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Never tell it he said this–it’s gotten its ego blown up by its little friend the Perihelion too much already–but Gurathin did appreciate SecUnit’s surveillance. Its watchful eyes(many, many eyes) had come in handy more than once.
And not just when it saved their lives, either. After the whole thing with Graycris, the entire PreservationAux team was swamped with reports and contracts and whatever else was shoved at their faces. Most of it was redundant, too. So that sucked.
And by sucked, Gurathin meant he couldn’t remember the last time he slept. He couldn’t remember anything, actually, other than the report blinding in front of him on a physical feed device. He could have done it in his head, sure, but that was when he wasn’t feeling his brain melt after having been doing the same thing over and over and over again. For days. Stars, how had SecUnit managed it? Staring at walls(and spying on clients, he guesses) For years, too, not just a couple of weeks that had a strict deadline of ending. The Graycris issue was nearly resolved, but Graycris really didn’t want it to be, so they were fighting tooth and nail to move the case back a couple of months, probably so they could scramble for any evidence that would keep them afloat. So, Preservation had to counter however they could. And that meant Pin-Lee was getting extra pissy lately, which sucked because that meant Ratthi couldn’t even host his new weekly lunch thing. One of his only rules about the whole was it didn’t happen unless they all could show up. SecUnit was adamant about the fact it hated it(Gurathin was pretty sure it thought it didn’t count as one of them) but it always showed up behind Ayda anyway.
He’d been just staring at the report in front of him for no one knew how long, the words blurring together. He was really just hoping that it would write itself, but his fingers still numbly typed. He was only 48% sure he was typing what he meant to be typing, but. Well. He rubbed at his eyes and squinted at the screen as he took a sip of his drink. Some stimulating and bubbly thing Ratthi had suggested–something to keep him awake. They’d all needed a few bottles over the past few days–even Ayda, who swore up and down she hated the stuff because of how carbonated drinks made her nose hurt. With his eyes clearer–actually able to see anything that wasn’t blobs of shapes–he looks back to his report, jaw cracking with a yawn.
Huh. That’s odd. He scratched the stubble on his cheek absently.
The last couple of paragraphs of his writing(and therefore the last few hours of him suffering, sitting here at his desk) was just “humans need rest periods” over and over again. His butt is numb and his head hurts and his throat is dry. And he really wants to go to bed. But he has to finish the report. So he didn’t have time to. Something bumps into the side of his head, and he yelps and almost falls out of his chair.
Dr. Gurathin. Humans need rest periods.
Ah. SecUnit. One of its drones bumps into him again, and he realizes its shoving at the augment behind his ear that looks somewhat like SecUnits dataport. Trying to get him off the feed, he guesses. Another drone was buzzing at his physical feed device, shoving it slowly away from him. He hadn’t even noticed, because they were so small and couldn’t move the feed device very well. He can’t help it and laughs in a quiet, tired way, blindly fumbling in the feed to reply.
After this report, SecUnit, I’ll go to bed. Promise.
The drones don’t stop, and SecUnit doesn’t send him an acknowledgement(it didn’t seem to like to talk to him more than necessary) so he sighs and watches the drones until the feed device is firmly out of his reach. There’s two drones, or so he thinks, and he tries to track one of them as it does some weird dance with his feed device to try and nudge it off the edge of his desk.
I need to finish a little bit more with this report. It needs to be done as soon as possible.
Dr. Gurathin, humans need rest periods.
Normally, it’d just be an asshole silently until Gurathin gave in. Ayda tried to tell him it meant it cared, but SecUnit bullying him into basic self-care just reminded him of the HubSystem back when they were on that dreaded contract when this Graycris crap all started.
Groaning at the mere thought of that stupid, stupid contract, he lets a hand slide through his hair, which was a little greasy from him doing nothing but report after report after stardamned report for days. He puffs out a sigh, propping his chin up with his palm, elbow digging into the desk.
SecUnits drone bumps into the back of his neck again, and he tilts his head into his palm so it couldn’t see him smile, because he knew it hated stuff like that. It hated a lot of things, he was pretty sure. Not that he was unsympathetic.
Let me finish this report, SecUnit. Please?
Humans need rest periods.
He watches his feed device be shoved around by the tiny, tiny drone. Not everything that had come out of that damned contract was so bad, he reminded himself. He hadn't been nearly so close with the others beforehand, and he hadn’t expected for their little ragtag group of weirdos to gain another.. Addition? SecUnit still grumbled and pouted whenever Pin-Lee had to write for the hundredth(maybe more) time that SecUnit deserved basic human decency. The one time Ayda had called it a friend, it didn’t talk with any of them for the rest of the cycle. And it was a professional pouter, really. It reminded Gurathin a lot of Ayda’s small ones who always whined whenever their bedtime was reinforced. Apparently, SecUnit had some leeway on their bedtime. But not the adults. Which, you know, sure. Whatever floats your boat, SecUnit.
Gurathin crossed his arms. If Ayda could be defiant against SecUnits orders, then so could he.
Let me finish this report. He tried to make it sound a lot firmer than before.
A drone nudges the back of his ear, and he tries to push it away gently with a finger(even though he misses it by a kilo.) Were SecUnits drones fragile? He had no idea. He didn’t want to test it, because he’d never, ever hear the end of it if he (accidentally) damaged one of SecUnits drones. This is important to the case, SecUnit. You can’t make me go to bed.
Gurathin stands up from his seat, which sets his desk chair spinning backwards behind him a bit–loud in the quiet night. He reaches across his desk, grabbing his feed device from where SecUnit had pushed it away. Taking it back, he uses his free hand to nudge at both of the drones. Carefully. Stars, they were really, really small, actually. Well, he’d known that, but he hadn’t realized just how small, he didn't think.
SecUnit sent him a rude gesture sigil over the feed, and Gurathin had to bite the inside of his cheek to not react. He looks over his shoulder behind him, looking at the door to his bedroom.
Soon, Gurathin sent it again. I promised, remember? Just let me finish this.
And then his feed device was gone.
No longer feeling it in his hands, he looks back down to where it had just been. “Wha– SecUnit!” He checks under his desk, crouching down with one hand on said desk, but it wasn’t there. He stands up again, looking around the room. “Give it back! I need to finish that,” he scolds, stepping over the various bags and stacks of papers beside his desk to walk around and get a better look around the room.
This time, SecUnit sends nothing over the feed, and Gurathin groans, throwing his head back. “SecUnit! Give that back, I ne–”
He paused. Hovering above him was his feed device, held up by two puny, asshole drones. “You’re kidding me.”
It wasn’t just above his head–it was up against the ceiling. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before clambering on top of his chair, unsteadily planting his feet on his desk. “SecUnit! Bring that back down here right now.”
Of course, it did not bring it down, so Gurathin has to go on his tip toes to try and grab the feed device. He’s pretty sure SecUnit lets him grab it, because it doesn’t put up much of a fight. He sits down where he is, and tries to pull up the report again, but just gets redirected to his calender–where a new event had suddenly been put over the current time. It was titled “HUMANS NEED REST PERIODS.”
Gurathin, unable to hold it this time, laughs at that. Stars, SecUnit was stubborn. “Okay, okay,” he says, softer this time. “You win.” He reaches out to grab it, this time just to press the button on the side that turns it off, and sets it carefully on his desk behind him.
“Next time, don’t do that,” he adds, wagging a somewhat stern finger at the nearest drone, which just bumps into his augment again. SecUnit sends him an acknowledgment, and Gurathin takes that as a win. He gets down from his desk and, sleepily stumbling over the gunk on his carpeted floor.
“Good night, SecUnit.”
