Work Text:
Fine Motion stood outside Shakur's door, tilting her head at the crooked sign.
CLASS 100 CLEANROOM (written in purple crayon on printer paper)
"Shakur? What does this—"
The door opened and there stood Shakur in full clean room PPE who took one look at Fine, and held up a hand.
"No."
"Huh?"
"Out. You're not coming in."
"But I wanted to—"
"I can see what you wanted to do." Shakur's eyes narrowed behind her face shield. "You were gonna try to hug me or some shit. Not happening. Particle generation would spike."
Fine blinked, surprised. "How did you—"
"You get this look. Like you're thinking about being clingy." Shakur crossed her arms. "The answer is no. Come back when you can behave in a controlled environment."
"Shakur—"
"Particle count is at forty-two. I'm not letting it jump to three hundred because you can't keep your hands to yourself."
Fine felt her ears droop slightly. "I just wanted to see what you were doing..."
"Building semiconductors. In my bathroom. Like I told you last week."
"I thought you were joking!"
"Why would I joke about that?" Shakur looked genuinely confused. "I literally showed you the drywall specifications."
Before Fine could respond, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Shakur's head snapped up. Her eyes went sharp.
"Get back."
"What—"
The stairwell door burst open.
Tachyon appeared, grinning maniacally. "Shakur-kun! I heard you built a clean room and I have FASCINATING ideas about biological cell viability under semiconductor processing conditions—"
THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.
Three rubber bullets hit Tachyon center mass.
She went down like a sack of potatoes. "GYAAAAH—"
FWOOSH.
A pepper ball exploded against her shoulder.
"MY EYES—"
Fine stared in shock at the small automated turret mounted above Shakur's door. A camera lens tracked Tachyon's writhing form on the floor.
"What is that?!"
"OpenCV facial recognition turret." Shakur said calmly. "Trained on Tachyon's face. She kept trying to sneak in last week."
"You SHOT me!" Tachyon wheezed from the floor. "This is—this is assault! This is a war crime!"
“It was deserved,” Shakur said, pulling out her tablet and tapping on something. Fine observed the turret’s camera lens shifted to standby mode according to the lights and label on it.
"I warned you three times. Not my fault you didn't listen."
Café appeared at the end of the hallway and took in the scene—Tachyon on the floor covered in pepper spray and welt marks, Fine standing frozen in shock and Shakur in full PPE with a tablet and sighed.
"Again?"
"She tried to breach the clean room." Shakur said matter-of-factly.
"I just wanted to DO SCIENCE!" Tachyon wailed.
Café walked over and grabbed Tachyon by the back of her lab coat and started dragging her toward the stairs. "You were warned. Multiple times."
"Betrayed by my own roommate! Shakur-kun, you can't keep doing this! What about our FRIENDSHIP—"
THWIP.
Another rubber bullet caught her in the leg.
"OWWWWWWW! Café, she's SHOOTING me while I'm DOWN—"
"You're still in the restricted zone." Shakur's finger was still on her tablet. "Five meter perimeter. No exceptions."
Café dragged Tachyon past the five meter mark. The turret's targeting laser turned off.
"This is equipment abuse! This is tyranny! This is—"
The stairwell door closed. Tachyon's voice faded.
Silence.
Fine looked at Shakur. At the turret. Back at Shakur.
"You... built a security turret."
"Yeah. Raspberry Pi with a camera module and two servos with a pneumatic launcher." Shakur gestured at the device. "Tracks faces and shapes in real-time. Right now it's only programmed for Tachyon but I can add more if needed."
"You shot Tachyon."
"She violated the perimeter."
"With rubber bullets."
"And pepper balls. The contamination risk was unacceptable." Shakur looked at Fine seriously. "She wanted to bring biological samples into a clean room environment. Do you have any idea what that would do to the particle count?"
Fine stared at her.
Shakur had built an automated defense turret to protect her bathroom semiconductor lab from their mutual friend.
And she was explaining it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
Fine felt something warm flutter in her chest.
"Shakur?"
"What."
"You're incredible."
Shakur's ears flattened. "Shut up. It's just basic computer vision and pneumatics."
"You built a turret!"
"Because Tachyon wouldn't listen!" Shakur replied crossing her arms defensively. "I told her six times. SIX TIMES. And she kept trying to sneak in. What was I supposed to do?"
"Maybe... not shoot her?"
"She's fine. Rubber bullets are non-lethal and the pepper concentration is below permanent damage threshold."
Fine couldn't help it. She laughed.
Shakur's ears flattened further. "What's so funny?"
"You! You built a semiconductor lab in your bathroom and a turret to defend it!"
"So what? The lab needs protection. Tachyon's a contamination hazard."
"Shakur."
"What."
"Can I please come in? I promise I won't hug you."
Shakur studied her suspiciously. "...You're lying."
"I'm not!"
"You get this look when you're about to be clingy. You have it right now."
Fine's ears drooped. "I just want to see what you built..."
"No touching."
"I won't touch anything!"
"No trying to cuddle against me while I'm doing work."
"...I wasn't going to do that."
"You were absolutely going to do that."
Fine looked away. "...Maybe a little."
"See? This is why the answer is no." Shakur started to close the door. "Come back when you can act professionally in a clean room environment."
"Wait!" Fine put her hand on the door. "What if I suit up properly? Full PPE and sealed gloves and everything?"
Shakur paused. "...You'd actually wear the suit?"
"Yes! I want to understand what you're doing!"
"It's highly technical semiconductor fabrication."
"I don't care! Please?"
Shakur looked at Fine's earnest expression. At her drooping ears and the way she was practically vibrating with genuine interest.
"...Fine. But if you break protocol even once, you're out. And the turret's staying armed by the way."
Fine's face lit up. "Really?!"
"Suit up. And no hugging."
"No hugging!"
"No trying to hold my hand."
"No hand holding!"
"No leaning against me."
"...No leaning." Fine said, slightly less enthusiastically.
"I'm serious, Fine. This is a class 100 environment. Currently the room only has forty particles per cubic foot, do you have any idea how hard it is to get it that low. At that point, your body is the enemy."
"That's very romantic," Fine said without thinking.
Shakur's ears went flat. "It's MICROFABRICATION."
Fine just smiled.
Behind them, from down the hallway, Tachyon's voice echoed faintly: "—FASCIST CLEAN ROOM POLICIES—"
THWIP.
The turret had apparently extended its range.
"She's STILL shooting me!"
Shakur pulled Fine inside and shut the door.
The particle counter read forty-three per cubic foot.
Acceptable parameters.
For now.
Later that week:
The sign on Shakur's door got upgraded. Now it read:
"CLASS 100 CLEANROOM NO ENTRY WITHOUT PPE AUTOMATED DEFENSE ACTIVE TACHYON BANNED VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT"
All in purple crayon.
Café reported the turret had fired seventeen times in three days.
Tachyon had stopped trying to break in after the pepper ball incident.
Fine started visiting daily citing "academic interest in semiconductor physics."
Nobody believed her.
Especially not Shakur.
But she let Fine in anyway.
(No hugging allowed. Particle contamination standards were non-negotiable.)