Another WALL-E short, because I noticed for the first time today that the fact that EVE gets stuck to an electromagnet. Well, I mean, I noticed it before, every time I watched the movie. But this is the first time it really sunk in--and so I started thinking--what if it messed her up just a little bit? What it that five or ten seconds was the catalyst that opened her up to WALL-E in the first place? It's certainly shown to be the 'last straw' before she starts blowing things up, but maybe that was due to the fact that it was a magnet...
I'll shut up before I ruin the story even more.
EVE and the other robot (AKA WALL-E), as well as the events herein that officially take place in the movie, are all copyrighted to Disney/Pixar. I don't own them. Once again, I'm glad of that. The initial EVE launching schedule, and the modified one both sort of belong to me, since no such schedule is ever discussed in the movie.
...I'm not sure about this one. The idea was festering in my mind for awhile before I actually wrote it down, and it seems rather sketchy to me. But tell me what you think.
I almost made a terrible mistake with the number of times EVE was dispatched to Earth. Thank you, common sense, for catching it in time... 300 is a rough estimate (not including the extra days in leap years). 200 (the initial amount of time when all EVE probes were launched simultaneously) + (500/5) (500 being the other part of the 700 years, with 5 allowing for 'once every five years'). But I'm not a math genius. Correct me if I'm wrong.
Also, I don't know if I'd call this 'angst,' as such, having never written something quite like that. But I couldn't find anything better for it to go under. I wouldn't call this 'general,' and there's no real comforting going on in the story so I can't put it under Hurt/Comfort. Tell me if you think it's categorized wrong. I'll change it.
Magnetism
Specimen not found.
EVE forced herself to not react. She'd only been here for a day so far, but even that was pushing it. This was not her first failure.
Specimen not found.
She'd failed to find a specimen the last 300 times she'd been to Earth, as well; in the initial annual reconnaissance attempts, for the first two hundred years, when all five EVE probes were launched, she'd failed. When the protocol had changed to one probe per year--giving her the idea called 'freedom' but once every five years--she continued to fail to find a specimen.
Specimen not found.
Initially it had not bothered her. She was to stay on Earth for a week and search for ongoing photosynthesis. And she did, on and off, one week, every five years. But then along with 'freedom' she started feeling something else--the rudiments of another emotion, stirring weakly within her circuitry. It made her eyeforms tilt downward and narrow dangerously. It made her head hurt. She decided, reviewing the extensive vocabulary database at her disposal, that this was 'annoyance,' or maybe 'impatience.'
Specimen not found.
And every time, every five years, the time spent before 'annoyance' reared its head grew shorter. Now it was encroaching upon her, and she had not even lasted two days.
Specimen not found.
She began to vent the 'annoyance,' muttering darkly in Axiom code each time the scan failed to produce positive results. This, too, had become a protocol over the years, ingrained as deeply as was her Directive A001--Deliver Specimen to Axiom Superior. The only thing she valued more than that was A000--Locate Ongoing Photosynthesis.
Specimen not found.
Then there was that other robot that kept following her around. It never did anything--never said anything to her--indeed, sometimes, it tried to avoid her. The insect life form had done some good, at least, as its limbs clicked across her surface. She felt she could have lasted the week--if it weren't for the 'annoying' robot!
Specimen not found.
EVE buzzed angrily and slammed the door shut, floating away and not even bothering to look ahead for another scan target. She was really 'angry' now, and besides, the sun was setting. Safety Protocol 4--Conserve Energy and Do Not Search at Night. She did not hear the grating above her as something stirred within the ancient Earth ship. In point of fact, EVE noticed nothing until her head was jerked suddenly away from her body, the MagnoPanels suddenly straining to maintain a link, and she found herself stuck against an electromagnet.
Safety Protocol 2--KEEP AWAY FROM ELECTROMAGNETS.
There was nothing like it on the Axiom. The MagnoPanels that held all of EVE's parts together functioned due to a different property. BnL, for all its genius in designing the probe, had not been able to find away to shield an EVE's circuitry from magnetism.
Desperate, she slingshotted around and tried to gain enough momentum to free herself from the corrosive, invisible grip, grunting with the strain, only to be pulled ungracefully back with a clang.
Everything went blurry.
Specimen not found! shouted her protocols. Then, louder, Specimen not found! Specimen not found! Not! Found! Something changed. The robot won't leave me alone! I don't want to do this forever! There has to be more!
EVE grunted angrily.
NOT FOUND! NOT--
Something snapped.
She armed her ion cannon, wrenched it around, and fired. The force blasted her away from the magnet, and her circuits immediately set about trying to repair themselves. But she was still angry--and now there was something else there, and because she did not know what it was, she fired again, at the ship.
Then, because she knew she'd have to deal with the robot yet again, she fired again.
Then, because she knew she still had to look for a specimen that just wasn't there, she fired again.
And once more, just for good measure. Just because... just because. That felt like the 'freedom' that she'd experienced before, when she flew.
And then she landed--or at least, got as close to the ground as she normally did, all her anger and frustration spent, and a new emotion--she called it 'hopelessness'--taking their place. She did not look up as the ship keeled over, creating a titan-sized domino effect. Nor did she respond as a mushroom cloud expanded at the end of the last ship. She didn't want to respond to anything, at that point. There was nothing to respond to...
There was a noise to her left.
...but the other robot. For a moment she wanted to blast it where it stood, but she couldn't find it in herself to do it. She'd just blown a freighter to pieces, for Forthright's sake!
Her circuits told her that there was some irreparable damage to her protocol backup systems. But she didn't care.
There was another noise.
There was something about that robot--the way it kept popping into her thoughts. Now, for some reason, there was no headache. No 'annoyance.' She felt, instead, a kind of magnetism--she wanted to know what it did--what its name was--why it was still active when all its comrades had lain dormant for almost seven centuries.
Little did she know, it was that same magnetism that drove the other robot. Only he called it 'curiosity,' and he hadn't gained it from an electromagnet.