When Dean got home, there was a huge package waiting for him by the door, where his landlady had presumably propped it up. He picked up the card hovering over the box, noting the monochromatic logo of the Robotics Management Council emblazoned across it. 'From your friends over in Consumer Protection. Congrats on becoming a product manager! Enclosed is the latest prototype from R.U.R.' Swiping the card away, he smirked a little to himself at the thought that, to celebrate his promotion, his employers had essentially gifted him with more grunt work.
Not that he minded too much, because luckily for him, he quite enjoyed product testing, but the rumor mill was abuzz with speculations about this new model, and he got the feeling it would have a multitude of state-of-the-art features to run tests on. Swinging open the door to his apartment after fiddling clumsily with his bent key card, he shouldered his way into the room with the unwieldy box in tow and kicked the door shut behind him. Blowing out an impatient breath, he laid the box down flat in the middle of the floor and tore into its semi-synthetic edges with his pocket knife, flipping the top up and peering inside.
The android, nestled in purple packing peanuts, had its arms folded over its chest and its eyes shut. It was the typical resting position, but the remarkable lifelikeness of its design made it look disconcertingly like a corpse. Dean shook off a sudden stab of trepidation and gently lifted the robot out of the box, sitting its lax body up and examining it from all angles. It was a male type, with brown hair that curled into its eyes, boyish features, and long limbs. He felt at the back of its neck for the on switch, becoming confused when he didn't find it in its usual spot below the serial number.
He had to spend several minutes skimming the lengthy user manual before he discovered that R.U.R had re-positioned it at the earlobe. "Weird place for it," he muttered to himself, sliding out of place what he'd thought to be a stud earring and pressing the button underneath. With a soft humming noise, the robot powered up, sliding its eyes open and getting to its feet. "Hi," Dean said, standing to face it and smiling reflexively. "I'm Dean. I'll be your master for the next month or so. What's your name?" The android blinked several times, and Dean was taken once again with how eerily human it looked.
"I am the Servitor Appliance Model," it answered. Its voice chip appeared to be of high quality, which was great news for Dean, because the last prototype he'd been saddled with had been equipped with a voice that grated like nails on a chalkboard. "Sam, then," Dean said decisively, flipping quickly through its list of preliminary functions as he spoke.
"If that is what you wish to call me, I will answer to it." The corner of Dean's mouth quirked up at that.
"A little stuffy, aren't you." He knew that was because the robot was brand-new and hadn't yet had enough interactions for its language development curve to kick in, but he couldn't resist a bit of ribbing. Sam didn't answer, choosing instead to tilt its head and stare at him expectantly. "Okay, uh…I guess you can start by sweeping up around here. God knows it's been ages since I dusted anything."
"Affirmative." Dean squinted at Sam bemusedly. "Was that—"
"A joke, yes. I thought I would try it out." Dean laughed, surprised and the tiniest bit awed. "A robot that tells jokes. AI's come so far since the Apple era. I think you gotta work on your delivery, though. The dead-eyed monotone is kinda off-putting."
Sam nodded as if chewing on a bit of sage advice, before turning around to survey the room. "Might you direct me to the cleaning supplies?"
"Right, um. It's been ages since I've housed an Appliance Model, and I don't really own any, uh…" He trailed off at Sam's blank stare and tried a more straightforward approach. "Tell me about your applications."
"Of course. I am equipped with a hose, a heating mechanism, a flashlight, and a series of sterilized industrial blades. I can assist you with all your accounting and budgetary needs at a professional level, and my academic databases are expansive and up-to-date should you wish to utilize my search engines. I am required to inform you that in the unlikely event that I pose any kind of a threat to you, you may disable me from a safe distance with the clicker enclosed in my packaging. In case of emergency, you may also call the RMC Safety Hotline for help. Do you require further elaboration?"
"Nope, that's good, thanks. Now let me just see if I can find that damned…" Dean swept his eyes around his cramped room in search of the broom he'd apparently misplaced several years back; he hadn't done his own cleaning since he took his previous job, which had mainly consisted of running tests on tricked-out Roombas and tweaking their serial interfaces. One would think that Dean would be able to afford a less crappy apartment as an employee of the RMC, but even with his new promotion his salary wasn't half as impressive as it would have been several decades ago.
"Target located," Sam announced out of nowhere, walking over to Dean's futon and pulling out the broom from underneath it.
"You gotta stop talking like that, dude. You sound like a 2000's model." Getting to work on a particularly dirty corner of the room, Sam answered, "I know. I can joke, if you'll recall. It is one of my many skills." It kept its poker face as it said this, but Dean felt himself offering Sam a grin anyway. The engineers were getting closer every year, he thought. He'd just unpackaged it half an hour ago, but Sam already seemed to be the most personable android he'd met in all his years spent surrounded by them.