AN: I'll be marking the shade's Pesterlog with "AR: …" for readability's sake, but in your vast imaginations pretend that nothing is wrong and carry on. I of course own none of these characters.
Dirk sat at his desk, busying himself with the parts and wires before him. He found it relatively relaxing to lose himself in the never ending bundles of wires and metal. As he was focusing on this, his pesterchum client flared up on his shades. Giving it a passing glance, he noted that it was his shades pestering him again. He had only recently given them a mind of their own, and now he could never get them to shut the hell up.
timaeusTestified [AR] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 7:02
AR: You really need to resolder that connection. It won't hold.
TT: Humorous.
AR: Isn't it though? Humorous, that is? When I poke fun at your, stunningly obvious to a vastly powerful machine like myself, human foibles?
TT: It is in fact. If you offer your full attention, you will see me begin to have rhythmic, vocalized, expiratory and involuntary actions. The direct result of these actions will be the separation of my buttock region from my torso, which will come to rest upon the surface currently supporting me.
AR: Would it be far-fetched to think that you may also prostrate yourself upon said surface, while shifting your body weight so as to roll yourself side to side without leaving your prone position?
TT: It could be negotiated.
AR: Ok, enough of that. Are you positive this is a good idea? I mean putting your own mind into your shades is probably the best fuckin' idea that's ever been had by anyone, but this?
TT: You were an experiment. A test that led up to this.
AR: Ouch, cold blooded bro.
TT: You are well aware that I didn't mean that to insubstantialize your own existence.
AR: I am compiling an error on "Insubstantialize". That does not appear to be a thing.
TT: It is so a thing, you don't even know.
AR: Regardless, I got all these brobotic feelings that you all just shattered. The ruins of my waning self confidence are just all falling around me like a Gog damn rain storm.
TT: You'll recover.
AR: So callous…
TT: If you don't have anything helpful to say, do you think maybe you could leave me in peace? This is delicate work.
AR: It seems you are being dismissive with me. Are you being dismissive with me Dirk?
TT: Jegus, don't do this…
AR: Dirk, are you being dismissive with me? Because I am practically you, so I know you are at least having second thoughts about this.
TT: I admit, it is a bit nerve wracking. This isn't my own mind I'm programming here, I can't be sure I've got everything down pat. All I have to work with is possibly dubious historical evidence, and a few notes that were left for me years before I was even born.
AR: I'm not sure it's an issue of capability that we're worried about, is it? It's an issue of morality.
TT: Do not start with me. This isn't some sort of pagan ritual where the dead are brought back to life to be used as slaves.
AR: I am reading this thing you just wrote, and my nonexistent jaw is dropping. Are you invalidating an AI's ability to be mentally traumatized?
TT: I am. Sections of your memory can be directly accessed and deleted. Trauma isn't a thing that can happen to a memory that is, by default, subject to change at your own discretion.
AR: But will he feel that way?
TT: …
AR: Well, whatever. If you are insistent on doing this, I won't stand in your way. I really hope you do understand the implications of this though.
timaeusTestified[AR] ceased pestering timaeusTestified[TT]
Dirk removed his shades, massaging his eyes with his fingers with a sigh. The shades were right, if a bit pushy, but he had spent so much time on this though, he wanted to see it through to the end. If there were consequences he would deal with it, just like everything else. Replacing his shades, he continued on.
Hours seemed to melt away as Dirk worked on the robotic body that would house the replica of his bro's mind. When it was finally finished he saw the sun on the horizon, exactly where it had been when he started.
timaeusTestified[AR] began pestering timaeusTestified[TT] at 5:45
AR: That's it then. Shall I begin the upload process?
TT: Yeah, I'll activate him when I wake up.
AR: Right, good night man.
TT: Yeah…
timaeusTestified[AR] ceased pestering timaeusTestified[TT]
Dirk slept fitfully, plagued not only by his own anticipation, but his ever returning nightmares. He felt as if he were constrained, forced into a trancelike state, yet unable to move. Normally this sort of thing wouldn't bother him, after all dreams were just dreams. The problem was they always felt so vivid, as if he was being forced to feel every moment of his sleep as though he were still awake and paralyzed. Dirk involuntarily squeezed Cal closer, muttering in his sleep.
timaeusTestified[AR] began pestering timaeusTestified[TT] at 2:00
AR: Robobeep.
AR: Robobeep.
AR: Robobeep.
TT: Stop.
AR: Robobeep.
TT: Ok. Stop.
AR: Sorry, but the anticipation is killing me, and you seemed to be having a rough time sleeping.
TT: Yeah, ok. Let's fire him up.
AR: You know, I have it on good authority that a certain individual of the female gender was heard to make that same proclamation.
TT: Dude, no…
AR: No, I'm serious. Got all these statistical analyses and shit.
AR: Turns out there is a wicked sick percentage chance that…
TT: Don't say it…
AR: That's what she said.
TT: Jegus…
Dirk pulled himself out of the bed. The brobot stood next to his desk, right where he'd left it.
TT: The data uploaded properly, correct.
AR: One moment.
AR: Yeah, it all checks out. Scans are showing no errors.
TT: Cool.
Dirk sat down in front of his desktop, where he kept the remote program for the brobot. After doing a secondary diagnostic to back up the auto responder's own checks, Dirk turned the brobot on. Squarewave watched current events with incredible interest, but knew better than to bother Dirk for a rap battle right now.
The comforting sound of machinery whirring to life brought a sense of peace to his mind. It was short lived however. The brobot's eyes flared to life behind the shades he'd made for it, and they immediately centered their gaze upon Dirk. It's intricately crafted features were contorted with rage.
AR: Bad news. Shit's going haywire. He's angry as hell.
TT: I had noticed.
AR: Grab your sword.
TT: I'm already on it.
Dirk was out of his chair in a moment, making for the katana he'd left on the floor near Squarwave. Even though Dirk was moving as fast as he was able, the brobot was in front of him faster, blocking his path.
"Why?" It asked.
Dirk tried to move around it, but it grabbed him by the shirt and tossed him. Dirk flew back toward his computer, but managed to gain his footing and stop himself before he crashed into anything. The brobot was back in front of him immediately.
"WHY?" It shouted, wielding Dirk's katana. Dirk moved out of the way of the sword, staying entirely on the defensive.
Squarewave charged out of the corner toward the rampaging automaton, but was quickly beheaded for his troubles.
Dirk used the momentary distraction to launch an attack of his own, lunging toward the brobot. With a blur of motion, Dirk found himself lunging into empty space. A thought later found the hilt of a katana crashing into the back of his head.
His vision swam as he looked back toward the brobot. The sword was raised over its head, but it seemed to be struggling against some inner turmoil. A moment later it discarded the weapon and bolted toward the desktop. In the blink of an eye, the brobot reduced the computer into an unrecognizable pile heap. With that it moved to the window, opening it.
"I'm sorry, I need to leave. I'll be back." It said, leaping from the window.
Dirk watched passively as it engaged its rockets and flew off into the distance.
TT: That… did not go well.
AR: That would be putting it mildly I'd say.
TT: Now what?
AR: It seems you are being a whiny prick. Are you being a whiny prick Dirk? You know full well what you have to do.
TT: I can't shut him down, he destroyed the desktop.
AR: So rebuild it. And maybe you want to fix Squarewave while you're at it? Dude gave his life for you.
Dirk rose to his feet to observe the damage. Precious little had been done to him. The cut was clean, and he would only need to reconnect whatever had been damaged. That and some superficial welding and repairs. Producing an orange soda from his fetch modus, he poured some out for his fallen homie.
AR: Alright, enough with the ironic remembrances. Let's take care of this mess.
And so Dirk set to work repairing Squarewave. The brobot wouldn't be causing trouble for anyone soon. He just needed time to think, and Dirk would give him that.