A Big O fanfiction by Grendel226 a.k.a. Arren Dracone
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Big O or any of the characters. All are property of Sunrise and their respective parties. This fanfiction is rated R for mildly disturbing images, mild violence and adult situations. As always comments are appreciated, and flames will incur my wrath. ;-) Note: Asterisks denote a major jump in time and/or location.
Prologue:
This is Paradigm City. A city of lost memories and lost hopes. But I have retained some of my memories. I am R. Dorothy Waynewright, a mimic of what was once a real person. Now like everything else in this city I am a shade: something not entirely real, and yet not surreal either. However, a creature, even a biological construct, cannot live in the balance, and my scales had to tip towards reality or madness. At the start of my journey I was in the care of Roger Smith, Paradigm City's top negotiator. Residing in his gloomy mansion along with his servant Norman, my duties seemed to be keeping Roger in order. I am after all perfection while he is flesh and therefore a flawed creation like the rest of humanity. But when is a flaw really a flaw? When does one cross the border from imperfection to something they could never name? I was soon to find out...
Chapter 1:
Cognizance Slipping
"DOROTHY!" Roger's angered bellow echoed through the mansion.
The only other sound was the cacophony resonating from the piano, which
Dorothy was mercilessly attacking with her slender fingers, creating deafening
cascades of perfect fifths and atonal sevenths. "Good morning, Roger
Smith," greeted the android, her eyes never moving from the lid of the
piano but her fingers ceasing the den. "I had you learn to play for
a reason," he snapped curtly running his fingers through his presently
unkempt black hair. "And you have slept in. I assure you the
eggs Norman made will be runny. How would you prefer I wake you?"
Roger grimaced, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Not with the piano,
please? Unless you're playing what Instro taught you." "I fail
to see how a pleasing melody would wake you. If I play something
unpleasant to the ear then will you not rise more quickly to stop me?"
It was a battle lost. A yawn escaped his mouth and he waved absently.
"I'm going back to sleep for ten minutes. Wake me then...use the
piano if it pleases you." "Very well Roger," she assented rising
from the piano bench as Roger Smith wearily shut the door to his bedroom.
Crossing the room, Dorothy examined the hourglass collection.
Why had she left the piano? Was there something she was to accomplish
here? The android stared blankly at the sea of hourglasses, trying
to make sense of why she was there. Did they play a purpose in her
morning activities?
"Dorothy?" She swiveled her head to meet Roger's gaze.
"I thought you were going to wake me in 10 minutes." Silence met
his query as she struggled with what appeared to her to be a serious logical
flaw. "What time is it?" she inquired in her usual monotone voice.
"It's been half an hour. Don't you go forgetful on me now.
How will I remember my appointments?" He knew very well that Norman
kept track of his appointments but he felt the jest was necessary for if
Dorothy had been able to show emotion, she would be in a state of panic.
Somehow, R. Dorothy Waynewright had forgotten...misplaced a memory.
This was something given to humans approaching senility and fickle minded
youths, not an android engineered for perfection. "Forgive me Roger,
will you please excuse me?" she asked without waiting for a reply.
She swept past him and into her room. Shutting the door behind her,
she sat in the middle of the floor with her legs curled under her and carefully
began to analyze her systems, while Roger tramped down the stairs to find
runny eggs that not even the best chef in Paradigm could salvage.
"I have encountered an error." The monotone voice made Roger jump.
His one o'clock appointment had canceled and he was staring pensively out
the window to the gray landscape that sprawled below him. "An error?"
"My memories are filling up." Roger blinked. A human could
make as many new memories as he wanted. It had never occurred to
him that an android would use a method of storage other than a common biological
brain. Was it possible that Dorothy was running out of space to create
new memories? "This is of the utmost importance," she stated in her
usual monotone voice but for a moment Roger thought he detected a tinge
of uneasiness in it. "Of course. Like I said earlier, I can't
have you getting forgetful on me. Why don't you rest for awhile,
and I'll look for some connections." "Rest? Roger Smith, just
because I have encountered an error does not mean I am becoming human and
therefore have begun to require rest." He rolled his eyes...defensive
no matter what the circumstances. He was about to respond to her
remark when she turned and left the room. Sighing, he removed a small
black notebook from his pocket and flipped through it, cradling the phone
receiver in his right hand when he found the right number.
"Dastun, it's me. Yes I'm calling you on a favor. No, not
the blonde from the boardwalk. Android upgrades. Yes.
Yes. Reputable I assume? Oh...give me a second choice just
in case. I guess I owe you again." *click* Roger stared at
the two numbers that Dan Dastun had given him to contact. Both specialized
in android repair and upgrade. One was in this dome, close to the
business district, and one was located in a seedy area of town, a dive
that supposedly did good work if the price was right. Slamming the
door of the Griffon, he decided to try the more questionable site first.
********************************
Steam crept up through cracks in the sidewalk and oil slicked the streets. The smell of stale air prevalent throughout Paradigm hung thicker here and clouds of fog crept lazily across Roger's path. Turning a corner he slipped down an alleyway and stepped over a dripping drainage pipe and something unidentifiable and pungent. Finding the proper door he knocked, glad that he was wearing gloves. He was normally not a squeamish man but this neighborhood was as bad as they came. A man with slicked auburn hair answered the door. "Yeh?" Roger cleared his throat and assumed his most businesslike postures. "I've come to see someone named Del about doing some work on an android." "I'm Del, please step into my establishment." The establishment was a bare brick building with conduits racing through the ceiling, not covered by any formal fixtures. Naked and disassembled androids lay strewn about the shop in a variety of parts, categories, and makes. Roger shuddered heavily imagining Dorothy nude and at this man's disposal. Del was greasy and resembled a drifter more than a businessman. He looked like the type that would talk you out of every dollar you had in your pocket. "Androids eh? So whaddaya got? Servant? Secretary?" "Actually, she's a very special android." "Ohhh!" Del cackled hoarsely and picked up a nearby box flashing its contents to Roger, who shuddered at the fiberglass breasts that were cast in the carton. "Special eh? I can fix 'er right up. She'll keep youse happy." "I believe you've misunderstood me," Roger interjected, cutting off Del's pitch to turn Dorothy into a harlot. "I need a memory upgrade for my android. She's running out of space I guess you could say." Del's smile broadened. He knew memory upgrades didn't come cheap. "Sure, sure, I can do that. It'll be five thousand." Roger nodded and glanced at the bare brick walls again. "Give me some time to think. I'll be back." "Course you will!" shouted Del after Roger's disappearing form. Del also knew that while there were other companies more reputable than his, he was the only person in town that would upgrade android memory. Oh yes, he'd be back.
Roger sighed. The better of the shops had not offered memory upgrades.
It looked like he was stuck with Del. But he had to talk it
over with Dorothy. He waited until dinner to confront her.
Norman had reported that earlier in the day she had stood in the kitchen
apparently trying to recall the task she had set about. Now she sat
at the opposite end of the table, black clad and sullen, mimicking eating
the fillet mignon that Norman had prepared. "I found someone who
can help you Dorothy." "You are uneasy Roger," she observed without
missing a beat. "Well it's not exactly what you'd call a nice place.
How important is this memory upgrade Dorothy?" "It is of the utmost
importance," she assured between mimicked bites. "I will eventually
become more forgetful as my processors try to make room for new memories."
Roger sighed again. He had suddenly lost his appetite. Did
he let Dorothy slip into blissful ignorance, or succumb her to Del?
