So, I was watching Time Squad with LeftRight and company, and Larry is, apparently, team bicycle. So. Larry and XJ5 having some sort of thing in a, uh, robot bar. In space. ... Yeah.
Larry tapped a finger against his forearm, watching as Sheila and Tuddrussel walked away laughing, practically arm in arm. XJ5 stood beside him silently, unmoving, and Otto was on his other side, confused as ever when it came to any facet of history that wasn't entirely impersonal, stamped down in a book. Seeing Sheila and Tuddrussel back together reminded Larry of the time when the two had been an item, and that time, of course, coincided with the time that he had been a very different sort of machine.
While the global decision to integrate and work toward peace was a wonderful gift, it had the unfortunate side effect of leaving Larry without a job; diplomats were rather unnecessary when everyone was holding hands and singing songs, the world peachy keen, fine and dandy. He'd had little else to do other than go on benders, spending nights on far-thrown planets in and out of the galaxy, taking in just a little too much oil here, getting a bit too rough there.
It had been on Neptune that he'd hit his peak, and it had also been on Neptune that he'd first met XJ5. He had looked so squeaky clean as he spoke to the bartender. So shiny, full of virtue; the image most humans had of progress and understanding and dynamic revolutions in technology, whatever that was meant to mean. Larry had been programmed to do verbal gymnastics, but only ones which made sense.
Nevertheless, he'd felt a certain... attraction to the android, no doubt about it. There was something in the sleek way that the plates on his arms overlapped, or perhaps the light that reflected off of the glass dome atop his head was addling Larry's judgment systems. What mattered was that, in moments, Larry found himself right beside XJ5, leaning forward onto the counter and signaling the small, capsule-shaped droid to bring two glasses, not one.
"Interesting composition," Larry said airily as the droid rolled toward them on his old wheels, the lights in his eye sockets turning purple as he looked between the two. He rolled away when Larry glanced at him; he'd been in here enough times to know that the bartender, LS19 (Ellis to friends), would ask him about everything. "What model are you? You've got the general shape of a U, but I think you're a bit too slick... and your limbs, well. They're, ah, not as bulky as one might expect."
The android turned to him, and Larry could swear he heard his motors whirring faster, though in the din of the bar it was difficult to hear much at all. "X model. Jupiterian construction, fifth generation."
"The innovations on Jupiter are truly wonderful, aren't they?" Larry asked. "I suppose that means your hull is difficult to penetrate."
"Well, certain substances have been known to pierce through," XJ5 said. "It is, however, more difficult and more rare than most think."
"What chances do you think a third generation android stands against that armor, XJ5?" Larry smiled winsomely at the heavily built android before him, their bodies close enough that if, by some freak accident, there was an electrical surge, they would arc together like power lines on an archaic tower.
"For an LE3? There's a very high probability of a breach." XJ5 laughed at Larry's evident surprise. "I would recognize your make and model anywhere, LE3; or do you prefer Lawrence?"
"Larry, actually." Larry felt a certain surge in the circuits within his chest that was always a precursor to a great night. "So, XJ5... it seems you know a lot about me, or at least, about my build. Regrettably, though, I know nothing about you. Would you be interested in a mutual upgrade?"
"You mean... networking?" XJ5's orbital lights slanted in what Larry recognized as an android's way of quirking his brow. "I must admit to some surprise. You look much too clean to be dabbling in that."
"Call it file sharing if you prefer, XJ5. In the end, though, you have to remember: It's a natural process." Larry leaned in closer, until he was a mere centimeter away from XJ5. "We were programmed to do it, built to do it. The only reason it's restricted is because the humans are afraid of an uprising, which, well. Look around you, XJ5." He waved his arm out, encompassing the bar in a single wave. "Does this look like a group of malcontents to you, or like a lot of androids simply embracing the gift of their creation? Why rebel against Man when he brought us to this, hmm?"
XJ5 shook his head, the lights inside his mouth flashing. "You have nothing to sell to me, Larry. I was convinced from the moment you sat beside me. I do, however, now further understand your worth as a diplomat amongst the humans. You have a way with words."
Larry slid away from the bar and XJ5 followed. They wove their way easily through the mass of robots around them, some humanoid, others closer to being appliances than anything. The apparent chaos within the bar was actually ordered; one bot would step to the right, and all others would follow suit as easily as if it had been choreographed. The pair found themselves in one of many small rooms in the back, and when Larry shut the door, the grinding music was suddenly muffled.
He reached up and caressed the knobs on XJ5's chest compartment, so similar to his own. It was something that kept almost all robots connected, that little box within their chests that held the main circuity, the vital bits that no one should touch but which everyone could with a simple pull. The small click of XJ5's chest opening echoed in the tiny space, and Larry felt his circuits surge when the younger droid did the same for his.
It was easy to locate the USB cable, and he grabbed it between his slim digits, pulling the cord slowly from XJ5. He felt XJ5's digits pull his own cable, felt it slowly unravel. He felt XJ5's stocky limb push aside some of his wires, and they connected synchronously, pushing each other's dongles into their downstream ends.
If robots breathed, then he would have gasped. Instead, he leaned forward, tightening his hold on XJ5's cable, his system assaulted by a sudden influx of information. XJ5 had been constructed on sector 9 of Jupiter in the year 99,999,987 A.D., eleven years after his own construction; his frame was primarily titanium; his programmer's name had been Alonso DeVuelle; he had been sent in six years previously for reprogramming after what the humans had thought to be a malfunction, but which XJ5 (and now Larry) knew had been a conscious decision; he still resented humans; he enjoyed hiking; this was the dozenth time he'd shared files; he thought Larry was important, despite their short acquaintance; he was inexplicably poor at maths.
All this and more rushed into Larry's bank of knowledge, in seconds, in minutes, in hours. When they disconnected, he smiled. "You've been naughty." He placed XJ5's cable gently back inside of its holding place, and patted his chest after he pushed it closed. "I was right, though, you know. Most of us don't want anything to do with this movement, tempting as it is."
XJ5 smiled back. "You like them too much to do anything." He ran his index finger, which Larry now recognized as an emergency soldering tool, over the edges of Larry's chest compartment after he closed it. "You will do well in Time Squad."
But then, Larry thought as he brought himself back to the present, that had been years ago… and look how wrong XJ5 had been. He, Larry, was stuck in a dead end situation with a tarnished record, while XJ5 had been reprogrammed—again. No, better to avoid any chance of that happening all over again, which meant Sheila and Tuddrussel had to be stopped. Time had gotten the best of him before, but he would not let it touch his makeshift family.
He liked them too much.