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Hank Anderson always thought his house was noisy because of the Sumo. Then he got used to the sound of 25-cent coins clinking between Connor's fingers. But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared him for the symphony of disasters that was having three RK models living under the same roof.
"Seon, please remove your feet from the coffee table. Hank prefers we keep the furniture in good condition." Connor's voice was the voice of reason.
"I'd rather you fuck off, Connor," Seon replied without taking his eyes off the TV. Its LED glowed a pulsating red, matching the sour mood he'd carried since being "released" from CyberLife's stock. "And this desk is already trash. The dog drools on it more than the old man."
“The correct term isn’t ‘trash,’ it’s ‘low-maintenance rustic aesthetic,’” Nines interjected, standing in the middle of the room with his hands perfectly clasped behind his back. His LED was a steady yellow, processing the interaction. “Connor, why did Seon suggest you perform a sexual act on yourself? That’s biologically impossible for our structure.”
Hank, who was trying to read the newspaper in the kitchen, massaged his temples.
"It's an expression, Nines," Hank shouted from the kitchen. "It means he's being an idiot."
Nines turned his head 45 degrees, looking at Seon with a frightening seriousness.
"Understood. Seon, you're being an idiot."
"What did you say, you fancy toaster?" Seon jumped up.
"I was just repeating the information given by Lieutenant Anderson," Nines explained, his voice flat and innocent. "I want to be an efficient communicator, like Connor. If Connor says we should be honest, I'll be honest. You're an idiot."
"I'm going to rip that little yellow light off your forehead and make you swallow it!" Seon took a step forward.
"Enough!" Connor stepped between the two. "Seon, control your aggression. Nines... try not to take everything literally for five minutes."
Hank appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a mug of coffee. He looked at the three of them: the "Golden Child" (Connor), the "Literal Google Robot" (Nines), and the "Cyber Delinquent Project" (Seon).
"I just wanted a peaceful Sunday," Hank sighed, staring at the ceiling. "Why the hell did I agree to this?"
"Because you have a latent savior complex and a propensity for adopting broken things," Seon snapped, with a sarcastic smile that made Hank sigh in irritation.
Nines looked at Hank, confused.
"Hank, we're not broken objects. Our systems are operating at 98%. Except for Seon. His social processor seems to be infected by... what's the term? Oh, yeah. "Gum chewing.""
"It's 'shit,' Nines. The word you want is shit," Hank corrected, sitting on the couch and pushing Seon's feet onto the floor. "Now, sit down. All of you. We have to decide who's going to take Sumo for a walk without causing an incident."