Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy IX song, "Melodies of Life," or Big O, for that matter.
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Chapter 1
"And now, the newest model brought to you by Cherubic™, the CTS-12! Incredibly realistic, and comes with full online access, personalized e-mail services, and videophone. On sale today!"
A horribly bubbly voice ranted about the newest brand android: an exceedingly lifelike android with strange, catlike ears that stuck out at the sides of the head, with braided red hair and verdant eyes glimmering with a strange kind of emptiness. Roger snorted, unimpressed, into his coffee cup, and flipped nonchalantly through a gray, stale-smelling newspaper, as Dorothy poetically sipped her tea at the opposite end of the table.
One steely, purple-tinged eye scanned the television as an announcer scanned through about 4 models of rather perfect-looking yet fake girls, staring emptily ahead and ready to be purchased. Purchased.
The Negotiator glanced upwards to see a rather disgruntled Dorothy staring avidly at the television screen, frowning slightly as the silhouettes passed horizontally through the screen. He made a small "hmm" sound with his throat, and glanced back at his paper upon feeling Dorothy's icy gaze upon him.
"Did you mean to say something to me, Roger?" she inquired uncertainly, raising a brow.
A while ago, Roger Smith would've accused Dorothy for mimicking a human with even the smallest gesture; indeed, he smirked, slightly amused by this but not commenting.
"What's the matter?" Roger queried, glancing over his paper and taking an elongated sip of his coffee to wait for a response. Dorothy was silent for the moment, staring at space between her teacup and the television, where a rather monotonous looking man was ranting about how happy he was with his android.
"Those androids," she said stiffly, "suppose that I had not met you, and these 'toys' came into existence. Suppose I came along later, after you have purchased and owned an android for some time." Dorothy stared at the TV. "So…if you had to choose between the android and myself, who would you choose?"
Roger took a large gulp of his coffee, and then set the mug down along with his paper.
"Note," Dorothy began to add as a woman on the television introduced another model, "that those androids are merely servants: ignorant and built to follow orders without question, no matter how twisted the request. It makes no difference to them."
"And how would you describe yourself, Miss Wayneright?" Roger quipped innocently, resting his forearms on the table and taking care not to tip over his mug with his elbow. The android sitting across glanced at him—her version of a shrug without actually making the gesture with her thin shoulders. He sighed. He wasn't going to get an answer. "Err…well, Dorothy, to be honest, I wasn't too fond of you at first… But I can honestly say you grew on me."
It wasn't a direct answer; Dorothy's head craned around flowingly to gaze at him, almost as if looking inside him for a real reaction—however, she might've found something that satisfied her, and she nodded and took a sip of her tea.
"Now let me ask you a question." Roger's eyes flickered idly to the TV set. "How do you feel about the robots?" He propped his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand.
It was Dorothy's turn to be hushed for a moment, as she stared into her teacup.
"I imagine they did not put artificial intelligence in the androids, so they would not rebel versus their 'masters'." Dorothy responded quietly, and her eyes slowly, gracefully moved up to meet Roger's, gazing emptily into the frosty depths of his eyes. "They have no free will. I feel no need to question the matter."
Silence.
Roger watched interestedly as her eyes inadvertently moved towards the television to frown slightly at the robots on display on the screen. When Dorothy had arrived, requesting to be protected by the Negotiator, she had been rather defiant: questioning and insulting his fashion sense, daring to wake him up before the sun rises with her halfhearted piano playing… But was all that simply because of a program?
Norman walked towards the dining area, dabbing his hands with a slightly warm, damp cloth; he glanced at the TV and rolled his eyes derisively, and Dorothy and Norman shared a glance—as if they understood what the other was thinking. Roger was out of the loop on that one.
"Don't worry about it, Dorothy. I don't consider you one of those boring, droning bots, if my opinion counts for anything."
Roger smirked and made a move to prop his legs on the table, only to find that Dorothy had appeared at his side to give him a reproachful look and a disapproving yet heavy tap on the knee; Norman let out a low chuckle, and Roger's smirk grew (though one brow tilted downward, slightly annoyed).
"Never a dull moment." Roger placed his legs on the floor and slid out of his chair, straightening his tie for no apparent reason. A ghost of amusement flickered on Dorothy's face, and she gave Roger a meaningful glance that went unnoticed before walking in her usual manner towards the large stone pavilion.
Outside, however, the red-haired android began to sing quietly to herself, staring fathomlessly at the semi-bustling yet disturbingly gray city below the large building that was Roger Smith's residence.
"Alone for a while, I've been searching through the dark…
For traces of the love you left inside my lovely heart;
To weave, by picking up the pieces that remain,
Melodies of life, love's lost refrain…"
"You've got a very nice voice." Roger commented graciously from behind Dorothy.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Roger Smith." Dorothy responded flatly, but her tone was about as whimsical as her monotonous voice could get; she turned around, the wind blowing her black velvety skirt in a small kind of elegant twirl, twisting across and back as she stopped to face the Negotiator.
"It earns me a brownie point, and that's not too pitiable." Roger shrugged, maneuvering past her and staring over the balcony edge to gaze down at the loitering people of gray, sleepy Paradigm City.
"Are you stipulating that you find some elation over making me happy, Roger?" Roger glanced at her through the corner of his glassy eyes, barely managing to capture a tiny smile forming on her pale lips—perhaps it was only a smirk, but even something as inconsequential as a smile on R. Dorothy Wayneright…well, it wasn't easy to forget. He opened his mouth to comment, but was cut off. "That's very kind of you, Roger."
The Negotiator felt sweat form on the back of his neck, even if it was moderately cold in Paradigm that evening, and his mouth moved without his mind's consent. "Well, I—err—you—and—"
"It's a nice day today." Dorothy turned back to the lazy city, and the slate-blue skies above—quite possibly on purpose, having saved Roger from personal humiliation. "The sky isn't as blue as I'd like it to be, though." The wind gently caressed Dorothy's sharp features, causing her hair to flow on the wafting breeze. Roger sighed inwardly.
There was another silence, somewhat awkward for the Negotiator yet not too abnormal for Dorothy. She began to hum the song she was singing, rocking back and forth on her black heels; her eyes were closed, and her expression was tranquil and placid. If the dynamic duo weren't on a mission, Dorothy spent almost the entire day outside aside from cleaning.
"I wasn't just trying to flatter you when I said your voice was nice, Dorothy." Roger noted, sticking his hands back in his deep pockets and staring at the back of her head with a minute smile.
Dorothy hesitated for a moment before slowly spiraling around to meet his gaze, her red hair cloaking her pale face due to the direction she was facing, and the direction of the wind. This abrupt movement nearly startled Roger, who was contemplating turning around to head back inside to collect his thoughts, but she stared at him for a long time. She looked as if she was attempting to read his face, or perhaps gain access to the Roger behind the wall he had erected between himself and the world…
The corner of his mouth tugged slightly, and he stared almost boldly back. Maybe she already had.
"Would you compliment me like that if I was one of those androids they sell for servants?" Dorothy's hands were placed behind her back, and she would look almost like an innocent schoolgirl—if not for the unbendable expression plastered onto her face.
Roger flinched slightly, his night-colored eyes widening slightly at the solemn appearance of her face, and he stayed quiet for a bit, his hands shifting uncomfortably in his pockets. She stared at him, eyes cold and calculating, as they had once been when they first met. This was certainly not a question he would've expected from a normal girl.
But Dorothy isn't a normal girl, something scolded him, so don't treat her like one.
"…I apologize, Roger. Some things have been on my mind lately. Please excuse my behavior." Dorothy gave a quick, tiny bow and stalked past Roger, her heels making rhythmic taps against the hard floors. He spun around as she exited the balcony, and stared at her retreating form.
Roger let out a heavy, discontented sigh, throwing one last glance at the city and then withdrawing back into the confines of his home; he walked towards the sofa, and plopped himself down. It seemed around the afternoon, yet the "conversation" with Dorothy had actually made it seem longer then it actually was… He yawned, slinging one arm around the sofa. Dorothy was…strange. Each and every woman in Paradigm, bubbly, sophisticated, brash—none of these had ever caught his interest too much.
How coincidental it should be that Roger Smith would be curious about an android.
An android, that unlike any girl, mocked him at many turns, hated his fashion sense, managed to be enough of an enigma to puzzle him, and yet always remained by his side, no matter what crap happened.
Dorothy was bizarre.
"Hey, Norman." He casually greeted the butler of the home, raising a hand in a sort of salutation. Roger propped his other arm over the sofa wall, his eyes half-closed from contemplation and fatigue, and crossed his legs as rain began to fall outside. Norman glanced back at him, holding a silver tray.
"Hello, master Roger. I saw Miss Dorothy walking rather quickly in the direction of her room. Do you know if anything's wrong with her?"
"Hell if I know." Roger dismissed it with a short wave, his head tilted slightly towards the ground and his eyes half-closed. Norman let out an audible sigh, then shrugged and returned to doing whatever he usually did in the afternoon. "She's been weird ever since they started releasing those weird androids. Maybe she's jealous."
"I don't see any reason for Miss Dorothy to be jealous, master Roger. I do believe that she's very intelligent and extraordinary, and she's also quite the fine young lady." Norman said briskly, dusting off a cabinet with a feather duster. "Don't you agree?"
"I--…wait, what?" Roger's eyes shot open, one brow raised almost to his slick hairline and one eye about as wide as a saucepan. "Don't do the mind games trick on me, Norman. Just don't. I'm mentally incapacitated for the day, okay?" Exasperated now, he made peculiar hand gestures to prove his point; however, his desperateness to get Norman to drop the subject merely made the butler laugh appraisingly and return to…whatever. "She's probably fine. I know she's better then all those damn for-sale ones out there, anyway, so what does it matter?"
Norman chuckled heartily upon hearing this, and Roger flinched slightly. The Negotiator frowned and threw the butler a dirty look.
"You know, if Miss Dorothy overheard that, she would be overjoyed." Norman mentioned, tilting his head to the side to glimpse Roger again, just to see his reaction. Roger was gaping at him, looking rather irritable with a twitching eyebrow and jaw. "I think she appreciates your commentary, you know. One of the few who does, I might add."
"Norman, shut up." Roger bent over in his seat so his forehead would make impact with the table with a resonating thump. "When's dinner?"
"Fifteen minutes, master Roger."
-
Chapter 1
"And now, the newest model brought to you by Cherubic™, the CTS-12! Incredibly realistic, and comes with full online access, personalized e-mail services, and videophone. On sale today!"
A horribly bubbly voice ranted about the newest brand android: an exceedingly lifelike android with strange, catlike ears that stuck out at the sides of the head, with braided red hair and verdant eyes glimmering with a strange kind of emptiness. Roger snorted, unimpressed, into his coffee cup, and flipped nonchalantly through a gray, stale-smelling newspaper, as Dorothy poetically sipped her tea at the opposite end of the table.
One steely, purple-tinged eye scanned the television as an announcer scanned through about 4 models of rather perfect-looking yet fake girls, staring emptily ahead and ready to be purchased. Purchased.
The Negotiator glanced upwards to see a rather disgruntled Dorothy staring avidly at the television screen, frowning slightly as the silhouettes passed horizontally through the screen. He made a small "hmm" sound with his throat, and glanced back at his paper upon feeling Dorothy's icy gaze upon him.
"Did you mean to say something to me, Roger?" she inquired uncertainly, raising a brow.
A while ago, Roger Smith would've accused Dorothy for mimicking a human with even the smallest gesture; indeed, he smirked, slightly amused by this but not commenting.
"What's the matter?" Roger queried, glancing over his paper and taking an elongated sip of his coffee to wait for a response. Dorothy was silent for the moment, staring at space between her teacup and the television, where a rather monotonous looking man was ranting about how happy he was with his android.
"Those androids," she said stiffly, "suppose that I had not met you, and these 'toys' came into existence. Suppose I came along later, after you have purchased and owned an android for some time." Dorothy stared at the TV. "So…if you had to choose between the android and myself, who would you choose?"
Roger took a large gulp of his coffee, and then set the mug down along with his paper.
"Note," Dorothy began to add as a woman on the television introduced another model, "that those androids are merely servants: ignorant and built to follow orders without question, no matter how twisted the request. It makes no difference to them."
"And how would you describe yourself, Miss Wayneright?" Roger quipped innocently, resting his forearms on the table and taking care not to tip over his mug with his elbow. The android sitting across glanced at him—her version of a shrug without actually making the gesture with her thin shoulders. He sighed. He wasn't going to get an answer. "Err…well, Dorothy, to be honest, I wasn't too fond of you at first… But I can honestly say you grew on me."
It wasn't a direct answer; Dorothy's head craned around flowingly to gaze at him, almost as if looking inside him for a real reaction—however, she might've found something that satisfied her, and she nodded and took a sip of her tea.
"Now let me ask you a question." Roger's eyes flickered idly to the TV set. "How do you feel about the robots?" He propped his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand.
It was Dorothy's turn to be hushed for a moment, as she stared into her teacup.
"I imagine they did not put artificial intelligence in the androids, so they would not rebel versus their 'masters'." Dorothy responded quietly, and her eyes slowly, gracefully moved up to meet Roger's, gazing emptily into the frosty depths of his eyes. "They have no free will. I feel no need to question the matter."
Silence.
Roger watched interestedly as her eyes inadvertently moved towards the television to frown slightly at the robots on display on the screen. When Dorothy had arrived, requesting to be protected by the Negotiator, she had been rather defiant: questioning and insulting his fashion sense, daring to wake him up before the sun rises with her halfhearted piano playing… But was all that simply because of a program?
Norman walked towards the dining area, dabbing his hands with a slightly warm, damp cloth; he glanced at the TV and rolled his eyes derisively, and Dorothy and Norman shared a glance—as if they understood what the other was thinking. Roger was out of the loop on that one.
"Don't worry about it, Dorothy. I don't consider you one of those boring, droning bots, if my opinion counts for anything."
Roger smirked and made a move to prop his legs on the table, only to find that Dorothy had appeared at his side to give him a reproachful look and a disapproving yet heavy tap on the knee; Norman let out a low chuckle, and Roger's smirk grew (though one brow tilted downward, slightly annoyed).
"Never a dull moment." Roger placed his legs on the floor and slid out of his chair, straightening his tie for no apparent reason. A ghost of amusement flickered on Dorothy's face, and she gave Roger a meaningful glance that went unnoticed before walking in her usual manner towards the large stone pavilion.
Outside, however, the red-haired android began to sing quietly to herself, staring fathomlessly at the semi-bustling yet disturbingly gray city below the large building that was Roger Smith's residence.
"Alone for a while, I've been searching through the dark…
For traces of the love you left inside my lovely heart;
To weave, by picking up the pieces that remain,
Melodies of life, love's lost refrain…"
"You've got a very nice voice." Roger commented graciously from behind Dorothy.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Roger Smith." Dorothy responded flatly, but her tone was about as whimsical as her monotonous voice could get; she turned around, the wind blowing her black velvety skirt in a small kind of elegant twirl, twisting across and back as she stopped to face the Negotiator.
"It earns me a brownie point, and that's not too pitiable." Roger shrugged, maneuvering past her and staring over the balcony edge to gaze down at the loitering people of gray, sleepy Paradigm City.
"Are you stipulating that you find some elation over making me happy, Roger?" Roger glanced at her through the corner of his glassy eyes, barely managing to capture a tiny smile forming on her pale lips—perhaps it was only a smirk, but even something as inconsequential as a smile on R. Dorothy Wayneright…well, it wasn't easy to forget. He opened his mouth to comment, but was cut off. "That's very kind of you, Roger."
The Negotiator felt sweat form on the back of his neck, even if it was moderately cold in Paradigm that evening, and his mouth moved without his mind's consent. "Well, I—err—you—and—"
"It's a nice day today." Dorothy turned back to the lazy city, and the slate-blue skies above—quite possibly on purpose, having saved Roger from personal humiliation. "The sky isn't as blue as I'd like it to be, though." The wind gently caressed Dorothy's sharp features, causing her hair to flow on the wafting breeze. Roger sighed inwardly.
There was another silence, somewhat awkward for the Negotiator yet not too abnormal for Dorothy. She began to hum the song she was singing, rocking back and forth on her black heels; her eyes were closed, and her expression was tranquil and placid. If the dynamic duo weren't on a mission, Dorothy spent almost the entire day outside aside from cleaning.
"I wasn't just trying to flatter you when I said your voice was nice, Dorothy." Roger noted, sticking his hands back in his deep pockets and staring at the back of her head with a minute smile.
Dorothy hesitated for a moment before slowly spiraling around to meet his gaze, her red hair cloaking her pale face due to the direction she was facing, and the direction of the wind. This abrupt movement nearly startled Roger, who was contemplating turning around to head back inside to collect his thoughts, but she stared at him for a long time. She looked as if she was attempting to read his face, or perhaps gain access to the Roger behind the wall he had erected between himself and the world…
The corner of his mouth tugged slightly, and he stared almost boldly back. Maybe she already had.
"Would you compliment me like that if I was one of those androids they sell for servants?" Dorothy's hands were placed behind her back, and she would look almost like an innocent schoolgirl—if not for the unbendable expression plastered onto her face.
Roger flinched slightly, his night-colored eyes widening slightly at the solemn appearance of her face, and he stayed quiet for a bit, his hands shifting uncomfortably in his pockets. She stared at him, eyes cold and calculating, as they had once been when they first met. This was certainly not a question he would've expected from a normal girl.
But Dorothy isn't a normal girl, something scolded him, so don't treat her like one.
"…I apologize, Roger. Some things have been on my mind lately. Please excuse my behavior." Dorothy gave a quick, tiny bow and stalked past Roger, her heels making rhythmic taps against the hard floors. He spun around as she exited the balcony, and stared at her retreating form.
Roger let out a heavy, discontented sigh, throwing one last glance at the city and then withdrawing back into the confines of his home; he walked towards the sofa, and plopped himself down. It seemed around the afternoon, yet the "conversation" with Dorothy had actually made it seem longer then it actually was… He yawned, slinging one arm around the sofa. Dorothy was…strange. Each and every woman in Paradigm, bubbly, sophisticated, brash—none of these had ever caught his interest too much.
How coincidental it should be that Roger Smith would be curious about an android.
An android, that unlike any girl, mocked him at many turns, hated his fashion sense, managed to be enough of an enigma to puzzle him, and yet always remained by his side, no matter what crap happened.
Dorothy was bizarre.
"Hey, Norman." He casually greeted the butler of the home, raising a hand in a sort of salutation. Roger propped his other arm over the sofa wall, his eyes half-closed from contemplation and fatigue, and crossed his legs as rain began to fall outside. Norman glanced back at him, holding a silver tray.
"Hello, master Roger. I saw Miss Dorothy walking rather quickly in the direction of her room. Do you know if anything's wrong with her?"
"Hell if I know." Roger dismissed it with a short wave, his head tilted slightly towards the ground and his eyes half-closed. Norman let out an audible sigh, then shrugged and returned to doing whatever he usually did in the afternoon. "She's been weird ever since they started releasing those weird androids. Maybe she's jealous."
"I don't see any reason for Miss Dorothy to be jealous, master Roger. I do believe that she's very intelligent and extraordinary, and she's also quite the fine young lady." Norman said briskly, dusting off a cabinet with a feather duster. "Don't you agree?"
"I--…wait, what?" Roger's eyes shot open, one brow raised almost to his slick hairline and one eye about as wide as a saucepan. "Don't do the mind games trick on me, Norman. Just don't. I'm mentally incapacitated for the day, okay?" Exasperated now, he made peculiar hand gestures to prove his point; however, his desperateness to get Norman to drop the subject merely made the butler laugh appraisingly and return to…whatever. "She's probably fine. I know she's better then all those damn for-sale ones out there, anyway, so what does it matter?"
Norman chuckled heartily upon hearing this, and Roger flinched slightly. The Negotiator frowned and threw the butler a dirty look.
"You know, if Miss Dorothy overheard that, she would be overjoyed." Norman mentioned, tilting his head to the side to glimpse Roger again, just to see his reaction. Roger was gaping at him, looking rather irritable with a twitching eyebrow and jaw. "I think she appreciates your commentary, you know. One of the few who does, I might add."
"Norman, shut up." Roger bent over in his seat so his forehead would make impact with the table with a resonating thump. "When's dinner?"
"Fifteen minutes, master Roger."