The Sum of Their Parts
Chapter 1: Overload
It was less that the nindroid- nindroids?notonenottwowhatamI?- woke up, and more than they were thrown from blissful nothingness to instant alertness. Even before they opened their eyes-before their eyes activated, really, they had no memory of actually lifting eyelids, they weren't entirely sure they HAD eyelids- their mind was barraged with data and information and thoughts that didn't feel like their own.
Whoamiwhatami? Amianioramiawe? Amioneortwoortwoorone? Whereiszanewhereispixal? WhoISzaneandpixal?
Zaneis… whiteninjaherofriendbrotherson (notanyomore,sadnessinthechestimalone butnotaloneihavebrothers) robotnonotrobotnindroid thereisadifference andthedifferenceisfriendship kindfriendlycalmsmartlovinglover-arewecompatible?
Pixalis… P.I.X.A.L- PrimaryInteractiveX-ternalAssistantLifeform. (WhatdoesZanestandforthen?) AssistantandroidtoCyrusBorg- whoisCyrusBorg? CreatorinventorgreatmanFather?- ServedtheOverlordbutZanesavedme, Zaneisalwayssavingme, IjustwantedtosaveZane, Ijustwantedhimback, hesjustsogoodevenwhenhewasntprogramedtooandIlovehim ZaneIswearwearecompatible
…But then who are we?
…
Despite all the other noisedatainformation being thrown around in their head, there was nothing for that question. Just a moment of blankness- just enough to really realize how crowded their head is- before their mind was pounded again with other data, a nonstop stream of jaycolekailloydnya areyousafeareyouokay hascoletriedtakingovermyroleaschef and iamthesixteenthofmydesign, surelyborgwilljustmakeanotherassistant, abetterversionthatdoesntabandonhimlikethis that went on too fast and just too much for the nameless nindroid to understand. (They probably had a name, somewhere in all that junk data, but it seemed too daunting to go look for it. Do they need a name at this point? Names are things other people call people, and until somebody came along and needed something to call them, they wouldn't risk going through their entire mental phonebook trying to figure out which of those unfamiliar names was theirs.)
Asking where are we was just as useless, as it provided images of temples and conveyor belts, snowy forests and labs and circuses and secret bases and the internet? Maybe? It was like a slideshow of random locations that was going by faster than they could blink- actually, could they blink? It didn't really feel like they've blinked since they became active, and they weren't entirely sure they even had eyelids to blink with, so it was a weird expression for them to use- and none of those images were HERE, in this odd little cell cuffed to the wall like they were some criminal!
…Which they weren't, since the odd flashes and feelings felt more indignant this time rather than random, like they were in fact the very opposite of a criminal. Which was very nice, even if they didn't really know what that opposite would be? (Notapolicenotasecretagentnota…maybeasuperhero?) Still, it was comforting to know that they probably were not supposed to be locked up- that meant they could escape without feeling guilty about it.
They examined their cell closely, as if seeing in for the first time- although being fair, they were distracted by all that information that was still rattling around in their head, still going a mile a minute and taking up a good portion of their processing power. It was rather average for a one-person cell, they supposed, although really this layout was just so inefficient! Seriously, if their arms were chained above their head rather than to the sides-or even just shackled to the wall itself- they there would only have needed to take up half the space, plus the wall facing them could be at least 3.9726 feet closer to them without them being able to attack the guards with their legs, which also makes it a huge waste of space. Also, while they appreciated not having their legs locked up… why were their legs not locked up? Legs can be just as dangerous as arms if used properly, and they were pretty sure they could nonlethally strangle somebody with their legs if that person came close enough. Which is… a plan, but probably not Plan A. Maybe Plan C or even D?
Plan A was just to wait, since they really didn't have enough information to do anything else right now. Surely a guard or some sort would come by to taunt them or feed them or such- did they require food? There must be some way for them to regain energy and the idea of eating brought forth a barrage of blurred faces around a table, the tastes in their mouth fluctuated between horrendous and exquisite as their memories shifted around them- and that would be a good way to cultivate some usable data, not this… junk data rattling around in their head.
After all, there must be some reason why they were locked up in this regard, some sort of strange use to their captors- otherwise, why would they still be here and not… scrapped…
...Pixalno...
The nindroid suddenly felt their insides curl up into a little ball, like all their wires and gears were trying to form a protective shield around their power source. They would have liked to do much the same, but with the chains all they could do was curl their legs up and pull them up to their chest with a good amount of difficulty. The pose hurt, but not as much as that idea leaking inside their mind like oil from a broken machine, the flashes of pain and dismay and seeing parts and pieces scattered everywhere, like shewas justamachine andnotaperson ohPixalwhydidtheydothistoyou?!
This was when the nindroid realized they couldn't cry, although not for a lack of trying.
They held that position for seven minutes and forty three seconds. It would have been longer, but the cramping in their legs grew worse than the cramping in their chest. This behavior was… illogical, anyway. A useless waste of time, distracting from their prime objective- whatever that is.
Iwasbuilttoprotectthosewhocannotprotectthemselves IwasdesignedtoassistCyrusBorginhisendevors
They were meant to be… helpful? Yes, being helpful seemed to fit within the jagged slots in their mind. It gave them a happy feeling, that idea of helping others, and it brought images of assisting men- one black haired and always seated, the other seeming to age with every moment, seeming to go from hale and hearty to frail in nanoseconds- of helping old women across the street, of organizing data and making meals and even of fighting for the sake of others! There were a lot of ways to help people, apparently, and this overload of data actually made the nindroid feel nice, like their stomach had a toaster function and somebody just stuck bread inside it.
But… they can't help anybody while they're stuck in here- except maybe the people who locked them up, but they probably shouldn't help those people. So, back to making plans! Well, at least a plan…
It wasn't plan A or plan B, but Plan Tree, because well… it was like a tree- birchwoodforesttheplaceIwasbuilt myhomeforsomanyyearsbutthenthesadness- because the plan started from one place and branched off depending on the various variable. Plan Tree started simply with waiting to see if somebody would come- whether they did or did not was two different paths, as was the person's reactions. If the guards seemed nice or sympathetic, then the nindroid would either attempt to convince them to let them go or start building a friendly repertoire in order to gain more information and to facilitate a future escape attempt. If the guards were just doing their job or unreactive, then the nindroid would simply have to wait and watch their patterns for weaknesses, or attempt a more subdued barrage of friendship. And if the guards were violent, or if it was their captors coming to do foul things, well… they had proven that they can at least move their legs enough to knock out or subdue anybody who came close enough. They didn't want to, it seemed almost like they were fighting dirty and that made them bad but… theytookherarmsfirstthenlegssoshecouldntdefendherself andthenandthenANDTHEN… their captors probably deserved it.
It wasn't the most ideal plan, there were still so many variables or opportunities they hadn't mapped out, but it was the best they could do for now. It was frustrating, in a way, knowing that they had just had the potential to do better, to run much more efficiently, only for their neural software to be bugged down with so much incomprehensible data. If it was information they could actually use, that explained who they were and why they were here and what their purpose was, then it would be one thing. And if they knew it was all completely useless, then they could just… flip a switch or something and lose everything to make room for useful data. Instead they were just stuck with a mixture of useful and useless, and were stuck feeling more like the latter.
But they knew they couldn't quit. Something-someonesomebodyZanePixalwhoareyou?- inside them was driving them to keep going, keep making plans, keep sloughing through all the information in their mind. It was a feeling of determination, and it tied up with it was this phrase. It echoed their tattered memories through many different voices, but each voice held the same confidence, the same conviction that filled their circuits with ice. They almost didn't want to say it, like if they said it aloud the magic would fade. But well… if there was any magic to it, then they could really use some right now.
"A ninja…" they trailed off, distracted by the sound of their own voice. Did they really sound like that, deep and soft and oddly layered, like their creator wasn't sure which voicebox to use and instead used both? "A ninja never quits."
It felt foolish to say it aloud. After all, they weren't a ninja, just a nindroid in way over their messed up head. They groaned, tilting their head against the wall behind them and making a small 'donk!' noise. Maybe they could break their way out by breaking the back wall with regulated hits via legs and head… they would have to calculate the risk to
Suddenly, their musings were broken up by a face appearing in their window, dark hair, dark skin, and darker eyes coated in white flour. Familiar and unfamiliar, like a ghost from their unknown past. "Zane? Is that you?"
Zane? Zane! It rang through their circuits like the singing of a bell, filling them with a brief burst of understanding. Zane was heroninjanindroidimportantvitaltotheNinjas, he was goodcookgoodsongoodatchoresandsixthsenseandjustgood, he was...
And like that, the feeling was gone. They came so close to finally, FINALLY understanding something, but they couldn't quite make it. And now the man in the window was looking at them strangely, and they can't answer him. It was so frustratingly simple too, just yes or no, yes or no, yesorno, YesnoyesnoyesnoyesbutnoyesANDnowhoisZanewhoisPixalwhoamI?! whoareyou and whoisZaneamIZanewhatisZanelikewhyisZaneimportantand…
They could practically feel their circuits heating up from the pressure in their head, so they shunted the question off and asked one instead. "Who is Zane?"
It was a logical answer- a plea for clarification, for more information, maybe they'd know more if he would just tell them more- but it wasn't the right answer. It was not helpful, and made the man frown, looking closer into the cell. "Yeah… you aren't Zane. Sorry, it's just that Zane is a nindroid, and-you sort of looked alike. I'm not saying that all nindroids look alike but! Look, my name is Cole, and I'm busting everybody out as soon as I find Zane."
The nindroid... well, they didn't blink- apparently they did not have eyelids after all- but their vision dimmed for a moment as they tried to process all this new information from the most to least important.
1. They were not Zane. (ButIfeellikeImZanebutnotZaneatthesametime whyamisobroken whyisZanesoimportant whoisZane whydoIknowhim whydoesColeknowhim ZanePixalhelpme Imsorry) That thought was... surprisingly painful, and they weren't sure if it was because then they would actually know more about themselves, or because Zane has Coal- Colenotcoalbestfriendbrotherninjaheroleadernotadanceryesadancerhisownterms miscalculatedcompatibilityImsosorry- looking for them. They tried to push away that little twist they knew as envy away, and focused on that logically meant.
2. Zane had somebody looking for them, somebody who missed them and who prioritized their rescue above all others- Colenothatsnotwhatbeinganinjaisabout youknowmeyouknowthatsnotwhatiwant rescueeverybodyelsefirst- but who would be willing to rescue the nindroid (and all the other prisoners that were locked up, which makes rescue especially important) as long as they freed their friend. Thus, if they helped Cole, then they'd be helping free everybody else!
3. Zane was a nindroid too? That could be useful if they ever found out more about this mysterious Zane. And... they wanted to. Something about this Zane seemed to fit inside them like very little did, and Cole seemed upset that his friend was missing. So, if they helped Coal find Zane, they could do a good and maybe even find themself in the process!
4. They can help, but it would hurt them inside. Because they've seen at least one other nindroid here, and they were fairly certain they could remember the way there. But the remembering was painful, that tightness inside their chest when they thought about what they saw before-not what, who, she was a person and they took her apart like an old microwave- it was the only thing they could remember well, but it was the one thing they didn't want to remember. (Well, the one thing they remember not wanting to remember, anyway. It felt like there were other things they didn't want to remember, pain and loss and the feeling of imploding slowly. Maybe that's why their memory is so messed up, there was so much bad that their brain had to protect itself through denial, but they had to have some good memories too, right?)
But that didn't matter. Their feelings didn't matter, not when it was something as important as the way this felt. They had to help.
Luckily, they still seemed able to think faster than a human, despite their cramped head and heavy metaphorical heart- the silence was only just beginning to get awkward when they finally spoke, reignited Cole's feigning attention. "We saw… saw a nindroid. Here, or a place like here. Could be Zane, don't know for sure."
"If I get you out, do you think you can take me there?" Cole asked, leaning even closer and blocking out the light from the cell window. The nindroid wanted to shiver in a way not correlated with the cold, but nodded instead. Their purpose was to help people, and they can help him, and if they did that then he'd help more people. It didn't matter if the thought of seeking out that room with the… parts… makes them want to dry heave everything they've ever eaten.
Behind Cole, they could hear arguing, a thick accent blanketing one of the voices talking about... shoes? Their ears-and did they have ears? They could hear, but that didn't necessitate ears for a nindroid- or whatever they used to hear, must be malfunctioning. Nevertheless, this seemed to make Cole anxious, and he quickly whispered "Just hold on tight. I'll come back for you."
Just like that, Cole vanished, away from the small window that lit up their world. The nindroid sighed, feeling like a weight was taken off their back. They know that they are not Zane- at least according to Cole- and they know that they are in contact with somebody who seems to know who Zane is, so that they can learn more about who he is and why he's so important. He even promised to help them escape, which took a lot of strain off of their tired mind. Plus… it just felt nice to have somebody to talk to, somebody that seemed to be counting on them. They didn't really know Cole all that well- yestheydidheknewColeverywellColewastheirfriendbrother- but they wanted to be somebody he relied on. (Theyalreadywere).
They leaned their head back again, trying to fortify their mental wall once more- it seemed to crack around Cole for some reason. Although… if they were to continue this partnership (friendship) with Cole, then they would need to peak behind that wall again. Just enough to find their name.
Wow, first Ninjago fic and first fanfic in awhile... who knew Lego was so inspiring? This is not actually what I intended my first Ninjago story to be (I have a few other ideas going, including one about a Serpentine girl gang and a mystery Cole/Nya/Jay AU loosely inspired by Beauty and the Beast.) But for some reason, I just liked the idea of Zane plugging Pixal's neural drive into his processer and accidentally creating a new, awkward nindroid with too much data to handle.
I'm not sure I'm 100% happy with the way the inner thoughts turned out- I know it's a bit of a confusing mess, but that was sort of the point. It's supposed to be going too fast for the nindroid to understand, but if you guys can't understand what was being said/thought, then I'll either try a different approach at showing it or add spaced out versions in the author's notes or something. Feel free to tell me what you think!