A/N: Welcome! This is imachemist, a loyal friend of crystal fire brine. For those of you wishing for an explanation, I recently had my email hacked, and am taking temporary rent of crystal's account. I may be here for a while, as I'm a little afraid of getting a new email, so I will just be here. I have already erased my other account.

This story is, in essence, a collection of one-shots about little questions that have plagued my mind. Some of them are G1, others are not. I will say what verse if it's not G1. If you have any requests, I will consider, and possibly write about them. I WILL NOT write slash under any circumstances, so don't even try.

Now, I will stop talking. Enjoy!

Question: What if an Autobot met Siri?

It was a quiet day. Ratchet loved quiet days. Those were days when the Twins were on patrol and not to be seen for the next few days. He mentally thanked Prowl. The last time Ratchet had gotten peace and quiet was when Sideswipe had locked Sunstreaker and into Ratchet's med-bay. Ratchet had simply gotten annoyed, and proceeded to throw a wrench at Sunstreaker.

He leaned back in his desk chair, sighing. Oh yes, it was good to have a quiet day.

But, like all good things, it had to end.

"AHHHHHHHH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

Ratchet's eyes snapped open with unhidden fury. Ironhide. He got up to yell at the intrusion of peace.

"I'm sorry. I didn't get that."

Ratchet froze. He didn't recognize that voice. It was… female. And sounded quite artificial.

"IT TALKS?! RATCHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET! HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Searching for: Ratchet. A device consisting of a bar or wheel with a…"

"RATCHET! RATCHET! RATCHET!"

Ironhide came barging into the med-bay. He was babbling like a youngling with a hurt servo.

"Oh, shut your mouth. What's the matter?" Ratchet asked.

The red van rolled closer to Ratchet. "Oh, it's bad. It's bad. There's a voice, and I can't transform, and I-"

"Please. You're just as bad as Bluestreak. Hold still."

Ironhide continued to shake on his wheels as Ratchet opened his door. He reached inside, feeling for something out of the ordinary, when his hand came to rest on a strange rectangular figure. He pulled out a red phone.

"I am not getting a response. Shall I dial 911?"

Ratchet growled, and he crushed the phone. "You can transform. It's gone now."

Ironhide did as he was told, and went behind Ratchet to see what had disturbed his recharge. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, it used to be Sideswipe's human-issued phone. Now, it's evidence."

"For what?"

Ratchet grinned. "You'll see." He raised a hand to his comlink. "Prowl?"

"Yes, Ratchet?" came the calm, baritone voice.

"Any chance of assigning extra patrol for two certain troublemakers?"

"It would be my pleasure."