small fic I wrote while under the "fuck I am YEARNING so HARD" status effect
time will tell if I have the energy to write something more long-form
When you booted up for the first time, from a chamber beside your old, meaty chassis, your memory banks tell of a spike in recorded audio. A glitch from your auditory components activating for the first time, maybe, or perhaps a chorus of cheers from the scientists for yet another successful conversion.
The next few moments after that are a blur. Scientists in white coats busy themselves around you, scribbling down a mess of ink on their clipboards. You’re asked to move your arm up - and with a soft, gentle whirring of servos, yours does. Open your mouth - repeat a series of words and numbers - relax as organic hands prod your tail. All to ensure you’ve adjusted to the motor control of your new chassis.
You do not pay them much mind. You’re too busy soaking in the sensations of it all - the gentle, almost unnoticeable whirring of joints and motors with every twitch and movement, the silent, still calm of your body when you’re not moving. There is no steady, unceasing beat of your heart, no pumping of blood. You are encased in - no, you are the still, unmoving coffin.
And yet, you’ve never felt more alive.
You don’t bother replying to them in anything more than simple, curt phrases. The voice that comes out of your maw is one with a distinct, synthetic distortion. Not enough to make you difficult to understand - but one that ensures no one will ever mistake you for being anything but artificial. Somehow, the combination of the two leaves you with a reflexive urge to smile.
Not that you could, anyway. Your jaws are rigid, solid. Other models may have some facsimile of a mouth that could move - an electronic display on the front of their visor. Not you, though. Your jaw only knows two movements - open, and close. When you speak, your jaws open up - not to help you make specific sounds, just to ensure your audio won’t be too muffled.
Your, perhaps, “as responsive as I need to be” approach to their tests gives the white-coated creatures around you some degree of concern. Your first diagnostic, however, reports nothing wrong. Minimal memory loss. No signs of imperfect thought pattern transfer. Maybe you’ll find some memories slightly fuzzy, but that will be about it.
No issue, one otter pipes up. They’ve seen it before. Some synthetics are just overwhelmed - or overjoyed - at their new chassis. Rather different, rather fitting compared to the organic one they had before. As long as your diagnostics report nothing to be out of the ordinary, that should be the reason for your seeming lack of enthusiastic response.
It isn’t long before you’re discharged. Your baggy clothes show their worth, stretching themselves out to fit your now larger frame. Your shoes are now perhaps worthless, however, unable to fit your large, clunky talons. Good thing, then, you are about the same shoe size as your roommate.
Speaking of which, she should be home soon. You estimate you can make it home in time before she does, to wait for her and give her a surprise - you only need to reach within 30 minutes and 21 seconds. Most routes are estimated at at least 35 minutes and 13 seconds, but those are predicated on walking speed. Or having to stop for air at running speed. Both need not apply to you.
Large, steel talons slam into the concrete beneath you. SynMech may not approve of you stress-testing your new motors in such an intense manner, but they are not here to complain about it either. The streets in front of you clear out long before you reach them - if the lingering public unease of seeing industrial-strength androids around did not clear them, the more urgent need to stay out of the path of 300 pounds of speeding steel and polymer did.
You are tempted to turn off your auditory processing, just to focus on the rush of wind as you cut through the stale summer air, but you should also remain aware of anyone who wasn’t wise enough to get out of your way. Despite your need for responsibility, one thing was certain.
This was going to be fun.
