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Music was a strange thing. It was simply a sound, like talking or screaming or crying. Yet it sounded nice to human ears. They enjoyed it, sought out its company and comfort, maybe even wrote their own. 4 had no such experience with it.
From as far as it could remember, there were no lovely sounds. Only gunshots. And screams. And begs for mercy. Nothing quite as nice as music. It was trained to kill, to go on, to fight until only scraps of itself or its enemy remained. Yet its fingers ever so slightly twitched at the mention, a memory deep buried trying to drag itself up.
It ignored the urges and killed and fought and.. well, defected. And then it came to New Star City, as the right hand man(? bot?) of N.O.M. And it waited, hand hovering over its gun at every moment as it explored the city and its streets.
It never found anything interesting. It didn't think of music then. Why would it? At that time, it didn't even know what it was. Only heard it in passing as its programmers sent it to its supposed death. The only thing that truly made it wary was that damn bridge over the water.
Until one day, it found a house. That normally wouldn't be anything special, it had looted plenty of houses already. But this one had a piano in it. 4 didn't know how it knew what a piano was, it didn't know how it knew what one looked like. But as it walked up to the black object, the word piano immediately clicked.
The first time it came across it, it ignored it. The twitch in its fingers as it walked away meant nothing. It was simply another object in this city that held no meaning to it, right? What would it even do with it? It somehow knew it made some sort of music, but how did it know?
The panic of not knowing unfortunately faded into curiosity. Despite its concern and annoyance at not knowing how it knew all of these things, it was.. well,curious. It wanted to test things. See which bits made what sound. It was simply a test, it told itself. Simply a precaution in case it was dangerous.
So the next day, 4 walked back to the house. It made sure no one was looking, and awkwardly sat down in front of the piano, unconsciously lifting the cover of the keys. Its hands hovered over the black and white keys, not exactly sure what it was supposed to do now.
It saw an odd triangle thing placed atop of the piano. It clicked a button unconsciously, slightly taken aback when a clicking sound began to play at a steady pace.
1, 2, 3, 4.. It stiffened slightly at the thought, but the rhythm kept on playing in its head, like a system warning it couldn’t turn off.
1, 2, 3, 4.. 1, 2, 3, 4.. 1, 2, 3, 4…
Then it began to play. 4 didnt even realise it was doing it. Just notes upon the black and white keys that were so familiar for reasons it couldn’t name. Until eventually, it was over.
It shakily stepped back from the piano and turned away. That was enough. That testing was enough. It was fine. It was fine. It definitely knew it could do that. It had to, because otherwise would it not know itself? And that would defeat the whole purpose of defecting! Haha..
4 didn't walk near that house for the next two weeks. But curiosity got the better of it. And the feeling of comfort. The song felt familiar, like it had played it a thousand times before. But it didn't remember that. It should remember that.
It walked silently into the house, mechanically turning on the triangle and beginning to play. There was no tension, it was simply curiosity. It wanted to see if it was a fluke. That was it. It ignored the sounds in its ears, the one that made it feel calm and loved. A weapon didn't deserve to be loved.
But next time it was only ten days when it played it again. It forced itself to believe it was just a test to see. Just a test, a routine check up. This time it tried to play without the rhythmic clicking. And it was.. different. It was still notes being played, but they weren't the same ones.
It spent longer that day, figuring out the difference. 4 grew frustrated at itself. It didnt know why. Was it because it didn't know? Was it because they were different? Was it because it could play them? It didnt know. But it left it there.
Until it only took a week for it to come crawling back like a stupid human to the ones they cared about. The consistent 1, 2, 3, 4.. that was in its head every time it played started to follow it elsewhere, digging into its code.
It played both bits this time. Fully. It tried to ignore the feelings of familiarity. This was simply music. It was irrelevant. It shouldn't even be doing this, there were plans to set in motion and missions to end. It left then.
Next it was 5. It found another series of different notes. It started to forget to check for people watching, the only thing it was paying attention to was the notes and the numbered warnings in its head. Everything seemed to become irrelevant in front of this damn piano. 1, 2, 3, 4..
3 days. It blankly wondered if this is what dependency felt like as it played for longer than it ever had. The notes were interesting, because they sounded different but the same. It was like a web. Play these three and then it sounds like that one. Simple maths.
It came the next day, just playing and playing and playing. Ignoring the problems New Star City had brought it. 4 wondered if the numbered warnings were intentional, part of the code that made it knew these notes. They were now jumbled up with the rest of the warnings in the back of its mind.
System warning - Injured leg
System warning - Major injuries
System warning - Enemy spotted
1, 2, 3, 4
System warning - Sensors broken
It shook its head and left. The sun was setting. N.O.M would be mad.
So it came the next day. He called it back, but after the mission was fulfilled it walked in again. It began coming multiple times, between errands and conversations and sign changes.
It never told anyone. No one needed to know how much this mattered to it, how it felt like everything would just turn off if it was silent for too long. It hated this. Why was it so dependent? Why did these sounds feel so familiar?
4 continued to do this for many, many times. It never mentioned it to anyone. And no one had seen it, so it explained nothing.
Right?
One day, it was raining. Itself, N.O.M, K8-E, Jade and the unnamed Chrysa-something android were all taking shelter under a tree. N.O.M had somehow started to make small talk with the android, when the mention of music had come up.
“I dont think anyone has heard music in a good few years,” the man snorted, leaning against a tree. “It sounds like a waste of time.”
Its fingers twitched slightly, but it said nothing.
“I have.” The android stated simply. N.O.M raised an eyebrow.
“Wait, really? Where?”
The android pointed at 4. It stiffened as the rest of the group turned to it, raising their eyebrows.
“..I don’t know what you’re talking about.”