II

Perfect Angle

“Everyone ready? The golden hour is coming!”

Misty checked the angle for the fifth time. The clip was supposed to be one minute long, and they had been working on it like crazy for three days already. Were they that amateur, or was this totally normal?

A catastrophe was bound to happen now, and the he bet on the balloon-shooter. Misty was right. The thud resonated to his deepest circuits.

„Blasted balloons!” roared Captain Roger. „Devil made them! To hell with them all! Dorkins, are ye all right?”

The drone frantically tried to free himself from the garland and ribbons. Balloons got tangled in the propellers, and Dorkins fell down with all accessories attached. Misty checked the camera. Luckily, he had caught the whole scene. He wasn’t quite sure if it suited the movie promotion, but that accident was spectacular in its own way.

"Stop! All of you!” Director came to them, waving his hands frantically. „I’ve got enough! Call ByePacker to make a tracking video like last time. He can search through your material if he likes. I’m calling it a day. Wrap it up and go recharging. I need a drink. Misty, come see me when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir.”

Misty exchanged glances with Captain Roger. They were doing well under the circumstances—dealing with smoke machines, balloon-shooters, foam fountains, and even chocolate butterflies. It wasn’t their fault that these special effects were demanding to clean up. Dorkins was the hero of the hour, flying inside a tent with garlands, ribbons, and throwing confetti. His battery now flashed in an alarming dark orange.

“C’m, buddy, let’s go to the charging room,” said Captain Roger, taking him gently in his arms. “Misty, can you turn this devilish balloon machine off before I throw it overboard?”

Misty nodded and continued to clean. It took him an hour to get everything sorted out. Then he had to wait for ByePacker to show him their takes. He arrived shortly with a big smile.

“All right, metal ones!” said the teenager taking his seat in front of the screens. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

He was an energetic young man full of ideas and unfinished projects. Misty made him tea with strawberry bubbles and then called Skinny. He was no longer going to pretend that he was responsible for all that mess.

“Director wants it to invite interactions,” Skinny checked her notes. “Erm be . . . engaging. Is that the right word, Misty?”

"Quite a broad angle for a connection with the viewer,” ByePacker said, slurping noisily as he watched. “Tell me, Misty, what were you going to shoot with that high-angle view? The scenery of the surrounding hills and the sunrise scenery? Beautiful, I must admit.” He squinted and tilted his head to one side. “But what is that? A battle field? Now I’m expecting to see a wizard and an army roll down those hills!"

Skinny laughed quietly but stopped under Misty’s glare.

It’s easy for her to laugh now, Misty thought. She spent her morning in a dry tent with garlands and ribbons while he was outside setting up equipment on grass covered with morning dew.

“I’m not experienced in all that,” Misty said aloud. “It’s only the third day of my new duties.”

“Why on Earth didn’t you called me earlier?” ByePacker looked at him bewildered. “I was sitting around bored for three days playing Space Orchard and waiting for your call!”

“You know our Director,” Misty said, hoping that Skinny would take over the conversation over, but she was silent.

Skinny hated confrontations with humans—they made her dizzy. Her talking module was working properly, but for some reason, she wasn’t sure of the recommended words to use. But it didn’t matter because most humans were smart enough to overlook small mistakes.

“Director pays by the hour, so he tried to make us some work instead,” explained Misty, choosing to be honest.

ByePacker looked at him in surprise and then laughed loudly. “That’s why I like working with you metal folk. Sincere to the fault! Can you make me another strawberry tea? I’ll show you how to crop.”

Misty spent another hour listening and watching. It was tiresome work, even for a robot.

“Tell me, ByePacker, is this how you work as an influencer?” Skinny asked after a while. “I thought . . . it would be more fun.”

“It is,” said the teenager with a smile. “You have fans and followers, and most of them are awesome. And the final effect is always rewarding. I’ll add some effects now, and you’ll see how neat it is.”

Unfortunately, Misty didn’t get that far. He got a glowing red message:

“Misty, come to the recharging room. There’s something wrong with Dorkins. Please hurry!"

Shiny’s voice sounded concerned, and Misty hurried to the recharging room at once. He remembered the orange color of the drone. Had Dorkins been hurt by the fall?

“He can’t recharge,” Captain Roger said with a heavy sigh. “I’ve checked connections and cables, and they seem all right, all of them. One of the cameras crashed, and I’ve replaced it.”

He was so anxious that his pirate mode wasn’t working properly. Misty found it disturbing. Had he already gotten used to this peculiar speech pattern?

"And his overall scan is similar to the previous ones.” Shiny presented Misty a comparison on her screen.

Why was Misty responsible for everything now? A few days ago, when he was sitting in his tent and shuffling cards as a mechanical fortune-teller, nobody cared about his opinions. But now it seemed he was the only one capable of making decisions.

“It’s nothing physical,” stated Misty. “It’s guilt.”

“Guilt?” Shiny seemed to be surprised. “How can a robot have guilt?”

“You know that we work with people and take on some of their habits and emotions. We develop new feelings based on our installed set,” Misty was more concerned than he showed. “Dorkins had a hard time recently. He doesn’t have an interface, face, hands, or legs, so he feels inferior to other robots. It’s hard for him to fly in the tents, so he can’t see all the shows and can’t participate in some of the events. And now . . . well, this whole promotional campaign wore him down. Give him some motivational impulses and try to charge him again in a little while. Hopefully that will help.”

Captain Roger was relieved to hear a possible solution. “Aye, C’ptain! I’ll be damned if I don’t do that!”

“You should go to Director to keep him in the loop,” said Shiny. “I’ll stay here.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Shiny was right. Misty had postponed the meeting with Director, trying to act busy, but he should visit him today. Hopefully, his boss fell asleep after drinking. He tended to be lightheaded after a glass of whiskey.

But Director was awake, clutching an empty glass in his hand. Misty approached him cautiously and took the opposite seat.

“ByePacker is in the recording room now. He said that tracking videos are shameful these days, so he’ll montage some scenes from our camera and add some content,” said Misty slowly.

“Shameful,” repeated Director, wiping sweat off his forehead. “That means outdated, right?”

“I’m not sure about the newest trend, but yes, sir, you’re right. They also say painful to watch or moldy, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Director looked at him with a unreadable expression. Was he tired? Resigned?

“What’s wrong, sir, if I may ask?”

It was always better to ask a human about his emotions than guess. Every so often the question was enough to make them feel better.

“I don’t get it, Misty. Pour me another one, please.”

Misty had better things to do than listening to a drunken Director, but he knew his place. So he equipped his superior with another drink and patiently waited for his confession. It took exactly 38 minutes of waiting.

“I’ve always wanted you to change,” said Director finally. “And here you are, talking about content and tracking videos, and I’m still unsatisfied. Guess I really don’t like you. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t bother me, sir,” answered Misty honestly. “ls there a particular reason for your dislike?”

“Yes, there is,” Director averted his eyes. “My father. He was so proud of you, more proud than of me. I was just a boy who couldn’t stay still and you... well, so qualified and eloquent. Would you give me another drink?”

“I must decline, sir. You’ll regret it tomorrow.”

Director was silent for a moment and then breathed deeply. He looked tired, really tired.

“Why are you still here, Misty? I thought that you’ll resign when I showed you a new robot. But you’re learning new things that cannot interest you in the slightest.”

“It’s simple,” said Misty knowing that he has to be honest now. “I’ve got friends here. And I would rather not be sold for parts, sir.”

“Sold for parts?” repeated Director. “How come?”

“You wanted me to be tested,” explained Misty. “Everyone know what it means.”

“Well, it’s a standard procedure for robots who were working for a long time. Some parts are replaced, other fixed, and robots are always asked which emotions and memories they want to keep. Are you scared of that? You don’t have problems with checkups.”

Director seems to be convinced that it’s just a normal procedure. Well, he must hear the truth.

"Sir, it’s that what they tell you, I’m afraid,” Misty tried to put some compassion to his voice. “There were cases of robots who saw their parts implemented to other robots afterward.”

“Well, if they change the parts, shouldn’t they reuse them elsewhere?” Director thought for a while. „It’s difficult to find spare parts these days. I think that they erase this process from the robot’s memory, so maybe that’s why it may come to some confusions. But it’s voluntary, I’m sure of it.”

“Then what about Pianist? He never returned from Modern New World.”

Director looked at him puzzled. Then he sighed again.

“Misty, what do you take me for? Do you really think I would sell you for parts after working for the circus for so long? And... about Pianist. I had no clue that you liked him so much. Well, Misty, Pianist was not parted. Pianist was tested and renewed. He just didn’t want to come here back. He said it would do him no good, remind him of his failures. I’m sorry. I think I might have had put too much pressure on him. It’s another mistake of mine.”

And then Misty ran. He was a holdover of the big-scale time, when people were proud of technology and had resources to perform their ambitions. So he ran out of Director’s office, jumped from the stairs, fell down, got up, and ran for the gate. He must catch him, he must stop him.

“ByePacker!”

The teenager turned around, one leg already in autocar.

“Can we talk for a minute? It’s important,” Misty slowed down, hearing cracking in his joints.

“All right,” ByePacker slammed the door and sent autocar away. "Just let me message my mum.”

Misty waited. He was good at waiting, time was always on his side. But not now, not anymore.

“The video must be rendering now, was there any issue with that?” ByePacker sent a message with a wave and looked at Misty. “It turned out decent. Not amazing but satisfactory,” he added quickly.

“No, it’s not about that,” suddenly Misty doesn’t know how to explain himself, he wasn’t used to act on such impulses. “Can you redo it?”

ByePacker blinked. Misty knew he had to act quickly before anyone noticed his unusual behavior.

“I need you to use Dorkins’s material instead of mine,” explained robot. “He’s got four cameras installed, one got broken. The video should be already available in the Ground...”

“I know,” ByePacker interrupted him impatiently. “I know where all videos are stored. And I saw those videos from the drone. A bit blurred, even your takes were better. No need to worry, the video looks good now, I know how to make these things right.”

“It’s about Dorkins,” Misty hoped that the teenager would understand. “Dorkins doesn’t respond, doesn’t recharge. I just want him to have his moment. He worked so hard to make this video.”

ByePacker was silent for a moment.

“You want to me to go through all once again to make your friend feel better?” he asked slowly, as he didn’t understand a word.

“I know it’s a lot. I’ll pay you double from my money and make sure Skinny won’t tell a thing. Please.”

ByePacker smiled suddenly, and Misty felt hope. Maybe it will be all right this time?

“Misty, you know it’s not about a stupid video, don’t you? You cannot change the way how he perceives himself, even if you make him a hero. Believe me, I’ve learnt it the hard way. And what about you and your work? Director would be disappointed, you spent so much time on recording and then none of it will be aired.”

For a moment, teenager sounded like an adult. Too serious for his usual cheerful self.

“I think Director will avoid me for a few days regardless of the video,” Misty considered it for a while. “It doesn’t matter now,” he shrugged his shoulders, he liked that gesture. “I just want Dorkins to succeed once.”

“He’ll hate you if he finds out,” stated ByePacker. “But fine, I’ll do it, I don’t have anything else to do anyway. Pay me a normal price, you’re doing it for a friend. One condition though.”

Of course, there must be a catch. Humans always leave the most important piece of information for the end.

“You’ll collab with me,” the teenager smiled brightly. “We’ll make a video together. What say you?”

“Video? What kind of video?” Misty was confused. Epic view in three steps?"

“You’re hilarious!” ByePacker laughed. “We’ll see, you’re leaving the town after the final show, right? Just come over to my studio with strawberry bubble tea, my mum will be delighted. I don’t have many metal friends, you know. And something tells me, you’d make a good one.”