Two days from now was the nearest time she was able to get. Until then, the robot lay in complete silence, staring blankly at the ceiling. He spoke only when first spoken to, and if asked about his well-being he was quick to assure that he was fine, and in no need of further care. Still, she was worried.

Her robot was functioning sure, and there were no complaints of any sort of depleting batteries or further needs. Now that her robot no longer had to worry about dirtying the floor, he could move, or rather, crawl about as he wished; an opportunity he never took. She could order him to, of course, and he'd leap to obey in a flash, but after the incident with his eyes, she was rather hesitant to command anything thoughtlessly. Her robot was fully capable of moving and speaking on its own. So why wasn't he?

Perhaps she was just expecting too much. It could very well be that the isolation of a new place had driven her just insane enough to want to believe that a machine as old as he could be that advanced…

…but if he was, she wanted to give him that chance anyways. Even if it was stupid to even try.

…

…

…Maybe I am going insane.

**********

Today was the day it would be leaving.

It knew before Mistress even spoke the words, for her clothes were sturdier and less glamorous than her usual attire. No skirt, no blouse, no suit jacket, only a paint-stained shirt and a wide pair of shorts meant for working purposes. The type of attire meant for handling filth.

What came more as a surprise was the harness. Once it had settled on her back, she had tied a length of rope around both their waists, joining them together before adding two additional loops for the shoulders. Before long, it was tied as securely as could be, and there was no danger of it falling off.

That was good. Now she know longer had to worry about grabbing onto what was left of his limbs. With a stretch of her neck, it's head now fell comfortably over her shoulder, and it had a full view of what was up ahead should it care to look.

"Ready?" She asked without needing to. " It's just a short walk, I promise."

"I am willing to go wherever you'll take me." It replied.

There was a quick detour as Mistress had misplaced her purse, and then they were off.

It was not quite sure what to make of being carried quite yet. It was a completely foreign sensation, one it was neither programmed nor prepared for, and the ensuing strangeness of the whole experience left his logical reasoning quite confused.

For one, it was a thrill to be moving again. Even though it was not its own limbs that gave it locomotion, the forward swing and sway as well as the wind in its facial plates could almost trick its programming into believing it was fully functional. There was the satisfaction of a purpose well served, the thrill of obedience. All it needed to do was stay in place and not fall off. With the new harness, it was a remarkably simple task. Right here, right now, it was exactly where it needed to be, and the knowledge was reassuring.

But…?

But then it felt its mistress' heartbeat pick up in tempo, faster and faster as her body strained to accommodate the extra weight she now bore. Sweat soaked through her clothing and ran down her back. Her breath grew shorter and shallower until she was practically panting. It's signals indicated its human was in discomfort.

And all of it, all of it… was because of it.

There wasn't a single EDW who could reasonably be called "light," but as a 450 model, it was particularly heavier than most. The lack of most of its limbs helped slightly,yes, but regrettably both chest and head were still largely intact, and that was where the most important— and the heaviest— components lay. It was in these moments where it was harshly reminded of its true predicament. Not a pleasant trip, not a useful endeavor, but dead weight strapped to the back of a human it should have been serving rather than hindering. Simply put, a burden, in every sense of the word.

And it was then where it's eye would close and it's head would droop, as if the shame would go away if it was not available to process it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"We're here." Mistress whispered, gently shaking it active. The door pushed open with the sound of a ringing bell.

"Customer!"

It was the high-pitched squeal of an OLI model.

************************

The shop was small, but quaint, with warm yellow lights and a modest array of android parts neatly displayed and labeled on the shelves. By the counter, she assumed, was the man who had talked to her over the phone, currently working with another customer. He flashed a quick smile as she walked in.

“Be right with you, ma’am!”

She nodded in return. In truth, there was nothing more she would’ve liked to do than to find a safe space to set her robot down, and then properly stretch out her cramping back. But if she had gone this far, she could wait a little longer. In the meantime, she occupied herself by browsing through the shelves, checking to see if there were any EDW parts for sale. There were, quite a few in fact, but none where of the 450 variety.

That might pose a problem.

“Alright, that’ll be it then. Thank you and have a nice day!”

When she overheard the telltale phrase, she turned around. The man caught her eye.

“Sorry to keep you waiting ma’am!” He called, waving her over. “How may I help you?”

She tried in vain to tidy up her sweaty hair. “Oh, it’s fine, really, don’t worry about it. I’m the one who called about the EDW-450?”

“Ah, yes!” There was a brief rustling of paper. “I remember now. You’re right on time! Now, what did you want us to look at?”

As a reply, she merely turned to show her passenger.

“Ah!”

That didn’t sound good. There was genuine shock in his voice. If she were to guess, it was likely the shop did not usually see damage of this severity. That didn’t bode well at all.

“If you don’t mind, miss, I…think it might be best you bring your ‘bot round back. Is that alright?”

Still not a “no.” She nodded eagerly. With a sigh, the man took out a ring of keys and motioned for her to follow him. As he led her down the back door and down the hall to a large pair of bolted double doors, he paused.

“Just knock and tell her Jayce sent ya, alright? Like I said, we don’t promise miracles, but we’ll try our best.”

She thanked him profusely as he returned to his post. “You ready?” She asked, though her robot had long stopped responding. There was a very likely chance the last of the oil had dripped out, and he no longer had fuel to answer her with.

All the more reason to hurry up then.

With a sigh, she wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and knocked. She tried to be firm yet polite in her rapping, just as she was always taught. There was no reason to be nervous. No reason…

There was a pause. A grumble. And then, the door swung open.

********************

“Jayce, I already told you, I can’t—oh!”

A new voice. This one was still feminine, though far rougher around the edges than its mistress. It detected an abundance of frustration, with a tinge of anger. Never a good combination. Oh why did they have to be here?

It was extremely hesitant to look up. Fuel stores were running critically low, and it would have to preserve every bit that it could, per its mistress’ wishes. It was on the brink of reducing its audio sensing radius, but for the new circumstances it found itself in now… perhaps it was best to gather context first. Yes, context so that it could judge how to act, how to behave.

And how to best calm this simmering human with as little damage to its mainframe as possible. It would not be able to handle much more at this rate. Not without completely falling apart.

“Sorry.” The angry girl said, her voice retreating as she backed away. “Thought you were… well, you know. So, you’re that customer Ollie noticed?”

“Yes, yes!”

That was the OLI model. An oddly comforting presence. As another robot, they would be someone it did not have to please, or even think about. It was a relief, if not a small one.

“She’s the one with the E-D-W.” The OLI continued. “That’s what JayJay said.”

“Oh, is that so?” The angry girl responded. “Must be a pretty small Edward, if it can fit on your back.”

“Well, actually…”

And then they were lurching forward, on the move again. As they walked, it allowed itself a quick peek, nothing more nothing less.

It shouldn’t have.

The room was large and dark, lit sporadically with lamps and holiday lights and the occasional propped-up flashlight. Every nook and cranny was overflowing, a mess of metal, stray parts, wires, tools, all carelessly scattered without abandon. It was the sort of place where machines got taken apart. The sort of place, where it would both be quickly disposed of, and forgotten about.

Is this the purpose my mistress had in mind for me?

It’s first reaction to the query was a strong “no.” Its mistress had put too much effort into keeping it whole and together.

But if that was just to ensure a higher sale value…

Without a second thought, it switched off its speculatory faculties. They were wasting fuel anyways. What did it matter to it what happened or what its mistress chose to do? It had wanted to die. It did not want to be a burden anymore.

It only wanted to serve…

There was a long, low whistle as a pair of gloved hands removed the ties that bound it to its mistress’ back and laid it down on another elevated surface. This one was higher, with far less give.

“Well.” The angry girl announced. “You’re a mess.”

The OLI model approached from its right side and began poking at its face. “Your eyes are turned off.” It stated matter-of-factly.

Yes, they are. But it was not the OLI’s comment that reactivated its optics. Rather, it was the loss of its mistress. The sudden inability to detect her heartbeat, or to hear her breathing, or to approximate her location.

It needed to know where she was, more than anything. To know for certain whether she had left him alone already.

And when it checked, there she was, still at his right side with her brows furrowed and a facial expression that read as 64% concerned and 27% anxious.

Fuel level at a critical low.

Locking…

The last stimuli it detected was her hand resting upon one of its arm stumps.