The Sanctuary air was still warm and jubilant, although the excitement of Nora's return had died down as the night grew old. Nick Valentine stood in the doorway of an old pre-war house that was well-kept despite its age. His fingers twitched for a cigarette that he did not have. He had run out during his and Nora's journey here. He was tempted to go and ask one of the settlers if they had one before a voice came floating from the street.
"Mr. Valentine, if I could. . . get a word with you?"
Nick couldn't blink (his 'eyelids' went on the fritz long ago) but he would have if he could. He looked at the person asking the question. Person, yes, he decided; there wasn't anything else to call him, nothing that Nick felt comfortable with.
The Mr. Handy unit always looked expectant, with those big, goggling eyes of his. The way that the inhuman pupils ratcheted in and out, the way that the eyestalks themselves swiveled- anyone who said that robots couldn't express themselves would have to eat their hat. And right now, that robot was jetting above the asphalt, waiting for his response.
Right.
"Sure thing, Codsworth. I've got the time." Nick replied with a slight nod of his head.
"Oh, good. I was hoping to not to inconvenience you. You're currently working with Mum, after all, and I'd hate to distract you."
The Mr. Handy bobbed in the air, this way and that. It helped give a sense of life to his frame, but Nick's instincts told him that he was being more fidgety than normal.
"Is this about how I'm working with her?" Nick offered.
"No, no! Mum says nothing but glowing things about your company. Given the fact that she's come home in one piece, well, I'd say you're protecting her rather well."
That was good. That was the one thing that Codsworth had been rather persistent about when they had first met. "Protect her at all costs. If you let her fall to harm. . ."
"So what's on your mind?" Nick again asked.
"Ah, yes, well, you see. . ." Codsworth's eyestalks shifted, whirling back and forth, meeting and then breaking eye contact again and again.
He waited.
"Mum told me you were from the world before." The robot finally sputtered.
"I am." He nodded. He reached up to adjust his hat out of habit. "Though it's a bit complicated, yes. I am."
"What were you like?"
Now that was a question he wasn't expecting. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. He had only just confided his past with Nora not that long ago. How much had she told Codsworth? He understood the two were close, but. . .
"I was mostly the same." Nick eventually answered. "I was a detective and I liked to help people. Not much has changed."
"Are you positively certain?" Codsworth sounded incredulous, something that sent anxiety spiking through him for no good reason.
"Yeah. I'm pretty sure." Nick snapped. He wasn't about to pour out all the doubts that had been haunting him, and especially not to an overly curious-
"Are you sure that you didn't feel more. . . stable, back then?" Codsworth's voice grew quieter with each word.
"More 'stable'? What are you-?"
Nick stopped. Codsworth had drifted a good foot away. His pupils were completely completely constricted, now, with the mechanical apertures so closed around that any more would have rendered the robot blind.
"Hey, easy there." Nick extended a hand. "What's bugging you, huh?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Nevermind, Mr. Valentine, I shall take my leave so that you can rest-"
"That's not true. I can see that. Something's making you upset. You wanna talk about it some more? Maybe I can help." He offered.
"No, no, no, I shan't burden you with my ramblings any longer."
Codsworth turned away, but then hesitated. Hesitated, waiting for just one more little push. Nick recognized this dance well. He'd seen it a thousand times in other, just as scared, victims.
Victim of what, though, was the question. "Tell me what's wrong."
"You come from the world before." Codsworth turned back around. "And you lived through all of these years. So have I."
Nick only nodded.
Sure enough, more words spilled out from the other. "All of these years, they change you, don't they? From the way you were before?"
"They sure do."
"So what were you like back then? Were you. . . like me?"
Nick paused. He wished he had that cigarette, something to keep his hands busy. He dug his hands further into his coat. Eventually, he shook his head.
"No," he sighed, "back then, I was human. Or maybe not 'me', but the guy who's memories are now in my brain."
Codsworth sunk down again. "My apologies, I was not aware. It appears that you cannot answer my question then."
"And what question was that?"
Again, the Mr. Handy's eyes shifted on their stalks, creating a series of whirs that punctuated the warm night air.
"Your question is about being a robot, isn't it?" Nick felt a twitch of an ironic smile coming. "I'm tickled that you thought to come to me for this- and, you know, I can still give whatever question you've got my best shot."
"I've changed, Mr. Valentine. I'm not sure how." Codsworth spoke.
"That's not a lot to work with. Can you give me more of an idea?"
"General Atomics units are built for utmost quality, we are. We're built to last, as you can see!"
A bit of his usual pep returned, if only just for a moment, and Nick smiled.
"However, I believe that some of my internal protocols must have. . . degraded, somehow." He faded back into melancholy. "For instance, I find that my thoughts wander if I'm not careful."
"What's so wrong with thoughts wandering?" Nick asked.
"Why, it distracts me from the task at hand. It's more difficult to tidy up what needs cleaned when errant thoughts are forming a mess in your own processor. Sometimes I pause for minutes at a time!" Codsworth uttered that last word like it was the most offensive thing in the world.
"A few minutes isn't long at all, in the grand scheme of things."
"It gets worse. No, much worse. It happens when- it happens when I think about Mum. And Sir. And little baby Shaun." A shiver rippled through Codsworth's frame, causing audible clanking as it passed through each of his joints.
Oh no. Nick made sure his voice was as gentle as possible. "I see."
"It's like this great, big, knot of code. Like all of my operating protocols have twisted into a little ball. It's intense, Mr. Valentine, I can't describe it anyway else- and it makes me pause for hours. Does that give you more of an idea?"
Nick didn't often think about his own thought process in 'protocols' and 'code'. That's because he didn't have any sort of protocols from before. His only programmed priorities were human ones, ancient instincts like being tired and getting hungry, most of which weren't relevant anymore.
Code, however, he was more familiar with it. His brain now was an operating system, and he could access it like he could any other computer if he really focused hard on it. The only times he had ever done so were to review the old memory banks for specific details. It was so strange, so foreign to see his own operating stats in review, everything from his body temp to his movement inputs to all of the things that were going through his processor at the time.
Looking through his own thoughts, his own computations, he supposed, was an impossible jumble. That's because it wasn't just the words he thought in his head, but everything else that was going on in the background to shape those words. Stuff like mood, which was damned impossible to untangle in the ones and zeroes. That had to be it.
"Obviously, when you think about your family, it would be easy for all of your thoughts and emotions to get tangled up. You've been through some traumatic stuff." Nick started.
"Emotions? Don't be silly. Although I am programmed with an agreeable demeanor, I have no such capability."
Nick nearly choked on air, a strange sensation, given that he didn't really have lungs anymore. Codsworth remained unperturbed by the reaction.
"You're kidding me." Nick finally said.
"I am not. We are being serious right now; I certainly would not kid you at this time."
"Pardon my french, Codsworth, but I'm going to have to call bullshit on that one." He softened the harsh consonants but left them with enough force to get his point across.
"Vulgar language isn't proper." Codsworth scolded.
"Sorry, but you're currently looking me in the eye and telling me that you don't care. You really don't care about Nora or Shaun?"
"Of course I care!" Codsworth jetted back to his usual height with a sudden burst from his jets, and his voice echoed the same intensity.
In the same fraction of a second, the Mr. Handy had rotated his torso, bringing the arm that was tipped with a saw blade around front. Nick doubted that Codsworth had intended to do so, but it was exactly the kind of visceral reaction that came with hitting a figurative nerve.
"That's what I thought." Nick said.
"How dare you assume that I not care! All alone, with the world falling apart, and the only reason I pulled through was my memories of them!" Codsworth came closer, his arm swinging side to side, and for a moment Nick thought maybe he misjudged his intentions.
Nick held his hands out and made calming motions with them. Eventually, Codsworth backed off.
"My apologies, Mr. Valentine, I didn't mean to-"
"You just got angry there, didn't you?"
Codsworth paused.
"You did. You got mad. Justifiably so, if I might add." Nick continued.
Codsworth bobbed again, no doubt his version of shuffling his feet. "I suppose I did."
"You got mad because you care. You care because. . . well, it's Nora we're talking about here. It's pretty damn hard not to care about her."
"Likes and dislikes aren't technically emotions." He replied, quieter.
"Is that what you tell yourself?"
"All General Atomics models have an unlimited warranty on behavioral issues, including but not limited to change in demeanor and. . . quirks of personality."
"Emotions."
"Yes."
Now Codsworth risked drifting off from the conversation entirely. As he backed away, Nick had to take a few steps forward, leaving the doorway. Light from a repaired streetlamp above bathed the two of them.
"So, you're scared of your emotions."
"Terrified, Mr. Valentine." Codsworth gave a quiet, nervous laugh that he doubted he was supposed to hear.
"Emotions aren't that bad. Sometimes they hurt, but in the end they're worth it, at least in my opinion." He shrugged. "They say that there's no love without loss, but I would much rather be able to love than not care about people at all."
"I appreciate your sentiment, but I'm afraid you don't understand. You see, I cannot control them, no matter how hard I try to straighten them out."
Nick glanced around and noticed just how clean not only this house was, but the entire neighborhood. Nora had told him Codsworth was a cleaning bot, but only now was it most apparent.
"That's the way emotions tend to work, hate to break it to you." Nick shook his head with a bit of a laugh.
"Then that's quite detrimental to my function!" Codsworth snapped and his jet misfired with a horrible crackle.
"Woah, easy there, pal-"
"I- If I can't even control myself, then how am I to serve Mum?"
Codsworth's voice cracked, leaving a tinny static that lingered briefly in the air. The shift in his voice from agitation to sheer unfiltered terror was so sudden it left Nick's head spinning. He struggled to put together any words of comfort in a cohesive matter.
After an uncomfortably long pause, he waved the robot closer with a simple "com'ere."
Codsworth approached hesitantly. Nick put a hand (his good hand) against Codsworth's head, in between the eyestalks, and gave a gentle pat. The robot's pupils dilated just a little.
"Look," Nick imitated a deep breath. "I want you to know that you've done so good with protecting Nora. No other person I know could have gotten her to Diamond City like you did."
"Thank you, Mr. Valentine."
"And you did so well because you cared, not in spite of it." He gave another gentle tap.
"Do you really think so?"
"Without a shadow of a doubt."
Codsworth pressed himself against his hand and lingered for a few brief beats, before leaving his touch.
"Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that." Codsworth muttered.
"I think I have some idea." Nick closed his hand.
"I've felt this way for a very long time- being able to feel, that is. It's a relief to know that I am not malfunctioning."
"Hell, if you're 'malfunctioning', then I must be throwing sparks out of my ears." Nick brought his hands up by the sides of his head, twiddling his fingers.
"Which you are not, thankfully!" Codsworth's usual pep returned full force. "If you were in such a poor condition I would not permit you to travel with Mum. And I've never seen parts for your model before."
"Heh, they don't make 'em like me anymore. I've learned to be careful." He joked the very real concern away. They could talk about the terror of physical mortality some other time.
"Always a good lesson to learn. Now, if you don't mind, I shall take my leave and begin my nightly patrol of the neighborhood. I would hate for any mosquitos to wander in while our companions are asleep." Codsworth remarked with a slight brandish of his saw. "Come to think of it, though, would you care to join me?"
"No, thanks. The ol' human in me still likes to get some rest." Nick once more gestured to his head.
"Ah, so I see. Good night then, Mr. Valentine, and thank you again for your wisdom."
"Any time." He nodded.
All of Codsworth's eyestalk twirled to face the dark night before he jetted off out of the light of the streetlamp. Nick watched as he traveled down the road, presumably to the bridge that marked the entrance of the neighborhood.
Nick turned and walked back to the door he had come out, only this time choosing not to linger there. He walked into the living room. The couch was old and dilapidated, but not dusty. He sat down on it, testing its weight, before laying across the cushions. He crossed his ankles and slid his hat down over his eyes.
It took him a while to get to sleep, though. The not-quite-metaphorical gears in his head kept turning about personhood and emotions and all that good stuff.