It was awake.

It was awake?

It was awake!

Its optics flared to life, blinking and calibrating until the outside came into focus. It was back, back in the lady’s home, with the sofa once more cradling its body. Its towered over, checking every bit of it from the top of its head to the end of its knee stumps.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. High curiosity and honesty. She genuinely wanted to know.

“I am confused.” It responded. “I was not expecting to be recharged.”

“What do you mean?”

“You took me to a mechanic’s shop, my lady.” It said, now infinitely more cautious. “You will have to forgive my assumption, for I was clearly wrong, but… I did not believe I would leave there in one piece.”

A gasp. Genuine shock. “You thought I was going to scrap you?”

“Forgive my bluntness, but it would be a more logical assumption than…” It stared down at his limbs, freshly repaired. Joints now screwed on tightly, wires bright and new and pulsing with energy. “In my previous state… I would not have been good for much else.”

Even then, that was not anything to brag about. What price could his pieces fetch, really? A competent vocal processor. One decent eye. A central network that could not process half of the things a modern machine was expected to. Which human would want, let alone need, that?

The lady sighed. “I should’ve told you. That’s on me, again. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Please, do not be.” It tried to assure. “You are my owner. You do not have to tell me anything.”

“But you deserve to know!”

Voice rising in volume.

Temper activated.

Caution. Caution. Caution.

“If you believe so, I will not object. You may share whatever information you please, Mistress.”

Her hand twitched. A nervous habit… or a repressed urge. She had just paid for its repair, after all. It would not make much sense to damage him so early on again.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Then again, humans never did make much sense.

“I’ll tell you everything.” She said quietly, sitting down across from him. “It is your opinion that will be the most important, after all.”

“Mine?” What situation would possibly require his decisional input?

“Well, I’ll try to explain as best I can…”

——————-

It sounded impossible. Too impossible to be real. But its scans could not detect any lies, or even the slightest glimpse of deceitful behavior.

If this worked…. If this worked and the Mistress was very clear on that if… It’d have his limbs back. It’d be able to walk. To move. To help. What’s more, it would be advanced technology, which would make it even better. Hadn’t its mistress been distressed over its inability to feel? That would fix everything!

But if it didn’t…

Every robot was programmed with a desire to protect its own existence. It was not a large priority, but it was a priority, else the Third Law would be completely ineffectual. It could have opinions of its own demise, even think of it as the best solution to a particular situation, but without orders, it would not be able to go through with such a plan.

“I won’t order you one way or another.” Its mistress said. “Don’t think of me when making this choice. Do it because of you.”

Ironically, that second half of the statement was in itself an order. And the only thing more powerful than an order was the First Law.

Simply put, the conundrum was this: What would be more harmful? To stay as a wriggling, limbless weight to be carried wherever she went? Or to risk corruption and leave her life forever?

Thankfully she had granted it time to think it through.

There was no value in its existence. It was an indisputable truth, programmed into its thinking processes from the day it was first assembled. As an EDW-450, it was easily built, easily replaced. As the model grew in age, it only grew more disposable. By every logical standpoint, there was nothing left for it.

But humans weren’t logical. It learned the extent of their nonsensicality every single day, and there was no greater example than its mistress. ( Rudeness detected. Reconfiguring thoughts…) That was the crux of the matter. She wanted it to live, and if that was her wish… it would have to comply, no matter what. By that reasoning, the safest option would be to stay as it was, with no risk of corruption. It was not good at many things like this, but it was still very sturdy. It would stay reliably functioning for quite a while yet.

But would that be enough to satisfy her?

If it had a body… a real, functioning body, it would be able to do so much more. It could help her unpack, it could carry her messages and run her errands… it could be able to walk by itself and save her back the strain. But was it worth the risk of her heartbreak? What was more important, her greater happiness or its safety?

…There was never an easier answer.

“I wish to be of greatest use to you, Mistress.” He said, his words now sure. “I will be repaired. I wish I could only guarantee that I will last long enough to serve you.”

Mistress sighed. Wrong answer, again. “Miss Carah has promised to take every precaution. I have every faith in her. You’ll be fine, Edward.”

There was a pause. A hitch to her voice.

“May I… call you that? I…never really thought to ask…”

“You may call me whatever you wish, Mistress. I do not mind.” It could only hope that she would not force it to choose another. It could not handle that many choices in one day.

“Edward.” She tested the name out on her tongue. “A bit basic, but I think it suits you. You’re sure it’s alright?”

“I am certain.” He stated, extra firmly. “If you will have me, then I will be your Edward.”