Rowanoake Apartment Complex, S. Keaton St., 1:15 A.M...
If anyone had been awake to look out into the corridor of the fourth floor, they'd have seen two figures walking silently over the threadbare carpet, the larger of the two carrying what looked to be a large, black piece of luggage. The smaller man stopped at one of the doors, pulled a tiny electronic device from his coat pocket, stuck one end of it into a small hole on the keypad by the door, and turned it on. A light on the device came on, flashing red. The man with the luggage shifted a bit under its weight.
"Sakon?"
"What?" came the sharp reply, in a hoarse whisper.
The big man fumbled to get a better grip on his burden. "You sure this is the right place?"
His companion sighed impatiently. "Of course I'm sure. Apt. 99. I remember these things. I even wrote it on a piece of paper." He produced a small scrap of paper from his pocket for the other's inspection. Ninety-nine, written in little numbers. The big man shrugged as best he could with his arms full.
"All right, all right; I was only askin'. ...This thing's bloody heavy! Ain't it done yet?"
"Shhh! It'll be done when it's done."
As if in answer, the light on the device turned solid green, and the door to the apartment slid open. The smaller man cast a brief 'I-told-you' glance and crept inside, his companion not far behind.
"Just set it down?" asked the big man, who was becoming more than a little fatigued by his load. It seemed to be having an effect on his ability to speak in complete sentences as well.
"That's what he said, where he can find it."
They walked into a space with a broken-down sofa pushed against the wall and a small, old television sitting on a crate; a charitable, optimistic person would call it a living room. The big man set the luggage on the floor as carefully as he could without throwing his back out. He straightened up, bracing his hands on the small of his back and stretching.
"I wonder what he wants with this hunk a' junk, anyways," he mused quietly.
Sakon shrugged. "Not our job to know. Now c'mon, we're done. The sooner we're out of here, the better. I hate this part of town."
They left their package on the floor where it lay, and turned to go. Sakon snagged the lock-pick out of the keypad on his way out the door; it immediately slid shut again, the tumblers resetting as though nothing had happened.
Same place, 2:30 A.M...
This time, our intrepid corridor-observer would have seen a fairly clean-cut looking (very rare, considering the neighborhood) young man wandering drowsily along. Clean-cut meaning, of course, that aside from a few random holes in his ears, the green phoenix tattooed on his shoulder, and the bubble-gum pink hair, there was nothing especially shocking about him. He stopped at Apt. 99 and punched in his keycode mechanically. The door obligingly slid open half-way, a 'clunk' was heard, and all door-related motion abruptly halted. Grumbling a few admirably creative obscenities, the man ducked under the door into his deluxe accommodations. Being a bartender had its perks, one of which was earning enough to live a few blocks away from the nearest housing projects, others of which were regular meals and somewhat regular utilities like electricity and water.
"Oi..." he groaned. Closing time had taken a particularly long time in coming tonight. It wasn't that he didn't like his job; it could be rather...interesting, and there was no heavy lifting or much humiliation involved. There had been a good deal of gorons there this evening, however, and when they joked that they could drink Lake Hylia, folks within hearing range put serious consideration into building protective fences around every nearby reservoir in the area. Our poor little bartender had actually pulled a muscle pouring drinks.
Not bothering to turn on the lights (the light switch was on the other side of the room, anyway), he slipped off his shoes and stumbled off for the bedroom.
"Whoa...Oof!"
And stumble he did, over a large something in the middle of his living room floor, right where it oughtn't be. Picking himself up off the floor, sorer and grouchier than he was a few seconds ago, he felt his way along the wall for the light switch, and finding it, shed a little light on the subject, as it were.
"...Damn."
Hyrtech Labs, 57th. Ave. N., 2:45 A.M...
The labs are quiet; not a creature is stirring, not even a transgenic mouse. A single security 'bot is making her rounds. She pauses momentarily to check the locks on one of the lab doors. After assuring herself that everything is ship-shape, she makes an approving beep and continues on her way. That laboratory, she has been told, is Important and Restricted, with a capital 'I' and 'R,' respectively. Inside that lab, there are several metal tables, some covered with bits and pieces of electronics and machinery. Leaning against one wall, out of sight of the door, a long, coffin-like storage box hums contentedly, completely oblivious to the fact that it is unoccupied...
Apt. 99, 2:50 A.M...
Staring at the big black case, the man wondered momentarily if that was what he thought it was. 'How did it get here?' It would explain why his door had jammed if someone had broken in, but there was nothing missing that he knew of. Not that there was really anything worth taking, but if one goes to all the trouble to break into a place, he will at least break a few glass articles and throw clothes about the room for good measure... This was quite possibly the first burglary in history where the burglar had actually left something of his for the homeowner. 'Might as well find out what's in it...' If it turned out to be a vast sum of money or a corpse, he could always call the police.
Kneeling beside the case, he took a minute or so to figure out how the latches worked. Finally getting them undone, he lifted the surprisingly heavy lid. There was a note pinned atop a piece of foam. "Hmmm..." Snatching it up and unfolding it, our bartender became more confused than ever.
'Beneficiary,
Here is your Gift. No thanks are necessary.
Your Good Friend'
It certainly was concise, even if it made no sense at all. Shrugging in resignation, the man lifted the slab of foam.
"........Whoa..."
Nestled in a cocoon of foam in a fetal position was a deactivated 'bot. Only, this one was exponentially swankier than any of the robots the man had ever seen. On an impulse, he poked at its face a few times, as if to see if it would wake up. It didn't, of course. Its blonde hair felt like hair, instead of acrylic, and the tan-colored skin, except for a lack of peach fuzz, was very convincing as well, and it didn't have the sheen to it that most synthetic skin had. And that had felt like metal bones underneath, rather than a shell... 'This thing is probably worth more than I am...' There was no way it was for him. But the note had clearly (as clear as ambiguous can be) said... "This is too cool..."
There didn't seem to be any instruction manual. 'I wonder how you start it?' He felt around a bit on the 'bot's head, wondering where he'd put a switch if he built 'bots. Passing his hand behind its ear, the man heard a soft 'click' followed shortly thereafter by movement as the 'bot started breathing.
"......Cool," the man said, a foolish grin stretching his face. As was stated before, he'd seen 'bots, but never one this nice, and, more importantly, never one that was his. The 'bot slowly opened its eyes. They turned out to be a startling red color. Bright red. That was a bit unusual; it sort of marred the 'bot's similarity to a living hylian, but then, perhaps that was the point. They were cool anyway. The man jumped a tad as the 'bot sat up, unfolding its legs to hang over the edge of the case. It stared blankly at the wall, talking to itself more than anyone else in a soft tenor voice.
"Initializing system scan," it said. It didn't speak in a monotone, as the man had expected, but sounded rather like that recording on the telephone when 'your call could not be completed as dialed.' The man watched it in fascination. The 'bot was really very realistic, no metal or plastic visible at all.
"System scan complete," it continued. "No viruses detected. No errors detected. System resources are optimal. Battery cells are fully charged. Calibrating motors." A gentle whirring sound accompanied a few twitches at the 'bot's joints. Then, they stopped. "Calibration complete. Loading matrices. Matrices loaded." The 'bot was still for a minute.
'Is it broken?' the man wondered, and he waved his hand in front of its eyes. The 'bot's eyes rolled up and down with the movement. The man drew his hand back and the 'bot turned its head after the appendage to lock its gaze on the man's face. The empty stare was more than a little unsettling.
"Uh...." said our articulate hero.
"Sentient Hybrid-Circuit Android, Series LL, Model Number zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, two is online," replied the 'bot, who appeared to be the better conversationalist at the moment. "User identified. Username?"
For an instant, the man felt as though he'd been asked the square root of seven. He blinked, still overwhelmed. ".............Holy shit."
Robots tend to take everything that is said to them literally. Its face remained expressionless. "Username is: Holyshit. Is this correct? Yesslashno."
The man couldn't help but chuckle to himself, it was either that or wet himself. "No."
"Username?"
He carefully kept his answer free from any unwanted syllables. "Link."
"Username is: Link. Is this correct? Yesslashno."
"Yes."
"Initializing facial bitmapping. Please hold completely still for approximately fifteen seconds. Ready? Yesslashno." The red eyes focused a bit more on Link's face.
Taking a deep breath, Link tried to relax. "Yes."
"Beginning capture. Mapping. Approximately ten seconds remaining. Approximately five seconds remaining. Capture complete. Thank you. Saving user information to file. One moment please..." The 'bot closed its eyes. Upon opening them, it was ready to fire off another question. "Unit default name is: Sheik. Change name? Yessla-"
"No." As amazing as the 'bot was, Link was getting a little impatient with the 'yes/no' business.
"Setup complete. Thank you. Saving information to file. Initializing matrices..." The 'bot's face gradually began to look less vacant. Finally, it did something unprecedented. It grinned broadly. "Hello, Master!" it chirped.
"Yeah, uh.....Hi." 'How do you talk to a machine?' Link wondered. "My, but you're...perky."
"Thank you," the 'bot said brightly, for lack of a better reply.
After an awkward four seconds, Link had an epiphany, instigated mostly by the fact that the 'bot was no longer curled up on its side, but sitting up quite comfortably, modesty be damned. Link's face flushed. The 'bot noticed the profound change in Link's coloration.
"Is something wrong?" it asked.
Link politely averted his eyes, despite the fact that the 'bot didn't seem to care about, or even be aware of.....itself. Or rather, himself. "No, nothing's wrong, it's just that..." Link fumbled, "that...you're...kinda realistic."
The 'bot smiled even more, if it was possible. "Thank you! I am anatomically correct."
Link nodded, standing up. "Yes. Yes, you are. Very. Let's...get you some clothes..." He'd made it halfway to the bedroom when he realized he wasn't being followed. "Come on," he said patiently. The 'bot ponderously hoisted himself out of the case, and took a few hesitant steps. Assuming that the 'bot could catch up, Link went on into the bedroom and started searching through his dresser for clothing that might fit his new acquisition's shorter frame. He'd just decided on an old buttoned shirt and a pair of jeans when he nearly leaped out of his skin at the loud 'whump!' that resounded through the hallway.
'I'm almost afraid to look...' Link peered through the doorway. The 'bot was sprawled on the floor, just getting up again. He spotted Link and grinned sheepishly.
"Are you all right?" Link asked. He had no idea how durable a 'bot was; this one looked kind of fragile.
The 'bot stood up again, waited until it was steady, and continued walking. "Yes. I lost my balance." He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he moved this time.
'Goddesses, I think it's embarrassed...' Robots weren't supposed to have emotion. Not real ones, anyway. Either this one was a brilliant actor, or it was something much more sophisticated that any robot being built now. 'So how the hell did I wind up with it...?' He sighted along the hallway and saw a fold of carpet, one that had been there since he'd moved in. "Oh, the rug's loose in here. I'm sorry, I should have warned you." Link couldn't believe he'd just apologized to a computer. At least he wasn't to the point of talking to thin air...yet.
"No, it's all right. I took no damage." The 'bot had reached Link by this time, taking the proffered garments and staring at them with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.
'And now it's arguing.' Link knew he wasn't going to get over the shock this machine had caused anytime soon. He also knew he wasn't entirely comfortable with his current situation. The 'bot was just too much like a person for Link's peace of mind. "Is there a problem?" he asked, seeing a whole lot of staring and not enough dressing.
The 'bot looked up at Link abashedly. "...There is no data for this task. I require instruction."
And then there were the sudden bouts of artificiality to break the strain on Link's nerves. Of course a machine wouldn't know anything about dressing itself. Teaching such a thing to a person, however, that would be weird. "Okay, start with the jeans. Yes, those. The blue thing. See, the big part goes around your waist, and the long parts are for you legs." After ten minutes of such eloquent explanation and quite a few tumbles, the 'bot mastered the art of Pants. Next: Shirt. It had the same basic principal as Pants, but after a few times mis-buttoning it, the 'bot got a little frustrated.
"Here, how about I do it this time?" Link offered, buttoning as he spoke. The 'bot watched, enraptured. "Now," Link said. "Can you, you know, shut down for a while, or something? It's three in the morning; I need to get some sleep." 'If I'll be able to get to sleep after this.'
The 'bot's eyes unfocused, as though its gaze had turned inward. "I have a standby mode. Should I go into standby?" It fixed its eyes on Link, waiting for an answer.
It took Link a minute to figure out what 'standby' was. "Uh......Yeah. Yeah, that'll work. You just...do your thing, then."
The 'bot nodded, and, before Link could give further instruction, such as 'You're bunking on the sofa,' or something to that effect, Sheik had curled up on the bed, his eyes sliding shut and his breath slowing nearly to a standstill. Link stared bemusedly at the robot, considering sleeping on the sofa in the living room. That thought was quickly discarded; Link had a not-entirely-ungrounded theory that that particular sofa was a man-eater. The 'bot was comatose. It probably would have been just as happy on a cement floor. 'Only I don't have one of those...' Since this seemed to be a night for revelations, Link found himself having another one within five minutes. 'Wait...What am I being so squeamish about? It's a computer, for Din's sake! It's not like it's going to try anything.'
Climbing into bed, Link suddenly found sleep lurking quite a bit closer than he had first thought. Soon, man and robot were both sleeping soundly. Aww, the sweet little lambs...
Apt. 66, 4:30 A.M...
In a dark, sufficiently ominous room, a weak flame flickers briefly, followed by a dim glow. The man takes a long drag off his cigarette in a vain attempt to calm his nerves. He glances at the clock, swears, stands and paces the room, puffing away like a chimney. If anyone was listening, they'd have heard muttering...
"Where the hell are they?"
Hyrtech Labs, 5:00 A.M...
Dr. Zelda Harkinian was having a super morning. She was a week ahead of schedule on her testing, she was about to go down in history as a pioneer in engineering, and the doughnut shop had had those maple bars that she loved so very, very, very much. She whistled brightly as she punched in her keycode and ID number to unlock her lab, her 'bot, Impa, waiting quietly. The door slid open and Zelda nearly skipped in, bubbling over with chipperness. Impa, who was by design a rather mellow android, was vaguely disturbed by the good doctor's mood.
"Impa, old girl, this is the day all our hard work pays off," Zelda said, blue eyes sparkling with a mirth that would have unnerved those who knew her. When Zelda was full of pep, it was best to seek shelter.
"Yes, Zelda," Impa replied coolly. Inside her artificial brain, the dominant thought for the moment was: 'Maybe the espresso was a bad idea...'
"In fact," Zelda continued, "I think we'll be able to get him up and running by this afternoon. Won't that be lovely?"
"Very lovely, Zelda," the 'bot answered. And, to be truthful, the idea of seeing another android activated, one that Impa herself had helped build, was oddly appealing. She watched as Zelda fished a keycard out of her lab coat pocket. The woman waved it aloft triumphantly.
"They called me mad! Mad! I'll show them all! Ahahahahahahaha! Haha!" Zelda's insane laughter collapsed into sputtering chuckles as she saw her 'bot jump back in surprise, regarding her in uneasy confusion. "It's a joke, Impa," she soothed, "I'll explain it later. Now, however..." She swiped the card through the lock on the side of a coffin-like box. With a soft 'bip-beep' the lid retracted, and Zelda and Impa stared in slack-jawed wonder. "Wha....huh?"
The box was empty. It had been locked from the outside, the tenant was deactivated, and yet it appeared that he had literally gotten up and walked away. Impa furrowed her brow in consternation. Dr. Harkinian's day was shot to hell.
Within minutes, the entire laboratory personnel had been notified of Zelda's trouble. Labs were searched, security tapes were watched, and guards were questioned. Aside from a few clipped AV wires and two guards with missing time, nothing was found. And then, of course, there were the camera crews. Rumors travel alarmingly quickly, and within half an hour of Zelda's discovery three news channels had congregated outside Hyrtech's front doors. Finally, the masses were appeased when Dr. Kotake Hielo, PhD., fought her way through the doors. The mob fell back a bit and quieted down for the venerable old astrophysicist.
The old gerudo arranged her bifocals and coughed, and immediately she was bombarded by inane questions from all sides. With a stern glare, she motioned for silence. "We have prepared a statement, after which I will not take questions," she said. Crestfallen reporters crowded closer so as not to miss anything. "Last night, at approximately 12:00 A.M., a prototype android was stolen from a restricted laboratory. We are not sure what else was taken, if anything. The project's creator and her team assert that this android is not, I repeat, is not a threat in any way. The New Castletown Police Department is conducting a full investigation; we will find the android, and those responsible for its theft will be apprehended. I have no further comments at this time; good morning to you." The dismissal carried the sort of finality to it that only the elderly can achieve. Kotake slipped back inside out of the verbal hurricane.
If anyone had been awake to look out into the corridor of the fourth floor, they'd have seen two figures walking silently over the threadbare carpet, the larger of the two carrying what looked to be a large, black piece of luggage. The smaller man stopped at one of the doors, pulled a tiny electronic device from his coat pocket, stuck one end of it into a small hole on the keypad by the door, and turned it on. A light on the device came on, flashing red. The man with the luggage shifted a bit under its weight.
"Sakon?"
"What?" came the sharp reply, in a hoarse whisper.
The big man fumbled to get a better grip on his burden. "You sure this is the right place?"
His companion sighed impatiently. "Of course I'm sure. Apt. 99. I remember these things. I even wrote it on a piece of paper." He produced a small scrap of paper from his pocket for the other's inspection. Ninety-nine, written in little numbers. The big man shrugged as best he could with his arms full.
"All right, all right; I was only askin'. ...This thing's bloody heavy! Ain't it done yet?"
"Shhh! It'll be done when it's done."
As if in answer, the light on the device turned solid green, and the door to the apartment slid open. The smaller man cast a brief 'I-told-you' glance and crept inside, his companion not far behind.
"Just set it down?" asked the big man, who was becoming more than a little fatigued by his load. It seemed to be having an effect on his ability to speak in complete sentences as well.
"That's what he said, where he can find it."
They walked into a space with a broken-down sofa pushed against the wall and a small, old television sitting on a crate; a charitable, optimistic person would call it a living room. The big man set the luggage on the floor as carefully as he could without throwing his back out. He straightened up, bracing his hands on the small of his back and stretching.
"I wonder what he wants with this hunk a' junk, anyways," he mused quietly.
Sakon shrugged. "Not our job to know. Now c'mon, we're done. The sooner we're out of here, the better. I hate this part of town."
They left their package on the floor where it lay, and turned to go. Sakon snagged the lock-pick out of the keypad on his way out the door; it immediately slid shut again, the tumblers resetting as though nothing had happened.
Same place, 2:30 A.M...
This time, our intrepid corridor-observer would have seen a fairly clean-cut looking (very rare, considering the neighborhood) young man wandering drowsily along. Clean-cut meaning, of course, that aside from a few random holes in his ears, the green phoenix tattooed on his shoulder, and the bubble-gum pink hair, there was nothing especially shocking about him. He stopped at Apt. 99 and punched in his keycode mechanically. The door obligingly slid open half-way, a 'clunk' was heard, and all door-related motion abruptly halted. Grumbling a few admirably creative obscenities, the man ducked under the door into his deluxe accommodations. Being a bartender had its perks, one of which was earning enough to live a few blocks away from the nearest housing projects, others of which were regular meals and somewhat regular utilities like electricity and water.
"Oi..." he groaned. Closing time had taken a particularly long time in coming tonight. It wasn't that he didn't like his job; it could be rather...interesting, and there was no heavy lifting or much humiliation involved. There had been a good deal of gorons there this evening, however, and when they joked that they could drink Lake Hylia, folks within hearing range put serious consideration into building protective fences around every nearby reservoir in the area. Our poor little bartender had actually pulled a muscle pouring drinks.
Not bothering to turn on the lights (the light switch was on the other side of the room, anyway), he slipped off his shoes and stumbled off for the bedroom.
"Whoa...Oof!"
And stumble he did, over a large something in the middle of his living room floor, right where it oughtn't be. Picking himself up off the floor, sorer and grouchier than he was a few seconds ago, he felt his way along the wall for the light switch, and finding it, shed a little light on the subject, as it were.
"...Damn."
Hyrtech Labs, 57th. Ave. N., 2:45 A.M...
The labs are quiet; not a creature is stirring, not even a transgenic mouse. A single security 'bot is making her rounds. She pauses momentarily to check the locks on one of the lab doors. After assuring herself that everything is ship-shape, she makes an approving beep and continues on her way. That laboratory, she has been told, is Important and Restricted, with a capital 'I' and 'R,' respectively. Inside that lab, there are several metal tables, some covered with bits and pieces of electronics and machinery. Leaning against one wall, out of sight of the door, a long, coffin-like storage box hums contentedly, completely oblivious to the fact that it is unoccupied...
Apt. 99, 2:50 A.M...
Staring at the big black case, the man wondered momentarily if that was what he thought it was. 'How did it get here?' It would explain why his door had jammed if someone had broken in, but there was nothing missing that he knew of. Not that there was really anything worth taking, but if one goes to all the trouble to break into a place, he will at least break a few glass articles and throw clothes about the room for good measure... This was quite possibly the first burglary in history where the burglar had actually left something of his for the homeowner. 'Might as well find out what's in it...' If it turned out to be a vast sum of money or a corpse, he could always call the police.
Kneeling beside the case, he took a minute or so to figure out how the latches worked. Finally getting them undone, he lifted the surprisingly heavy lid. There was a note pinned atop a piece of foam. "Hmmm..." Snatching it up and unfolding it, our bartender became more confused than ever.
'Beneficiary,
Here is your Gift. No thanks are necessary.
Your Good Friend'
It certainly was concise, even if it made no sense at all. Shrugging in resignation, the man lifted the slab of foam.
"........Whoa..."
Nestled in a cocoon of foam in a fetal position was a deactivated 'bot. Only, this one was exponentially swankier than any of the robots the man had ever seen. On an impulse, he poked at its face a few times, as if to see if it would wake up. It didn't, of course. Its blonde hair felt like hair, instead of acrylic, and the tan-colored skin, except for a lack of peach fuzz, was very convincing as well, and it didn't have the sheen to it that most synthetic skin had. And that had felt like metal bones underneath, rather than a shell... 'This thing is probably worth more than I am...' There was no way it was for him. But the note had clearly (as clear as ambiguous can be) said... "This is too cool..."
There didn't seem to be any instruction manual. 'I wonder how you start it?' He felt around a bit on the 'bot's head, wondering where he'd put a switch if he built 'bots. Passing his hand behind its ear, the man heard a soft 'click' followed shortly thereafter by movement as the 'bot started breathing.
"......Cool," the man said, a foolish grin stretching his face. As was stated before, he'd seen 'bots, but never one this nice, and, more importantly, never one that was his. The 'bot slowly opened its eyes. They turned out to be a startling red color. Bright red. That was a bit unusual; it sort of marred the 'bot's similarity to a living hylian, but then, perhaps that was the point. They were cool anyway. The man jumped a tad as the 'bot sat up, unfolding its legs to hang over the edge of the case. It stared blankly at the wall, talking to itself more than anyone else in a soft tenor voice.
"Initializing system scan," it said. It didn't speak in a monotone, as the man had expected, but sounded rather like that recording on the telephone when 'your call could not be completed as dialed.' The man watched it in fascination. The 'bot was really very realistic, no metal or plastic visible at all.
"System scan complete," it continued. "No viruses detected. No errors detected. System resources are optimal. Battery cells are fully charged. Calibrating motors." A gentle whirring sound accompanied a few twitches at the 'bot's joints. Then, they stopped. "Calibration complete. Loading matrices. Matrices loaded." The 'bot was still for a minute.
'Is it broken?' the man wondered, and he waved his hand in front of its eyes. The 'bot's eyes rolled up and down with the movement. The man drew his hand back and the 'bot turned its head after the appendage to lock its gaze on the man's face. The empty stare was more than a little unsettling.
"Uh...." said our articulate hero.
"Sentient Hybrid-Circuit Android, Series LL, Model Number zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, two is online," replied the 'bot, who appeared to be the better conversationalist at the moment. "User identified. Username?"
For an instant, the man felt as though he'd been asked the square root of seven. He blinked, still overwhelmed. ".............Holy shit."
Robots tend to take everything that is said to them literally. Its face remained expressionless. "Username is: Holyshit. Is this correct? Yesslashno."
The man couldn't help but chuckle to himself, it was either that or wet himself. "No."
"Username?"
He carefully kept his answer free from any unwanted syllables. "Link."
"Username is: Link. Is this correct? Yesslashno."
"Yes."
"Initializing facial bitmapping. Please hold completely still for approximately fifteen seconds. Ready? Yesslashno." The red eyes focused a bit more on Link's face.
Taking a deep breath, Link tried to relax. "Yes."
"Beginning capture. Mapping. Approximately ten seconds remaining. Approximately five seconds remaining. Capture complete. Thank you. Saving user information to file. One moment please..." The 'bot closed its eyes. Upon opening them, it was ready to fire off another question. "Unit default name is: Sheik. Change name? Yessla-"
"No." As amazing as the 'bot was, Link was getting a little impatient with the 'yes/no' business.
"Setup complete. Thank you. Saving information to file. Initializing matrices..." The 'bot's face gradually began to look less vacant. Finally, it did something unprecedented. It grinned broadly. "Hello, Master!" it chirped.
"Yeah, uh.....Hi." 'How do you talk to a machine?' Link wondered. "My, but you're...perky."
"Thank you," the 'bot said brightly, for lack of a better reply.
After an awkward four seconds, Link had an epiphany, instigated mostly by the fact that the 'bot was no longer curled up on its side, but sitting up quite comfortably, modesty be damned. Link's face flushed. The 'bot noticed the profound change in Link's coloration.
"Is something wrong?" it asked.
Link politely averted his eyes, despite the fact that the 'bot didn't seem to care about, or even be aware of.....itself. Or rather, himself. "No, nothing's wrong, it's just that..." Link fumbled, "that...you're...kinda realistic."
The 'bot smiled even more, if it was possible. "Thank you! I am anatomically correct."
Link nodded, standing up. "Yes. Yes, you are. Very. Let's...get you some clothes..." He'd made it halfway to the bedroom when he realized he wasn't being followed. "Come on," he said patiently. The 'bot ponderously hoisted himself out of the case, and took a few hesitant steps. Assuming that the 'bot could catch up, Link went on into the bedroom and started searching through his dresser for clothing that might fit his new acquisition's shorter frame. He'd just decided on an old buttoned shirt and a pair of jeans when he nearly leaped out of his skin at the loud 'whump!' that resounded through the hallway.
'I'm almost afraid to look...' Link peered through the doorway. The 'bot was sprawled on the floor, just getting up again. He spotted Link and grinned sheepishly.
"Are you all right?" Link asked. He had no idea how durable a 'bot was; this one looked kind of fragile.
The 'bot stood up again, waited until it was steady, and continued walking. "Yes. I lost my balance." He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he moved this time.
'Goddesses, I think it's embarrassed...' Robots weren't supposed to have emotion. Not real ones, anyway. Either this one was a brilliant actor, or it was something much more sophisticated that any robot being built now. 'So how the hell did I wind up with it...?' He sighted along the hallway and saw a fold of carpet, one that had been there since he'd moved in. "Oh, the rug's loose in here. I'm sorry, I should have warned you." Link couldn't believe he'd just apologized to a computer. At least he wasn't to the point of talking to thin air...yet.
"No, it's all right. I took no damage." The 'bot had reached Link by this time, taking the proffered garments and staring at them with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.
'And now it's arguing.' Link knew he wasn't going to get over the shock this machine had caused anytime soon. He also knew he wasn't entirely comfortable with his current situation. The 'bot was just too much like a person for Link's peace of mind. "Is there a problem?" he asked, seeing a whole lot of staring and not enough dressing.
The 'bot looked up at Link abashedly. "...There is no data for this task. I require instruction."
And then there were the sudden bouts of artificiality to break the strain on Link's nerves. Of course a machine wouldn't know anything about dressing itself. Teaching such a thing to a person, however, that would be weird. "Okay, start with the jeans. Yes, those. The blue thing. See, the big part goes around your waist, and the long parts are for you legs." After ten minutes of such eloquent explanation and quite a few tumbles, the 'bot mastered the art of Pants. Next: Shirt. It had the same basic principal as Pants, but after a few times mis-buttoning it, the 'bot got a little frustrated.
"Here, how about I do it this time?" Link offered, buttoning as he spoke. The 'bot watched, enraptured. "Now," Link said. "Can you, you know, shut down for a while, or something? It's three in the morning; I need to get some sleep." 'If I'll be able to get to sleep after this.'
The 'bot's eyes unfocused, as though its gaze had turned inward. "I have a standby mode. Should I go into standby?" It fixed its eyes on Link, waiting for an answer.
It took Link a minute to figure out what 'standby' was. "Uh......Yeah. Yeah, that'll work. You just...do your thing, then."
The 'bot nodded, and, before Link could give further instruction, such as 'You're bunking on the sofa,' or something to that effect, Sheik had curled up on the bed, his eyes sliding shut and his breath slowing nearly to a standstill. Link stared bemusedly at the robot, considering sleeping on the sofa in the living room. That thought was quickly discarded; Link had a not-entirely-ungrounded theory that that particular sofa was a man-eater. The 'bot was comatose. It probably would have been just as happy on a cement floor. 'Only I don't have one of those...' Since this seemed to be a night for revelations, Link found himself having another one within five minutes. 'Wait...What am I being so squeamish about? It's a computer, for Din's sake! It's not like it's going to try anything.'
Climbing into bed, Link suddenly found sleep lurking quite a bit closer than he had first thought. Soon, man and robot were both sleeping soundly. Aww, the sweet little lambs...
Apt. 66, 4:30 A.M...
In a dark, sufficiently ominous room, a weak flame flickers briefly, followed by a dim glow. The man takes a long drag off his cigarette in a vain attempt to calm his nerves. He glances at the clock, swears, stands and paces the room, puffing away like a chimney. If anyone was listening, they'd have heard muttering...
"Where the hell are they?"
Hyrtech Labs, 5:00 A.M...
Dr. Zelda Harkinian was having a super morning. She was a week ahead of schedule on her testing, she was about to go down in history as a pioneer in engineering, and the doughnut shop had had those maple bars that she loved so very, very, very much. She whistled brightly as she punched in her keycode and ID number to unlock her lab, her 'bot, Impa, waiting quietly. The door slid open and Zelda nearly skipped in, bubbling over with chipperness. Impa, who was by design a rather mellow android, was vaguely disturbed by the good doctor's mood.
"Impa, old girl, this is the day all our hard work pays off," Zelda said, blue eyes sparkling with a mirth that would have unnerved those who knew her. When Zelda was full of pep, it was best to seek shelter.
"Yes, Zelda," Impa replied coolly. Inside her artificial brain, the dominant thought for the moment was: 'Maybe the espresso was a bad idea...'
"In fact," Zelda continued, "I think we'll be able to get him up and running by this afternoon. Won't that be lovely?"
"Very lovely, Zelda," the 'bot answered. And, to be truthful, the idea of seeing another android activated, one that Impa herself had helped build, was oddly appealing. She watched as Zelda fished a keycard out of her lab coat pocket. The woman waved it aloft triumphantly.
"They called me mad! Mad! I'll show them all! Ahahahahahahaha! Haha!" Zelda's insane laughter collapsed into sputtering chuckles as she saw her 'bot jump back in surprise, regarding her in uneasy confusion. "It's a joke, Impa," she soothed, "I'll explain it later. Now, however..." She swiped the card through the lock on the side of a coffin-like box. With a soft 'bip-beep' the lid retracted, and Zelda and Impa stared in slack-jawed wonder. "Wha....huh?"
The box was empty. It had been locked from the outside, the tenant was deactivated, and yet it appeared that he had literally gotten up and walked away. Impa furrowed her brow in consternation. Dr. Harkinian's day was shot to hell.
Within minutes, the entire laboratory personnel had been notified of Zelda's trouble. Labs were searched, security tapes were watched, and guards were questioned. Aside from a few clipped AV wires and two guards with missing time, nothing was found. And then, of course, there were the camera crews. Rumors travel alarmingly quickly, and within half an hour of Zelda's discovery three news channels had congregated outside Hyrtech's front doors. Finally, the masses were appeased when Dr. Kotake Hielo, PhD., fought her way through the doors. The mob fell back a bit and quieted down for the venerable old astrophysicist.
The old gerudo arranged her bifocals and coughed, and immediately she was bombarded by inane questions from all sides. With a stern glare, she motioned for silence. "We have prepared a statement, after which I will not take questions," she said. Crestfallen reporters crowded closer so as not to miss anything. "Last night, at approximately 12:00 A.M., a prototype android was stolen from a restricted laboratory. We are not sure what else was taken, if anything. The project's creator and her team assert that this android is not, I repeat, is not a threat in any way. The New Castletown Police Department is conducting a full investigation; we will find the android, and those responsible for its theft will be apprehended. I have no further comments at this time; good morning to you." The dismissal carried the sort of finality to it that only the elderly can achieve. Kotake slipped back inside out of the verbal hurricane.