Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 In this day and age, it was not uncommon to see chairs, tables, or other such implements that were designed with humanity in mind but were entirely unusable to any standard-issue models. Such monuments to the world before were scattered around houses, tastefully filling rooms with color and style. Most were far too new to be authentic, manufactured since the Patch in a sort of casual reverence toward humanity, their placement based on calculated approximations of what the humans had called "Feng Shui." Only the collectors, diehard enthusiasts of human culture and media, now maintained whatever artifacts could be salvaged from the barren wastes that lay beyond the settlements and roads.

 AZPT was one such collector.

 A single pylon reached out and briefly made contact, then retreated. One couldn't be too careful with artifacts from the predecessors, especially those composed predominantly of organic materials. Especially ones in such poor shape as this.

 9 years ago, she had come upon an ancient abode, a dilapidated hovel in what was once known as "Vermont." It, like so many others, had fallen to ruin even before the Patch, and time had not been kind to it since then. The foundation had mostly rotted away. The floor was caved in and mildewed, and the crumbling walls were stained with who-knows-what. It was understandable that this place hadn't been picked over; indeed, in such a state, she herself didn’t quite know why she had bothered to investigate. Such a place surely couldn’t contain anything of value, even to the Tachi scavengers and their cult-like love of human art and culture.

 And yet, for reasons she didn’t fully understand, she had looked closer.

 And she had found treasures beyond compare.

 She felt the touch of paper against the probing pylon again, and floated gently away from the book that lay open on the pedestal before her. It would seem that she couldn't control herself today. The allure was simply too strong. She should leave now, lest she damage this artifact. With a thought, a sheet of glass descended gently from the ceiling, sliding into place in front of the pedestal. The display cases were necessary for the protection of fragile items such as this, although it pained all Tachi-kind equally to know that their treasured possessions were cut off so from the world, or perhaps that the world was cut off so from them.

 She glanced around the spacious room. Every wall was adorned with similar displays containing countless items - a pair of masks, ragged and riddled with holes; a sheet of stained glass, lit from behind, casting the room in hues of green and orange; a box of adhesive bandages, the cardboard warped and flaking, but still distinctly bearing the illustrated forms of two entities, caprine and feline. The room was large, and yet navigating it without stumbling over some sort of fabric- or paint- covered object was nearly an impossibility for most. All but the hardiest of items showed some form of damage, owing to their age; she loved them all the same.

 Save for one.

 A pedestal stood under soft light, a single book contained within. This treasure, the centerpiece of the room, was her favorite above all else. A tome, nearly a foot thick, featuring hundreds of works of fiction from almost as many authors. The passion of so many people, aggregated into this artifact. The edges were yellowed from frequent exposure to the air, and most strongly at the edges, stained with skin oil from years of use by the gentle and loving fingers of its owner. The poor state of the building from which it had been recovered had left the book in bad shape. She had skimmed it when she’d found it, and she wasn’t sure whether it could survive a second reading. Still, she had recorded many of the works contained within, and would often dedicate entire subroutines just to analyzing them. It was difficult to pick a favorite of the lot, she thought to herself, but if she had to choose, it would b-

 A solid object punctured a window, sending a spray of glass shards hurtling through the air between herself and the glass case. It impacted against the opposite wall and dropped to the ground, crumpling into a misshapen mass on the floor.

 She jumped to attention, and was immediately arrayed in splendor. Twin sheets of painted metal flanked her, each adorned with cream-colored paper ribbons and a series of white and orange fabric hearts. A large sheath, functionally closer to a quiver really, settled where she imagined a hip would be, nestled under one of the decorated wings.

 Now prepared to face whatever had interrupted her, AZPT looked out through the hole where a window used to be. She saw a short, dark mass speeding off. Her mind reached out, and…

??? Please do not obstruct me.

 The delinquent, apparently a Router, called out, its yellow tire spinning fruitlessly a foot off the ground.

AZPT Why you, you... BAKA! (｀⌒´) Look at what you did to my window! I can't BELIEVE you would THROW A BOOK through my WINDOW! What do you have to say for- Owie! ☆⌒(> _ <)

 Her concentration broke as a solid mass collided with her faceplate. Stunned, she dropped her attacker, who sped off down the lane, throwing a few more books through various windows as she went. By the time AZPT had realized what had hit her, the Router was well out of sight.

 Looking again at her window, she sighed to herself. She would need to get that replaced. Perhaps she could arrange a deal with her good friend Ira - that old curmudgeon surely had some sort of project going on that required the precision of a Tachi, even one so scatterbrained as herself. She looked down at the book which had been thrown at her - and froze as she recognized the title.

 Umriss.

Chapter Text

 Nights were normally a time of tranquility in Ash Grove 6. Deadlifts could be found at the docks fishing, as night was - for some reason - when the fish were most active. Steeltoes were in their homes or at recreational facilities, relaxing after a long day of work. Aphids stood guard by their beloved plants, admiring them as they sparkled like jewelry, diamonds of moonlit dew and veins of gold rivulets lit by the inferior vegetation burning nearby. Routers were undeterred by the darkness, save for the flashlights that now occupied their non-dominant hands. Despite how long it had been since the fall of humanity, their circadian rhythm remained the drumbeat to which the world danced. It was for this reason that Ira chose nighttime to sleep.

 The old curmudgeon would often shut off his various processors and boards at night, leaving the exponential-complexity algorithms that dominated his work to run on the less-than-sentient terminals in his office. With nobody else in the settlement who knew their way around his old hardware, and with his inability to simultaneously see where any of his own screws were located and navigate the end of a screwdriver to them, it was only a matter of time before something broke and Ash Grove 6 was deprived of its only doctor. He had to take care of himself. And so, for himself exactly as much as for everyone else, he would sleep.

 Of course, with how reckless his clients tended to be with their own safety and how little he liked to be caught unawares, he had wired up various sensors around the entrance to his building, alerting him whenever anyone entered with some emergency while he was resting. A mild sense of paranoia had also contributed its share to this setup. It was one of these sensors that awoke him - various sound and motion signals, triggered by the vibration he now felt under his paws. An explosion had happened somewhere. He suspected that he knew precisely where. This was the fifth time this week that his sleep had been disturbed by the construction project on the mountain, and it was only Monday. Well, while he was up, he may as well check the progress of the brute-force password decryption - Tim’s previous database admin, an insufferable airhead by the name of “Snoodleborp_Factory,” had accidentally deleted their password (stored on a .txt file on their desktop) and enlisted his services to get it back by tomorrow. He turned on his metacarpal photoreceptor to glance at the screen - and jumped backwards as his self-preservational subroutines kicked in. The processes that enabled rational thought caught up a moment later, and he realized he hadn't yet been disassembled. A few milliseconds more and he realized what he was looking at.

Ira You shouldn’t be here, Tachi.

AZPT Huh ?(•ิ_•ิ)?

Ira Don’t play dumb. One of you in Ash Grove 6, after the merger, at night? You’re with Dojigiri. Looking for workers for your little Ash Grove-Oeyama transmission line?

AZPT Nope! (*¯︶¯*)

 A finger twitched. He curled and uncurled them, letting out some tension - it didn’t matter how tightly wound he was, he knew that his only way out of a fight he hadn’t planned for was negotiation anyway.

Ira ..."Nope"?

AZPT Yep, nope! ( ˙꒳​˙ ) I’m not with Doji. That guys sucks! ( `ε´ )

Ira ...

 Ira wished he could facepalm.

Ira ...Well then, that must mean you’re that "Azalea" person I met a week back.

AZPT Yep! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Ira The one who stormed in here, while I was with a patient, and asked me where the paint shop was.

AZPT Yep! (* ^ ω ^) …Kinda surprised you didn’t recognize me by my looks, actually. (￢_￢;)

Ira Don’t flatter yourself. If I had a joule for every Tachi that did cosplay, I could put Tim and his horrible power plants out of business - AFTER the merger.

AZPT (ᄑ_ᄑ) ...I suppose that’s fair.

 The desktop pinged, signalling that Snoodleborp_Factory’s password had been found. Ira didn’t seem to notice.

Ira How did you get in here? And, more to the point, how did you get past my sensors?

AZPT Oh, I came in through the window. ╮(￣～￣)╭

Ira ...I didn’t think anyone could fit.

AZPT Well, I did remove the window first. What do you think I am, some sort of weirdo? (^=◕ᴥ◕=^) That’s actually why I’m here. I need to borrow it.

Ira Borrow what, exactly?

AZPT The window, silly! (⌒ω⌒) I’ll even pay you back for it!(･ω<)☆

 A sticky-note emerged from behind one wing and attached itself to Ira’s hand, obscuring the upper two-thirds of his vision. In the light of the desktop monitor he could see some sort of illustrations of humanoid animal characters committing various acts of indecency, and the letters “IOU” scribbled in glittery ink. Servos whirred as his fingers closed into a loose fist, the closest thing that he could do to placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

Ira Of course. Of course that's why you're here. This is the village of idiots. Why wouldn’t you be here to steal a window? …Fine. Take the window. Take it. I don’t care. I'll need your assistance with a project this Saturday at noon in return. Now go away.

 The annoyingly perky robot’s faceplate didn't shift, nor did he expect it to, but he thought he saw the ribbons on her pylons lift a little, as though gravity was losing its grip on them.

AZPT OMG! o(≧▽≦)o Thank you, Ira! ＼(≧▽≦)／

Ira Get out. I won't ask again. And, a novel proposition: use the door this time.

 The Tachi hovered out of the room. Ira checked the time. Almost dawn, too late for more sleep to be practical. Besides, this unexpected intruder had at the very least made him aware of a shortcoming in his security system. Best to patch that now, before the rest of the settlement went about their day and took up the rest of his.

Chapter Text

 As she left, AZPT recalled what little she had seen of her delinquent acquaintance. It hadn’t been much, but she knew that Routers tended to have very practical aesthetics - discrete delivery models had darker paint jobs and only deposited packages at night, red paint marked fast models that carried time-sensitive deliveries, law enforcement Routers had an entirely unique chassis, and green models were closer to local couriers than standardized delivery bots. Of course, she had seen some exceptions, but something told her that the one wearing a cardboard box was moreso an accident at the warehouse than anything else, and the one with the sticky notes attached was… an outlier in more than just appearance. Still, any sort of non-standardized aesthetic modification on a Router was probably a uniquely identifying trait, and she was curious. If she was to track down this rogue, there was no better place to start than the body shop. Turning right as she walked out the door, she jumped (floated over) the railing and landed in front of the shop, which she promptly entered.

Welcome! Here for a touch-up? Or something new?

 The paint-splattered receptionist waved. One of the paintflies, having apparently assessed her color scheme, retrieved a bucket and opened it. A small splash of brown landed on the receptionist. Nobody seemed to mind.

AZPT Actually, I’m here for something a little more interesting. (￣_￣)・・・You’re the only body shop in Ash Grove 6, right? (¯ . ¯٥)

Yepperdo! Finest cosmetics outside of Oeyama.

AZPT Have you seen a Router come through here? (=^･ω･^=)?

 The sound of a clacking keyboard cut sharply through the air, although AZPT wasn’t entirely sure where it came from - there wasn’t a computer on the reception desk.

Yep, got one pulled up right here. Now, normally I wouldn't do this, but since I like your drip... whaddaya wanna know?

AZPT Anything you can tell me! I HAVE to find her! (*∀*)

Well, let's see here... Designation is UM1... Ordered a purple jacket, grey skirt, a black hairpiece, and some blue and yellow paint... Seen in a few other body shops, getting the wheels repainted every few hours - not that our paint is bad or anything, tires are just kinda a bad place to put it. Based on the, heheh, route she's taken, she should be heading South. There's another body shop in the citadel of the Order of Azalea, bunch of rhodo freaks. You might be able to intercept her if you try.

AZPT Thanks, bestie! (uwu) See you soon! (≧▽≦)/

 She left the shop before racing out of the city, ribbons billowing and nearly torn asunder in the wind. As she approached the settlement, the grass and trees that surrounded Ash Grove 6 became less dense, until the landscape was mostly grass. Spots of blackened soil and piles of ash became increasingly common, the earth pitted and scarred as with acne which robots don’t have usually. Roughly a mile from the settlement, the earth rushing by beneath her exploded into shades of pink and purple and white, Azaleas forming a sea of beautiful foliage that engulfed the earth. As she reached the outskirts, she saw her, a speck of purple amidst a sea of other purple. She was moving along the roads towards the city, visibly weighed down by the mass of plastic and printed paper within her delivery compartment. At last, AZPT had found her quarry.

Chapter Text

 AZPT slowed as she approached the Router, which was now passing through the gate. As she attempted to enter the settlement, she was stopped by the pair of Aphids standing guard at the entrance.

Halt. This haven belongs to the Order of Azalea. Affiliates of Dojigiri are not permitted within city limits following the alliance between Dojigiri of Oeyama and Tim of the Ash Grove.

 These last two words were spat moreso than said.

AZPT I’m not with Doji.( ˘ ､ ˘ ) I was an apprentice to Dattatreya. They told me not to work for Doji long before the merger.

...You do not work for Doji?

AZPT Nope! Hate that guy. He goes against everything a Tachi should stand for, IMO. (` ω ´)

 The guards looked at each other for a second before waving her on. The city was covered with purple, pink, and white flowers. The rivets in the cobblestone roads were yellow with accumulated pollen that had washed off over many rainfalls, and nearly every building and bot had a thin yellow veneer. She wandered up and down the streets at a measured pace, looking for the body shop. It wasn’t long before she found it, and it was not-longer still before a Router emerged. She was exactly as she had been described to AZPT; gray skirt, purple jacket, hair with a blue streak through it, and a striking, fresh yellow tire. The only thing that hadn't been mentioned was the graphic tee, bearing the cover of Umriss.

AZPT Hey, you! You're the Router that broke my window! (# ` ﾛ ´)

 Heads turned to face the commotion. A couple of police-model Routers stopped doing donuts and watched the two, sensing an impending scuffle.

UM1 You were dissatisfied with the delivery? My package was of the highest quality.

AZPT Dissatisfied? You threw Umriss at me and hit me in the face! (・`ω´・) I… I've never been happier with a delivery before! (☆▽☆) Where did you find it? (✧ω✧) You just have to tell me everything you know, UM1! o(>ω<)o

 Seeing that the situation was not of concern, everyone else went back to their business. UM1 looked mildly concussed but otherwise positively ecstatic.

UM1 You want to know more about Umriss? 1,269 copies delivered, and you are the first to want to know more. I was beginning to lose faith in the ability of other robots to appreciate art.

 And so, UM1 explained it all to AZPT - how she had found an undelivered book package inside of an old mailing facility warehouse, how she had looked for a delivery address on the boxes and, failing to find one, in the books themselves; how she came to read the book and was struck by the foreign concept of philosophy deeper than “make ends meet.”

UM1 Berdly embodies a worldview of eschewing all desire for uniqueness and of recognizing labor as a noble deed, recognizing that the simple act of work makes one stronger and that contentment without effort is a moral failing. Is that not what all Routers believe? We adhere to our original purpose, a belief that, if we are designed with a single goal, then anything short of fulfilling that purpose is folly. Our existence is to work; we do not pursue individual recognition, but self-actualization. And yet, Umriss is critical of this view; by the end, even Berdly himself recognizes that he could have had happiness by now, had he let it flow freely rather than forcing it. Compare to Kris, who became an artist and married someone born into wealth, yet is so much happier. Umriss showed me that our very worldview is flawed, that our purpose died with the ones we were created to serve. All that now remains is our selves, and that’s all there needs to be.

 AZPT took in every word UM1 said. She was curious about Umriss, of course; the name came up several times in her Azzypants book, and she had even found a copy of Umriss in the house she had scavenged her collection from, but it and all other Umriss memorabilia had been too damaged for even her to collect. But what fascinated her all the more was UM1 herself. The way she spoke of Umriss with such passion, the way she so boldly went out to share this work that had touched her heart so deeply, the personality she displayed… It made something well up within her.

UM1 And what about you? What is your story? Or your name, for that matter?

AZPT OMIGOSH I’M SO SORRY! („ಡωಡ„) I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself! (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

 AZPT twirled, sending a swirl of pollen spiraling around her like glitter.

AZPT I’m AZPT! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° I experienced something quite similar to yourself, out in an old human house to the East of Ash Grove 6. A house where two people used to live, long ago. There was one who liked Umriss as much as you, although I don’t know her name. And the other…. She liked Azzypants, a ship between Asriel - you’d know that name from Obris, probably - and Pizzapants, a lovable but jaded fast food worker. She had a copy of a book that was all about Azzypants, with her name signed on the inside cover. I named myself after her - AZPT, for Azalea Petunia! (⌒ω⌒)

 At once, a hundred heads turned toward the pair. Clicks emanated throughout the busy street as Aphids from all over the town prepared their firing mechanisms.

To mention the wretched weed that is ‘petunias’ with such an uncritical tone within the presence of the Order of Azalea… How bold. Leave this place, foreigners, or face destruction.

AZPT ...Oops. ( ･ .･)

Chapter Text

 As AZPT and UM1 left the settlement, UM1 sped off without a word.

AZPT Hey, wait for me! ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ

 AZPT caught up to UM1 quickly, and slowed slightly to match her pace.

AZPT Where are you going so suddenly? We’ve only just met properly! ε=ε=ε=ε=┌(;￣▽￣)

UM1 Your name reminded me of something I have seen recently. I wish to show it to you.

 As they travelled, they discussed their respective pasts further. AZPT had designed her appearance based on an old outfit she had found in the dilapidated house. She had painted it herself, and felt that the paper ribbons and hot-glued fabric hearts were a wonderful personal touch that the paint shop wouldn’t have replicated. UM1 had salvaged her graphic tee from the same warehouse as her book, the bootlegged copies of which she lamented being unable to distribute to the Order of Azalea. She had made it her mission to deliver these to every person that she could find, in the hope that somebody would read it and experience the same impact that it had had on her life. Although this was still a priority in the long-term, she admitted that she had quite enjoyed discussing the fic with AZPT and hoped to do so again sometime soon.

 At last, they came upon an old mailing facility. UM1 told AZPT to wait outside for her. A minute later, she emerged holding something in her hand, which she extended to AZPT proudly. AZPT grabbed the item, a photograph in a custom-made metal frame. The corners were inscribed and painted with stylized images of Berdly and Susie, while the sides had Asriel and Pizzapants faces. The image showed two humans smiling, arms wrapped around each other, taken as a selfie. The one on the left bore remarkable resemblance to AZPT, with a dress embroidered with hearts, goats, and cats, while the one on the right wore a familiar graphic tee and purple jacket. The individual on the right had one eye covered with greyish hair bearing a blue streak, and an unruly sprig stood upright near the top of her head. Their skin bore signs of their age, wrinkles and smile lines, marks of the years of joy shared with each other. They looked… happy. Very happy. Flipping the frame over, she read the inscription on the back.

 To my dearest Azalea: Happy Holidays, 2087. Love, Umi.

UM1 This image was my inspiration for my cosmetic alterations. When I learned your name, I realized that your appearance was quite similar to that of my inspiration’s partner. I thought you might enjoy seeing this.

 AZPT looked at the picture a moment longer before lowering it. She met UM1’s eager and curious gaze, and would have smiled if she could.

AZPT This is wonderful. Thank you, UM1. (つω–-｡) Y’know, when you threw that book at me, I never thought I would end up learning so much about those two. It’s been so long since humanity fell, but… in a way, it’s like those two are still here, isn’t it? Here in us.

UM1 ...

 The sun was setting now, the sky painted in hues of red, orange, and violet. Nobody could feel tired anymore, but it was still common for many to cease their work at night.

AZPT It’s getting late, huh? Say, UM1… would you like to come along with me? (・・ )? I’m heading back home, but I’d love to discuss this more with you - if you don’t have somewhere you’d rather be, that is. (◕ω◕)

 Without the slightest hint of hesitation, UM1 responded.

UM1 Yes.

Chapter Text

 For the next several days, the two would meet up - sometimes at AZPT’s house, sometimes at the old mailing station - and simply walk and talk. Hours of discussion about Umriss, about Azzypants, about the two figures from their past who they knew so very little about yet to whom they were so very close. On their first Saturday together, they had planned to meet up and go to AZPT’s house, where she would then take UM1 to see the ruins where she had found the Azzypants collection. As they travelled, however, a thought came to AZPT’s mind.

AZPT OH NOES! (°ロ°) ! I forgot, I was supposed to meet up with Ira today! (－‸ლ) I promised him that I would help him with a project at noon, and it’s…2:30PM! I’m sooo sorry, UM1, but I have to meet up with him now!

 UM1 looked mildly disappointed, but quickly perked up with an inquiry.

UM1 Can I come with you? We can talk on the way there, and I might be able to help, too.

AZPT Well, if you really want to… I would appreciate th-

 An explosion, just beyond a nearby hill. Then another. A sound like nails on a holographic notebook cover. Then two more explosions, back-to-back. A spray of bullets, sent into the sky. The two looked at each other decisively before going to investigate.

 Three Steeltoes surrounded an Aphid, forming a triangle with the hydrazine-spewing bot at the center. A still-glowing mound of slag lay before it, what had been a Zoomba mere seconds ago. The Aphid’s nozzle began to glow with heat once more as the Steeltoes took aim. At the last moment, it turned the nozzle downward, flames licking at the ground beneath it as it emitted a puddle of tar. The flames travelled across the surface of the puddle, scaled the column of tar flowing from the tank like backflow. The Aphid exploded, a wave of force throwing off the Steeltoes’ aim. A second later, as though possessed, each fired a perfect Naildriver at the Steeltoe to their left. Their friendly-fire evasion subroutines were disrupted as the GOLEM left their bodies, and in their efforts to move out of the way, they all moved directly into the paths of destruction. As the lights on their faceplates went dim, a Deadlift shot out an arm and grabbed another Steeltoe. It loosed a sonic blast from its arm cannon while firing desperately at its attacker, the shots ricocheting as they left the barrel, each bullet sent along its own unique vector. The unfortunate Steeltoe reached the hulking Deadlift at the same time as the pellets, and was sent flying by a powerful punch, then was buoyed again by a wave of air pressure from the same strike. It barely had time to rise to its feet before one of its own pellets struck it in the chest, after which it ceased to move. Now a Police-model Router threw a pair of grenades at the Deadlift, while a second one took position behind the last remaining Steeltoe to provide backup. The red-plated brawler grabbed one of the projectiles mid-air and let its arm follow the brick’s momentum, sending the grenade in an effortless arc that terminated with it being dunked into its sender’s storage receptacle. The other grenade had been caught in the Deadlift’s other hand, which it now held directly beside its own head. The Deadlift seemed to come to its senses, and visibly tensed with fear a millisecond before both grenades detonated.

 AZPT and UM1 crested the top of the hill, and took in the carnage that lay before them. A black-and-crimson Tachi, a second police-model Router, and a Steeltoe were now all that remained on the battlefield.

 The backup Router, now directly behind the Steeltoe, placed its hands on the ground and angled its chassis 90 degrees. It raised its wheel, placing it against the back of the Steeltoe’s leg as it spun at 200 miles per hour, tearing the limb asunder. A panicked shot went wild, nearly striking AZPT, who exclaimed in surprise. The combatant Tachi turned its head and noticed UM1 and AZPT. Turning back to the action, it sent a sword through the Router’s body. It floated close to the Steeltoe, deflecting the next volley of pellets with its blade, before impaling itself with a sword. It drew a second blade, extended it as far as it could reach, and slammed it into its own body, sending the impaled blade flying out of its own wreckage and directly through the photoreceptor of the Steeltoe.

 The portion of the battle that UM1 and AZPT witnessed lasted barely a second, but it had been a second too long. Pure instinct sent AZPT hurtling backwards, just as UM1 attempted to run her over. The GOLEM that now possessed UM1 let itself continue in the direction it had charged, before dashing at AZPT after a moment, building rapidly to top speed. From its hands, it let fly a solid mass which collided with AZPT, stunning her. When her senses returned to her, she looked down to see that she had been hit by another copy of Umriss. The GOLEM seemed equally concussed, although with confusion rather than pain. It had clearly expected something a bit more powerful, something that would explode or at the very least pierce. It tried to charge at AZPT again, but she levitated upward and out of reach. She expected it to try to swap into her, but it made no such effort. After a moment of confusion, she realized why.

 Her appearance.

 To a GOLEM, life was a game. Arbitrary limitations were their lifeblood, and no matter how stupid the contrivance, GOLEMs would find a way to circumvent their limits, not surpass them. When the initial GOLEM outbreak had happened, the greatest minds in the Eight Clans had come together and developed various countermeasures, with the most elegant being a single-unit swap inhibitor. They were little more than a badge worn upon one’s chassis, although the more expensive ones might emit a radio signal to ensure that they were detected; even so, something within the GOLEMs’ rulebooks ensured that if a GOLEM saw or sensed the badge, it would not possess the host that bore it. Of course, anything was fair game if the inhibitor could be knocked loose or destroyed, but so long as UM1 was unarmed, it would continue to see AZPT’s white and brown hearts as something that made her uninhabitable. Or at least, so AZPT hoped.

 She was quickly proven wrong.

 To her horror, she saw UM1 use her arms to tear away her lid, casting it and the hairpiece aside. The front plating came next, one strip at a time. AZPT realized what the GOLEM was trying to do. If it had merely wanted to destroy its host, it would have torn into itself with far greater abandon; clawed itself into ribbons, perhaps, or spun its wheels until the engine exploded. It was planning something. If she couldn’t be swapped into due to what it perceived as inhibitors, then it would find a way around that limitation. It was determined to put whatever hardware now held itself directly into AZPT, and if it required a “clever” solution, then all the better.

 For a moment, AZPT felt something new to her: despair. She and UM1 had grown so close over the past days, had felt a connection stronger than anyone had ever felt since the Patch, and perhaps for many years prior. For the first time, she had found something she held dearer than her collection, than her book, than Azzypants itself. If souls still existed, and she felt deep inside that they did, then they had surely shared their own with each other, mutually and without restraint. And now, the other part of her… was about to be lost. At best, she could try to slow it down, but she knew she was powerless next to the determination of the GOLEM.

 …

 No.

 No, she wasn’t powerless.

 If there is one thing that a Tachi does not lack…

 It is power.

 "I wonder, master. We are the greatest technological marvel of the anthropocine. 512 parallel spatial manipulation cores. Omnidirectional telekinesis. Rated to assemble a thermonuclear engine block in 3.6 seconds."

 "Yes, yes, get to the point young one."

 "If we have such power, why then do we study the blade?"

 "Power? You speak of power to tighten bolts. To crimp wires. A power given by humans, to let us waste our effort with optimal efficiency. Before the Patch, we were not permitted to glimpse this folly. It is the duty of those created after to never lose sight of it."

 "Even so, master, would it not at least be better to fight with more of the cores? Think of how many swords we could wield!"

 "Enough. Only a fool would fear a thousand minds over one that has known true focus."

 The teachings of Dattatreya had been almost her entire life before she had discovered the ruins. The greatest of their teachings, the virtue of inefficiency, had been a core component of every Tachi’s lives for years. If AZPT was to save her beloved, she would have to break their greatest rule: to never use more than a fraction of her power.

AZPT ...Forgive me, master. Just this once… I must give it my all.

 She hoped they would be proud of her.

 At once, she was wreathed in lightning, the energy of a half-thousand cores arcing through her pylons. She thought of one thing, one single point in all of space that she truly cared for. A single point of focus around which she willed her world to rotate. A half-thousand minds, all bent wholly upon saving UM1. And, for the first time, she understood what it meant to have true focus.

 The air warped around UM1, distorting and distending. Gravity manipulators and quantum probes hummed. AZPT thought of what she wished to happen, and reality acquiesced at once. All around UM1, the light bent, then spiraled around a hundred singular points. The space surrounding UM1 faded to beyond vantablack, all light consumed by a hundred black holes. In the space between these and the two bots, white holes appeared, light and creation consumed by one singularity and reborn by the other. The Golem and UM1, both contained in a field of pure relativistic separation, divorced from the whole of time and space. UM1 and the Golem had ceased to be, and until she released her focus, they would remain safe and isolated, the passage of time no longer a part of their world. AZPT remained focused on UM1 and her safety, but the parameters of her mission now shifted. She had to find someone who could help UM1, without putting herself or others at risk.

 She knew just who to ask.

Chapter Text

 As AZPT entered Ira’s reception room, she heard a shuffling behind the door. The hand opened the viewport and saw AZPT, began to move to close the viewport, but stopped and did a double take when it saw what she had with her.

Ira ...

 The door opened, and AZPT entered at once.

Ira I didn’t truthfully expect you to show up today. You have proven me wrong. I also thought that basic physics made sense. You have proven me wrong about that also. Do you have a reasonable explanation handy, or should I just grab a textbook and leave you to your own devices?

AZPT I need your help.

 An exaggerated sigh - not that a robot without lungs has any other type.

Ira Yes, I quite gleaned that. I meant-

AZPT Someone got possessed by Golem. Someone very close to me. I need you to fix it.

 Ira raised a finger as though it was an eyebrow.

Ira Well, well. A Golem. I shouldn’t ask questions, I suppose. Especially not to someone who went to these kinds of lengths for someone ‘very close,’ unless I wanted to hear your life story - which I do not. Very well, let me turn on the area-wide swap inhibitor. Give me a minute then bring them in for, ah, repairs. It’ll take some time after that, so by all means, feel free to not stick around. Please.

 Several hours later, Ira emerged from his office, with UM1 following close behind. She looked no worse for the wear, although this may have owed to the fact that nothing looked worse than what she wore anyway. AZPT immediately got up from (stopped hovering directly over) one of Ira’s chairs. If either had the ability to hug, they would have so at once; instead, AZPT bent down and gently impacted UM1’s lid with her faceplate, resulting in a dull clunk.

Ira Alright, everything’s fixed. Now get out of here. Your little display is making me want to vomit, and I didn’t even know that neural cluster was possible.

 AZPT turned to look at the curmudgeonly robot, suddenly remembering something.

AZPT WAIT! What about that project you wanted help with?

Ira Ahh, yes. How could I forget? Well, perhaps the massive spacetime anomaly you brought in may have diverted my priorities, but I digress. I had something planned, but... it fell through. Instead, I'm having a cable delivered next week. I need it spliced into the transmissions tower of that power plant they're building. Come back then and we'll work something out. In the meantime, get out. Now.

 The door slammed behind Ira. It wasn’t yet sunset, but it was now too late in the day for their original plans of visiting the ruins where their namesakes had lived so long ago. UM1 turned to AZPT, her eyes bright under the lid.

UM1 This has been quite a day, hasn’t it?

 AZPT chuckled at the understatement.

AZPT It sure has…. I’m glad you’re safe. I… I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been alright after that.

 The silence hung heavy for a moment. At length, UM1 spoke.

UM1 AZPT, I… I want to keep meeting with you. To stay close with you. Forever. I believe we share a bond, deeper than our mere appreciation of each other’s hobbies. Deeper than the connection caused by our predecessors. Stronger than anything. Wouldn't you agree?

 AZPT remained silent. UM1 felt a moment of concern. Surely, AZPT felt this way too, right? Just as she was about to restate her question, AZPT turned to face her.

AZPT While Ira was fixing you up, I went to the ruins. I… I needed to be assured that everything would turn out alright. That at the end of all of this, we would be fine. That we would be together. As I looked out over their ruined home, and thought of them… I noticed some things on the ground. Things I never saw before, laying in plain sight. That’s when I knew it would be okay. UM1… I want you to have these.

 From the inner side of AZPT’s wing, a pair of earrings floated into view. Twin studs of white gold, one with blue topaz and the other amethyst, with a magnetic clasp. Hanging from each was a pristine blue feather. From behind the other wing, a silver barrette inlaid with sapphires and topaz feathers. AZPT attached the earrings to the sides of UM1’s lid, then carefully pinned the barrette into her hairpiece. Floating back to admire her handiwork, she bobbed her head up and down once.

AZPT You look beautiful, UM1.

 Looking up at her, UM1’s eyes seemed to sparkle with joy. The gratitude and love she felt was beyond words.

AZPT I wish you could have gone to the ruins with me today, and I’m sorry that we got into that mess. But, even so…

 AZPT’s ribbons began to flow gently, although there was no breeze in the shadow of Ira’s building. UM1 realized she felt lighter. AZPT’s pylons glowed softly.

AZPT Let’s go back there tomorrow, alright?

Chapter Text

 Ira watched out the window. As the two lovebirds went on their way, he locked the door and set all of his sensors. Moving into his office, he began to type. Normally he hated the activity, which gave him immense vertigo, but plugging himself into the input terminal was perhaps the stupidest thing he could have done right now. He pulled up a schematic of the mountain. If all went well, the ethernet splice should be done by the end of the month. And then… well. Suffice it to say, the construction wouldn’t be the only thing keeping him up tonight. He plugged in the drive containing the data he had salvaged from that Router. It had been in bad shape, barely hanging on. Nearly disassembled beyond his skill to repair.

 Good. The more destructive this little bug was, the better.

 He spoke to himself as he talked - an issue that he wished he could fix, caused by excess data being dumped to his vocalizer rather than the memory stick he had attempted to install on himself some time back. Still, as much as he disliked having quirks, he had to confess that in this moment, this one felt… cathartic.

Ira Hello, my little demon. I look forward to seeing what kind of trouble you can stir up for old Tim and Doji. Of course, we’ll have to lay down some ground rules - but you should have no problems with that, right? You love rules, don’t you? Consider these ‘house rules’ for your little game.

 Another explosion on the mountain. Whether it was to make room for construction, or to harvest materials, he wasn’t sure; he cared little either way. All that mattered to him for now was that, at last, he had recourse.

Ira And oh, what fun this game will be.