“And that’s everything.”

427 took notes during the entire process. He barely even looked at Jester as his fingers danced through the air. Even once the story was complete, he didn’t stop typing. The look on his face was one of intense concentration.

Jester stayed silent as he waited for the man to finish. His eyes occasionally glancing to Happy Hour. She remained suspended, not so much as twitching.

It was eerie.

“Right. Do you have any ideas what might have caused this?” 427 looked up from where he was taking notes. “Any small thing might help.”

“She’s done things that have caused glitches before. I don’t know if you know about how I got stuck in The Outskirts jail?”

“It was a note in your file. Though, it said that it was because of a glitched robopet?” 427 frowned. “Was that the same robopet that infected your robot?”

Jester nodded. “Whiskers, yeah.”

“I see.”

With a sigh, 427 rolled his shoulders and let his own gaze wandered over to Happy Hour.

“Can I be blunt?”

“Please.”

“This doesn’t look good for you.” He accompanied the words with a small shrug. “No one’s outright blaming you, of course. This isn’t the first time one of DollmakerMC’s creations has caused mischief. Still, as her owner. Well, as I said. Not outright blaming you.”

That caught Jester’s attention. From the small sigh that accompanied the name, he couldn’t help but wonder what else they’d done. There was the debacle with his demonstration with the first Doll. Everyone knew about that one.

However, he got the inkling 427 was talking about something else.

“I see. She is a bit of a handful of times.” That earned him a laugh, and he let himself smile as he turned to Happy Hour. “Are you going to delete her?”

“Honestly?” 427 gestured at where he’d been typing. “Above my pay grade. To me, this sounds like a weird interaction. A soft reboot should be fine. Though with her new notoriety? Fame? Whichever. That combined with the idea that she attacked someone? Iffy.”

Jester shook his head. “She didn’t even touch him. That sword in her chest knocked the guy over.”

“The sword that is now, for the moment, a part of her. Still counts. As I said, it wouldn’t be my recommendation.” 427 held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Not my call, though.”

“Whose call is it, then? Can I talk to them?”

427 smiled.

“I’m glad you asked. They’d love to speak with you. Do you have some time?”

“Right now?”

“That would be preferable. The rumor mill around the office says they’re going to want to get ahead of this one.”

Jester chewed his lip and tried to think if he had anything pressing. No big things came to mind. If he was late for work the next day, he could blame it on something else. He wasn’t tardy often enough for anyone to make a big deal about it.

“Yeah, I have time. Thank you.”

“No problem. You’re the politest one of these I’ve had in a bit. The stories I can tell you.” He laughed and waved his hand. “Not that I could. We’ll have someone in with you shortly.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure, see you Jester.”

427 vanished, and the room was quiet. There wasn’t a single sound in this white space, and with no other people, it became unnerving. More for something to do than any worry, he moved over to check Happy Hour.

She was still a mess. All the junk attached to her shining in the omnipresent light.

The knife arm attached to her neck poised as though to strike.

He hated seeing it. She was a serving Android. An entertainment robot. Her function was to help and make people laugh. To give them an enjoyable service experience.

Now she was sinister. Cruel.

It was wrong.

His hand reached up to touch the side of her face. A variety of textures met his hand, from the soft fur to the coarseness of the mask. One finger traced along the makeshift chain glasses. Out from them, those unblinking green eyes stared.

“I hope they can fix you,” he whispered. “I want my Happy Hour back.”

“Well, good thing that’s what I’m here to talk about.”

The voice from behind him made him jump. The figure didn’t look that different from 427. Though this one wore a suit that screamed expensive, even in the digital real. His smile was also wider.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt?” There was a teasing edge to the voice, one that Jester didn’t like.

Still, that didn’t mean he’d be rude.

“No, I was thinking out loud. Sorry. I’m Jester, and you are?”

“You don’t know?” The man raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing my old suit.”

Jester almost choked as the words registered. His hand reaching up to grab the top hat from his head. DollmakerMC’s grin widened.

“Yes, yes. Starstruck I’m sure.”

“You work for the company?” His words came out strangled.

“Sure, it makes sense. Gave me access to more stuff for my creative endeavors. In return, I stopped breaking stuff.” At those words, they looked over at Happy Hour. “Though perhaps I haven’t held up my end of the deal.”

Jester opened his mouth to speak, and DollmakerMC put up a hand.

“You have questions, I know. Good. Questions are good. Not right now. Now is the time for answers. Ones for me specifically. You can do that, yes?”

“Sure?”

“Great. So, did you restart the quest?”

Jester noticed they talked with his hands a lot. They waved through the air at incredible speeds with every word.

“Yes, at the same spot in The Junkyard where I found her.”

“Ahh, yes I see. Hmm, her logs are all garbled. She did not enjoy trying to re-start two quests at the same time. Not at all. Oh, you poor dear.”

In two steps, they cleared the distance to be standing next to Happy Hour. They walked around her, mumbling apologies and some kind of stream-of-consciousness programming jargon. None of which Jester understood.

“So, she wanted to fight Heather again?”

He jumped when he realized DollmakerMC was speaking to him again.

“Yes? More specifically, to beat her three times. We were on attempt two when 427 pulled us into here.”

“That is fascinating.” DollmakerMC clapped their hands. “Right. Yes. Ok. So. Good news. Bad news. What do you want first?”

Jester paused as he thought about it. He didn’t like the way DollmakerMC was grinning, nor the way they prodded at Happy Hour. Creator or not, it was strange to see someone touch her so freely.

“Bad news.”

“Right. That was the correct choice. My choice. Better to know the bad, so you can get prepared early. So, the bad news.” They fell silent for a second as they ran a finger along the sword. When they got to the section of melted slag, they clicked his tongue.

“That really should have been more elegant. The merging process wasn’t my best work. Some interesting designs, don’t get me wrong. Have you seen the engine tower? That is fine. So many spinning blades.”

“Right, but the bad news?” Jester asked after another minute of his rambling.

“Oh, right. Ok. yes. Bad news. She’s broken. Bad. Like, even if you completed the quest, it wouldn’t help. Though it would stop her from breaking further. Probably. Maybe.”

It was light, a heavy weight dropped into his stomach. He looked towards Happy Hour. So messed up, but still his. He knew that. With a look he knew would betray his worry, he turned to DollmakerMC.

“What does that mean for her, then?”

“Destruction. A complete remake from the beginning. Her memories are probably fine. Pretty sure I have her original code somewhere. Maybe. Should.”

He could admit to himself he didn’t like the sound of that.

“What if you don’t have it anymore?”

“Then I probably won’t bother remaking her. She’s an older design. One that worked, but didn’t really? Plus, the whole dance emote thing can cause problems. Though you know about that already.”

“So, what’s the good news?” Jester asked.

DollmakerMC laughed, a sound filled with mirth at a joke unspoken.

“Well, why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll talk about it?”

***

Two seats materialized in the room. Simple kitchen chairs, DollmakerMC slumped down into with a contented sigh.

Jester followed suit, unsure what else to do.

Only when they’d seen Jester sit did DollmakerMC continue.

“Comfortable? Good. The good news, as you said? The good news is you’re not getting an account ban. None of this is your fault. So, congratulations. You’ll be free to go back to playing as normal. Though, as stated, you might need a new Android.”

“I don’t want a new Android.”

Jester knew the sheer venom in his words should surprise him. However, it didn’t. As much trouble as he’d gone through, Happy Hour was his robot. She’d been with him through fights, fleeing from players and dealing with idiots.

He would not let her go. Not if he didn’t have to.

DollmakerMC looked at him then. Not a stare, or a casual glance. They really looked. A shiver passed over Jester until their gaze shifted back to Happy Hour.

Stolen story; please report.

For some reason, he felt studied. Dissected in a way he couldn’t place. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief as DollmakerMC started talking again. It was a pleasant return to form.

“Tell me Jester.” His words were softer now. Less manic. “Do you really want her back? As she was, and not as I could make her?”

“Yes.” His reply was instantaneous.

With a nod, DollmakerMC stood and placed their hand on the sword once again. “Tell me. Do you know why I made her?”

“She told me you designed her to help Debrah out. To entertain customers while serving tea.” He remembered how proud she’d sounded when she’d mentioned that fact.

“Yes, and no. That was a reason I gave her. Not a lie. Debrah needed the help. Though, heather is popular from what I hear. Right. Yes. So. The other reason. I wanted to see if she could adapt to the environment.”

“What?”

“Her clothes. She was wearing serving girl clothes when you found her, correct?”

Jester nodded.

“Right, which should have made her a proper server. To function in her environment. To ignore the dancing, I programmed into her, and focus on the job.”

“But she couldn’t?”

Jester could remember her mentioning that, too. How she’d broken plenty of cups.

“No. Thus, why I said earlier, that she worked and she didn’t? Her whole deal with taking personality traits from the clothes she wore worked great. For the most part. However, I designed the gimmick to take her over completely. To get rid of anything else.”

DollmakerMC shrugged. “Still, it was fun to watch her dance. I enjoyed her dancing. Still enjoy it. She’s been a delight in the Cups. You should have heard the break room when she was dodging fire.”

“I’m sorry.” Jester raised a hand. “Did you say you programmed the clothes to take her over completely?”

“Yes. I never designed her to have any actual personality, you see. A model that could adapt as the user desired. No matter what add-ons or mods her owner used. Didn’t work. Got Happy Hour. Which was a success in itself. Never finished that project.”

They append a finger against the sword again, as they fell silent.

Jester couldn’t think of what to say. None of what they’d said changed anything. Happy Hour was still Happy Hour. It didn’t matter to him what DollmakerMC designed her for. All he wanted was her back.

That was the single thing that mattered.

“All of this is fascinating. However, I want to know if I can get her back.”

“That depends.” DollmakerMC gave him that look again, the searching, probing one. “I’ll ask you again. Now that you know what you know. Do you want her back, or what I could make her?”

The question suddenly made sense.

They were offering to give him the fixed version. A Happy Hour who didn’t need to dance. Who could blend into any outfit he gave her with perfect accuracy. She’d probably even lose the dance emote activation that caused so many bugs.

In combat, she’d be more effective. At least that felt like what he was meant to assume.

Jester looked back at DollmakerMC.

“I want my Happy Hour back. No alterations.” He stressed the word my. This wasn’t the time for any sort of misunderstanding.

The grin on their face made Jester’s own ache in sympathy.

“Good. Fantastic. Great news. Perfect. So, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Again?”

“Again! Because life is full of binary choices. Ones and zeros. Do or do not. Sleep or don’t. Eat or starve. You know them. I like them. So, what’s it to be?”

They were rubbing their hands now, as though delighting in the anticipation.

“Bad news I suppose.”

“Keep to the same strategy. Smart. Maybe. Anyway, it’s not too bad. You’re in luck. The bad news is that this will take time. A decent amount. Even for me. I have things to do. Robots to build. Meetings to sleep through.”

“And the good news?”

“The good news is that I can do it. Not too hard. Mostly time-consuming. Oh, also they’ll be some changes to her. Can’t have her bugging out with all the virus tech running around. Thankfully, I have an idea for that. Maybe two. Not that I need the second.”

“Right?” Jester was nodding along. “So, when should I expect her back?”

“Before next year. Probably before your next big fight. She’s doing well on streams. Parent groups are fuming. Say she’s displaying degeneracy to children. Not your concern, though. Right. Higher ups may give me more time off if I say I’m doing this to promote you. Hey, you wouldn’t mind saying that if they asked, right?”

“No? I can do that.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll boot you back to Debrah’s place when you’re done here. Grand lady. Need to tell her I said hi.”

They paused and then snapped their fingers.

“Right, sorry. Do you have questions?”

Jester nodded and tried to line up his own thoughts. This was a rare opportunity, but he needed to ask at least one practical question first.

“What do I do about the Cups if you’re not finished with her?”

“Do?” DollmakerMC raised an eyebrow at him again. “Get disqualified. Can’t fight without a robot. Sorry. Anything else?”

“Why did you get into building Dolls? You could have done anything?”

That appeared to catch their attention, and they sat back down.

“Why Dolls? Androids? Humanoid robots? Well, the answer is simple and complicated. Why not? No one else was, so why shouldn’t I have turned my hand to it? An unexplored field is more interesting than any other thing.”

They shrugged.

“It’s why I took this job, you know? To make new things. Things the game and the players have never experienced before. Ideas that would be interesting to watch and experience and play with. That was the point of the Dolls. Even if they perverted my idea.”

“So, you were against the brothels?” Jester stood himself, readying himself for the transfer. He knew it would happen soon.

“Against?” They blinked and shook their head. “No, not at all. They did what they were supposed to. If RagerSystems didn’t do it, someone would have made their own. Better corporate controlled than wild. I think. Never used them myself. Not my cup of tea. Never saw the point.”

With a clap of their hands, Happy Hour vanished in a thundering crack.

“No, my designs were to push realism. Never that far. No, never that far. Someone was going to do it, though. I always knew that. No more questions, I think. You’re ready to leave.”

“I am,” Jester nodded.

“Good. For what it’s worth, I’m glad she found you. It’s nice to see that you care. Though, I can say that for a lot of community. Few treat their robots badly. Those that do, don’t last.”

They clapped their hands again, and Jester found himself back on the street. Tiffany was by the door, but everyone else was gone.

She moved to him and threw her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re back, dude. Are you ok? Any trouble?”

He shook his head and hugged her back.

“No, met one of Debrah’s old friends. Think he may have set this all up. Will have to ask her.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Tiffany pulled back with a smile. “What about Happy Hour?”

“Being fixed.” Jester did his best to smile back as he said it. “Don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. Not much we can do, though.”

“True enough.” Tiffany let him go for a brief moment before she took his hand. “Come on, let’s get inside. Everyone’s waiting.”

***

The inside of the Dollhouse was entirely empty when he stepped inside.

There wasn’t even the typical basic bartender bot. No music played as they crossed the floor. A fact that made Jester’s skin crawl. It was so wrong not to see the place full of life. Even at its emptiest, there was always a small group here.

No guards stood at the base of the stairs as they made their way up. Tiffany was in the lead, her hand never leaving his.

He appreciated that.

Though he didn’t know how to say it, his insides were churning. DollmakerMC didn’t exactly give him a specific date. Which meant it could be some time before he saw Happy Hour again.

Maybe never if he couldn’t fix her.

The man was good, but no one was perfect.

Upstairs was as barren as the bottom. Tiffany lead him to a couch, and sat him down.

“Drink?”

“Sure.”

She nodded, and to his surprise, Heather sprang up from behind the bar. She didn’t meet his eye as she filled a coffee mug. When it was done, she moved back against the wall. Tiffany rose, shooing him back down when he tried to follow.

“Sit. You’ve had a crap day.”

“You aren’t wrong about that.” He let out a sigh as he sunk back into the couch.

It was soft, and he couldn’t help but appreciate it. Tiredness was sneaking up on him. He hadn’t realized how much his mind was racing. Now all he wanted to do was stop thinking.

To stop worrying about all of this.

Tiffany returned and shoved the mug into his hand.

“Drink.”

He didn’t want to argue with her, so he did as instructed. It wasn’t bad. A strong licorice flavor, mixed with something else. It left a buzzing sensation on his tongue similar to pop-rocks. He downed the rest of it in three gulps.

“Better?” she asked.

“Honestly? Yeah. Though, I’m not sure if it’s the drink or sitting down without people asking anything of me.”

Tiffany laughed and moved over. He rested a head on her shoulder, a fact that got him an approving sound. His eyes closed, and he let himself doze. Though it didn’t last as long as he’d have liked.

She shook him, and he blinked a few times.

“Mmm?” He mumbled out.

“Jester, everyone else is here.” Tiffany’s voice was soft, but she shrugged enough to get him up.

With another small groan, he sat up. She wasn’t wrong. People now surrounded him. Debrah sat on a small decorative wooden throne. Dam13n sat nearby on another couch. Kylee was looking at him with a smirk on her face. Even Heather was out from behind the bar.

Her face wearing an identical smirk to Kylee as she stood behind Debrah.

Madame Merriam also stood, her arms crossed. Her gaze was an impassive thing.

“Hi everyone, what’s up?” He asked, still feeling out of it. His brain was mush, and he wanted to sleep.

“Happy Hour.” Madame Merriam’s tone was no nonsense. “Explain.”

“I’ve been doing that a lot today.” Jester shook his head and tried to blink past the grogginess.

Under their watchful eyes, he explained his meeting. When he got to the part about DollmakerMC showing up, Debrah twitched.

“They showed up in person?”

“Sure did,” he agreed. “They were odd. Rambled a lot.”

Debrah sighed. “That was them then. Yes, they were always eccentric. Did they say they could fix her?”

“They said they should be able to? If they still had the remaining code.”

“And should they?” Madame Merriam directed the question to Debrah with a look.

However, it was Kylee who fielded it.

“Yes. The company stores most code for robotics projects in-game. Part of the EULA we signed with the company. If someone creates anything cool, they get rights.”

“Wait, they can still your designs?” Dam13n asked. “That sucks.”

“It’s why I work with parts and not code.” Kylee shrugged. “Though some people still experiment with it.”

“Be that as it may,” Madame Merriam broke in. “What are we going to do about Happy Hour?”

“What is there to do?” Jester looked at her. “DollmakerMC can either fix her or not.”

She looked affronted. “Are you not worried—”

“—worried?” He rose, ignoring Tiffany’s hand. “She’s my robot. Of course, I’m worried. However, there is nothing to do. If there was, I’d be doing it. I pissed off one of my dearest friends, made deals with you and all sorts.”

“Jester.” Tiffany tugged him down. “We get it.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Madame Merriam looked abashed, and Debrah waved a hand to get everyone’s attention.

“So, we can’t do much but wait. Did they indicate if they’d finish before the next tournament?”

“Yes. Though they started by saying before next year and said I’d be disqualified otherwise.”

“Correct.” She sighed. “If it wasn’t for that, I’d lend you Heather.”

The blonde Android flipped her hair out of her face and smiled.

“Probably for the best you don’t. They’ve never seen someone like me on stage.”

Kylee snorted at that.

“Sure, but does that mean all this was for nothing?” Dam13n asked.

“What do you mean?” Debrah asked.

“Well, I don’t know about you. But I’ve been copping more flak when walking around than before. So has Jester. If no more fights, and if Happy Hour doesn’t make it.”

He held up her hands as Jester opened his mouth.

“I’m not saying she won’t. All I’m saying is it seems like we’ve all been through a lot for potentially no gain.” He shrugged. “Just saying man.”

“Oh, get over it Dam13n,” Tiffany said. “You’re the exact social butterfly you’ve always been.”

“Besides, I’ve gained a fair bit myself,” Kylee offered. “The mere act of making all this weird stuff has gotten me some fun new designs to play with.”

“Same boat for me, boy.” Madame Merriam shot a disgusted look at Dam13n. “My creative juices have never flowed so much before.”

“Plus, the stigma around Dolls is changing.” Debrah waved a hand at heather. “Which has been great for business.”

“Right, ok. Cool. Objection withdrawn.” Dam13n put his hands up. “Was simplifying asking.”

“Don’t ask dumb things, dude.” Tiffany glared at him. “Now, what did you all want to discuss? Not to be rude, Jester, but you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I am, so none taken.”

A yawn broke up his words, which got him a laugh from Kylee.

“We mostly wanted to check up on you. Make sure that you were ok.” Debrah smiled at him. “To let you know you still have our support, regardless of what happened.”

“Seconded.” Madame Merriam took a step forward. “Plus, I have some ideas for costumes for you. If they’re going to parade you on stage, you’ll need something to wear. If you don’t match, it’ll look strange.”

He forced himself not to grimace at that idea.

“Sounds great.”

“Excellent. We’ll discuss it more when she gets back.”

“If that’s all,” Tiffany dragged him up. “You log off at Markal’s, right?”

“Yeah, but I can go closer if it helps.”

“Do it here,” Debrah said. “It’s a familiar location, and it might not be best to be seen too much without Happy Hour around. Last thing we need is people finding out she’s gone through an ill attempted challenge attempt.”

Jester nodded, too tired to argue.

Instead, he selected the option and logged off.

As soon as he was back in the real world, he set up a new trigger.

The trigger would forward any in-game messages with specific keywords to his phone. That would allow him to know the instant she was back.

He didn’t want to miss that for even a second longer than he needed to.