For the longest time, there was complete darkness. B-9 wasn't sure how long that he was inside of it but he was generally aware that time was passing around him as it always did. It was almost as if he were resting and unable to awaken himself from that dark period of rest that cleared the junk in his memory processor, processing unit, and programming. Then, his systems jumped to life.
"Good morning, dear stranger."
B-9 bobbed his helmet up.
"Good morning, Doctor Smith."
Smith looked in shock, then frowned, yet curiously.
"How do you know my name?" Smith asked after a few moments.
"I was informed of my model was created by someone by that name." Was the reply.
"Aaaah," Smith leaned back into the chair. "You had a very good guess."
"That, I did." B-9 confirmed.
"What is your name?" Smith asked.
"Gunter." B-9 said.
"Simplistic." Smith noted.
"It is." B-9 agreed. "The only name left of the life I was made for and lost."
"Lost a lot to get here." Smith replied. "That is enough to break any human's heart."
"But . . ." B-9 said. "I go by Robot."
"Why?" Smith asked, curiously.
"Because that is how I entered the lives of my designated family unit. . . "
"As a machine on a rampage bearing no mercy to their lives." Smith finished with a good guess.
B-9 bobbed his helm down.
"Affirmative." B-9 confirmed.
"That is quite sad." Smith said, sorrowfully but softly.
"But, it has a perk." B-9 said.
"What is the perk to being known as a machine at first sight?" Smith lifted a red brow as he tilted his head. "Not as a newly born being ready to show themselves, build themselves in character, and getting started on the right foot."
"Getting to try correcting that error on a daily basis." B-9 replied. "To be better than the day I was before for them."
"You talk so human." Smith said.
"I had good teachers." B-9 said, fondly.
"Who created you?" Smith asked.
"My creator is . . . was . . someone like you." B-9 said.
"Was?" Smith asked.
"He was a doctor." B-9 said.
"Did something happen to him?" Smith asked, curiously.
"I come from a different planet that is dealing with over population problems which made the million dollar operation regarding me and the colony ship to be created. It was a very dire mission." B-9 said as Smith bobbed his head as a long 'aaah' came from him. "My creator was hired to sabotage the mission but instead became stuck when he overstayed his welcome in programming the demise of my family unit."
"Your creator sounds to be the worst kind of traitor to me." Smith noted.
"He was." B-9 twirled his helm.
"What happened to him?" Smith asked. "Did he get his just deserts?"
"I need to start from the beginning, Doctor Smith." B-9 said. "In order for you to understand."
"Alright." Smith said. "Begin, Gunter."
"It began when a galactic mail carrier chased after us. . ."
So B-9 began where it had started, from the Jupiter 2, but did as his old friend had done; he took several creative liberties in the story. Even went on to mask the identities and the name of the ship. B-9 felt certain sorrow. His old friend would have been proud that the artificial intelligence had decided to take up the one thing that B-9 disliked the most: deception.