PERCEPTION (SKILL CHECK 4/6: 2 = PASSED) – Uh- Sir, something is… off about the man. The armor he’s wearing seems almost too slim, too tight over his form. It’s as if there’s nothing but skin and bones beneath.
RHETORIC – And why exactly should we take your word for it? You didn’t even notice him until he was literally pointed out.
NARRATOR – No, he’s right. The man would have to be extremely emaciated for that armor to fit correctly. Downright skeletal, in fact. But then, why would he be wearing it in the first place? Surely it must be too heavy for someone of his build.
HALF LIGHT – This is… unsettling. Stay away from it – it’s some kind anomalous entity. The kind that eats souls.
INLAND EMPIRE – Bashollkhèrre. Vengeful spirits that died defended the Uffernolorrét. Now they blindly roam Thespir, corrupted by the taint they once fought against, and bestowing whispered madness upon the unfortunates capable of perceiving them.
LOGIC – No such thing as ghosts or ‘anomalous’ entities. Please don’t humor them – they’ll only take it as encouragement.
YOU – Well, I should probably still talk to him. The Bartender said he was ‘sent for me’. So maybe he’ll know who I am.
NARRATOR – You walk over to the strange man, mind busy thinking of what you’ll say to him. First impressions are important after all.
The man, seeing your approach, snaps even more to attention – somehow – and begins marching towards you as well. The slight whirring of mechanical joints accentuating his ever step.
As you both near each other, something about him become clear to you.
LOGIC – Wait, this is not a man at all! The ‘armor’ is too small because it isn’t armor – it’s ‘his’ body.
This is a robot.
INTERFACING – Android. The proper term for a humanoid robot, such as this one, is android.
NARRATOR – Well, whatever it’s called, the automaton stops before you. Its body is similar in size and shape to yours, but thinner in proportion. Black makes up the primary component of its color scheme, with red and yellow highlights sprinkled about. Your eyes are briefly drawn to the symbol emblazoned proudly across its chest – the same as on your tie.
The android’s smooth head, propped on a skeletal series of servos sparsely wrapped in dark, muscle-like cords, is simplistic in design. Two yellow optical sensors placed approximately where eyes should, and a series of audio-amplifying divots and holes in place of a mouth.
As you examine the mechanical oddity, its voice box suddenly crackles to life. “Detective. I am the android sent by Pedef-Thien. Model: [REDACTED]. Designation: D30-26-19221991. My duty is to aide you in your investigation. What do you require of me, Detective?” The near-monotonous tone of the android’s speech only serves to highlight its underlying electric reverberance. It almost sounds like if someone had a high-voltage cable in place of vocal cords.
REACTION SPEED – Why was this android sent to you?
YOU – “Why were you sent to me?”
NARRATOR – D30-26-19221991 pauses for a moment, almost as if caught off-guard with your question. “You requested an android assistant five days ago, along with ‘five whole gints’ and a ‘bottle of hangberry rum’. You stated you were cooking a meal of a nondisclosed nature. I was requested as assistance in this endeavor. My dispatchment was approved by a local Pedef-Thien Observance Node three days ago. The other items requested were not.” There is no movement from the android as it speaks. None of the slight twitches and shifts that humans find so impossible to avoid.
COMPOSURE – …That does seem like you, from what little I know.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – They didn’t approve the food or drink? Why not?! I know that recipe. It’s bloody delicious! Though it would have needed some spices and sides…
INTERFACING – Maybe you already had them?
VOLITION – The food is irrelevant to this conversation. Can’t anything keep your attentions satisfied for more than thirty seconds? He is literally speaking with an android right now! This is interesting [Belgium]!
YOU – Would I really call an ‘Observance Node’ just for a home-cooked dinner and… robot waiter?
NARRATOR – A neuro-electric wave of intent crashes against your psyche, bearing with it only a single word – ‘yes’.
YOU – I- I guess…
SUGGESTION – Hey! You’re still in the middle of a conversation! You can’t keep pausing like this, it’ll start to get weird.
YOU – Well, what should I say?
SUGGESTION – I don’t know – improvise!
YOU – “Oh uh, that’s… cool… I don’t have anything mentally unhinged to do or say at the moment.”
SUGGESTION – …Never improvise again.
NARRATOR – A small buzz emanates from the ‘chest cavity’ of D30-26-19221991 “Noted, Detective.”
INTERFACING – That was its internal computing mechanisms processing and storing the information you provided – FYI.
YOU – Is it going to do that every time I say something?
INTERFACING – Probably not. Right now, it is most likely building a behavioral profile of you to give itself a better picture of how to assist your investigation. This means that it will record just about everything it thinks is important about your personality. These first few minutes of interaction could be vital for determining the exact nature of your cooperation in the future.
NARRATOR – You stare, silently, at D30-26-19221991. The android does the same.
SUGGESTION – I said to stop this!
YOU – So then, what should I say? If it’s that important, it needs to be good, right?
LOGIC – Well you were just asking for someone to call a doctor. This thing probably has a connection of some sort to emergency services or, failing that, it could simply direct you to the nearest clinic.
INTERFACING – Ask D30-26-19221991 about its inner workings!
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – You could always ask it to lend you some liquor. Just saying.
LOGIC – And why would the robot possess alcohol?
INLAND EMPIRE – Because alcohol powers its fuel cells, obviously.
INTERFACING – I don’t think I even need to explain the myriad of ways in which that wouldn’t work.
HALF LIGHT – It doesn’t matter what you ‘explain’. You’ve clearly been compromised.
INTERFACING – What?
HALF LIGHT – You are in love with this machine!
INTERFACING – What?
HALF LIGHT – Admit your treachery, turncoat!
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Look man, you’ve been brushing my- our needs aside for quite some time now. Just do this one thing for me? Please? I promise not to bug you again for… at least an hour.
VOLITION – Doing ‘this one thing’ for you is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place!
NARRATOR – You mull over the offer, letting out a sigh as you turn back to D30-26-19221991.
YOU – “Do you… have any liquor? Like, a frinale or something? Anything alcoholic.”
NARRATOR – D30-26-19221991 gives a stiff headshake – the rest of its body perfectly motionless. “Negative. Apologies, Detective.”
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – [Belgium]!
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
NARRATOR – D30-26-19221991 buzzes, interrupting yet another internal argument before it has the chance to begin. “If I may ask, how would alcohol assist in the investigation?”
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Because you need it to function!
YOU – I’m not saying that.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – But it’s true.
VOLITION – It isn’t.
NARRATOR – “Detective? You have not answered my question for fifteen seconds. Are you alright?”
LOGIC – You really, really aren’t.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Not until you get your hands on some liquid courage at least.
VOLITION – You promised to not pester him with this for an entire hour.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Oh c’mon, I’m not pestering anybody right now. I’m just calmly stating a fact.
VOLITION – All you do is pester. It’s your whole thing!
NARRATOR – You still haven’t said anything – in response to D30-26-19221991’s question or otherwise. You’ve just been blankly staring at the android. And it has been staring at you. The only noise between the two of you is your breathing, and a light humming from its internal mechanisms.
You are staring at D30-26-19221991. Silently.
D30-26-19221991 is staring at you. Silently.
You’re staring.
It is staring.
Silently.
Staring.
Silent.
Silent staring.
Staring silent.
At each other.
Silently.
Then, at last, it dawns upon you…
This is a staring contest now.
INTERFACING – What?
YOU – It- it is?
NARRATOR – Yessssss! It’s amazing!
CONCEPTUALIZATION – Man vs. Machine! Who will break first?
YOU – But do I have to do this? Doesn’t seem necessary.
HALF LIGHT – Are you being serious right now? A tiger will only pounce if it thinks you aren’t looking directly at it. The very moment you glance away from this thing, it’ll start eating your liver!
LIVER? – Noooooooo.
INTERFACING – What? It’s an android. They hate liver. Much less a mouth to eat with. What?
HALF LIGHT – I’ve already said you’re compromised, no need to further prove my point!
INTERFACING – What?
AUTHORITY – Fallacious as may be, you still must not- not... n- khm…
…
…You are a man.
YOU – Okay…
LOGIC – But it doesn’t even have eyelids! You might as well hold a staring contest with a flashlight or the sun!
YOU – “Ssssunnn-uh…”
NARRATOR – “Detective?” –––ro––––w–––y–– in its voice.
ENDURANCE – S-something’s wrong…
NARRATOR – This is a test of will unlike any you can remember. Possible due to the fact that you can’t remember anything before twenty minutes, but, still, it is really hard.
A bee of sweat roll downs you face. The automaton simply stands there. Watching you…
YOU – I need to blink!
NARRATOR – You feel your eyelid twitching uncontrollably, but an iron resolve forces it still.
INTERFACING – What?
ENDURANCE – Wait, stop! Your- uh-uh-pfu-uhh- everything is failing! Eyes are dry! Blink!
NARRATOR – Your heart hammers and pounds against your ribcage. The room spins around you.
But in the midst of the confusing blur, D30-26-19221991 stands, its optical receptors clear as day. You will not allow yourself to lose. Nothing else exists. Only the stare.
AUTHORITY – Yeah, this robot’s circuits when it thought you wouldn’t be able to beat it at a trivial staring contest.
ENDURANCE – You’re having a stroke. Or, possibly, several.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Strokes are just flesh wounds! You can handle a little stroke, can't you?
NARRATOR – Sweat drips down your face. Your breathing comes in labored gasps. What’s happening? D30-26-19221991 steps closer, extending a hand. “Are you alright Detective? You appear to be experiencing difficulties respirating. Do you require medical attention?”
AUTHORITY (SKILL CHECK 4/6: 2 = PASSED) – Is it insulting you?!
DRAMA – No!
NARRATOR – Oh but it certainly feels that way to your oxygen-deprived brain.
SAVOIR FAIRE – Aaaah!
NARRATOR – The robot has besmirched your honor. There is now no other option, but to continue staring.
ENDURANCE – Okay, okay, okay, that’s enough! Whatever’s happening, this stupid contest is to blame. I’m putting a stop to it!
NARRATOR – But alas, you cannot stop. You literally, physically, can’t. Your eyelids will not move. Your fingers will not move. Your entire body will not move.
You’re paralyzed.
Suddenly, you cough, or, possibly, snort – it’s hard to tell. Either way, the expulsion of air carries with it a large glob blood and mucous from your nostrils. Feels almost like sneezing . Then once more your body erupts into pain, legs turning to quivering jelly beneath you.
Before you even realize that you’re falling, the back of your skull has already hit the edge of something hard.
Thankfully, this time you are at least capable of slipping into unconsci-
...
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NARRATOR – You’re falling. You feel it. You know it. But there is no wind buffeting your descent, nor do your eardrums burst from the sheer speed of it.
There is nothing. No air, no pressure. No ‘up’ or ‘down’. No ‘gravity’ or ‘ground’. Nothing exists here, except for you.
And yet still you feel, know, that you are falling…
Your eyes open, and you see a light above you. Two inches or two miles away, you cannot tell. But it is above you.
The light… it- your eyes open.
Suddenly, you find yourself back in The Drop Off Hotel, laying on the vinyl floor.
Though blurred to an almost incomprehensible degree, you see D30-26-19221991 standing above you, silently observing your sprawled form.
YOU – “Above…”
NARRATOR – “Detective.” The android’s synthetic voice cuts through your brain fog, bringing clarity to your sight. “You seem to have suffered a major seizure. Do you require medical assistance?”
YOU – “N-no, I’m fine.” I’m fine?
PAIN THRESHOLD – Uhrrr you… feel fine, certainly.
LOGIC – Wua-u-no you’re not fine! You’ve just had a stroke.
INTERFACING – I… can’t quite tell what that was, but it certainly wasn’t a stroke.
YOU – Seemed like a stroke to me…
INTERFACING – And how could you tell? Have you ever had any strokes before, Mr. Amnesia?
RHETORIC – Let’s not get bogged down in semantics. The point is that, whatever medical episode it may have been, it was quite serious in nature.
ENDURANCE – Well, I can’t find any serious damage. Can’t find any damage at all actually… anywhere.
NARRATOR – Tentatively, you begin rising when D30-26-19221991 offers you its hand. Black, metallic knuckles contrasting against a deep vermillion padded lining over the interior side.
INTERFACING – A weave of synthetic leather and pressure sensors designed for the handling of delicate objects – most typically, broken glass.
NARRATOR – You take hold of the android’s palm, and the world shifts as you are helped to your feet.
YOU – “What happened?”
NARRATOR – You rub the back of your skull. For some reason, your hair feels wet. The robotic assistant buzzes out a response before you can determine why. “You started sweating profusely, muttering under your breath, and experienced major difficulties respirating. Then, you collapsed, your head collided with that table, and you lost consciousness. Afterwards, you convulsed upon the floor until you awoke.
You glance behind yourself, seeing a broken table. Many shards of the shards of wood on the ground are splattered – or soaked – with blood. Hesitantly, you bring your fingers into view. They are covered in drying blood.
ENDURANCE – Uhr, the lack of pain might be due to brain damage.
NARRATOR – You notice, out of the corner of your eye, a young man trying to wipe specks of blood from his suit.
YOU – “…How long was I out?”
NARRATOR – The whirring noise in the background of your conversation temporarily raises by an octave. “Thirty-nine seconds.”
LOGIC – Well, any brain damage couldn’t have been too bad, then…
REACTION SPEED – Hey, couldn’t that android have just caught you? It probably has some pretty quick reflexes…
YOU – “Why didn’t you catch me?”
NARRATOR – “You did not give me such a command. Do you wish to put me under a standing order of protecting your wellbeing?”
You turn back around.
YOU – “…Yes.”
INTERFACING – You’d think that would be the default setting…
NARRATOR – D30-26-19221991 nods – just slightly. “Understood, Detective.”
The room is in, largely, the same state as before. Several dozen people trying – and failing – to be discreet about their disdain with your work ethic, smell, and general existence. The only real differences is that one of the tables is now very thoroughly broken and a concussed lout has bled all over the place.