Chapter 2: Charging Dock – Android

None of the lights were working.

This wasn’t unusual. The apartment complex was ancient, and the wiring throughout was prone to mice and water damage. On the rare occasion he visited, dad would test the walls, testing to see if it was up to snuff. It wasn’t, and he expressed constant surprise, that the owner didn’t get pulled up on fire code violations.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the bribes. It wouldn’t achieve anything, anyway. The owner was generous with the inspectors.

Yawning, the first sound to reach my ears was the repetitive thudding of my roommates footsteps. Not uncommon, especially during our frequent power outages. A silent prayer left my lips that I’d be able to reach the kitchen before she spotted me. 

My steps were near silent, and the kitchen door was less than a meter away. Glorious coffee awaited! My hopes were dashed as she stomped into view. 

My roommate, the android. 

Slender fingers gripped the long green synthetic strands that acted as her hair, as she stopped facing the floor. Her eyes flickered between blue, and yellow as she mumbled to herself. 

“Not enough power. Can’t think. Won’t be able to move. Roomie will find me.” 

She hadn’t seen me. Were her sensors dulled due to not being charged enough? It was possible; she had mentioned charging issues to me before, though not for a while. 

A squeaking floorboard did me in, the same one the landlord refused to fix. My teeth clenched as she whipped around, her glittered coated skin sparkling in the rays of the sun. Her face was odd, evidently robotic with LED lines running down it, all now off instead of glowing their typical blue.

“Myrabelle?” My voice stayed low, calm. She wasn’t dangerous. Designed as a domestic unit, she had too many protections inbuilt. That didn’t stop her from destroying herself or her surroundings by accident.

She didn’t move at my approach, instead watching me intently. When my hand gripped her to work her fingers loose from her hair, she didn’t resist. Good, that hair fiber was expensive and having seen her finances? Myrabelle couldn’t afford another set.

“I can’t complete my charge. Oh. Factory above. I’m going to die.” A faulty update had stuck her voice in a constant monotone, an error the manufacturer never fixed before closing down. Not that it mattered. The jerky way she twitched let me know exactly what she was feeling.

Warmth spread through my fingers upon contact with her open palm, heating coils built into her skin, designed to make her pleasant to the touch. She told me her creators had designed it to appeal to children. Upon completion of OPERATION HAIR RESCUE, I answered her.

“It’s a brown out. Or the wiring again. Or something. We just need to call—” 

Her interruption was quick, “—I’m going to die. You’re going to be charged to bin my lifeless metallic carcass.”

She pulled her hand out of mine as she paced around the room. Her arms flicking through the air, filling the room with a light breeze that caused me to move back.

“Belle?”

With a whirl of gears and a metallic shudder, she turned to me. “Please don’t bin me. I’ll be fixable, I promise. I have money if that’s what you need!”

My eyes flicked to the window to check my expression as she continued to beg. Neutral. That would do. It wasn’t calm, but it was too early in the morning for that. Especially without my coffee.

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“I’m not throwing you out.” This time my voice was firm, direct. Even knowing this wouldn’t be the last time we’d have this conversation, a part of me hoped she’d understand.

“Really?” Myrabelle asked, with a tentative step forward.

“Really, really. I promise you, the power will be back online any minute.”

It was probably true. Mostly, it went out for five minutes, the longest being around half an hour. If it lasted that long, we had a backup battery for her, charged and waiting. She hated it, though. Apparently, it was uncomfortable and slow.

Myrabelle followed directly behind me, not saying a word as I focused on the important question. You could drink coffee mixed with cold water, right? Some group on TV claimed it was better for you, less risk of cancer. The silent machine mocked me with its presence. My preparation time tripled because of its absence.

My first sip confirmed all my fears. It was awful.

“You promise?”

“Yes, Belle, I promise. You’re like this every time.” Cold sludge swirled around the sink under the full force of the tap. It needed to be punished for its crimes.

Metallic footsteps told me she’d returned to the living room. “I’m sorry Roomie.”

“Don’t be. I’d be freaking out too if I couldn’t sleep or eat.”

Management had been clear of her quirks during the interview for the room. Apparently, her personality quirks caused issues with the other tenants. Rent was cheap, however, and so he accepted my blank eyed nodding as an ascent. He forced me into a year-long lease, which suited me. Besides, how many people could complain they had an android roommate?

No sooner the words left my mouth, then a familiar hum of the refrigerator started up. A grin escaped me as Myrabelle flipped on a light switch, then another.

Her laughter rang out as the dormant metallic cylinder lit up with read-outs and colorful glowing splotches. I’d never worked out the reason for the latter, but they were pretty.

Hydraulics hissed, as she lowered herself down into her padded section, wires appearing from hidden compartments to attach themselves to her limbs. Her voice sounded out not from her mouth, but from the speakers attached to the box, allowing me to hear her excitement.

“Good night. Roomie.”

“Night Belle.”

My words vanished beneath the sounds of the sliding glass door. Chuckling, I turned to the coffee machine.

At least she’d wake up to working lights.

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