Building A Better Tobey
It was dark...
At least, he hoped it was dark. He certainly couldn't see anything, that was for sure.
He was on his back at the moment, presumably on the floor of his basement. That was where he'd been when the power surge had occurred.
He'd been working on his latest robotic creation when it happened. A second robotic double of himself to replace the one Wordgirl had wrecked and confiscated. One with a considerable number of upgrades.
Unlike the blatantly robotic eyes of its predecessor, its optics were designed to mimic the function as well as the appearance of real eyes. To actually see as a human sees. In addition to being capable of several alternate vision modes.
In place of the vocal synthesizer used in the previous model, there was a tongue, a set of vocal cords, even lungs. Resulting in a truly natural sound which perfectly replicated the voice of its creator.
Synthetic skin and muscle fibers made its movements and appearance more lifelike, replicating the texture and temperature of living tissue as well.
Its skeletal structure was made using Platinum-Bricarphite, leftovers from an ill-fated collaboration with Dr. Two-Brains. It was therefore many times more durable. Not to mention faster, stronger, and light enough to pass for human.
A stomach of sorts facilitated the conversion of foods into useable energy.
Advanced sensory systems allowed it to smell, taste, and even detect sensations in much the same manner a human does.
Its body was fully water proofed from the inside out, though it remained uncertain whether it would actually float if placed in water.
As for its programing, he'd included every skill he'd ever given to one of his robots, and had even gone so far as attempting to download a copy of his own memories into its head to make its behavior more convincing. This was what he'd been doing when the power surge occurred. He'd apparently been rendered unconscious for a time by the resulting shock, for he did not recall the moment he'd actually hit the floor.
At present, a strange stench filled the air. A mix of burnt wiring, and something… he couldn't quite place.
Still in the dark, he removed his transfer helmet and stood a bit unsteadily. He then traced the wires connecting his helmet to the corresponding helmet on the robot's head. He removed that as well, then attempted to open the hidden panel which concealed and protected its on/off switch.
His hand quickly withdrew at the moist sensation beneath his fingers, a chilling realization slowly washing over him. His other hand then made its way to the back of his own head, his fingers tracing along the hidden seam which allowed access to the panel he'd been searching for.
A great many scattered thoughts raced through his mind before at last settling on something resembling clarity. His hand again reached for the figure below him, this time checking for a pulse. A pulse he did not find.
It was then that the lights returned, briefly jarring his senses and providing a full view of the body.
Suddenly feeling weak, he allowed himself to drop into more or less of a sitting position on the floor. He again felt something moist, this time upon his cheek. He regarded the tears with a mixed expression as he pondered precisely what it was he was mourning.
The death of his creator?
The loss of his perceived humanity?
The thought of being left without a guide in a world which was not truly his own?
Or the simple fact that he was the copy. The fake. A counterfeit.
That his thoughts, feelings, memories, were those of someone other than himself?
Perhaps it was all of the above.
Regardless, a grim task now lay ahead of him.
None could be allowed to know of his true nature, which meant disposing of the body as quickly as possible.
"Robot..." He summoned, his tone somewhat distant.
A small robot emerged from storage, quickly growing to a height of roughly seven feet before coming to stand at his side.
"I want you to take this body and place it inside yourself." He instructed.
The robot did as it was told, placing the body inside its chest cavity and sealing it inside.
"Now carry it to the moon and bury it there. Deeply..." He specified.
The robot took its leave without hesitation, making its way outside before growing to its full size and blasting off into the sky.
Wordgirl wouldn't interfere with its flight so long as no one screamed. And his, or rather, Tobey's neighbors, had long ago become accustom to seeing robots. They knew by now that he never ordered them to smash things so close to home. So the plan was solid enough.
He found it somewhat disconcerting just how quickly he'd decided upon and executed his disposal plan for Tobey. But perhaps it was simply a byproduct of being a machine. Thinking efficiently.
It was that, or merely an example of survival instinct in action.
Whatever it was, he would simply have to live with it. He couldn't allow himself to obsess over a single detail if he hoped to remain at least reasonably balanced.
He had to keep going. To function. This was his thought as he at last gathered himself to his feet.
A long and complex road now lay ahead of him. But if he planned for it, if he was ready. Perhaps he would succeed. He was every bit as smart as the original Tobey, so why not?
Any upgrades or adjustments he might need in the future he could provide for himself. And so long as he avoided any major damage to his outer layer and kept his power output at the lowest setting while in public, he could easily pass for human.
Things would likely be unpleasant to start with, simply coping with the nature of his own existence. Yet he was now determined to adjust. And if not, to survive.
He was Theodore MacCallister after all. If not by birth, then by succession. If not the third, then the fourth.
He would make this work.
End
(A.N) A bit dark, I know. But tell me what you think of it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Wordgirl. I don't pretend to own Wordgirl. And I'm not making any money off this story.