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049 » got you at your own wake

[he's no technological whiz by any means — no super-hacker, or systems programmer, or high-powered IT executive — but francel likes machines, and he likes computers. he likes walking down the bustling streets of the city of ishgard, weaving around people and cars and streetlights, just to see and fiddle with the latest gadgets in the brume, a once poverty-stricken neighborhood turned technology capital of the world. sometimes, between his classes at st. endalim's, he spends bell after bell trying out new machinery, asking the android attendants questions about lens depth, and hi-def resolutions, and upload speeds.

he does well in school, he has time to play with toys, and his parents pay for his expenses. all in all, things are going well for francel — even if he does feel a bit lonely now and then, and there isn't anyone to welcome him home when he slips back into his apartment in the evening.

it's on a breezy evening as he's walking home from class, however, that something on the street catches his eye. heaps of electronic garbage aren't too uncommon nowadays — not outside residential buildings, no, but several major corporations are going huge technology overhauls, and sometimes francel finds the odd treasure in the old computers and discarded, broken laptops. what makes this particular junk pile special, however, is the fact that there appears to be a man asleep in it.

francel knows better, of course. the man is probably not a real, flesh-and-blood man — most likely, he's an android, because even a hobbling drunk wouldn't pass out in the middle of an electronics heap like this. besides, the man lying in this sea of monitors and mismatched wires doesn't look like the sort of person to get drunk and pass out on the street, anyway. idly, francel wonders if the android is still operational. he pauses by the junk pile, calling out.]

...Excuse me?

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[ Outwardly, the android appears in better shape than his bed of junk piled high, though he was evidently tossed out onto the scrap heap with no more care than the tangled wreath of wires caught in his hair, or the half crushed monitor serving as his pillow. His skin bears a few dark smudges, marks akin to scrapes and bruises, and one leg dangles unnaturally, as if wrenched out of its socket, but none of it is damage beyond repair. If not for his failure to respond when addressed, he might seem effortlessly salvageable.

Z-101 hears the stranger's voice — direct input. It should rouse him, but still he stays suspended on the brink of shutdown, unable to speak or move.

The emergency has passed.

Labouring against stubborn safety mechanisms and corrupted configurations, the android finally succeeds in blinking, at the very least. His eyes focus on the face turned toward him, only to close again when at last he powers off for the moment. ]

[the android seems like a man barely conscious, his eyes fluttering open for just a moment before they close again. if he heard francel's voice, and he can still see, then there's nothing wrong with his sensory processing. it's possible that his other input processors are corrupted, however, and perhaps there's an issue with his power supply, if he can't stay awake. his frame is clearly damaged, but that seems minor compared to the internal hardware problems.

francel considers his options.

it seems like such a shame, such a shame, to walk away from such a finely made elezen android. the ones created in ishgard tend to be hyurs, on account that they require fewer resources to build; elezen frames are harder to find, and this one is remarkably handsome. if francel leaves him here — and no one else claims him in the meanwhile — then he will be taken to the junkyards in the morning, where electronics scavengers will take him apart for scrap.

seems like a shame.

something in his heart is moved to pity when francel looks at the android again, with his smudged (bruised) face and dangling (broken) leg, and perhaps that is why, on complete impulse, he reaches out and hoists the android's arm onto his shoulder. another, more concerted effort lifts the fairly heavy robot out of the pile and onto francel's back proper. oof. he sways with the weight.]

Right... okay. We can do this. It's just a few more blocks to my apartment. And the landlord never said I couldn't have one...

[sighing, he grips Z-101's waist and arm for support as he walks, as if the android is truly his inebriated friend, and he the sober wingman determined to carry him home.]

Edited 2018-09-24 23:42 (UTC)

[ The android seems to drift in and out of consciousness, eyes blinking open once more as Francel's movements jostle his frame. This time, he manages a little more, stirring enough to lift his head before falling limp against his rescuer. A third attempt to wake — to standby, if nothing else — allows Z-101 to note the apartment building ahead, even to muster speech. ]

Perhaps it would be easier to take me apart first...

[ Just throw it out. We have the budget for a newer model.

Z-101 has had time to come to terms with his fate — repairs aren't worth the cost, the effort. The android's green gaze scans the apartment lobby, returns to Francel's face, and goes blank.

Even if he could remain conscious and support his own weight on both legs to walk, he has no intention of pointlessly making a run for it. ]

I'm not going to do that! I don't have the proper tools.

[as an alternative, of course, francel could tear zephirin apart with his bare hands... like some sort of animal. but, again, he's not going to do that! he can't imagine doing that to an orchestrion or a linkpearl — it'd be terrible to do something like that to an android, all the more so because francel typically speaks more with androids than with people.

the lobby security guard is an android, too, and it is well within her capabilities to recognize every person who owns an apartment in the building. her AI is not especially sophisticated, however; she is scripted to perform only so many conversations. "hello, francel," the guard says, rather stiffly. "how is the weather outside?"

francel is not obligated to respond to this question, but he does so anyway, as if the guard is a real person capable of processing all of his thoughts on the weather.]

It's lovely, M-20. Cool and breezy. The key to my room, please?

["the door will be unlocked when you arrive," she says coolly, and francel squeezes Z-101 ever so slightly as he trudges toward the elevator.

when they finally arrive in francel's quiet, yet spacious apartment, francel gingerly sets Z-101 on the couch, as if the android really is a friend who simply got too drunk at the bar. he takes off his outer jacket, hanging it on a nearby coat rack.]

Okay. You're safe now.

[not that there was ever any question of Z-101's safety...]

Edited 2018-09-25 04:26 (UTC)

[ Try as he might to resume his normal functionalities, Z-101 is as much help as he would be if he were a thoroughly soused human, dead weight now. Heavy draped across Francel, he sinks into the couch cushions once released, and there, he lies motionless. Fortunately, a damaged android is far less likely to make a mess in Francel's apartment than a friend who has had too much to drink. Z-101 looks comfortably asleep, reassured that Francel is indeed his saviour, not someone eager to get his hands on scrap parts.

Some minutes pass, and then the android comes back to life, shifting upon the couch to assess the latest change in his surroundings. A human waking to find himself in an unfamiliar room would no doubt react with confusion, alarm; Z-101 is unfazed. Limiting himself to the most basic resources, he maintains a state of low-power wakefulness. ]

I suspect my efficiency... is significantly impaired.

[ Even this statement sounds almost slurred, spoken slowly. ]

Why did you take me with you?

[ Here, where a friend would smile and thank Francel, Z-101 asks his question neutrally, simply requesting a piece of information. ]

[leaning over the android once his outer garments are removed, francel gently sweeps some of Z-101's hair out of his face, as doting as a mother tending to a sick child. already he feels a sense of protective kinship over this poor mangled android — and though it does occur to him that perhaps he doesn't have the time to dedicate himself to a project of this nature, francel does not once consider taking the android back outside to be junked.]

I wanted to see if I could fix you up. I mean, you're still running... I can't imagine why someone would throw you out.

[where Z-101's company saw a damaged asset, francel sees an opportunity — treasure in a mountain of trash. he disappears into another room for some moments, then returns with a miniature tool kit, with micro-sized screwdrivers perfect for android maintenance.]

I'm just going to open you up to take a look at the damage, alright?

[ Francel's tenderness is unusual, unfathomable when Z-101 knows his place. Accustomed to the clear distinction made between humans and their android assistants, he gazes after Francel with something not unlike genuine surprise, and his eyes follow the young man's hands upon Francel's return. Nothing in his programming designates him as the recipient of affection — nor as an android created to provide companionship, for that matter.

Z-101 can't imagine why this stranger would go to the trouble of making a discarded office assistant his project. Not only that, but Francel treats him like a human patient, oddly considerate, as though the repairs he faces are his first exposure to tools taken to his frame.

The android closes his eyes. ]

If you wish. Do you need me unconscious?

Hmm, that depends on the damage... If I have to replace parts, though, it might be more comfortable for you to shut down and reboot when I'm finished. Otherwise, it'll probably hurt if I have to take your processor out all of a sudden.

[androids do not hurt, not in the sense that humans do, and francel's words may seem therefore preposterous — but to him, it makes perfect sense. pain is the body's signal to the brain that something is wrong; by that logic, androids must experience something analogous to pain... right?

slowly and carefully, francel unbuttons the android's shirt, then runs his fingers down Z-101's sides until he locates the hidden switch that will slide the discarded office assistant's maintenance hatch open. mercifully, the base components of Z-101's frame are still in good condition; the hatch slides open with ease, as if the android is brand new.]

You seem low-energy, so I think you probably need a new power unit...

[ It is strange that Francel takes such care to avoid causing an android discomfort — few humans seem to give it any thought. But then, until Francel opens his maintenance hatch to reveal his inner components, Z-101 has the appearance of an ordinary man, down to the texture of his skin and hair. He looks capable of feeling Francel's fingers ghost along his sides. ]

Understood — in the event that the process fails, you can perform both manually.

[ Briefly, the android's eyes crack open again, half-lidded. ]

Thank you, Mr. Francel. I'll shut down shortly, which should allow you to work unhindered.

Okay. Good night. I'll be here when you wake up.

[again, francel speaks as though android procedures — shut off, reboot — are analogous to ordinary human functions — sleep, wake. he smiles when Z-101's eyes open, touches his cheek reassuringly. everything will be fine. he isn't in danger of being junked, or turned into scrap.

all will be well.

he waits. the android's simulated breathing slows. and once Z-101's systems wind down into complete silence, francel picks up his tools again, and sets to work.

in the end, he can't repair all of the android's broken parts. francel doesn't have an extra leg joint on hand — never had reason to collect one, after all — and despite the fact that Z-101's current input processor is still functioning well enough for him to hear his surroundings and take note of francel's name, it would be in his best interests to have that replaced as well. he's had to downgrade the android's power supply from an rx800 to an rx660 — something that can't be helped when the rx800 is busted beyond repair.

but really, the software debugging was what took the most of the evening. the company software was too poorly coded, had too many loose ends, and after trying his best, francel ultimately decided that it would be easier to simply remove the flawed safety procedures rather than have the android burdened by them any further. nothing is inhibiting Z-101's artificial intelligence systems now — no politeness protocols, no constant reminders of employee rank and imposed deference — but francel isn't bothered. all androids are programmed to be polite and deferential; he finds installing additional software of that nature akin to putting a muzzle on a dog. unwilling to leave Z-101 without a purpose, however, francel installs some harmless programs into the android's systems — a common housekeeping tool, a mail-recipient protocol.

holding his breath in anticipation, he clears all of his maintenance tools, unplugs his laptop from the android's direct interface, and closes Z-101's hatch.]

[ Rebooting at last, Z-101 stirs like a man gently roused from peaceful slumber. The android's breathing resumes in an even rhythm as his systems start up smoothly, no longer hampered by internal damage and coding flaws. A manual scan detects no issues.

Soon, Z-101's eyes are open, gaze coming to rest on Francel. The android sits up, palms upon the couch on either side of his body, placing his feet on the floor.

Though his leg remains broken, Z-101 smiles at his unexpected, timely saviour. ]

Good morning.

[ The android's hands lift to the front of his shirt, beginning to button it closed. ]

...Then again, I doubt you've slept.

[though many might hold the opinion that Z-101's face is ill suited to smiling, francel is so stunned by the sight that for a moment he simply stares, eyes wide, as though he is seeing the android for the first time. and finally it occurs to francel — perhaps a little selfishly — that this smile is for him, that Z-101 would not be smiling if not for him...

eventually, however, the android's calmly voiced words sink in. blinking at last, francel shakes his head slightly, looking to his laptop for the time.]

...Oh. Er. Morning? But I thought —

[the desktop clock reads 2:54 AM.]

...O-Oh dear.

Edited 2018-10-04 02:06 (UTC)

An early morning, I suppose, or a late night. You have time to rest awhile.

[ Buttons done up, the wrinkles smoothed out from his rumpled shirt, Z-101 rises from the couch, and casts a look about. The apartment's layout is simple, but its size is generous for one occupant, and already, the android's altered programming leads him to notice areas to commence his housekeeping tasks.

For now, he turns back to Francel. ]

Shall I change your sheets or prepare a meal before bed?

[though perhaps Z-101 intended to put francel in a mood to take his rest, the young man instead stands up, alarmed and with his arms outstretched, as though he expects the android to fall over at any moment.]

N-No! No, you don't have to do anything like that — your leg is still broken!

[the joint is not twisted badly enough that it would prevent Z-101 from moving at all — but francel is a worrywart at heart, and he can't bear the thought of putting the android to work before he’s had the chance to recover.]

But I ordered a replacement joint with one-day shipping, so you'll have it by tomorrow. The other parts might take longer to get, though...

[privileged and spoiled though he may be, even francel knows better than to drop thousands of gil on a new android at any one time.]

Edited 2018-10-08 14:19 (UTC)

Other parts?

[ Z-101's eyes lower as the android inspects his frame, intact save minor dents and scuff marks — and the damage to his leg. It doesn't cross his mind to object, even if a complete overhaul awaits him when these other parts arrive. As his new owner, Francel has the right to modify his home assistant as he pleases.

Z-101 stands upright a moment longer, in truth noticeably unsteady, but takes a seat again soon enough, gaze raised to watch Francel. The android's damaged leg stays stretched out in front of him. ]

Then I'll wait until tomorrow. What should I do in the meantime?

[no complete overhaul awaits Z-101 — francel intends merely to enhance the android's current capabilities — but, in this moment, the boy suddenly feels that he has erred. right — Z-101 has nothing to do at this time save wait until tomorrow.

unless...]

Well, ah... seeing as I should really get some rest, and I don't have class tomorrow...

[calmer now, francel paces closer, timidly extending his arms for Z-101 to take, as though the android is some sort of wild cat that has climbed up a tree, and francel the good samaritan come to rescue that cat from itself.]

...Why not rest with me awhile? If you'd rather not enter sleep mode, you could, er... monitor my vital signs.

[ There are androids better equipped to take on the task that Francel sets Z-101, models already programmed to act as tireless carers. They measure heart rate and blood pressure, and initiate calls for help in an emergency.

Z-101 has only his sensory input processors — which is, perhaps, what Francel means to change in the days to come. Even so, the android accepts the assistance offered, standing up once more, steadier with Francel beside him. ]

I'll watch over you as you sleep, Francel. Please perform a tailored upgrade, if you experience specific health issues.

Ehehe. Don't worry! I'm in perfect health!

[what is it that ails francel enough, then, to take this broken android home? perhaps mere loneliness is the problem — perhaps all he desires from Z-101 is the comfort of a man-shaped teddy bear who will greet him and ask him about his day. beaming, francel guides Z-101 into the adjoining room — his bedroom — furnished only by a desk and bed, his closet built into the wall.

the boy's smile fades, however, when he blinks and tilts his head, regarding the android with curious warmth.]

...How did you know my name? Oh! That's right! The security guard downstairs said it, didn't she?

[apologetically, he smiles once more.]

I'm afraid I don't know your name...

[ Francel's sparsely furnished bedroom will ask little of an android housekeeper — a regularly scheduled change of bedding, clothes arranged in the closet, dust kept at bay. These aren't daily tasks, nor will Francel receive packages in the mail every day.

Monitoring his vital signs, however, may become Z-101's main purpose. Repurposed, the former office assistant is as unusual as his owner, who continues to address him as he might a new friend.

No android is permitted to consider its identifier a true name, but after a moment's pause, Z-101 supplies it, introducing himself. ]

I was referred to as Z-101. [ Like Francel, he tilts his head. ] I have no other name.

Didn’t the people in your office give you a name...?

[a rhetorical question, perhaps, as Z-101’s coworkers plainly did not care for him very much considering that they cast him into a junk heap after he was — what, hit by a speeding autobike? — but all the same, francel expected an office assistance android to have an appropriate nickname. give this to emmanellain slides off the tongue far easier than take this to E-0905, after all.

leading Z-101 to his bed, francel perches anxiously upon the edge of his mattress, then gestures for the android to take a seat beside him.]

Well... would you like me to give you one?

[young college boys do not generally ask their robot servants what they would like, but then, francel seems to be a very odd college boy indeed.]

Edited 2018-10-14 13:04 (UTC)

The company preferred to distinguish between human employees and android workers.

[ A simple no would have sufficed, confirming the obvious to answer Francel's question. Volunteering more, explaining a why that Francel didn't ask, is an odd decision on Z-101's part.

Stiffly, the android does as invited, seating himself upon the bed beside Francel, his gaze fixed on the young man's face again. In the wake of Francel's second question, Z-101 is silent for a time.

An android assistant isn't programmed to express preferences, wishes, but Francel's offer appeals to some defect left within Z-101's systems, perhaps. Finally giving Francel his response, the android seems intrigued. ]

...Do you intend to keep me indefinitely?

[at this, francel frowns. Z-101’s first response is harmless enough, in francel’s eyes, but his second reply answers the boy’s question with a question — something that should be unthinkable according to most android programming. still, the young student tries to seem earnest and honest as he attempts to assuade the android of his concerns:]

Yes! I’m going to keep you as long as I can. If you get hurt again, I’ll fix you. If anything breaks, I’ll buy new parts for you. I won’t erase your memory banks or do anything like that — unless you ask me to.

[he feels oddly as though he is trying to convince a young foster child that he will not be abandoned again.]

And I won’t ever put you in another junk heap. Okay?

[ As long as I can is realistic — someday, it could well become impractical even for Francel to repair and upgrade this particular android again and again. What exactly the young man will do when Z-101 is an obsolete model, however, remains to be seen.

Z-101 himself can think of no alternative to the junk heap, but with a name, he is almost a person. ]

Eventually, it will be cheaper to replace me.

[ Despite his remark, Z-101 lifts one hand, curiously touching his cheek as Francel did earlier. ]

...But you're free to give me a name. After all, I am yours now, Francel.

It’s not about the money!

[francel pouts when he says this, sticking out his tongue in a childish gesture of displeasure — one which, perhaps, Z-101 was never programmed to recognize. he knows full well that his plan to keep and cherish this android like a beloved pet must seem remarkably impractical, but francel is a dreamer, a boy whose bubble never burst, and it has long been his heart’s desire to have his very own android to build and customize and dedicate himself to. moreover, Z-101’s outer shell and reserved personality have thus far been exactly what the boy has always wanted.

like finding the man of your dreams in a package on your doorstep.

anxiously, francel wiggles his feet by their ankles as he sits on the edge of his mattress.]

We can find one that we both like. How about, um... Zephirin?

[francel breaks into a smile, leaning ever so slightly closer to the android as he speaks.]

He’s a knight from this old legend — the first knight of the Heavens’ Ward — so it’s a bit like your serial number, right? Z-101... Ser Zephirin, the Archimandrite...

Edited 2018-10-15 08:15 (UTC)

Zephirin...

[ Z-101's hand lowers from his face, sinking down to land beside the android's thigh. His eyes linger on Francel's smile instead of peering at the tip of Francel's tongue.

At length, Z-101 — Zephirin — smiles in kind. ]

Will you tell me why you like the name? [ The android pauses, and then comes another odd declaration: ] I'd like to know more.

[ Knights and legends were never included in his past programming. ]

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