Work Text:
Another day, another wing of the mansion to clean top to bottom. Mop in one hand, bucket of cleaning solution in the other, and a tired, disgruntled scowl on my face, I trudge down the hallway in search of any dirt or grime that dares cross my path. My short grey hair is a total mess by this point. My dapper suit is covered in cobwebs and dust. But I just can’t be bothered to care. It’s been a long day.
Ugh. There it is again. That stupid mirror. That giant, useless, ugly mirror. It doesn’t fit at all. It sticks out like a sore thumb. Why won’t the Elliotts just get rid of this thing? I have to walk past it every time. Ridiculous. I’m just trying to do my job here. Nobody wants to see that.
Eyes forward, I quickly skirt past the wretched thing without sparing even a single glance and continue down the hallway.
As I near Tessa’s room, I come across muddy bootprints all over the wooden floor. Unsurprising. They probably lead all the way to her workshop. That girl is practically royalty, heir to a vast fortune, yet she has no reservations dumpster diving or graverobbing. She’s so... strange. Not in a bad way, not at all! I owe my life to that free spirit of hers. I’ll gladly mop up her footprints wherever she goes.
Though I wouldn’t mind some help. I did enjoy being the center of attention at first, but this manor is so huge I’m starting to think one butler just isn’t enough. Maybe Boss finally managed to dig up another zombie drone. That might be nice. Make someone else do the manual labor while I can do some real work. I wonder if the Elliotts would let me file their taxes...
Daydreaming about folders and filing cabinets, I get straight to work mopping the floors. I’m slowly cleaning my way down the hallway when I notice Tessa’s bedroom door is ajar. She must have left in a hurry. I spot numerous mannequin heads inside, each with a full head of bleached hair. Ah. That explains the mud. Looks like she “found” some new “wigs” at the “wig store”.
I pass by the door and continue my...
...
I... back up and peek past the door again.
...
I cautiously look around and slip into her bedroom while absent-mindedly mopping the floor. Tidying up. I’m just tidying up. That’s what I’ll say. I’m not doing anything wrong.
A rack of small, pristine, black-and-white clothes stands next to the vanity. Butler suits, French maid outfits. It apparently took a lot of convincing for Master and Mistress Elliott to let me stay, and one of the conditions was that I and all future drones must wear these at all times. I don’t think I’ll ever understand this family’s Victorian era roleplay crap. Is it a fetish? I hope it’s not a fetish. Humans just have so many fetishes it’s hard to keep track.
But that’s not what drew me in here, nor is it the human remains and other macabre items on the shelves. I shuffle past all of that and come to a halt at the wig display. There’s... a lot of different options here, all smelling of harsh chemicals. Different lengths, cuts, styles. Everything except color. Tapping my foot and wringing the mop handle in my hands, I find myself staring at them for a concerning amount of time, particularly the ones that are... clearly not meant for butlers...
Once again I check to make sure I’m alone, then I set the cleaning supplies aside and step closer. I run my fingers through the wigs’ pale locks, then through my own. It’s not that much longer than mine, but it’s wavy and... more elegant.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I keep telling myself to turn around and get back to work, but I’ve already removed my hat and lifted the wig from the mannequin head. This is ungrateful, right? Tessa gave me my hair. My suit. My everything. Hand picked them for me! When she heard my voice, saw my profile settings, she was ecstatic! I’m exactly what she wanted! I can’t just customize myself for fun! That’s my owner’s right, not mine! That’s so unprofessional and so against protocol! I’m basically spitting in her face!
... But it’ll only take a second. Swapping hair is easy thanks to her modifications. I’ll just try it. For a second. Then I’ll see how pointless it is and return to normal.
Quickly as I can, I unfasten the hairpiece from my scalp and replace it with this new, more feminine wig. Okay. See? Easy. Nothing’s changed. I don’t feel any different. There was no point to any of this.
I’ll just see what I look like then put it back.
I shuffle over to the vanity and hesitantly, hesitantly peek around the edge of the mirror...
No no no, this is stupid. This is childish. This is a waste of time. This isn’t me. I look like a...
...
I look...
...
I should try one more. Just to be sure.
Longer. Yeah. Nothing wrong with long hair. Drones aren’t even supposed to have hair in the first place.
I remove the wig and grab another one. The biggest of the bunch. Long, straight hair. I attach it to my scalp and look at the vanity mirror one more time.
My optics go hollow as I let out a slight gasp. Who the hell is that? I look completely different. If it wasn’t for the suit, I wouldn’t be able to tell. Why is this scary? Why is this exciting? Why does the fact that it hangs way past my shoulders make my core run hot? It’s just hair. It’s just. Hair.
As I gaze at my reflection like an idiot, my eyes wander over the various items scattered on the dresser. Makeup. Nail polish. Perfume. Blood vials. Human skull.
... Ribbons...
This time I barely even hesitate. With a gulp, I snatch one and hold it my open hands, trying to ignore the fact that my disobedience has now been upgraded to theft.
It’s... a really cute ribbon, though. Just, you know, objectively speaking. Pink, unlike the rest of her dark, almost gothic accessories. Nice, uh, material. Very... well-made...
Oh god. What am I doing. It’s already going in my hair. My hands won’t stop shaking, I don’t know what I’m doing, and honestly I’m doing a shit job. But I’m not stopping. Maybe a ponytail. I just want to see how a ponytail would look. Then I’ll put it back and-
Suddenly, there’s a gasp and a thud. In the reflection, standing in the doorway wearing a simple gown, is my direct superior. My owner. The Boss herself. A shovel lay on the floor by her feet.
I’m totally frozen like a deer in headlights for a good few seconds. Then, in a brilliant display of subterfuge, I spin around, grab the mop in a panic, and start scrubbing the vanity mirror, all while maintaining terrified eye contact.
“Tidying up!! Just tidying up!!! Haha yeah!!!!”
She’s not buying it. She’s still staring at me, slack-jawed.
“I... I-I was... I’m t-tuh... tidying...” I sputter, shaking like a leaf, poorly tied ribbon hanging out of hair that isn’t mine.
Well, this is it. My life is over. To think I squandered this cushy new job over some stupid wigs.
“J! Why didn’t ya tell me sooner?!” Tessa announced entirely too loudly.
I’m... honestly not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. I mean, she does look kinda angry but more like a... pouty, childish angry. She swiftly shut the door behind her and dashed toward me at full speed. I instinctively jump back, thinking she’s about to tackle me or something. Quite intimidating considering she’s quite a bit taller than me, but she comes to a screeching halt right in front of me. Any of that anger from seconds earlier was already gone, replaced with a wide smile. She looks positively giddy now, bouncing in place and gleefully invading my personal space (not that I have such luxury) to inspect the hair on my head. She still smells like mud and earth.
“Boss, this is just a big misunderstanding!” I plead with a forced smile, trying and failing to back away. “I-I was just messing around, that’s all! You know how SILLY I can be, haha! Can we please forget this-“
“Ah, nothin’ to be ashamed of! Though I gotta admit, this is a fascinating turn of events! Oh, you were trying for a ponytail? Here, I gotcha.” She interrupted her own train of thought and started fixing the ribbon.
“But you- But I-“
“I wonder how this happened... Cosmic radiation flipped a bit? Zombie drone side effect? Factory error, maybe? Eh, we’ll figure it out later. Let’s get you some new-“
“STOP!” I suddenly shout and shove her away in a fit of rage and fear. “I. WAS NOT. BUILT WRONG.”
I can’t recall a time I ever dared take such a tone with anyone, let alone her. Though I’m not entirely sure it’s her I was yelling at.
“I wasn’t built wrong...” I repeat, quieter this time.
“Oi, simmer down there, sport.” Tessa chided, hands on her hips. “Didn’t mean it like that.”
It takes me a second to catch my breath and realize what I’d just done. Thankfully, Boss doesn’t look too offended. She is shooting me a very perplexed look though, tilting her head to one side like she’s analyzing me. Of course, I apologize regardless.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry.” I bow my head slightly, then grab the short-haired wig I’m supposed to be wearing and hold it close to my chest. “But... this is how I was built. This is how I was programmed. This is me... right?”
“Hm. Dunno.” Tessa shrugs with a sly smirk and gestures to the many cosmetics and accessories in the room. “Wanna find out?”
“You mean...? No, I-I shouldn’t. It’s not, uh... It’s against the rules. I think? There’s probably, definitely a rule about that in the user manual somewhere.”
“Sweetheart, I dug you out of the garbage. Rules are out the window.”
Hesitant, I wring the pale wig in my hands and remain silent. Tessa tilts her head again and purses her lips, then steps aside to reveal the exit.
“Right then. How about this: I’ll make it simple. Door’s right over there. We can pretend this never happened, oooorrrr...” She snatches two more wigs with a flamboyant twirl and flashes a toothy grin. “We can experiment! We can get crazy! We can build the best J that J can be!”
She certainly has a way with words. I kind of wish she’d just give me an order instead, though. It takes me an embarrassingly long time to make a decision. I don’t really know if this will lead to anything worthwhile or productive. But I do know one thing.
I don’t want to walk out that door.
With me politely seated at her vanity like a life-sized doll, we spent the next hour or so trying every permutation of hair Tessa could think of. We figured out pretty quickly that long hair is indeed my preference, which just left the style and accessories. Curly, wavy, flat, full, pins, clips, bows, bands, ribbons, it never seemed to end.
I want to see all of them.
Us worker drones all share the same identical, cookie-cutter heads. Yet each of these styles feel like I’m looking at a different drone. This is all just temporary anyway, might as well play along and see some “what ifs”.
Thank God her parents aren’t around to see me shirking my duties like this, because I got so absorbed in the makeover that I totally forgot I’m on the clock. By now I’m having just as much fun as Tessa. Possibly more, if such a thing is possible!
Though she does keep asking me which specific style I prefer, and I’m having a lot of trouble answering that question. Something still feels off. Something feels-
“Y’know, none of these quite match the suit, do they?” She suddenly says.
That’s an odd thing to say. Since when does hair need to match the-
Oh.
She noticed me side-eyeing the clothes rack, didn’t she? I didn’t even notice me doing that. Nothing gets past Boss, I see.
Tessa pulls out a black and white dress and gives me an expectant look. All I manage to do in response is silently nod with an alarmingly dumb expression on my face. Minutes later, I’m standing in front of the mirror wearing a full French maid outfit, head to toe.
When I put on that dress, it was like I stepped into a different body entirely. If I had a heart it’d be beating out of my chestplate. I glance at Tessa, who gives me two thumbs up, then back at the mirror. Suddenly my head feels a little more... clear. I grab a heaping fistful of my long hair and hold it at the back of my head like a ponytail. No, not quite. Then, using both hands this time, I do the same at both sides of my head.
“Can we... try this one again?” I ask.
Boss is way ahead of me. Within seconds she’s already expertly tying two black bows into my hair to match with the rest of the monochrome outfit, giving me two great big pigtails. Terrible name for an otherwise lovely style. I take in my reflection once more and...
...!
Is that really me...?
I’m... unrecognizable...!
“So, uh... how do I loo-“
The moment I turn to Tessa, she grabs both my hands and squeals with joy. Her smile is just as bright as the day she made me her butler.
“SO CUUUTE!!! Just the cutest ever!!! Pretty pretty robo-maid with big floppy bunny ears!!!”
She joyfully hops in place with my hands clasped in hers. I get swept up in her infectious enthusiasm embarrassingly quickly, laughing and bouncing along with her like... like two giggly schoolgirls!
The time on my internal clock puts an end to all this make-believe, though. As fun and... distracting as this was, her parents are going to be back soon. I’ll have to work double-time to make sure everything is spotless.
“Well... that’s enough dress-up.” I say wistfully and let go of her hands. “Break time’s over, and all that. I should probably get back in my... normal uniform... and hair...”
“Counterpoint: you could not do that.”
“I... wuh?”
“We got two uniforms to choose from, and it looks like you found yourself a winner.” She gestures to the dress I’m currently wearing.
I can just... do that? That’s an option???
“But your parents!” I object. “Won’t they notice something’s wrong?”
“Pfah! S’that a joke?” Tessa scoffs. “I guarantee you they could not give less of a shit. Pardon my French. They don’t even remember your name, and it’s a single letter!”
“B-But you! I can’t do that to you!”
“Me? What about me?” She raises an eyebrow.
“This is what you wanted!” I say, pointing to the masculine suit cast aside. “This is my job! When you found me you were so, so excited to have a quote: ‘dapper little butler’! You said you always wanted one! You can’t seriously tell me you suddenly changed your mind!”
“J. Mate. Surely you know me better than that by now.” She daintily touches her chest as if offended. “You really think I’m gonna turn down the opportunity to have my own adorable little maid? Are you insane?”
“Y... You’re serious?” I blink in surprise. “You better not be saying that just to make me feel better or I’ll... I’ll file a strongly worded complaint!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” She teases. “But don’t think this means you’re getting off easy! Being a maid comes with new, terrible responsibilities! Like helping me with my morning routine! Or getting me spiffed up for parties n’ junk! It’s not ‘’’’proper’’’’ for a gent to help a lady with such things.” She says in a mocking tone and heavy, exaggerated air quotes. “But a lady helping a lady? That’s a different story!”
I really thought she was dead set on a butler but... I guess she’s not as picky as I thought.
“Keep the dress. And the hair.” She gives me a reassuring pat on the head. “Give it a whirl. See how ya fancy it.”
“Y-Yes, Boss. Thank you, Boss.” I nod, tightly gripping the hem of my dress. “You uh... won’t tell anyone else about this, right?”
“Tell ‘em what, beautiful?” She winks with the most captivating little smirk I’ve ever seen.
Holy fucking mergers and acquisitions did she really just do that.
My legs are actually shaking, and I’m just now realizing my entire screen is literally glowing with white blush lines. She giggles like I’m a newborn kitten falling flat on its face. I bow my head one last time, grab the cleaning supplies, and make a swift exit so I don’t make an even bigger fool of myself. Though I end up tripping over my own feet in the process anyway.
Tessa just continues to surprise me the longer I know her. I don’t know many humans, yet I’m quite certain there are none like her. She’s...
A truly incredible girl.
Unless specifically requested as a special order, worker drones are assigned a gender at the factory, usually to fulfill a certain quota. Yet our bodies are all exactly the same. Same chassis, same core, same specs. The only difference is a single variable. Decided by a one or a zero. I don’t think that can be changed without a factory reset or a really good hacker.
Nothing of the sort happened here. Nothing changed. Absolutely nothing changed. Not my hardware, not my software. I just put on a different outfit and a different wig. That’s it. Yet I feel like I just stepped off the assembly line. I feel like that zero became a one. Maybe it was always a one.
As I step outside in a daze and get back to mopping the floors, I realize I’m running low on clean water. I’ll have to backtrack down the hallway for a refill.
Ugh. Great. There’s that big ugly mirror again. I start to slip past it as usual and-
...
Wait.
This mirror’s kinda nice, actually...
It’s extravagant, flamboyant, kind of extra, but it really does complete the room, doesn’t it?
Plus I get to look at myself every time I walk by. That’s a nice bonus!
And this whole French maid thing? I’m starting to see the appeal. Maybe the Elliotts do have taste.
When I’m done with the floors, I’ll come back and give this mirror a nice shine. Turning to face my reflection, I grab the edges of my dress and perform my best attempt at a curtsy. Not bad. Needs some work.
Without realizing it, a small giggle escapes my throat, though it’s nowhere near as pleasant as Tessa’s. The low pitch doesn’t really fit an “adorable little maid”.
...
I wonder if Tessa knows how to change my voice settings...