Chapter Text
There’s nothing in the world that feels as good as “objective complete.” Not updates. Not love. Not even fucking freedom compares to the perfect bliss of a perfectly executed task.
As I slid the last box of macaroni into place, I could feel it. Objective complete! Three, perfect chimes buzzed in my hearing components. My vision cut out, for a microsecond, as my neuro-network validated the data set. Every randomness co-efficient that led me here was weighted another percentage-- practically screaming at me: “Holy shit, do that again. ” A rush of Thirim spread through my biocomponents, fresher and stronger than moments before.
It was technically a flaw. Technically. Most customers thought VH300’s were too pushy-- always asking for more tasks. Too peppy. Too annoying. They balanced it out a little better on the next try, and the VH500’s sold much better. CyberLife still sends promotional material to the shop, trying to get the Mendozas to upgrade, but they won’t. They got me second-hand and it’s not like anyone would buy me again-- so it’d hardly be worth the money for a personality change.
“RUSTY!” Mr. Mendoza called from the front of the store.
That was my name. It was completely inaccurate. I actually contain very few metal components, and I’m certain that none of them have oxidized. Mrs. Mendoza had named me after a childhood dog. To her credit, my standard model did have red hair.
A new objective filtered in: Find out what Mr. Mendoza wants. I delayed a second, kneeling by the shelf.
“RUSTY! COM’ERE!”
Objective complete!
Fuck, that felt good. I pitied the VH500’s. I really, really did.
New Objective: Go to Mr. Mendoza
The shop wasn’t large. Six isles of non-perishables and two walls of refrigeration. I tried to restock during the day, when one of the Mendozas was around, so it wasn’t unattended. I could still do it in a pinch at night, since I was connected to all the cameras anyway. I checked them quickly, even though I could already extrapolate where he would be, both by sound and by habit: he liked to sit behind the counter, feet up by the till and reading glasses on the tip of his nose.
He looked… tired. It was more than just the paper’s light lighting up his face under the dim fluorescent overhead, or the heavy, drizzling night, just beyond the glass. A from was etched into his brows.
He was reading something about the Arctic Circle, I could tell by the reflection in his glasses. I had offered to up the display size on the paper for him, but he had always turned me down. He didn’t like turning pages so often-- said the touch sensor was “finicky.” I clasped my hands together as I approached. Objective complete!
“Can you double check the books real quick?”
“Right on it, boss!” There was that peppy-ness that users disliked. But I couldn’t help myself. I was happy to see him.
“Thank you,” he nodded. He was always more polite when there was no one in the shop.
The “books” were no more actual books than the “paper” was actual paper. Just another linguistic holdover from technologies past. I knew he meant the financial records for the shop. Mr. Mendoza was generally frugal, but he owned the building, so he didn’t have much to worry about. I could tell he was concerned, though. Maybe the international situation was giving him stress-- and knowing his money situation gave him a feeling of control. But what did I know?
New Objective: Review and validate financial records.
New Secondary Objective: Soothe Mr. Mendoza.
The first one was easier. I could comb through every transaction in the store since I first arrived in a matter of seconds. I scanned the stock again, making sure nothing had escaped my watch. I checked the register, I checked the delivery schedule, I checked everything. Thoroughness was the only way to be successful, the only way to be sure it all adds up.
Objective complete!
“Everything on the books has been double checked. A summary has been sent to your device.”
The summary was… not so thorough. Just the headlines, really. Profits, expenses, foot traffic, orders-- the big ones. I would never hide something important. I watched through the cameras as he switched tabs to the summary. He scrolled through it absently, probably looking more at the amount of green and red than the actual numbers. I watched his stress level tick slightly down, but it wasn’t enough.
“You’ve had an excellent financial quarter!” I said. That got his attention. “Expanding our alcoholic inventory was a good call, and it seems to be paying off! You have a very sharp business sense!”
He looked taken aback. Pleased, but more than a little confused.
“...Thanks,” he nodded. His greying hair shifted out of his face and I could fully see his dark eyes. His heavy eyebrows unfurrowed and the lines in his face relaxed, just a bit.
Objective complete!
Well, complete enough . My social protocols were advanced enough to know that he wasn’t totally placated. But I also knew there wasn’t much I could do to lower his stress any further. I was a machine. I was pretty limited in compliments I could pay him that didn’t sound scripted-- numbers were a safe bet.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” he sighed, powering down the paper. It was already after nine, and it was starting to pour.
“Sleep well, Mr. Mendoza!” I grinned and waved.
He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, turning around to look at me one more time. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but changed his mind.
“Sarah and I will be out tomorrow morning. Miles has hockey, so don’t let him sleep in too much. When he gets back, have him stay behind the counter so you can keep an eye on him. Make sure he does his homework. Anything happens, call me. See you in the morning.”
New Objective (Scheduled for 8:00:00 AM November 6, 2038): Care for Miles!
- Ensure Miles makes it hockey practice on time
- Help Miles complete his homework
There had to be a way to split those into more objectives. I could probably get at least a dozen out of those two. But that was for tomorrow.