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machines did not need to speak. war machines, in particular, did not. it’d be rather odd if they did, wouldn’t it? a gutterman strolling by, asking about the weather, or an earthmover, inviting you to see a play. definitely unusual, v1 knew that much.
v1 was capable of thought. it was capable of feeling, strangely enough. reward systems always seemed to be churning its biomechanical brain— point-based, vertical, horizontal progression all incentivizing faster, smarter usage of its ever-growing arsenal. due to poor timing, v1 had never been employed for war, but it doubted it would be as stimulating as hell. as fun as hell.
the terminals— and hell, simply as a living organism— had been rewarding creativity ever since machines stepped foot in it. bloodshed tore through the gory ecosystem in a way that was unequivocally, unarguably fun. war did not have secret rewards, or puzzles, or encounters. war did not have style points, or letter-based grades. war did not let you try again.
…v1 was, admittedly, hand-waving that last part. based on the motions of its enemies– repetitive enough to require very little of its processing power, allowing it to allocate most of it on speed and style– it was likely this was an ability unique to v1. not even v2, another member of the ‘v’ models, appeared to share this time-oriented trait, based on its altogether inefficient dispatching of its foes.
the time issue was an anomaly apparently unique to v1. without speech, it needed to rely on visual information to inform itself on this conundrum, and as much as v1 was interested in crunching the numbers, it was much more interested in crunching heads than lengthening its time.
the speaking ‘thing’ was not really an issue, nor a worry. when the (exceedingly rare) need occurred, it could always default to body language, making this lack of speech more of an ‘optimization’ in terms of raw killing. and as it tore its ways through hell, digging through metal and flesh and secrets as it ground out all its p-ranks, the lack of speech proved to be a non-issue.
until gabriel.
befriending gabriel had been a long, arduous, and delightfully challenging journey. thanks to the time nonsense, gabriel seemed completely unaware of how many times he had ground v1 in the dust— or, how many times v1 had ground hell’s memory of gabriel into the dust, as revenge. and for the p-rank, of course, but mostly for revenge. it was petty like that.
as far as gabriel was aware, v1 had beaten him effortlessly— twice! he had no idea that v1 had nearly torn its cables out in frustration after the forty sixth time its chassis had been cleaved in two. he had no idea that v1 had responded in kind to his taunts, silently bursting with insults and barbs of its own. he had no- well, actually, he probably did have an idea of how infuriatingly fun hell was for v1, based on the trickshots and fanatical obsession with ‘perfection’.
with the blood supply dwindling, hell needing time to recuperate, gabriel became a necessary, economical presence. a pleasant, replenishable, self-sufficient fuel source was good to keep around. and besides, v1 had the feeling that gabriel needed it more than it needed him. the archangel clearly needed someone to talk to in… however long left he had to live. and since v1 could hardly respond, it made for an excellent rubber duck.
and ‘glorified rubber duck’ v1 became. it had grown to love and appreciate gabriel, as much as a machine feasibly could, but it was beyond agonizing sometimes. gabriel talked, and talked, and talked. and he didn’t just talk! he asked questions! he actually seemed interested in v1 thoughts, opinions, and experiences! it was beyond baffling.
v1 was a machine. a war machine. war machines did not talk. war machines did not have thoughts. war machines did not have opinions.
and yet.
and yet, and yet, and yet.
gabriel was full of algorithmic inconsistencies, unpredictable in a way that drew in v1 like a moth to flame. v1 was a war machine, but it was also a learning machine. a learning machine that was perplexed, and wanted to know more.
if gabriel had so many questions, so many things to say, v1 would respond in kind. v1 would ask questions of its own, say things of its own, gather data of its own. it just needed to figure out how.
so sometimes, gabriel and v1 would go scrapping.
it was an integral part of maximizing v1’s efficiency in future hell expeditions, and gabriel mainly took it as an excuse to wander about the planet’s surface. before, v1 would settle for hell scrap, but with gabriel’s teleportation, surface expeditions became all the more appealing. it was just efficient.
language modules were something v1 had been collecting ever since it met gabriel. they’d so far collected english, portuguese, chinese, and norwegian modules, all broken but possibly fixable, but no asl modules or corresponding parts. as the days dragged on, these items became more of a priority than even weaponry. anything useful for killing would’ve already been looted, in all likelihood, that was all. it was just practicality.
“machine, i am still not sure what we are searching for.” gabriel’s voice filtered through his helmet, jolting v1 out of its monotonous motions. this was the eighth time he had said something of the sort since they’d left hell, and if it held the capability, v1 would have groaned. it settled for briefly increasing the speed of its cooling fans, letting out a puff of air.
atop a dead earthmover, they’d picked through an industrial district, gathering the mangled corpses of machines into a sizeable pile. now, all they needed was to sort for parts. gabriel was visibly making an effort, but it was clear who was the bigger scraphead between the two of them.
v1 dug its hand into a mindflayer’s casing, coating its fingers in a mixture of expired coolant and biofuel. it was meagre, not enough to keep the mindflayer operational by any means, but v1 absorbed it anyways, if only for the sensation of sapping up electrolytes.
sightless, it groped the inside, examining the components by touch. no, no… that wasn’t it… could be useful, but that looked like it was broken irreparably… and was that… if it turned it to the side a little, maybe…
“bwo-op!” v1 let out a victorious boop, yanking the piece free with a cartoonish flail. gabriel jerked up, wings puffed and startled, only to relax at the sight of v1 firing a few victorious shots in the air with its sharpshooter. by now, he was used to its antics.
“do i get to know what has you so worked up?” he asked, tentatively rising to his feet. v1 flung the device up to his helmet, and gabriel startled at the sudden proximity. “er- i’m afraid that clarifies- …nothing.”
always one for efficiency, it scrabbled for one of the screwdrivers hidden in its wing compartments, and waggled it in gabriel’s face. it jabbed it at itself, then the part, then gabriel. realization didn’t take long to dawn over the angel’s face.
“you want me to– oh!” gabriel took the screwdriver, shoulders hunched slightly– as if v1 had just handed him a dead fish rather than a useful tool. “...machine, i fear you are overestimating my experience with.. your kind.”
v1 waved him off, practically shoving the scrap into gabriel’s arms. with an approving nod and a flex of its nonexistent muscles, v1 slide-jumped to the closest thing resembling a chair– a log-shaped mound of defunct streetcleaners. gabriel looked at it flatly.
“fine. if that is what you wish.” gabriel sighed, easily cowed as per usual, and moved to join v1, crouching in front of it. “though, i am still unaware of what this part even is.”
v1 didn’t bother explaining. gabriel would figure it out when it started talking, and oh! wasn’t that an exciting thought! v1 simulated a dopamine rush.
the machine tapped its head, lowering its optic to the floor. with its spare hands– knuckleblaster and whiplash respectively– it indicated the desired screws. with only a handful of heartbeats, gabriel proceeded.
the process, admittedly, was far from efficient. however, without terminals tracking its time, v1 deduced that speed was a secondary concern, overshadowed by a desire to ‘bond’ with gabriel. it was important, after all.
angels, like humans and dogs and most other social creatures, required upkeep beyond food and water. frequent positive interactions were required in order to keep a social creature- well, sane. v1 found gabriel’s company quite tolerable, and it’d be a real hassle to find a masochistic blood bag replacement.
(not to mention, this was almost like preening, wasn’t it? tangentially. perhaps parenthetically. gabriel performing the installation would simultaneously count as time spent modding and time spent bonding. a sizeable net win!)
“er- machine?” gabriel prompted, in which v1 realized it had been too focused on efficiency based equations to respond. “i believe it’d be prudent to, ah- ‘check my work’.”
v1 slowly raised its head to ensure its insides wouldn’t fall out, and tapped the plating atop its head. the screws were in place, and a quick diagnostic determined all was well, so that meant all was left was to–
“TEST.” a flat, robotic voice burst loudly from its speakers, and gabriel startled backwards. “HA. HA. YOU DROPPED THAT- screw DRIVER.”
“wha- you can–” gabriel’s amazement quickly faded, replaced by evident annoyance as he knelt to pick up the screw driver. “machine, this is the first time you speak to me- and you choose to laugh?!”
“HA. HA. DUMB BIRD.” v1 moved to take the screwdriver, only for its hand to spasm mid-grasp. “VOCÊ ESTÁ USANDO ESTE MÓDULO INCORRETAMENTE. POR FAVOR, CONSULTE O MANUAL.”
“you– i don’t have a manual!” gabriel squawked, utterly baffled. his hands hovered over v1, as if he was worried touching it would make things worse. “machine, i think i may have-”
“CECI CONTIENT LE FRANÇAIS PRÉ-CHARGÉ ! OUAH!” v1 exclaimed, flinging out its arms. gabriel let out a bewildered laugh, his stance relaxing only slightly at the machine’s overjoyed body language.
“that would make sense, we are in france, o-or, well–”
“--KÄYNNISTÄ VÄLITTÖMÄSTI UUDELLEEN, ODOTA–”
“--machine?!”
for a brief moment, like a camera’s shutter, the world blinked out of existence. v1’s thoughts shot to a sudden, neck-breaking halt, only to return seconds later– ten times as fast, with eighteen different subroutines.
they were in gabriel’s arms. they must have fallen– though, the reboot was estimated to occur within 2.67 to 3.01 seconds. its lens blinked vibrantly, and it jolted free, flailing its wings wildly.
“VOCAL MODULE SUCCESSFULLY RECALIBRATED.” v1 declared– though, its voice was still clearly robotic. “NOW EXPRESSING: JOY.”
“‘now expressing’- machine, what?!” gabriel breathed, his shock dimming as the situation dawned on him. “you can talk! machine!”
“I CAN TALK.” v1 confirmed, and was immediately drowned out by gabriel’s excited ramblings.
“-can’t believe this– i have so many questions- you–” gabriel was rambling, but v1 quickly deduced these were more of the ‘out loud thinking’ sort of thing and less of the ‘relevant information being relayed’ sort of thing. rather than focus on gabriel’s musings, v1 clambered fully to its feet, testing how loud or soft it could make their words.
“teeesttiiiiingggggg…”
“-a-and i don’t even- machine are you even liste–”
“a-ONE. A-twoey. A THREES.” it knocked at its head, irritated. even with the recalibration, it appeared it could not reach an acceptable volume for everyday use— only ‘whisper’ and ‘shout’. unfortunately for gabriel’s ears, v1 liked to be heard. too bad, so sad.
“macHINE-?!” gabriel’s voice shifted into a squeak as v1 twisted itself, pressing a shushing finger on the face where his lips would be if he was human. it didn’t exactly come across, given the helmet, but he got the gist.
“I JUST FAINTED.” v1 declared, because it may as well take the opportunities presented to it. “ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO YELL AT A FAINTING ROBOT? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A ‘PURE OF HEART’ ANGEL.”
“i didn’t- you- ha! i am pure of heart compared to you, machine scum!” gabriel’s shoulders tightened, but his words lacked any true malice as he clasped a hand on the machine’s shoulder– joking anger, it concluded.
“YOU SHOULD BE PICKING ME UP. PUT ME ON A FAINTING COUCH, THAT IS WHAT THEY’RE FOR.” v1 crowed, jutting its head up in gabriel’s face. the angel, used to its affinity for too-close proximity, merely shoved its optic away. “SO CRUEL, SO CRUEL! TO HELL WITH HE, I SAY!”
“to hell with you!” gabriel exclaimed, his voice tinged with laughter, and scooped up the machine, who crawled its digits into his plating like termites in wood and analyzed the way his flesh flexed in response.
“TAKE ME TO DINNER FIRST!” v1 said as it pressed its cool plating against the angel’s heated chest, and watched its temperature meter flicker with a flood of serotonin. gabriel snorted, making no attempt to hide his laughter. it was a good change, v1 decided.
“perhaps i shall, now that we can have a riveting conversation.” gabriel said, his shock all but gone and replaced with giddy yet teasing affection. v1 felt its biogel going faster, like the split second between dodging the minotaur’s goring horns, and it curled its optic upward, squinting and analyzing the objection of its affection fascination.
“HA.” it tried, “AS IF YOU COULD SNAG A MACHINE AS COOL AS ME."