06/19/1970 11:36:43pm
The sound of Miss Bonnie's muffled laughter caught its attention. It rose to the top of the box, and lifted the lid only enough to listen.
"Really, Will! You didn't have to do anything for me!""It's what he would've wanted," came Will's voice, speaking tenderly to her, "for you to be treated right on the best day of your lives."
Miss Bonnie's laughter cut short for a second, before it took on a shocked tone.
"Holy...it's almost as big as my jack-in-the-box!"
"Why don't you open it?"
That caught Puppet's attention. It pushed the lid up a little more to watch, and saw Miss Bonnie kneeling in front of a large golden present box with a purple bow. Behind her, it picked out a shiny belt buckle and jeans, and assigned them to Will.
Engage watch_learn.
Engage artificial_intelligence.
The Puppet's programming stalled for a moment as it stared at the golden present, wondering why it sat there, out of its reach.
Engage give_gift.
ERROR: Unable to present gift.
This was inaccurate, and against protocol.
Was it not its job to give gifts? Why was Will doing it?
It watched Miss Bonnie tear off the bow and golden paper, revealing a large, white lidded box. Miss Bonnie went quiet again, and covered her mouth. Puppet was unsure if the startled sound she made was happy.
"...Will…"
"S'my name," he said gently. "Don't wear it out."
Miss Bonnie pulled off the top of the box. As she set it down, Puppet got a glimpse of the logo on top, and the words, "Booker Teddy Bear Company". It watched as Miss Bonnie stood up so she could reach into the box and retrieve whatever was inside. It saw a shiny purple hat first, then round golden ears attached to a golden head, a purple ribbon around its neck, and a round, massive body. Miss Bonnie made another one of those strange sounds, then held it tightly to her chest.
"You...oh my god…"
She held the bear's head over her shoulder. Long, blubbering sobs forced themselves out of her throat as she fell to her knees, clutching the large bear so tightly that her arms almost disappeared under folds of plush and stuffing.
"F-Freddy-beeeeeear," she bawled.
Puppet kept watching her. Parts of its programming activated as Miss Bonnie cried, wanting to reach out to her and help, yet the way she held the large yellow bear indicated joy.
What was it to do? What was the proper protocol for this situation?
"You like it?" Will asked.
Miss Bonnie just nodded, clinging even tighter to the bear.
"Found some of Fred's things a while back," Will said. "Also found a memo to call the toy company after you two finalized your robot designs. S'right here, in fact."
He reached into his pocket for a small yellow note, and gently handed it to Miss Bonnie.
"Consider it from him."
Puppet's programming stalled again as it watched her, trying to better comprehend the situation as its software sorted out the information it gathered. Its blue LED pupils flashed a few times as it turned to stare at Will, who took no notice.
It did not like him, it decided. Will took its purpose upon himself, and now he upset Miss Bonnie with his gift. He did not make her smile, as a gift was supposed to do. Yet it noticed Miss Bonnie's nod and the grip she maintained on the "Freddy-bear", both indicating that the gift was indeed very much wanted.
Puppet watched them for a moment, tuning out their words.
This wasn't right. It wasn't Will's directive to give presents. Will's directive, from what it gathered from Miss Bonnie, was to "handle the finances" and "help with the upkeep."
All of this new, confusing information continued to process through its emotional algorithm in the artificial intelligence program, until it finally reached an outcome that made sense.
Puppet looked away from them, not wanting to watch anymore, or take in any new information.
And then it ducked back into the box, making a point to slam the lid shut.
It heard Will's heavy feet lift, then hit the floor as he jumped back in surprise.
"Bon?" he asked. "What was that?"
Miss Bonnie's response was delayed as she composed herself again.
"What was...? ...Oh," she said.
Puppet heard her footsteps approach. A soft knock came from the top of the box.
"Puppet?" she asked, softly.
Puppet remained in the dark. Its night vision picked up the sides of the box, the empty corners, its attached cross angled against one side.
"Bon…?"
"It's okay, Will," Miss Bonnie said.
She sniffled a little, then knocked again.
"Please come out, little one."
Once more, it refused.
How could she ask this after she allowed Will to take its purpose?
Miss Bonnie knocked one more time. When it refused to answer again, it heard a creak, and saw a crack of light filtering into the box. Puppet looked up, to see Miss Bonnie's now-shining cheeks and gentle smile. She no longer held the bear. She just simply held the flap up and curled her fingers along the edge of its box.
"Are you okay, Puppet?"
It shook its head.
"Bon…what's going on?" Will asked, a hesitant note in his voice. " It can't...it doesn't understand, does it?"
Miss Bonnie didn't look at him. She looked down at Puppet, her soft smile never wavering.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked.
Puppet started to nod, then shook its head.
Both options were correct, and yet both were wrong. It lifted itself up to peek out of the box. Miss Bonnie moved to the side to let it view the room again. Puppet looked at the white teddy bear box, the torn golden paper around it. Its blue LEDs flashed a few times, before it lifted a hand to point to the box. Miss Bonnie looked to where it pointed.
She quickly realized what was going on, even before Puppet pointed back to itself.
"...You're right," she said, kneeling down to be more level with her creation. "It's your job to give presents."
Miss Bonnie reached inside to gently pat its head.
"It's my fault. I didn't tell him that, and he didn't know."
She turned to Will with a smile.
"Will didn't mean any harm."
Will, however, gaped at her, looking between Miss Bonnie and Puppet. Puppet watched him and tilted its head.
"...It does," he said. "Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle, Bon. You finally did it!"
Miss Bonnie smiled, then turned back to Puppet.
"You felt betrayed, didn't you?"
Betrayed.
Puppet added the word to its internal lexicon, and assigned it to the emotional input it felt before. It then nodded to Miss Bonnie.
"I'm sorry, Puppet," Miss Bonnie said. "Don't be mad at him for my mistake. You're still my gift giver."
Puppet processed this for a bit, then nodded.
"Are you happy again?" she asked.
The emotional range normalized back to its usual process. Puppet touched her hand and gently gave her a final nod. Miss Bonnie smiled, then leaned down to kiss the top of its head.
"Get some rest, little one," she said, softly. "We'll resume our usual tests tomorrow."
It then crawled back into its box. A small creak followed it, then darkness.
Though the voices were muffled, Puppet heard Will continue to speak with Miss Bonnie.
"What an anniversary, eh, Bon? Freddy would've loved to see those results.""Yes," Bonnie agreed.
Some shifting told Puppet she'd picked up the Freddy-bear again.
"The other two were successes," she said, "but I wanted to create something that can think and interact.""And you've outdone yourself," Will said.
Their footsteps began to retreat towards the door.
"Why don't we get you home, Bon?" Will asked. "Got a box of chocolate waitin' for you, and a new bottle of bubble bath to go with it. Now those are from me. Figured my niece-in-law would need some private time to relax and enjoy herself on her weddin' anniversary 'stead of workin'."
"All right," Miss Bonnie agreed. "But I've got to keep working tomorrow. Puppet's come along well so far, but I want to make sure I have all the bugs worked out before October."
"You will," Will promised. "Your little nieces are gonna love it."
Any further conversation became too muffled to pick out as they left the room.
Waylon came out of the office just as Greg finished his work on the animatronics.
"Good, you're just in time," Greg said, wiping his brow.
"For what?" Waylon asked.
"The test run."
Greg reached up to hit the switch on Freddy's neck. He then picked up a small controller, typed in a code on its keypad, and initiated the test.
Freddy powered on. His robotic head and waist turned to look around the room while his arms moved up, down, and circled in their joints before they went back to their default pose. His old eyelids blinked and noticeably moved more smoothly than before, and his ears moved up and down twice. The fingers on his freed hand flexed, and the ones holding the microphone bent in and out one at a time so he could still grip it. Most of all, the little grinds and pops and other little noises that could sometimes be heard from the front seats ran quietly now.
At the end of the test, Freddy stood upright, a warm, lazy expression on his face as he looked out at the empty room like he did before. Even his fur looked a little brighter, having been spot-cleaned and the plush gently smoothed down in some places to look less shabby.
Waylon actually gave him a few slow claps.
"Impressive," he said.
He looked to Chica and Bonnie.
"And you got them working better too?"
"Yep," Greg said, typing something else into the keypad. "I was just about to test them too."
Waylon actually looked a bit excited as Greg activated Bonnie to start his test.
Bonnie moved similarly to Freddy, only the rabbit's bisected ears tilted up and down, and his fingers strummed at his guitar. Soon after, Chica's test included her beak opening as far as it could go, then settling back, and Dulcie's eyes and eyelids moving properly. While all of them had a quick clean done on their suits, her once-dingy yellow especially looked brighter than before now that a few layers of dust had been removed.
Waylon let out a low whistle.
"Gotta say, Greg," he said. "It's a small miracle you created here. Why'd they let you go again?"
"I quit," Greg reminded him. "Show of goodwill for the company."
"Right, right," Waylon said, waving a dismissive hand. "Well, I'm glad to have you back for a little bit."
He glanced to Pirate Cove.
"Think you can work your magic on that one?" he asked, gesturing with his thumb.
"Foxy?" Greg asked, looking over to the little solo stage.
He put a hand to his chin in thought.
"That one was always tricky," he said, "and from its state, I'd probably have to take it apart completely."
He checked his watch. It was almost time to clock in.
"But then I'd be late for work."
"Nevermind then," Waylon said. "The other work you did is great."
"Glad to be of service."
Waylon nodded, pondering a moment.
"I can't pay you," he said, "but have lunch on me. I'll let the cooks know to get you a personal pizza."
"Sounds good," Greg said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "I've already worked up an appetite."
He took one final look at his handiwork, then headed for the bathrooms to clean up real quick.
The preparations made, he was already looking forward to tonight.
07/23/1970 10:07:24pm
A slam, and the sound of a key turning in a lock caught its attention. Puppet started to resurface, but stopped when it heard the sounds of desperate footsteps, tearing paper, and small plastic objects being thrown to the ground and crushed. A series of tortured sobs provided the undertone for the destruction. A clink of keys, a padlock falling to the floor, a clink of bottles and the familiar pop as one of them was opened.
Puppet recognized enough of the pitch, timbre, and inflections of the sobs to know them as Miss Bonnie.
It carefully lifted the lid just enough to peek out. At first, it only saw black and white tiles, with several torn papers littering the floor. It then picked out the work table, and Miss Bonnie's form pacing up and down the room as she tore more papers between taking slugs from the bottle. Her feet stomped on something clear, gray, and plastic, and the entrails of her destruction left long, twisted lengths of thin, shiny black ribbon.
Puppet stared at the pieces on the floor, knowing them well.
Miss Bonnie's "cassette tapes," that she used to record the "test" games they played over the last four months.
"...won't get them," it heard Miss Bonnie mutter. "I w-won't…"
She took another long drink from the bottle, following another series of bitter sobs.
"M-my work," she said. "S-someone…"
Another tape became a mangled mess under her foot. More torn papers scattered over the floor. The empty bottle fell on the tile, clinking as it rolled towards one of the shelves. Another strong pop followed soon after, then several loud swallows.
Puppet lifted the lid a little more to look over the edge of its box. It saw Miss Bonnie, her lips trembling as she tilted her head back to drink from the new bottle. Her hair was a mess, dark streaks covered her cheeks, and even her red lips looked smeared. Some of the liquid - "damn good wine," as it heard Miss Bonnie call it once - missed her mouth and dripped down her chin.
Most days, Miss Bonnie only drank a glass or two. Puppet liked those days, when she poured a glass, put the bottle back into the box under the work table - a "mini fridge," as it learned - and locked it up again. Then they could play the "test" games that Miss Bonnie put on her "tape recorder" and "cassette tapes" for "research purposes."
And then there were nights like this, when she drank the wine straight from the bottle, and kept drinking more and more until she couldn't hold the bottle properly.
The wine made her servos work improperly.
The wine made her sad.
Yet she'd drink more and more, in hopes of taking the sadness away.
Puppet never understood this logic. Why would she drink something that made her sad in order to stop the sadness?
It looked down at the pieces of clear gray plastic winking from the floor. The wine didn't just make Miss Bonnie sad this time. It made her destructive.
Puppet looked back up at Miss Bonnie, who swayed as she held the bottle. She seemed to notice Puppet staring at her.
"L-little one…"
She stumbled to the box, falling to her knees as she gripped the edge. Puppet quickly ducked back inside, thinking it might be next at Miss Bonnie's destructive hands. It heard the bottle fall from her hand and hit the floor, a large slosh of liquid spilling out into a large red puddle.
"I-I-I have to...please. F-forgive me."
She gently knocked on the box. Puppet only opened it enough to face her, and watched Miss Bonnie reach up to rub her eyes.
"I'll h-have to...I n-need to shhhut you down...for a l-little...little while."
She picked up the bottle to take a long drink from what remained, then looked back down at Puppet.
"S-sss-sssomeone...my work," she slurred. "They're trying to ssst-sssteal...I have to protect y-y-you."
The bottle fell again, empty now as it clinked onto the floor. A soft sound escaped her throat. Miss Bonnie trembled, but the sound grew stronger, even brighter. Her lips stretched in a wide grin as the sound strengthened into a helpless laugh.
Puppet tried to determine if this meant she was happy again.
"Damn it," she muttered. "I sssh-shouldn't be talking to a machine."
She laughed harder, before it morphed back into bitter sobs. Upon seeing the shine on her face, Puppet carefully reached for her, moving the tips of its fingers to brush the shine for her.
Miss Bonnie forced up a smile, then gently put her hand over Puppet's. She sniffled, then wiped her nose on her shoulder.
"...But you're not...nnn-not just a machine, a-a-are you? I programmed y-you to be...m-mmm-more than that, didn't I?"
Seeing her calmer, Puppet ran its hand over her cheek, then moved its arm around her shoulders to pull her into a hug. Miss Bonnie returned it, pulling her creation close to her.
"I-I-I'm sss-sss-sorry...l-l-little one."
Puppet held her in one arm, the other keeping the lid up above them. It rested its head over her shoulder.
It never noticed Miss Bonnie reach for its neck.
Not until it felt the power switch activate.
The video screen blacked out.
Broken glass glittered all over the floor as Greg entered the boys' bathroom to clean up. Based on the bent stall, the mini craters in the wall where the mirror used to be, and the scratches on the tile floor, he quickly pieced together the most likely option:
One of them snapped.
Yet as he cleaned and fine-tuned the stage animatronics, Greg found no glass on any of their hands, and their feet looked normal.
That left only two who could have done it.
He quickly left the bathroom, making a quick check for Waylon. With the dining room empty, he presumed the manager went back to his office. A glance at his watch showed it was almost 9am. He had an hour before the place opened.
Greg washed his hands quickly, then pulled down his sleeves, heading back into the dining room. He went straight for Pirate Cove first, throwing back the curtains to take a closer look at Foxy. He grabbed for his keys to get a small penlight to examine Foxy's uncovered hand and hook. The metal endoskeleton showed no scratches, dents, or bits of glass caught in the joints. A quick investigation showed nothing shining in his costume, or at his feet.
That left only one.
With a quick pace, Greg went into the back room, his eyes immediately going to the old animatronic lying on the table. He shone the penlight on Spring Bonnie's hands, lifting one off the table to better examine it.
The fingers, already tattered, torn, and broken in some places, looked even more beat up, especially along the back knuckles. More than that, a few tiny glass shards winked from some of the tears.
"...You still work?" Greg asked, quirking a brow.
Spring Bonnie remained still.
Just as he stepped forward, Greg heard a loud shout echoing from the other side of the building.
"SCHMIIIIIDT!"
Greg turned and left the backstage room. He immediately ran over to the boys' bathroom, where he found Waylon purple-faced and fuming. Spittle formed at the manager's mouth as he continued to shout.
"When I get my hands on that useless, good for nothing-"
"Hey."
Waylon jolted out of his fury for a second, before he turned to face Greg.
"Do you see this place?" he screamed, making wild gestures to the broken glass and beat down stall. "My property's destroyed! What the hell happened here?"
"I can't say for sure," Greg said, taking a look over the bathroom, "but I think there was a struggle."
"Schmidt didn't tell you anything?"
"No, but he looked pretty shaken when he left this morning. He couldn't leave fast enough."
Waylon stopped his tirade long enough to process this. He turned back to the stall, at the bent metal and bashing dents embedded in the stall walls. A closer look showed they even had a few knuckle indents in them, like something big and strong punched into the stall.
Knuckles too big to be Schmidt's, with a brute strength impossible for the smaller night guard to match.
Waylon paled a little as he slowly realized the most obvious outcome...and thanked whatever deity was watching that the night guard couldn't sue for liability charges.
"Can't say I blame Schmidt at this point," Greg said. "Heck, he'd probably be glad to be fired at this rate."
"Glad to be…" Waylon started.
That got the gears moving in the manager's mind.
"...Was he hurt?"
"Schmidt?"
"Yes."
"No," Greg said. "He was a bit freaked out, but didn't look like he was in any pain."
"Good," Waylon said.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"I'll...call him. I need someone on nights, and I can't take a risk with someone new right now."
"I could-" Greg started.
"No," Waylon said, firmly. "I don't have anyone who can cover for days. I need you here."
He gestured to the stall.
"See if you can make it look...more presentable. I'm going to get a broom."
"Fine," Greg said, turning away from the manager.
He gritted his teeth as he listened to Waylon's footsteps echo out of the room.
07/28/1970 01:52:04am
Puppet recovered, powering on again. This time, it woke up not in its box, but on its back, staring up at the ceiling. It saw the tall edge of one of the shelves above its head. Beside it, a tall green bottle stretched towards the ceiling.
"Hello, Puppet," came Miss Bonnie's gentle voice. "It's been a few days."
It turned to her, watching her with uncertainty. It stayed still as it took her in.
Compared to the last time it saw her, Miss Bonnie looked normal again. Her black hair was brushed down, some of it hanging over her shoulder. She wore a new red polo shirt, with Fredbear and Spring Bonnie shining from the gold embroidery on her pocket. The light above shone off her red headband. Her lips were the same color as the wine she preferred, and her eyes no longer shone. Every feature looked calm, but sad.
"It's okay, little one," she said, quietly. "I was drunk and out of control when I shut you down. But I'm not anymore."
Puppet slowly pushed itself up, until it sat properly in front of Miss Bonnie, watching her carefully. Miss Bonnie took a long, deep breath.
"I don't...I'm not usually like that," she assured it.
Puppet tilted its head questioningly, initially computing the statement as untrue. She liked the wine, and often drank too much of it, as previous assessments determined. A secondary analysis quickly brought in the new variable of the destruction of her work. Upon this realization, Puppet gave a small nod in agreement.
That was unusual for her.
Miss Bonnie watched it with a small frown. She suddenly looked down at the table.
"I found out someone was trying to steal my work," she continued, guilt creeping into her tone, "and it...broke me."
She frowned as she reached for the green bottle beside her. Puppet watched her cautiously, but a closer inspection deemed the bottle to be empty. Miss Bonnie simply rested a finger over the top of the bottle, tilting it along its bottom in a circle.
"There's another company that wants my animatronic technology," she muttered. "Afton Robotics."
The gentle roll of glass on the work table stopped.
"I don't have any proof that this is why someone was trying to steal it," she continued, "but I can't think of anyone else who would want it. All I know is David Afton is scum, and I want no part of his organization."
Miss Bonnie scowled as another thought came to her.
"I tried to work for them once. They laughed when I said I wanted to assist with the robotics division, and offered me a secretary role. Now that I've got a successful business and bipedal robots that can almost roam autonomously, suddenly I'm good enough for them."
She took a long, cleansing breath, then turned back to Puppet with a smile.
"I dodged a bullet with them," Miss Bonnie said. "Their company is struggling while I'm just a few parts and upgrades away from finally having Fredbear and Spring Bonnie walking on their own by the end of the year. No more humans wearing them as costumes to help them walk around."
Her gaze dropped.
"But that's not the point. The point is, I found evidence that someone was tampering with my things and trying to get to my research. They were trying to take away what I've done, Puppet. What we've done."
Puppet's fingers began to curl in, its LED eyes flickering. Its servos hummed in irritation. Miss Bonnie gave it a confirming nod.
"I know," she said, "but they didn't get past my defenses."
She glowered a bit.
"And I bet that asshole, Afton, is paying someone to snoop."
Miss Bonnie's face softened again.
"When I found my safe tampered with, I...just cracked. Whoever did this got too close, Puppet. I couldn't risk them succeeding, so I…"
A sigh.
"I'd rather my work be destroyed than fall into that bastard's hands. ...You understand, Puppet?"
She reached over to touch Puppet's mask. Puppet lifted a hand to place over hers, and gave her a small nod. Miss Bonnie smiled as she pulled her hand away, crossing her arms and leaning them on the work table in front of her.
"Good."
Her smile faded a little.
"I'm sorry for shutting you down," Miss Bonnie said, softly. "I didn't want you to see me like that, and I needed to be able upgrade you once I got sober again. More than that, I needed to protect you, and my life's work."
Her gaze found a small wooden knot on the workbench.
"And I'm...sorry, that I have more to ask of you," she said, looking back up at her creation. "You are my gift-giver, Puppet. You are also my secret keeper."
She gently tapped the Puppet's forehead.
"I might have destroyed my tapes, but up here, you have a record of all of our test sessions, along with everything you've learned through your artificial intelligence programming, along with some of my more vital files."
Miss Bonnie gave it a proud smile.
"I encrypted them, and locked them away in a separate, hidden drive, so if anyone ever tries to shut you down, hack you, or restart you, your progress will not be lost. It may take time to recover it, but no one else can access that information."
Her smile faded again.
"This is our secret, Puppet. I am sorry you will not be as complete as the other animatronics. You will not have a voice module to communicate like the others can, because your task is to silently watch, listen, and when necessary, take action to protect what Freddy and I built. No one else can know."
Miss Bonnie's hands found its cheeks. Her thumbs ran over the purple lines painted down its face. Her voice hitched as she spoke once more.
"...Do you understand?"
Puppet processed this information, then nodded to confirm.
"Good."
Miss Bonnie gently picked up the Puppet.
"Our dream never died," she whispered, as she carried it over to its box, "and you will keep it alive when I can't. Remember that, little one."
The dark comfort of its box greeted the Puppet as Miss Bonnie gently set it back inside.
"...Please return to your default stasis."
On command, Puppet powered down as Miss Bonnie closed the top of the box