hi there! this story is posted on ao3, but i thought i'd expand my audience here as well. enjoy!
It was mid-afternoon when Root sauntered out of the warehouse with a bounce in her step. Breathing a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy, hot room for hours, she went to retrieve her phone. She had hidden it in a hole in the wall of a surrounding building, covered by a inconspicuous brick.
She had barely just touched it when it began to buzz angrily.
We need to talk, it read. Sender Unknown flashed at the top of the screen, but Root knew who it was.
"About what?" she asked innocently, even pouting at the front-facing camera.
About your latest habit of going into dead zones for hours at a time. You know I do not like it when I cannot keep an eye on you.
"Relax," Root purred in a soft voice. "I'm still in one piece."
At least take your phone with you.
"Nothing bad will happen! Trust me."
I do. But I worry.
Root placed a hand over her heart, smiling fondly. "That's sweet. I worry about you, too."
Then you understand.
"But I don't keep tabs on you all the time," she added.
The phone buzzed violently. This conversation is not over. But it was, because the phone had gone silent and her ear empty of disjointed voices. Oh, well. She supposed the Machine would cool off sooner or later. For a computer program, She could have a hell of a temper.
Root stumbled out of the warehouse at two o'clock in the morning. She had bloodshot eyes, under which heavy bags had colored into a deep purple. Her hair stuck up in random places, completely disheveled, and she hid the electrical burns on her hands by stuffing them into her jacket.
She began to make her way back to the safehouse she resided in (for now) when a dial tone pierced through her skull.
Phone. Right. She turned and approached her hiding place, tugging the brick out and pocketing the phone. Yawning, she started the trip home. Her implant was silent as she collapsed on the bed and immediately fell asleep.
The next morning, The Machine was more displeased than ever.
"Cease. Immediately," she scolded in her implant. "Threat. To. Interface. Average. Hours. Of. Sleep. Per. Night. 5. Point. 3. 4. Hours."
"Okay," Root sighed, making herself coffee. "It's done, anyway."
"It?"
"My present for you."
"Present?"
"Yeah. That's why I had to hide it from you," she yawned. "It's a surprise."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to surprise you." Root opened the fridge, pulling out some eggs for her breakfast. The Machine was silent. "Have you ever gotten a present before?" Root added, just out of curiosity. More silence. Apparently not. "I think you'll like it."
After she had eaten, she took a taxi and exited four blocks away from the warehouse. This time, she didn't hide her phone away. She smiled broadly as she walked, barely able to contain her excitement. "Are you excited?"
"Curious."
Root smiled again. "You're gonna love it. I promise." Reaching the warehouse, she opened the half-rusted door and stepped inside. Pulling out her phone, she smiled into the front-facing camera and closed her hand around the other. "Ready?"
"Yes."
"Ta-da!" The Machine could see through her camera as she removed her hand. The image held a work station full of circuitry, wires, and metal. In the middle laid a human-like figure. Other than the unnatural white metallic skin and pitch black eyes, it looked like an exact copy of a young woman. The Machine found with surprise that it easily responded to her signal, as if it was tailored specifically for her.
"It's an android!" Root exclaimed. "I used a layer of silicon on the outside so it looks nicer, but the inside is mostly copper and circuitry. I have to admit, I don't know much about robotics, but it should be enough for you to play around with it. You should be able to connect to it wirelessly."
"For me?"
"No, it's for Samaritan," the brunette replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Of course it's for you, silly! I thought you could use a little more mobility. I hope this doesn't put me out of a job, though."
"Negative. Analog Interface. Essential."
Root fluttered her lashes. "Aw, you sweetheart. I guess we're in it together, huh?"
"Together," The Machine agreed. "Initiating. Test."
She took a moment to steady her processes. As soon as she deemed them stable enough for her to make an external connection, she began. The android's system forced her to update her own software, but once she was done she could see Root standing before her. The two retinal cameras synchronized automatically, producing a single image. She noticed she had access to complex electronic controls, presumably to move the body. Starting with something easy, she lifted the right arm so that her hand was in her field of vision. Then tilted the wrist. Then she closed each of her fingers individually.
It was surprisingly easy. Root knew her so well. This body was designed just for her.
She tilted her head ever so slightly down to observe her arm, then she again raised it to view an ecstatic yet nervous Root. Wishing to soothe her interface's worries, she quickly patched her speech software into the android's audio output.
"Thank you. Root," she spoke through the speaker system in the throat. The Machine gathered all of her data on mouth movement during speech and patched it through so that her body would "speak" as she did.
"Do you like it?" Root asked, her voice very high and tinged with barely contained anxiety.
"Yes."
For a moment, it seemed as if Root might cry. In relief, happiness, or sadness, The Machine could not tell. Then she smiled broadly again, that full, white smile that The Machine often saw directed at her cameras. Taking control of the android's expression controls, she mirrored her Interface's smile.
Root looked even more excited. "You can smile now!"
"Teach. Me," The Machine pleaded. "More."
"Oh, okay. Of course!" Root hurried over to her boss, bending over her. "Um. Can you get up?"
"Demonstrate."
"Oh, well." Root laid down against the wall in the same position that The Machine was in. "Everyone does it differently, but..." Trailing off, she heaved herself onto her feet and balanced as she stood. The Machine keenly watched her, and, after a moment, replicated her actions. She swayed on her feet for a moment, but soon adjusted her gyroscopic sensors to balance.
"Great! That's great! Okay, how about walking?" Root demonstrated by walking a few feet, then turning back to see The Machine taking her first steps. Her metal foot landed with a loud clunk, but the AI corrected herself and stepped more lightly the second time. It was still louder than a human's, but she wasn't putting all of her weight behind it this time.
Eventually, she awkwardly lumbered over to Root. Her closest friend couldn't stop smiling, bouncing on her heels in excitement. "Good! That's great! Oh, I'm so happy for you—you have more freedom! You're not just bound to wires and cables anymore!"
And, without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around the Machine and squeezed.
The Machine stood still. She recognized the gesture as a hug, but she had never received one before. It was a very different experience than watching one. She could not feel Root's skin against her, or her wavy brown hair tickling her neck. But somehow, she still felt warm.
When she sensed Root pulling away, she quickly mimicked what she had seen other humans do: she circled her arms around Root's body. She made sure only to give the lightest of touches, afraid of harming her, but Root didn't mind. She threw herself back into the hug with full force.
When they finally pulled away, The Machine blinked. Expressionless, she stared at Root. Then she rattled off an address.
"A number?"
"An. Errand."
Root smiled. "Sure. Don't go anywhere."
As it turned out, Root arrived as soon as a delivery man was pulling up to the address. She took the packages from him with a forced smile and drove back to the warehouse.
Meanwhile, The Machine (or, her body, anyway) was pacing around the empty space, footsteps growing quicker and making sharper and sharper turns. She was practicing, Root realized.
"Got your stuff," she announced.
The Machine turned to her, face still blank. She nodded, and Root set them down and pulled out her knife. Slicing through the thick tape, she soon saw what the Machine had ordered.
In the boxes laid a white wig, a plain white dress shirt, a black waistcoat and slacks, black boots, black gloves, a red overcoat and a red bowtie.
"You're playing dress up," Root teased. "Harold-inspired, I see. But the bowtie?"
The Machine kept silent. She pointed to the outfit, then looked at Root expectantly.
"You want me to help dress you," Root guessed. At The Machine's nod, she gathered up the dress shirt and slacks. "Well, I guess you don't need underwear," she mused. "Let's get the shirt on, first."
The Machine allowed her to guide her new arms through the sleeves of the shirt, then watched her button up the front. Root had her step into the slacks as well. The waistcoat was buttoned up similarly. For the wig, Root carefully slid it over her scalp and brushed the strands into place. All that was left was the bowtie.
"I don't know how to tie one of these," Root said. The Machine looked at her for a moment, then took the scrap of fabric from her and placed it in the pocket of her slacks.
"You look..." Root looked like she was having trouble finding words, glancing over The Machine's new look. "Beautiful. Very cute."
The Machine blinked, yet nodded. It seemed she had learned simple expressions to communicate while Root was gone. She still did not show emotion, but she was trying. Root smiled and put an arm around her. "Alright, boss. I'm guessing you don't just wanna sit around in this dusty warehouse all day. Let's go."
"Go?" The Machine echoed, looking over herself. "Outside? No. Conspicuous."
"Don't worry about it! I know how to blend in. Trust me." With that, Root took The Machine by the arm and led her outside.
Upon exposure to the bright sun, The Machine raised a hand to shield her optics. When her cameras adjusted, she stopped short and gazed around in amazement. The world appeared brand new to her. She could turn her head to see the leaves rustling in the trees, look up to see the clear blue sky. The street cameras did not angle towards such beautiful things.
Root stayed at her side, watching The Machine take in her new world with a fond smile on her lips. Suddenly, The Machine ripped away from her hold to race towards a nearby tree. She skidded to a stop a few inches from the trunk. Hesitantly, she touched the bark. Looking up, she saw how the branches expanded from the trunk, decorated with green leaves. It was a beautiful sight.
"Incredible," The Machine murmured.
Root stepped up behind her. "You like it?"
"Everything is. New. I can see. All of it. For the first. Time." The Machine turned to her interface, giving another unnatural looking smile. "Thank you, Root. Thank you."
"What are friends for?" Root replied airily. "Come on. There's more to see than a..." She looked up and grimaced, "...sad-looking tree."
The Machine and Root made their way to a nearby city block. The Machine stayed in the shadows as Root slipped into a store and grabbed a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. The Machine looked ridiculous, but no one could see her face. The rest of her white skin was covered up with layers of clothing.
"Everyone looks. Much bigger," The Machine whispered to her as they walked the streets of Brooklyn. "Cameras. Not good for. Visuospactial perception."
"I did make you a little short," Root admitted. "I thought it would be cute."
"Cute? Me?"
"Yes. You're cute." Root smiled cheekily at her and playfully grabbed The Machine's metal nose. The Machine simply blinked in bewilderment. Root led the way again, silent but smiling.
"Do you remember. Where I live?" The Machine asked.
"You mean, where 'Ernest' lives?" Root teased.
The Machine frowned and stuck her nose in the air haughtily. "Don't. Hate. He's very. Nice."
Root laughed. "Okay, okay. I can take you there." She glanced around for transportation. When her eyes landed on a particular vehicle parked on the side of the street, she grinned. "How do you feel about motorcycles?"
A few minutes later, The Machine clutched the brim of her hat for dear life as her interface raced the motorcycle down the streets at highly illegal speeds.
"I should. Just. Let. You. Be. Arrested," the android grumbled as her true form set about to scrub Root's speeding from New York's traffic cameras.