Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

A/N: So... we're skipping forward a bit. In the story arc I've planned out, not much happens until the movie.

Thursday, ?/?/1974

Dear Diary,

It's been about a month or so since Frank shot me with the laser gun. Though I'll never forgive him for what he did, I've forced myself to keep going. I feel like just fading, dying. But I know Eddie wouldn't have wanted that.

And now, I'm really angry with Riff Raff.

Apparently he's been making me sicker. The medicines he gave me all just cause more symptoms. As log as I needed to be cared for, Riff didn't have to work of Frank's latest project. I also have a feeling that another motive for all that was that he wanted to test out various alien drugs on an earthling.

The way I figured all this out? A case of exact wording.

Riff told Robby not to tell me about all this. Though he never said not to tell somebody else in my presence. So, Robby told Magenta all about this when she brought me breakfast. He was still technically obeying orders.

Clever, isn't he?

So… I confronted him. After a bit of shouting, he finally admitted what he'd been doing. I stormed off.

Now, I'm back in my own room. Reading Hamlet, and somehow comparing myself to Ophelia. Though I'm not really like her.

No.

Unlike Ophelia, I actually have a mind of my own. The fact that I stood up to Riff proves that. And Ophelia doesn't have a friend who's a robot.

Speaking of Robby… he's become a great friend. Never before has anyone really appreciated my intelligence. Everyone sees me as a sufficiently attractive young person, at least these days. Even Magenta doesn't really seem interested in talking to me these days. But the robot, since he has no interest in anything that isn't academic, doesn't really seem to realize what I even look like. He also seems to like philosophical conversations on what makes one human.

How strange this all is!

- Columbia (a groupie)

Wednesday, November/?/1974

Dear Diary,

It's been ages since I last wrote. Nothing important- as far as I can tell- has happened since I found out that Riff was basically poisoning so that he could avoid his job. He stopped doing that and went back to whatever that project of his is.

Thing became pretty normal after that. I eat breakfast, chat with Magenta, pick out outfits to wear, read, talk to the robot, eat lunch, tap dance, eat dinner…

Anyway, this Saturday, Frank will be hosting the Annual Convention. He's never hosted one of the really grand parties while I've lived here. In fact, he's never invited more than four or five people over at once. Now, they'll be at least fifteen guests!

Magenta said that I'd be allowed to tap dance at the party. Since tap dancing isn't really a thing on the planet of Transsexual in the galaxy of Transylvania, they won't know if I make a mistake. That's always good.

Oh, I can't wait to perform for all those people!

I've already picked out my outfit: my glittery gold tailcoat and matching top hat; a rainbow sequined corset top; glittery fishnet stockings; light blue-grey ankle socks, a bright pink, glittery, bow-tie 'necklace'; and (most importantly) my rhinestone tap-shoes!

Since when do I get this excited about fashion?

Ah, well.

This morning, Mags said that we're going to keep Robby locked in a certain part of the basement during the whole party.

"Why?" I asked her.

"Because of the First Law," she replied with a shrug.

"That's the one that says he can't harm a human or let a human come to harm through inaction. Wait… so somebody's going to get hurt?"

She sighed. "Don't ask. It'll make matters a thousand times worse if you get involved."

Then, she wandered off to clean another room. I didn't follow her.

When I went to the kitchen for lunch, only Robby was there. On the table sat a plate of some sort of dish involving pasta and tomato sauce. Typical 'Magenta cooking'.

"Miss Magenta left this food for you," he said, gesturing toward the plate.

I sat down at the table and began to eat… and quickly finished. For some reason, she hadn't given me much to eat.

"Is something the matter, miss?" Robby asked.

"No," I replied quickly.

Of course, something was the matter. I wanted to tell Robby what I'd heard about them having to lock him up during the party. But I feared that he might short-circuit or something. Would he be following the Laws if he hid so that they couldn't lock him up?

All the time they'd spend looking for him might hurt them somehow. Yet that wouldn't be actually hurting them (even though he'd know that they might get hurt wandering the never-used areas of the castle)… or would it? And all that nonsense about exact wording only makes thing more confusing.

I really need to find out more about his programming at some point. For now I just needed to change the subject, though. So I did.

"Robby? Where are you from?"

"What do you mean, miss?" the robot asked.

"Well... how did you end up at Marcus' warehouse?"

"Hmm." The robot paused for a moment, as if retrieving memory files of some kind. "I was originally built and my positronic brain programmed by an employee of Asimov & Co. Robotics on the planet Altair IV. The company consists of five different scientists- including Dr. Asimov himself- who build robots like me. It is more for research than anything. Scientists working for Asimov & Co. Robotics build us, and then send us away to be studied and replicated. We are prototypes.

"The name of my creator was Dr. Julia Soong. Unlike the others, she named her robots. I have a younger brother of sorts named Robin. Another pun on the word 'robot', you see. Since I was the first she built, she kept me for an unusual amount of time. But the other scientists sent me away soon enough.

"The ship that was taking me and a few others away got attacked by space pirates. We were in temporary hibernation at the time. Space pirates usually sell robots to various companies and then those companies manufacture replicas of us. Luckily, I ended up being bought by a collector of unusual technologies. He was kind to me, and later gave me to Mr. Marcus."

"What an interesting life you've lived!" I said.

A little while later, I went to the ballroom to practice tap dancing. I'm trying to figure out a specific set of steps to perform. Far too often I get carried away with improvisation.

Dinner was a bit odd.

Magenta, Robby, and I ate together. Actually, Robby didn't eat… he just stood there. Since he's a robot he doesn't eat. Magenta bossed him around and made him clean our dishes once we'd eaten. That's probably because she never gets to boss anyone around.

When she left, I did to. I felt horrible that my supposed best friend was so mean to the poor robot. Despite what Magenta says, I doubt that he likes being to be ordered around. It's just because they programmed to be like that.

Ye gods, next I'll be campaigning for Artificial Intelligence voting rights…

Now, Magenta is begging me "to turn off the stupid flashlight and stop writing with that scratchy pencil". I'd better do as I'm told.

- Columbia (a groupie)

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