Contributing Author: H0st
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🏆 [REWARD] 🏆 You have gained [Awareness]!
“Hey, Trey, fancy seeing you here!” Tater Tot exclaimed, raising a greeting hand. His other hand was holding a much larger robot claw belonging to what vaguely resembled the fuel crate from before, but far stranger were his other two appendages. Somehow, he had legs again.
“I have so many questions,” a befuddled Trey said. And not just about this. What is [Awareness], anyway?
He was struggling to come up with the best way to ask why his skinny legs looked like very long French fries, or why he was wearing boxers with red hearts printed all over them, when he realized there was a strange absence in his head.
“Connor? You still there?” Trey asked aloud, rolling his eyes up as if expecting to see something on his forehead.
“Just a second, my friend,” the competent aphid said. “And, with respect to your new ability, I believe it is something best learned through practice, rather than words.”
All the way from the back of his skull, Trey heard a familiar, overly enthusiastic voice. “The funny potato is back! Let me back on, please, please, please! I wanna know what adventures he’s been on. C’mon, Connor, I’m booooored here!”
“Very well, young one, but only for a short while,” the older aphid said, before suddenly sounding closer in Trey’s mind. “My work here is done, for now. I will take my leave for the time being. Until next time, my friend. Stay competent!”
“Thank—” Trey started, but Connor was already gone before he could finish. Worse than that, he felt himself lurch as his body, as if yanked by a thread from his belly button, was struck by an avalanche of euphoria, energy, and rainbows that took over his body and most of his brain.
“POTATOOOOOO!” Daizy’s voice shouted through Trey’s mouth as she threw both of his arms up in the air.
“Oh, it’s you again,” Tater Tot said. “You remember the kid, right, hun?”
“Affirmative,” the crate said in a voice that, while still robotic, now sounded much more feminine.
“You ate my pancakes!” Daizy accused, puffing Trey’s cheeks with air and frowning hard for a whole two seconds before dropping the act and smiling again. “It’s okay, though! I would have done the same. Now tell me what happened! How did the funny box become your girlfriend? Where did you get new legs, lieutenant potato? Why are you in your undies?”
Daizy! Dial it down, will you?
“Heh, well, that’s a funny story,” Tater Tot said, reaching for the back of his head with his free hand while the white potato peels on his face turned into red potato peels.
“Yay! I love story time!” said Daizy, plopping Trey’s behind on the floor, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his knuckles. “Go on, tell me everything.”
“Oh, alright, if you insist,” the potato man said. “It all started when Cratherine and I left you to go collect scrap around that wrecked part of town.”
Did he just say the robot crate’s name is Cratherine?
“Shush, Trey,” protested Daizy. “I’m trying to listen.”
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“Will you please slow down a bit?” Tater Tot said as the one-armed crate under him zipped around the wreckage of what used to be a skyscraper looking for scrap. “I feel like I’m going to throw up and I’m not even sure if I still have a stomach anymore.”
“More scrap required,” the box continued, unfazed by his pleas.
“Alright, this is too much for me. I need a break,” said Tater Tot, hopping off the crate and onto the partially cracked concrete sidewalk.
He looked around at what little remained of the building’s support beams and the meandering cloud of dust still left from the collapse. There was a layer of gray, fine powder covering every unbroken window around, and the sound of sirens filled the air from every direction.
It all looked straight out of a disaster movie and—
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Wait, wait. How am I remembering all of this if we weren’t even there?
“I’m using the power of my vivid imagination, duh!” Daizy said, rolling Trey’s eyes. “Gosh, did you really forget what being a kid is like? You’re so boring. Mother says your new ability, [Awareness], is helping out, too, but we all know I’m the main reason you’re able to picture things. Now let them continue telling us their story, please!”
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As Tater Tot stood (on his waist) by a fire hydrant, assessing the catastrophe around him, the fuel box continued its task of collecting scrap. Right as it found a particularly promising piece of a stop sign, the crate felt itself vibrate and begin to play a ringing tone.
Responding automatically, the crate stopped, clicked… itself, and answered the call.
“Crate-4001 responding.”
“Hello, Crate-4001,” a confident and very competent-sounding voice said from the other side. “Enacting override protocol. Authentication password: RobotzRule666.”
The crate whirred for a second. “Authentication confirmed. Current mode: collecting scrap.”
“Change mode to: collecting love,” the voice on the line instructed.
After more buzzing and clicking, the crate responded. “Affirmative. Mode updated.”
“Excellent. Additional instructions to follow…”
The crate remained stationary for another minute as the caller continued to add more commands to it.
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So that’s who Connor was calling earlier!
“Shhh!” Daizy said. “Keep going, Mr. Tot.”
Please stop calling him that…
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The quarter man, quarter potato, half nothing continued rummaging through the pile of debris around him, unsure of what he was looking for.
“Rubbish. Nothing but rubbish.”
As he turned, he was startled by the crate, which had returned and apparently consumed enough scrap to fabricate a second arm to go with the first.
“Hello… Tater,” the box said in a sultry but still robotic voice. “I appear to have a piece of scrap stuck in my… cogs. Would you be able to assist me?”
“H-hello,” he responded, taken aback by the robot crate’s sudden change in demeanor. “You want me to… to help you?”
“Affirmative,” the bright red box said. “If you would be so kind as to reach inside my… insertion port and dislodge this big, hard metal rod, I would be positively grateful.”
“O-o-okay, if you think I should,” Tater Tot stuttered, thick frying oil beginning to roll down his already greasy forehead.
The crate opened a lid on one of its sides, and with a trembling hand, the potato man felt his way inside until he found the stuck piece of scrap and started pushing.
“It’s, hmph, not going in.”
“Deploying auxiliary lubricant,” the box said in a monotone but still feminine voice.
“Ooh!” Tater Tot exclaimed as the feeling of a slick and viscous substance surrounded his fist.
“Suggested course of action: ram it.”
“Are you… sure?” the crispy man asked with a wet gulp.
“Affirmative,” the robotic voice replied with mechanical certainty.
Tater Tot began punching the rod in the crate’s insertion port with all his strength while an overflow of lubricant—
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Okay! Alright! I think that’s enough details! We don’t need to hear all that. Please let’s move on. Is [Awareness] really necessary here?
“Hey! What’s wrong? Why are you interrupting again, Trey?” Daizy protested, sounding confused.
“Err, maybe he’s right,” Tater Tot said, pulling on the collar of his jacket with one finger. “Let’s just get to the point.”
“I don’t get it,” Daizy said with a shrug, “but fine, whatever, go on.”
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After having dislodged the stuck piece of metal from the crate’s insertion port and being properly thanked for it, Tater Tot agreed to accompany the robot as it continued collecting scrap.
Mounted on top of it once more, the potato man zoomed all around the remains of the building, picking up and adding more resources to the self-upgrading machine.
After hours that felt like minutes, the two had developed great teamwork, Tater laughing along as the now giant robot carried him on her shoulder like a mascot while compressing parts of an SUV into an easily digestible cube of scrap.
“You’re amazing, you know that, crate?” he said to her, a shine in his black, beady eyes. “Look at you, from a square box to an awesome walking robot with plated armor and back-mounted grenade launchers.”
“No, you are amazing. I could not have done it without you,” the soft, womanly voice said in a slightly less robotic way. “And please, I would like you to call me Cratherine now. I feel we have grown close enough for that.”
“I… I’m flattered you think so, Cratherine,” he responded, a dumb smile on his potato face as he stared longingly into her bright LED eyes.
“I would like to show you my newest upgrade,” she told him. “I chose it in your honor.”
Cratherine brought her left arm up and plates moved back and rearranged until a long tube formed in its place.
Tater Tot’s jaw dropped as he looked in amazement. “Is that…”
“A spud cannon, yes,” she said. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it!” Tater Tot said, staring at her again. “You’re just so… amazing, Cratherine.”
Suddenly, she pulled her gaze away from his, hiding her newly built robot face from his sight.
“I just wish I could do something for you. I have grown all these upgrades, these guns, these limbs. I even grew legs. Meanwhile, you have lost yours and there has been not a single complaint from you.”
“Oh, my beautiful piece of terrifying machinery,” said the infatuated tuber, “I certainly miss my legs, but when I’m with you, all of that fades away and all I care about is you.”
“Still, I would like to repay you for all your help,” she said, blinking her optical view ports. “I have found data in my files that might allow me to do something. Something that could make you whole once more, Taters. That is, if you would want us to try it?”
“Oh, my stainless steel muse, do you really mean it? There is yet hope that we may one day walk down by the beach hand in hand, at a safe distance from the water, so as not to endanger your electronics or turn my crispy exterior soggy? If so, then yes, a thousand times yes, I will do it with you.”
“Command accepted!” the robot said in an overjoyed tone. “Now we just need to find the nearest fast-food restaurant. My records tell me there is one still partially standing around that corner.”
Frolicking down the street with her potato man on her shoulder, the twelve-foot tall robot quickly made her way to what remained of a local Burner King, New City’s favorite junk food chain and your one-stop shop for anything that can be cooked on a grill or in a deep fryer. Whether it was a succulent hamburger, potatoes, or even an ice cream, they would deep fry it for you, guaranteed.
Leaning down to cross the doorway, Cratherine stepped into the wreck of the restaurant. Surprisingly, the lights were still on, despite half of the dining area being ripped apart.
“Excellent,” she said. “The kitchen is mostly intact. That’s what we wanted.”
They made their way behind the counter and into the cooking area. The robot stopped in front of the large industrial fryer mounted in between some steel counters and the rows of grills.
“The Deepfryolizer 900,” her robotic voice whispered as she gazed in awe at the kitchen appliance. “One of my creator’s earliest inventions. Don’t ask about prototypes 1-899.”
“Okay,” Tater Tot said, hopping off her shoulder and onto the countertop. “What do we do now?”
“First, I must assimilate it,” the giant robot said, as she effortlessly ripped the deep fryer from its stand and started compressing it into a more digestible cube.
“I will require one of those jugs of cooking oil, too.”
Tater Tot dragged the container onto the surface he was on and popped it open as his partner crunched the Deepfryolizer inside herself.
“It is done,” Cratherine announced, her head sliding back over her cubic torso to expose the top of her initial crate form.
She pressed a button on the front of her body and a lid popped open on the top of her crate.
“Fill me up, my starchy tiger,” she said with a metallic growl.
The potato man let out a trembling breath and smiled as he poured the cooking oil into her newly formed frying compartment.
“It’s at maximum capacity. What now?”
“Now you sit on me.”
Tater Tot dry swallowed with a loud gulp.
“Lower yourself into the oil,” she instructed. “Slowly.”
“Right,” he said, climbing up her cold metal body and placing his lower end into the opening, until they were face to face, their eyes locked on each other.
“Now we turn up the heat,” Cratherine said, as she flicked another one of her switches and the half man shivered at the feeling of the oil bubbling up. “Shall we do this… French style?”
Tater Tot nodded with a nervous smile.
As the frying process began, the robot started quickly throwing raw potatoes from an open sack into the oil.
“Oh, geez, Cratherine,” Tater Tot said in a trembling voice. “I never felt anything like this. I’m not sure I can hold much longer. I might—”
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That’s it! Time out! I think we get it. He grew a new pair of legs during that whole… process. No need to keep going. Is there a way to turn [Awareness] off? Are all Quest Rewards going to be like this? Please, just tell them to wrap it up, Daizy.
“Ugh, why?” she protested. “You’re so weird sometimes.”
Tater Tot and Cratherine exchanged glances as Trey argued with himself in a little girl’s voice.
“Party pooper over here wants you to wrap it up,” Daizy said to the potato man. “Your story is kinda long and I’m getting bored, anyway.”
“Well, uh, yeah, so that’s about it,” the potato man said. “Cratherine’s idea worked great. I got a new pair of legs, and then she suggested we come here to the botanical garden to celebrate and look at the blossoming potato plants.”
“What about those?” Daizy asked, pointing at the heart-pattern boxers while hanging Trey’s head on one hand and letting out a long yawn.
“Oh, these? They just appeared on me when I got out of the deep fryer. Apparently, that just happens automatically when you leave the PG-13 button pressed on the Deepfryolizer 900.”
“Cool, cool,” Daizy said, looking at the couple with heavy eyes.
“Now that we have shared our history logs, child,” Cratherine said in her monotone voice, “we require interaction with another one of your cousins.”
“Yeah, sure, sure…” the young aphid said, clearly having paid no attention to what was said as she began dozing off.
Daizy? Are you falling asleep?! Hey, come on, at least call someone else before you—
Trey’s sitting body toppled forward, his forehead resting against the cold concrete floor with both arms sprawled in different directions, a puddle of drool quickly forming next to his open mouth as he began snoring loudly.
Tater Tot glanced at Cratherine and then back at Trey. “Should… should we do something?”
The robot shrugged.