking’,” he countered with an air of amusement if Sophist was imaginative enough. “It took me an hour and thirty-eight minutes.”

Eevee deadpanned. “You’re guilt-tripping me now?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

He groaned, using all of his strength into getting off the oh so sweet couch. God he slept so badly last night. He dragged himself to the kitchen next to Brent, where his breakfast was waiting for him. He wasn’t hungry.

He still ate.

Under Brent’s intent gaze he had grown used to.

Chapter Text

Vernias was back home around one pm, after a trip to a nearby library on a neighboring planet. He ate a quick lunch with Sophist (and technically Brent, who stared at them and stood next to the table). Honestly? He was still hungry when he hastily left the house twenty minutes later.

But that didn’t matter.

Hunger didn’t matter, not when he carried in his backpack at last completed humanization procedure documents and dreams. He just needed to go to the town hall to submit the application to humanization for Brent.

His mind was a tornado of thoughts. Vern couldn’t hold back a toothy grin at the mere idea of how life could be with Brent after he would be humanized: it would be so fun. 

Brent would finally be able to laugh at jokes, scoff at darker ones, be touched by watching a deeply tragic movie, understand subtext in conversations like everyone else, and comment with a real air of sarcasm… 

It would be amazing. 

Of course, he knew it would take at least two weeks before they’d receive the object necessary to finally humanize Brent. But this? This was a huge step forward, may he say. Especially with all the encrypted papers…

That actually concerned him quite a bit. Riots grew more and more frequent, and the violence of their protests only grew in a worrisome way. Many governments ignored it for now, but a few began trying to defuse the situation — including the one he lived in.

It was good news on the table, yes, but not when you know how ineffective politicians are during a crisis that needs urgent answers (=not at all).

Due to the busy company of his own thoughts, Vern suddenly found himself in front of the town hall. He hadn’t seen the time pass.

But when he arrived at the reception desk, he was met with a friendly face.

“Lena?” he muttered.

Lena wasn’t someone he knew personally, but for weeks, she was the face of so much news. That sudden popularity was due to a massive riot happening on a plaza on the other side of Mercury, the planet they were on, in which Lena’s robot, Raymon, was torn apart by protestors.

More violence had ensued that day, but this one was the most notorious because of Lena’s heartbroken and outraged speech. It became a symbol of how divided the world was just because of humanized robots and the inaction of the government about this system-wide debate. 

It was ironic to see her work at a town hall, for a government, of all places.

Lena hummed in surprise, her gaze going to Vernias. She smiled awkwardly when he recognized who she was. “Heyy… you’re the fortieth person to already know my name this month,” she slowly enunciated. “I actually counted.”

Vern couldn’t help but chuckle and scratch the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry. It probably made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Not like I didn’t expect people to know my name after the whole situation with the protest. It was on the headlines for way too long. I don’t blame you at all.” All of a sudden, she stopped herself from rambling further on.

An awkward beat of silence passed.

“Anyway… how can I help you?”

Vern coughed. “Yep uh…” he intelligently began, trying to gather his thoughts once more. Talking to someone whose presence was on every media was quite a disturbing experience. “I was here to begin the humanization procedure. I completed the documents and everything-”

Lena visibly flinched. “You want to humanize a robot?!” she exclaimed. “Why? Why would you do that? All the documents have been coded to an extreme degree just to avoid people from going through with the procedure. How did you even manage to decrypt them?”

“You- you humanized a robot yourself,” Vern retorted defensively, the words slipping out of him before he could stop himself.

She gestured to herself. “And look how that ended for me.”

Vern winced. Lena’s tears had been broadcast for the whole world, for all the planets, to watch and rewatch on repeat for so many days. It was known that afterwards, she had received a lot of backlash and humiliation. “Fair enough…” His voice sounded sheepish.

“But that doesn’t answer my question,” she pointed out, leaning against the desk and towards Vern. “Why?”

“I want to. Brent is an amazingly kind robot, and humanizing him could be really cool.” He smiled.

“You don’t risk your life over something cool .”

His smile faded away. “Just- let me go through the humanization procedure without lecturing me,” he suddenly told her, frowning. His next words were spoken more softly. “I… I know humanizing Raymon indirectly led to his death, but I still want to do this.”

Lena let out a long, deep sigh. Her eyes shone with something way too close to a knowing sadness as she looked at Vern, dead in the eyes. Unease coiled in his chest. 

“I would’ve warned you.”

Vernias handed her the papers, and she stored them away. And with that, he left the town hall with a lot of things to tell his friends when he got back home. Although he wasn’t certain he’d be able to speak after that eerie sentence that now haunted his head.

Would this lead to Brent’s death?

No way.

There was no way it would.

He wouldn't let that happen.