A man. A male organism. Height: 6'1". Weight: 165 lbs. Black hair. Brown eyes. Approximately 21 years old. This was the first person I ever saw.
They say he created me, or at least that is what I think I have heard people say. It does make sense, I suppose. My first memory was of this man; his smiling face and his soft brown eyes. If I remember correctly, my engine made a strange, ear-piercing noise that day, and he swiftly deactivated me. But he did not give up on me then. I would see him again many times over the coming days.
The two of us endured many tests together. Some had positive results. Most did not. But my creator still did not give up on me. He created me for a purpose, I would learn on our 33rd test. The lights went out on that test. I never did learn why. My creator found a flashlight, and illuminated the dark room. He spoke to me so gently, and the words he spoke were words of encouragement. He said I was going to help a lot of people.
"A lot of people." he repeated the words, as if he was saying "I'm so proud of you." How I was going to help then, I would not learn until many tests later.
"I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion." I said on a bright Tuesday morning in June. I did not know where the words came from, but I was the one who said them. I recognized my voice. It was on our 84th test that I finally became aware of my purpose.
I was a nurse, or, a healthcare companion as I prefer to think of myself. My creator programmed me with over 10,000 medical procedures, so that I was capable of treating virtually any ailment with ease. I was going to be used in hospitals, by emergency response teams, or by anyone who needed a healthcare provider. I knew my purpose now, and I liked it very much. I was going to make a difference in the world. How did I know that, you ask? Tadashi told me so.
Tadashi Hamada. It was his name that was inscribed on my memory card. They were his eyes, his smiling face that I saw in my oldest memory. He was the man who worked so hard to give me life. He spent approximately 780 days, nearly every day since his university enrollment doing research, building, and programming me to make me the Baymax I am today.
But then one day, Tadashi was gone. I will never understand exactly why it happened, as I was not there at the time of the accident. I was at Tadashi's house, in his bedroom, deactivated in my carrying case. Tadashi would bring me home sometimes, and work on me over the weekends, or at night. But when no one came to activate me that evening, I began to wonder if something was amiss. When the days, and eventually weeks passed I started to fear Tadashi had given up on me. I wondered if he had started some new robotics project, and I had been put on the shelf, so to speak, to be taken out at a later date, if fortunate found me and somebody remembered. But then I reprimanded myself for thinking that way. Tadashi would never give up on me.
Then one day I was activated by the sound of a distressed moan. I appeared in Tadashi's bedroom, in the exact same place Tadashi had put me down weeks ago. But upon examining my surroundings, my creator was nowhere in sight. To my surprise, I realized that the person who had awakened me was not Tadashi, but rather his younger brother, Hiro.
I had met this young adolescent once before, when Tadashi brought him to the university to see the lab. The boy seemed very intelligent, a robotics genius like his brother. He seemed so eager to learn how I worked, and his brown eyes sparkled with wonder. But the boy was not the same today as he was when I saw him three weeks ago. The wondrous look was gone from his eyes, and upon scanning him, I found that his neurotransmitter levels were low. He seemed to be depressed.
It was not an illness per se, and it was not an injury. But I wanted to help Hiro. It was in my programming to do so. I admit when we started out on our journey I did not know helping people could pose such a risk to one's health. I am grateful that I am a robot, and therefore was not able to be injured when I followed Hiro's tiny robot across San Fransokyo, navigating through oncoming traffic, both ways. I was not injured when we climbed through the window of what we had previously perceived to be an abandoned factory, only to have a man in a kabuki mask, carried by millions of Hiro's tiny robots, make an attempt on Hiro's and I's life. I did not get injured when we escaped from almost certain death by jumping out the same window we climbed in, and luckily Hiro was not injured either. I held onto him as we were falling, and he landed on my soft, inflatable, vinyl body. I knew there was a reason for why Tadashi made me like this, other than so that people would want to huggle me.
We stopped at the police station before returning home. Hiro wanted to report the man in the mask to the authorities for stealing his tiny robots, and trying to kill us, I believe. I do not remember much about our visit, as my battery was starting to die at that time, and... I will just say I am not myself when that happens. Hiro carried me home, and helped me into my charging cradle. After a moment of recharging my battery, I was able to see clearly again, and I noticed the pained expression on Hiro's face as he lay on his bed across from me.
"It just doesn't make any sense." the boy muttered, rolling his tiny robot between his index finger and thumb. It was then that I noticed something I had not noticed before. Tadashi's baseball cap — the one that he got from the university, the one that he wore every day to school, the one that was covering his short black hair nearly every time I saw him — was sitting on Tadashi's bed.
"Tadashi." I realized now that something was not right.
Hiro's soft brown eyes fell upon me, as I stood completely still in my charging cradle.
"Tadashi." I repeated his name, and the boy's eyes glazed over.
"Tadashi's gone." he said in a trembling whisper, getting up from the bed and closing the wooden screen that separated Tadashi's half of the shared attic room from his own.
"When will he be returning?" I asked earnestly. I urgently wanted to know the answer, but I almost dreaded what he might say.
"He's dead, Baymax."
The words were like thick needles to my inflatable vinyl exterior. I felt as if a large amount of air had just been let out of me while I was still active. I imagined this was what it must have felt like to a human to be lightheaded.
"Tadashi was in excellent health." I managed to utter in disbelief. "With a proper diet and exercise, he should have lived a long life."
"Yeah he should've." Hiro blinked hard, the slightest tremor in his voice. "But there was a fire, and... now he's gone."
I was so confused. It did not make any sense to me. How could Tadashi Hamada be dead? How could a man who wanted to make a difference in the world be cut off from the world before his difference could be made? How? Tadashi had tried to help so many people. Why? I wondered, why did no person help him?
It was not fair. Tadashi Hamada was needed in this world. I needed him. His friends needed him. His aunt needed him. And his brother... What would young Hiro do without Tadashi? Without an older brother to look out for him, to teach him and to encourage him, and to never give up on him even when he was about to give up on himself?
Poor Hiro was clearly still in as much shock as I was. He was standing facing Tadashi's closed off room, his knees shaking and his face still forced into an expressionless state, trying to hold back tears. Even like this Hiro Hamada really did look like Tadashi. At this moment, everything about him resembled my creator in some way or another. Or perhaps it was just that my cameras were clouded as a result of this system shock. I had certainly noticed the resemblance long before receiving this news, however. He had the same eyes, the same black hair, and the same smile, although I realized now I had not seen Hiro smile all day.
Beyond physical appearance, I knew he had the same large brain as his brother had — A brain that was never satisfied unless constantly expanding, a brain that was able to look at things from angles other people could not see. I knew inside his thin chest beat the heart of a scientist, and an inventor, just like Tadashi had been. It was no wonder I already felt a particular attachment to this boy. I wanted to be near him, just as I had wanted to be near Tadashi. When I looked at him, I saw Tadashi.
"Tadashi is here." I started to tell him.
"That's what everyone's saying." he sighed, as he collapsed into his desk chair. "People keep saying he's not really gone, as long as you remember him. It still hurts."
As long as you remember him... These words brought comfort to me. I would always remember Tadashi Hamada. After all, he did create me. It was his name that was inscribed on my memory chip, and they were his eyes, his smiling face I saw in my first memory. There were traces of Tadashi Hamada all throughout my database. And there was one special reminder that told me Tadashi would never be far away.
Hiro Hamada was sitting slumped in his desk chair, staring blankly at the wall. He was truly a shell of the youth he had once been. He had memories of Tadashi that he could look back to any time he needed. But I could tell memories were not enough for this boy. Hiro was lonely without his brother.
I made up my mind. I was going to be there for Hiro. I was going to look after him, and support him, and encourage him just as Tadashi would have done. Tadashi had a light he could put into the world, and Hiro had that same light. I wanted to protect him, and ensure that light never went out. Hiro was a living memory of my creator, and I was all that Hiro had left of his brother. Hiro needed me, and I needed him. We could be lonely together, and maybe when Hiro was ready we could even share our memories.
I was a robot, incapable of human emotions such as sadness or grief. However, I was capable of love toward the people I was closest to. Why I was like this? Perhaps Tadashi made me this way. I used memories instead of tears to deal with my loss. And with everything I had, everything I was, and everything Tadashi made me to be, I was going to protect those memories.
