"Yancyyyyy! Mom said you'd walk me home right after school!"
Out of the front doors of a broken down New York Public School walked two young boys. They were hardly old enough to be by themselves in the hobo ridden, rat infested, drug spewing streets of 1980's New York. However, oblivious as they were, they continued the treck to the sidewalk attached to the end of the school's parking lot. The smaller one, a boy of about seven years of age with flaming orange hair, tripped over his untied shoelaces and sagging backpack in an effort to catch up to his older brother.
The older brother in question, Yancy, paid him no mind. His face was set in characteristic annoyance, looking as though he was chewing a tough bit of meat. His brown hair even seemed to reflect his mood, swept back against his head like an angry cat's ears. Unlike his younger brother, his shoes were tied and the straps of his beige backpack were snug and fit against his back just right. He liked to think of himself as everything his brother was not...clean. Orderly. Cool. Not pleading to be taken home even though it was obvious Yancy had no other options.
He felt a hand on the back of his teeshirt and immediately spun around with a harsh scowl.
"Geez, Phillip! Shut. Up."
Phillip screetched to a halt, eyes wide and regarding Yancy with suspicion. He gripped the straps of his backpack harder.
"I will TAKE you home! We will be there ON TIME! Stop whining." Yancy finished with a growl, using his height advantage to slightly lean over the other boy.
"Ok, good," Phillip blinked innocently, scuffing his shoe on the pavement," 'Cause mom can get really mad when I'm not home before four."
Good little Phillip had just learned to tell time. It grated Yancy's nerves.
"Alright, Phillip, we'll go home. But first ya gotta do something for me real quick."
Yancy had spied some of his friends just a block down the street. They were standing on the corner, probably laughing, talking, waiting for their parents to come pick them up. The point was, however, that they were a cool 'click' that he'd managed to join. Not only that, but he also had a crush on one of its members. Sandra. What a heavenly name.
He couldn't let his lame little brother cramp his style (what little he had left), and what would be the harm of leaving him here for a few minutes while he popped over and said hello? He frowned decidedly, brow furrowed as he directed his gaze foreward again. He had Phil's attention for a few precious seconds.
"Watch this street and make sure no harm is done, little soldier. I'm going to go, erm, infiltrate that bunch of kids over there and make sure no...um...evil deeds are being done. Capiche?" Yancy straightened his spine and stared down his brother.
Phillip J. Fry has been raised right. With a respectful view of soldiers and all superior officers, and a vast knowledge on the subject of the army no thanks to his father, he now had to make a choice. Obey the 'authority' of his brother and answer like a soldier, or fuss and be told on later. A tough situation indeed.
"Aye, aye, Yancy." He ground out without enthusiasm; somehow straightening with a salute and drooping with disdain at the same time. He narrowed his eyes subtly.
"Great. Now stay put." Yancy trotted down the street with a victorious smirk, straightening out his clothes as he went.
Phillip was left to slump and scowl after him, beginning to boredly rock on his heels only moments later. He was not known for having a long attention span. Once he became idle, disaster was just waiting to be struck. In this case, only three minutes after being left alone beside the street, and watching the various vehicles pass by, Phillip began to think.
Why was Yancy always in charge? Why couldn't he just go home without the escort of his brother? Why? I mean, he was smart too. He knew the way home. Across the street. Four blocks down. A left turn. The house with all the satellites and antenna sticking off the roof. Easy-peasy!
With a determined stare down the street where his older brother stood laughing with, er, 'infiltrating' other kids, Phillip made up his immature mind. He was gonna go home without Yancy, and no one could stop him! With a crowd cheering him on in his mind, he started across the crosswalk at an excited gate. He couldn't keep the mischievious grin off his face; imagine how startled Yancy would be when he saw the empty sidewalk! Image how proud his mom would be when he, Phillip, returned home without any aid because his dumb brother wouldn't...no, REFUSED, to take him home at the right time. Imagine!
He giggled giddily as he trotted across the road, barely being able to stand how great and clever he was.
"Heheeheehehehe!" Phillip decided to add in an evil laugh just for the back of it, "Mwahaha- -AAAH-!"
A childish scream erupted from the now frozen-in-terror boy as a truck, perhaps going a few miles above the speed limit, suddenly caught the foolish child in its path and laid on the horn. It was too late to stop, even if the driver had the intention to. Even after learning to tell time, Phillip had forgotten to look both ways before crossing the street!
Phillip felt cold and sick, his life flashing through his eyes at an alarming rate. The only joy he could garner at the moment was that at least this was all Yancy's fault.
Before he knew what was happening, he felt himself jerked sideways by the back of his jacket, feet lifting off the ground by the force. The breeze from the speeding truck still hit him, and the child blinked uncontrollably, gasping. He was dragged abruptly into an alleyway between two shops with enough time to watch the truck continue down the road, perhaps speeding up a bit more, before winding around a corner on two wheels.
He was let go suddenly, and skidded backwards about a foot on his bottom, the darkness of the alleyway looming over him. He let out a delayed, strangled cry, shakily hugging himself with eyes blown wide. What a close call! He couldn't help but replay the events in his mind several times as he caught his breath. The seventh time he realized that something had pulled him out of the way.
Heavy smoke assaulted his nose, along with an annoyed puff behind him. He turned his head slowly, catching something round-ish and metallic a few feet behind him.
"I outta wallop you for being that dumb." The gravely snarky voice startled Phillip out of his reverie. He spun around on his tail bone, and stared up in astonished, terrified, awe at his savior.
Some tall metal man stood before him, not even bothering to turn his visor down to look at the boy. An antenna on the head, rounded glassy eyes fixated on him, a wide chest, and thin extendable arms with three pronged fingers currently fiddling with a fat cigar by his...mouth? Whatever it was, it was curved down to immitate a frown. Unsettling, but cool.
After a few moments of staring, the metal man managed to look a tad unnerved, eyes coming a bit out of their half lidded state. He snubbed the cigar out on the brick wall beside him, regarding a rat nearby nibbling on its leg with mild interest. A large puff of smoke blew out of his mouth before he spoke again.
So...you gonna thank me, or have you not learned manners yet?" The way the figure spoke was crude, with a metallic edge. He seemed supremely unconcerned with everything.
Phillip finally found his wits, giving his head a small shake and continuing to gape,"Are you...are you a space man?"
Being that he had been obsessed with space and all else it entailed since birth, it was reasonable that this was the first conclusion he came to. He'd drawn many crayon masterpieces of himself on the moon or zooming around in a rocketship, all stuck proudly on the front of the family's refrigerator.
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Why not." The 'space man' folded his arms casually, winking lazily as Phillip rose to his feet,"A robot space man, that is."
"Whoaaa!" The little boy jumped towards the robot, who retreated a step in surprise, "Cool! Take me with you!"
"Naw, you gotta stay here, Fry-,uh, humanI'venevermet-!" Both heads snapped sideways as Yancy called in a slightly panicked tone for his brother.
"I don't wanna!" Phillip exclaimed, upset, and nearing the metal man again in a pitiful fashion,"I wanna see space, I don't wanna go home with my mean brother. He's mean."
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I'll come back for you someday or whatever. Just get lost!" The robot jerked a little as the boy clung to his leg for a moment, grinning up with glee,"Aw, don't do that. Man, why are humans so cute when they're small? It's an unfair advantage, I tell ya!"
Phillip was pried off a moment later, still smiling ear to ear and shivering in excitement. The bot attempted to give him a stern look, but failed miserably and instead turned the kid around by his shoulder.
"Alright, get goin'. Someone misses you, maybe." He gave him a none-to-gentle shove towards the end of the alleyway. Phillip stumbled back out into the sun, before spinning around to give a final energetic wave. Undoubtedly excited for the day the space man came back to whisk him off to the cosmos.
"Thank you!" His voice cracked.
The robot waved him off once, appearing bored and done with it all, eyelids having slid down halfway again as he took another drag of the cigar. Despite the careless attitude he possessed, however, he casually walked to the end of the alleyway to make sure little Fry made it back to his big brother, what's-his-name. Great, mission accomplished.
The two of them walked off to the sunset, the younger brother being dragged by his lapel as he babbled hurriedly to explain the circumstances. Yancy was having none of it, telling back about how their mother would kill him if something happened to Phillip. Some worry perforated his voice, but it was squashed down under the weight of everything turning out alright.
"Eh, good luck, meatbag," the satisfied robot spun around on one foot cup and meandered to the back of the alley, trailing thick grey smoke in his wake,"You're gonna need it."
A switch was flipped, a button pushed, a few toggles toggled, and with a dramatic flash of electric blue light, the robot yet again ceased to exist in the twenty-first century.
About a thousand and twenty years later, a couple of friends wandered across the dark, trashed, abandoned city of Old New York. Cracks of light escaped thr surface to illuminate their path. Above them, New New York thrived in the thirty-first century, but it was nice to get away from all that sometimes. It was peaceful down here. And sometimes kind of sad.
"Can we go already?" The less organic of the two complained, rolling his glass eyes to his fellow delivery boy/pet. These ruins were great and all, lots of stuff to steal and break. But was it really worth it with so few consequences?
"Yeah, I guess, Bender. I got everything I need here!" Fry trotted just ahead, carrying a backpack full of relics from his own decayed, a thousand year old, house,"I even found some old photos. Lookit this one; this is the day Yancy got his wisdom teeth removed. Boy, was he cranky!"
The bending unit leaned over his shoulder a bit to see, and was instantly bored and disappointed. Humans were so stupidly sentimental. He couldn't wait to get back to the Planet Express so he could kick back with a beer on the couch. He instead distracted himself from Fry's ramblings by lighting a cigar. Cuban. The good stuff.
"Hey! Here's some old pictures mom laminated. She used to do that so that future archeologists would dig up the pictures I drew when I was little, and know what a great family we were ." He smiled at the memory, thumb brushing the corner of the page lovingly,"Come look, Bender!"
He practically shoved a bunch in the robot's arms, who only faltered for a few seconds until he begrudgingly accepted the pile and began to look through them. Fry standing atop a cartoony blue space ship while it zoomed through space. Very unrealistic. Fry putting the American flag on the moon. Too cliche. Fry and his family outside, complete with a dog and smiley-faced sun. So unrealistic. Fry and some grey blob with big, yellow, friendly eyes and a clear helmet on...
"Hey, what's this one about?" Bender rudely chucked the picture back at Fry, who lamely watched it plop into some sort of liquid. He crouched down to look at it before a grin split his face.
"Oh, that's Space Man, my imaginary friend!" He didn't dare take the picture out of the putrid puddle, and instead fixed the robot with a sheepish look,"Er...I mean, I'm too old for imaginary friends, but when I was younger he was awesome!"
He struck a heroic pose, one hand flying in the air, the other across his chest in a fist,"Fry and Space Man, thwarting crime and telling on Yancy until the sun goes down!"
He chanced a glance at the unimpressed robot,"Hey, I stopped believing in imaginary friends when I was sixteen. I'm good now! It's just fun to relive memories once in a while. Good times, Bender...good times."
Bender took another look at the crayon drawing, rubbing a hand under his mouth,"Hmmm...he kinda bares resemblance to a certain handsome robot you now know."
"Hey, yeah; He kinda does!" Fry tilted his head to better see the drawing through the sludge, a sentimental look crossing his face,"But how we met was the best. I dunno if it was real or just my imagination, but it felt real."
"I don't care."
"It was crazy too! I was rushing across the street to get home or something, when all of a sudden this car comes speeding at me! Before I could think, I was dragged outta the way and met Space Man." He smiled fondly,"He said I was really dumb, and sent me back to Yancy. After that I had trouble imagining him...he didn't feel so real anymore. I swear, something special happened that day!"
Bender somehow felt disturbed at all this. Looking at the poorly drawn grey-yellow blob and Fry tugged something in his cold mechanical heart. He glanced back up at Fry's dumb face and his innocent smile.
"Oh, well." Fry shrugged, holding the other papers in his arm and starting his treck back down the cracked road,"I know you think it's dumb, but I think he saved my life. I owe a lot to him!"
He started whistling the chorus from 'Walking On Sunshine', shuffling along cheerily. Bender didn't follow at first, eyes narrowed as his processers whirred at peak efficiency; putting the pieces together...
...Well. He sure had some work to do.