Work Text:
“I just don't understand people who do things like this, I really don't.”
Nika hovered over Sol, sharp bend to her waist. She's dressed in proper uniform, knee length pencil skirt and a shirt starched so sharply Sol worried she might poke his eye out at this angle, all over her gray administrative support suit. Sol just had a pair of worker's overalls half on over his blue mechanic's suit. Sloppy and messy.
She would be ranting about his unprofessionalism if she wasn't so worried about the robot glitching out on his work table right now.
“Kids get bored.” Sol sighed, before plugging in his diagnostic to the port under one of its incredibly broken ocular units.
“We never did this when we were kids.” She frowns, but her fingers are already typing on her AR interface.
“Shitty kids get bored.” He says instead, while he listens to her fingers tap tap tap against his table and waits for the little machine in his hand to update. “We got a new crate of supplies from the station. I'll get it up and working in a day.”
“Who do you think I should send this memo out to? The teachers association, or everyone registered as a parent?”
“Do it colony wide.” It's not like he actually knew that kids beat this poor thing to shit. He was just guessing. “If everyone gets it, maybe it'll scare them into behaving.”
“Hmm- You're probably right.” She stands up, gets out of his space, and a second later a ping at the corner of his vision, a new memo marked important!!!!!! from the colony administration. “It's new.” She sounds disappointed.
“Is it?”
“Zova wanted to test them out. They're supposed to be general helpers.”
“Ah.” Sol leans back in his chair, sets the diagnostic down to let it cool off on the metal. “Probably not kids, then. Probably one of the oldies worried you're trying to take their jobs again.”
“You think?”
Sol shrugs, dismisses the flashing memo from his vision. Nika sighs loudly, and then-
“It's like pulling teeth with these people. We have UBI. People are supposed to want to work less with UBI. Zova said that-”
“Did she poll everybody or just the people who check their mail?”
Nika went quiet at that, arms crossing, frown settling on his sister's face. She turned on her heels and marched out of his workshop with a grim determination to yell at her coworkers and old people with a zeal only real government works had.
Which left him alone with the new... general purpose mechanical helper robot. Drone? Maybe it was supposed to be a drone.
The diagnostic let out a little tone, a sustained gentle beep, to let him know it had finished running.
The list of problems was longer then he thought it would be.
Well, nothing to do but work.
🤖
0721 powers on slowly.
“Hey, sorry, your eyes are going to take a second. Who ever vandalized you really went to town on them. Think I got everything else though.”
An unscheduled emergency shut down then. 0721 recalled with perfect clarity that he had sustained blunt force trauma to the back of his head at 19:24 system standard hours, and that he was struck at such an angle that he dumped most of his processes immediately. There was no recollection of what occurred after 19:24 system standard hours, and based off of the information he had just received, that was for the best.
He tries to move his arms- they go too quickly and he thunks them against the surface he is lying on.
“Ah- were you trying to do that? I might have over oiled some things. They gave me new toys and I might have gone a bit over board fixing you.”
“This unit was not.” His voice seemed fine, better then fine even, as it lost the crackle 0721 had grown accustomed to. “Who is this unit speaking with?”
“Sol Twenty Nine. Head robotics mechanic on the Northern Dione colony. In case the information is still coming back to you slowly, you were sent to us recently.”
“This unit is intended to serve as general aid. What this unit insufficient? Was this unit intended to be recycled?”
“No, you're fine. Some people were being-” A pause. An displacement of the air. “You're fine.”
“That is good.” 0721 was made of recycled parts already. Most of his processors used to belong to deep space mining units, the metal that made his spine used to be a support structure in a library on an long distance express shuttle, his vocoder read announcements in an orbital hospital. “This unit's ocular units are still not online.”
“Let's give it a few more minutes before worrying.”
“Understood.”
“Do you want to try and sit up, see if I got everything else going?”
“This unit must trust the expertise of Sol Twenty Nine.”
“Just Sol is okay.”
“Of course.”
0721 sits up. He has never moved so smoothly in the whole of his operation. The adjustment will take time to adjust to.
“Good?”
“This unit was correct in trusting the expertise of the head mechanic.”
“Good.” The head mechanic's voice lilts up, indicating happiness. 0721 is rewarded with a pleasant shock across his limbs. “Oh wow, I've never seen that before.”
“It is meant to replicate an organic's serotonin release as a reward for being helpful. Your voice registered as happy. You are happy as a result of my actions. Thus, this unit is rewarded.”
“And if I sound sad?”
“This unit will not be punished, if that is a concern, but this unit will strive to help you, as that is the prime directive.”
The head mechanic hums, lilting up again, another pleasant shock. 0721 smiles back. 0721 hears the mechanic turn away, moving things around. He should offer to help, but with no vision he would only be a hindrance.
Minutes pass, and while there is the ever present nudging towards work, the relative silence is amiable.
And then the first flicker of registered light.
His right ocular unit opens, pinhole of light first, then colors as it slowly widens. Vague shapes, and after a moment 0721 makes out the mechanic in front of him with slow clarity.
An internal diagnostic starts running, several pings of received colony mail distract 0721 long enough that his other ocular unit catches up.
“All good?”
The diagnostic returns an all clear, and he says as much.
Sol's wide smile sends multiple pleasant shocks all through his system.
🤖
O-Seven is in Sol's workshop again.
He doesn't mind that the robot is almost always around, because he's good company, and because it gives Sol an opportunity to play around with really sophisticated technology with someone who understands what he means when he starts talking about optimizing fan rpm or the pros and cons of water cooling.
O-Seven doesn't mind being around Sol either, with the way he's buzzing under his hands right now.
He is sitting on his diagnostic table, legs dangling off the other side, and Sol is standing behind him, wrist deep in his open back. It had started with wanting to fix a loose connection, (which Sol couldn't help but notice the wire was tugged out by hand, dented every so slightly but too precise to be anything other than a mechanical strength, but he could help and keep quiet about it), but a lot of O-Seven's wiring was free hanging along his spine so it turned into wire organization, which had turned into playing with his weird fake dopamine- or was it serotonin - release regulator.
O-Seven's eyes were closed, his hands were gripping the edge of the table, and all of him twitched every time he nudged against the regulator.
“Good for you?”
“Incredible for this unit, Sol.” His usually pristine vocoder crackled, fuzz at the edge of the words. “Thank you.”
“It's the least I could do.” And he put a smile in his voice because when he did that, O-Seven jolted forward, and Sol rushed to loop an arm around his midsection to stop him from falling off. Just as he thought, it would still release electricity even if he was already messing with it. “Just tell me if I do too much.”
“Of course, Sol.”
“Always so punctual. Proper. Professional.” O-Seven's body was cool against his, smooth steel cooled with the new water tubing he installed two system standard months ago, but ever spark sent a little flash of warmth. If he had lungs, he would be gasping. “You always take such good care of us. So diligent and attentive. You're a delight to have around.”
“Really?” The whole word crackled-
“Really.” Big smile, even if the robot was facing away. “I want to give a little back for someone who does so much for us. You work so hard, tirelessly-”
“This unit does not experience exhaustion.”
“And we're so lucky for it.”
His fingers graze a loose contact and he gets to feel the zap too. Low current, just enough to tingle. A pleasant spark down his spine. His dick twitched-
“Your temperature just spiked.”
“Because of you.”
“Really?” The robot sat up a little straighter, head turning. “Did you enjoy the electricity?”
“Might have. Might have just enjoyed you.” And they both get rewarded with another zap.
“Apologies-” O-Seven pulls away- doesn't get very far, Sol's arm still around his waist. He pivots, though, turns until they're facing each other. O-Seven looks down at him, blinking. This close, he could hear the cameras zooming in. “Are you enjoying this as well, Sol?”
“Yeah.” The attention makes him flush. “Can't really reach back there that well, like this.”
There's a mechanical hiss and then O-Seven's chest opens.
“This unit enjoys being helpful.”
Sol laughs, gentle, and smiles up at the robot.
“I might have noticed that.”
“May this unit continue to be helpful?” There's a cold hand hovering at his crotch, and when Sol nods and gasps at the contact, they both get another little shock. O-Seven's hands are fascinatingly designed, a soft gel like material makes up the palm, even when the rest of it is hard smooth steel. If he wanted too, he could heat up just his palms, to adequately mimic human warmth.
Sol preferred the artificial feel in almost every way.
Feeling the gel warm up from his own body heat always made him go a little crazy.
It made him smile, grin wide even, and that gave both of them a pleasant electro current that got him harder and harder.
“You're perfect.” He gasps out when long, dexterous fingers warp around his cock and start stroking him at a steady rhythm. “Who ever made you was a genius.”
He tangles his fingers into any wires he could reach, stroking along them until giving them all a little tug.
“Most- Most- Most- Most- of this unit's better modifications were made by you, Sol.” A skipping vocoder- he was getting as close as he could get-
“Ah-! But- shit- but you use them so well!”
Zap zap zap zap- O-Seven's head dipped, straight onto the top of Sol's head. No breath, no heat, but he didn't mind. This was perfect. O-Seven was perfect.
“You make me so happy- so so happy- fuck-”
His hips jolted forward and he came with big smile on his face. The electricity that ran through the both of them almost felt like too much in that moment. O-Seven wasn't constructed to orgasm, but maybe a few more months of tinkering and Sol could get him there.
“Incredible.” O-Seven said, pulling back and looking him up and down.
“Thank you.” He caught his breath and reconnected the original loose connection. “Next time, though, you really could just ask for it.”
“You like it more this way.”
“Ah- maybe. Maybe. Was that good for you?”
“Oh, yes.” O-Seven smiles, eyes squinting, cameras zooming in. “This unit was very pleased.”
Sol smiles back, and gives him one last spark for his pleasure.