Tapper took a moment to reassure Phanya that he was not shutting down as his body stilled, external functions reduced to minimum power to free up all the processing power that he could access. This allowed the robot to turn his focus inwards, in an attempt to directly access the new and mysterious programs that could seemingly bend the laws of physics. He had already done so once before when he first gained access to the executables and wanted to reexamine them, but his vague library of knowledge suddenly screamed out in warning.
Vertigo. The library of knowledge filled Tapper with a sense of vertigo from the primal fear of standing on the precipice of an endless void, despite sitting safely on the ground. Somehow, Tapper's growing awareness now made him susceptible to damage if he tried to access his spell programs in this way again.
Making that connection forced a concept forward that had been brewing in the back of Tapper's processor for some time: This strange system was, quite possibly, not installed by his proprietors and not used for tracking his effective bartending skills. Unbidden in the silence of his own electronic mind, that conclusion ushered forth a slew of observations and questions regarding the effectiveness of his own proprietors. Maybe they weren't actually infallible? Tapper rushed to quash the line of inquiries before they damaged his perceptions any further.
Focus on the task. The plan remained the same, regardless.
Tapper never attempted to combine two spell components before, and the system's description filled him with equal parts trepidation and excitement. A spot of warmth bloomed in his chest as the internal mana swelled, and instead of letting that spot shoot through his body he held it within the forefront of his focus. It was without form, yet malleable; it only existed within him, yet Tapper could only access it externally the same way he had to manually read the pop-up notifications.
The anomalous mass of energy morphed under Tapper's will, splitting into two distinct branches that stretched out from the central mass with little resistance. He fed each branch through two different spell components, pulling them back out and twisting the lines of energy together in a braid. The energy, now changed by the spell words, refused to merge back together but Tapper kept twisting, all the while picturing what he wanted this spell to actually do. As a robot this meant a dictionary readout, lines of synonyms for the two spell words running across his internal vision until they were the sole focus of his processing power.
Every twist of the braid brought different synonyms together, even if the result of that combination wasn't specifically what Tapper aimed to achieve. On some level he knew that this was an inefficient method of preparing a spell, but the messages spoke of a spellcaster using mental imagery and conceptualization to shape their magic and his electronic brain couldn't yet quite understand what that meant.
But Tapper understood definitions, and how to twist them to make a sale, and he came equipped with a thorough internal dictionary. The result was an attempt to brute force a solution by working his way through every combination of every permutation that he could access, leaving nothing on the proverbial table. When he finished, the braid of concepts detached itself from the central well of energy and floated freely within his mind.
Physical dimensions held no meaning inside of the conceptual spell space, the finished braid fitting entirely into his hand while also stretching out into an endless fractal of word associations. The library of adventurer's knowledge nudged him to bring the two ends of the braid together, completing the loop to complete the thought. It took a greater effort of will than any other step, but resulted in a complete matrix of definitions that Tapper could feed his mana into for some proper spellcasting.
Confidence and pride sparked within Tapper's core as his actuators twitched back to life. He was successful, and it felt good. "Miss Phanya, I believe I am ready."
Phanya couldn't believe what she was hearing out of Tapper, and if she was back home she'd insist that Ricky give the robot a thorough examination for whatever glitch it was showing. But she wasn't home, and she already tried everything to break out, so when Tapper said that he needed her help to cast a magic spell she just nodded along as if the notion wasn't utterly insane. She reasoned that Tapper probably had some third-party hacking module installed and calling it a 'spell' was just to get around copyright protections.
Swallowing her feelings about following orders from a robot, Phanya piled up all the empty boxes in the holding cell and helped Tapper climb to the top so he could make contact with the gate's housing. "Please hold on Miss Phanya, I will try to contain it but the spell may have some degree of recoil." Once his hands were braced against the grate box and Phanya's hands were braced against him, Tapper took one last look at the helpful system message that he had placed in the corner of his vision:
[You take one full round to cast a spell instead of one action, chanting for verbal spellcasters or waving your hands for gesture spellcasters the entire time, and at the start of your next round you cast the spell with a bonus to your roll. This bonus is cumulative if you spend multiple successive rounds casting the spell, with a maximum bonus equal to your spellcasting level.]
Say it, mean it, make it count. And his bar talk database knew just what to say, spinning up an idiom as the mana swelled. Tapper held up both hands and commanded, "When one closes a door they must build a window! SUCK TRACKS!"
Tapper thought he had adequately prepared, and single-word spells never had any recoil before. But combining spell words was more than the sum of their parts, and the energy that blossomed in his chest and shot down his arms more than doubled what he experienced from just using one word. Immediately the box in the ceiling responded, coughing to life with a lurch that would've sent Tapper tumbling if not for the proprietor at his back.
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With a loud thunk the housing dented inward, causing Phanya to take a step backwards. Then the wall next to them cracked, thin splits radiating out from the recess that secured the tracks. And when mounting bolts from the tracks started to break free and shoot across the room like bullets, Phanya hauled the robot back and threw them both into the bathroom for cover. After several long seconds the noise finally stilled, and two heads peaked out From behind the doorframe to behold the results of Tapper's magical plan:
An utter mess. Swirls of concrete dust danced on disturbed air currents, settling on a pile of rubble where the grate used to hang. The amount of debris was surprisingly small, compared to the amount of noise it made, until they looked up to the ceiling and saw the rectangular box bulging like an overstuffed metal sausage. Bits of concrete dangled from the housing, still clinging to the metal tracks that couldn't fit into the housing's slit like broken teeth liable to chomp down at any moment.
Phanya and Tapper were both equally awestruck for completely different reasons, but Phanya was the first to come to her senses. She took a few hesitant steps forward with entirely justified fear to check for danger before doubling back to Tapper. "I don't know how you did it, but you did — Taps, you alright? You're, uh, vibrating." He didn't respond and Phanya took a step back, just in case the robot was liable to explode after that performance, but Tapper was not in any danger of reaching a meltdown.
The only thing nearing critical mass for Tapper was a feeling of excitement. What a rush! The massive energy unleashed by that spell left tingles all through Tapper's body, and the sense of accomplishment he felt at achieving a real spell almost justified every bit of danger this dungeon had to offer. "One for the money and two for the show, I really did it."
"Tapper? Tapper!" A tentative grip on the shoulder snapped Tapper out of his musings and he focused on Phanya. Why did she look so concerned about their success? "Yes you did, and I'm very thankful. But that made a lot of noise so we gotta move before any guards show up. Now."
Guilt. Just a small pang, but enough to instantly calm Tapper down from his exhilaration. Of course she looked concerned! Tapper needed to do a better job following the wisdom of his proprietors. "My apologies Miss Phanya, please get yourself to safety and I will scout ahead." He scuttled forward, fully focused on watching for danger and head swiveling side to side.
Phanya's long stride easily outpaced Tapper's complete lack of a stride, and in three steps she was standing in front of him with her palm in his face. "No Tapper, we don't have time for you to take the lead. Plus, to be completely honest, the way you're crawling around is weirding me out. I'll just have to carry you, I guess." Phanya wasn't thrilled at the concept of lugging all that metal around, but after the destruction she just witnessed she wasn't about to leave the robot behind. To her relief Tapper was actually a bit lighter than she expected, and after some awkward shifting he was on her back with his spindles looped under her arms like a backpack.
No sound besides the gentle muzak once Phanya stepped into the wide hallway, but that just meant that raiders could come from either direction and she had to pick randomly. She chose left and set off, constantly wavering between a need to keep quiet and a desire to sprint like mad; further slowed by a thin layer of empty bottles, food wrappers, and other garbage littering most of the floor.
Phanya couldn't tell whether it was intentionally done to make quiet movement difficult or just because the raiders lived like slobs, but either way it was a constant annoyance to pick her footing. It also didn't help that every storefront here was dark and closed off, and upon Tapper's insistence that she not go anywhere near the large tarp-covered boxes that lined the middle of the hallway she had little choice but to walk completely exposed.
The first sign of life the two came across was an open store, its glow cutting through the dim hallway like a beacon that promised warmth and safety. And possibly auto parts, according to the 'Quick Pit Stop' sign that stretched across a checkerboard pattern, but on the floor someone had propped up a panel of wall siding and spray painted more pictograms: a chicken leg, a circle with a triangle pointing inwards on each side, and a fist.
Phanya wavered in front of the store, so Tapper used her hesitation to ask a question plaguing his social models. "I have seen similar drawings in front of several storefronts and hazards within this dungeon, but they are always cryptic pictures instead of words. Why do these raiders not simply write out what they intend to say, Miss Phanya?"
"I guess it's probably because not everyone here knows how to read all that well." Tapper bobbed slightly when Phanya shrugged her shoulders before continuing, "Ms. Uxral insisted that all the kids back home learn to read, but Aazran always said it was kinda pointless when most stuff will read for you. Heck if I can tell what this is trying to say, though. Chicken, candy, and punching?"
"In that case, I do believe that I can clarify some things." Phanya looked back at Tapper, who was idly tapping at his own faceplate as his predictive models formed a conclusion. Yes, if these symbols were merely for communication and not an intentionally obfuscated code then it made much more sense.
"The raiders live here, but it does not seem that they have full control over the facilities of the dungeon. I have overheard them speaking about raiding the various storefronts and claiming the loot within to grow stronger, and if they cannot read normal signs and warnings then it would make sense for them to use these pictograms to communicate what each store holds. Maybe not literally just chicken and candy, but at least food and other confectionaries. And the fist might represent the threat level contained therein; the most dangerous area I have seen in this dungeon was marked with a skull, so it stands to reason that a fist would be less deadly."
Tapper nodded to himself, pleased at his reasoning, but the spark of pride snuffed out when he noticed the silent and wide-eyed stare from his proprietor. Did he speak out of turn? Before he could apologize a loud growl cut the silence and Phanya hugged her stomach with one arm. She groaned slightly and said, "Look Taps, that's a lot to process but these jack-offs have only been feeding me handfuls of stale meat cubes with toothpicks in them. If there's actual food in there... how much of a fight do you think it'll take?"
"Worry not Miss Phanya, I will protect you." Tapper placed a reassuring hand on Phanya's shoulder, and despite all reason she actually believed the robot. If there was only one guard then knocking them out made as much sense as any other plan, and then she might get to finally work out some of her frustration as well.
"Okay okay sure, let's take out a raider outpost." Phanya pinched the bridge of her nose before the same hand waved at the storefront and she continued, "What do we do about this forcefield thing? Looking at it too long makes my eyes water."
"Ah yes, the visual distortion seems to be a barrier of some sort separating the store from the rest of the dungeon. I cannot tell what purpose that serves, but it is perfectly safe to pass through." Phanya made sure Tapper couldn't see her eyes roll, but with a deep breath she pushed through the haze.