Chapter Text
Day 1- Midnight at the agricultural domes
Roz gazed at the moon.
Brightbill and her agreed. Each night, a couple moments. It helped them ignore how far they were from each other when they thought about both of them looking at the same, kindly glowing moon. From Roz’s point of view however, it was slightly blurred. The enclosing dome over the entire fields distorted the moons image, not allowing the full beauty to be admired. Sometimes, Roz could swear it seemed to be closer on the island. Nearly believing that if she climbed the highest peak during a cloudless night, the moon would be waiting at the top to embrace her in its gentle touch.
Roz bristled, akin to a sigh. Without lungs, it was hard to let out a breath of frustration. She overlooked her surroundings, eyelids quietly clinking. There were around 30 Rozzums with her in the large hall, all silent and unmoving. Quietly recharging to get ready for the next day of repetitive tasks. Roz was the only movement. Not even the fruit trees outside let out a sound, with no wind to dance between the leaves. Everything was so still. Nothing ever moved out of line. Nothing ever went wrong, nothing ever faltered or made a mistake or did anything unique or different.
She knew that returning to Universal Dynamics would be a change, but thought that she’d fit in. Where she belonged- doing what she was created to do. Leaving the island was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her year of life. Though she had to leave, of course. Any longer on that island without any maintenance would have left her unable to move. Not many humans aided in the process. Just cold, metallic appendages exchanging her shell, restoring her battery heart and replacing the wooden leg.
She didn’t want a repeat with Vontra, so she submitted to the second memory download. It drained her, and wasn’t all that pleasant, but Roz managed to retain everything. The humans looked through the recording and asked a couple questions. It didn’t show that she was able to talk to the animals. If anything, it showed her helping a gosling to reach maturity, which perhaps softened their hearts. The small resistance against the RECOs was set aside as confusion on her part due to not being delivered to a normal household and not having correct information, and the footage after taking her own heart power core out was corrupted. A full factory reset also didn’t seem to hinder her ability to remember Brightbill, or the island. Those memories where now buried deep inside, intertwined with every line of code and wire, where nothing could reach separate them. Falling back into the mannerisms and robotic gestures sent her quickly through to work on fields.
The hardest thing to abide by were the colour changes. She would go purple by accident, when questioning the fellow Rozzums, which in turn turned them yellow in suspicion. Being outed as defective again would not help. Replicating the rainbow of colours through an acquired task required Roz to physically control each change, rather than it being automatic, but the humans didn’t seem to notice. As see looked up at the moon, the cyan seemed to morph into a dreary bluish-grey as she thought of the miles between where she wanted to be. In the beginning, feeling so alone had her manually controlling her stand-by colour constantly to not dip into too grey a cyan.
Then Brightbill came during his second migration. It made Roz so happy. The reminder that he is waiting for her recalibrated a portion of her mind. However, he warned her of something. While flying in, he saw the beginning of a construction in the large vents. He could tell they were preventative measures against flocks like his seeking shelter due to the damages created last time. This would be his one and only visit. Roz promised him she was already figuring out a way to come back.
But now she was here. At the window of the hall, overlooking her fellow Rozzums, still and lifeless. It was so silent. Roz grew to learn that she hated silence. At the island, things never grew completely still. Even in the dead of night, the nocturnal animals would keep things alive. Wind never stopped weaving through branches, leafless or not. Something skittering or snoring, scattering or croaking. She even missed the background noise of chittering bugs that she once found tiresome. She was determined to get back. Roz shifted her thoughts about the opportunities for tomorrow.
Like clockwork, every two weeks there would be a slight rotation. Some robots were sent to maintenance, therefore needing new ones to fill their place. Roz’s quadrant was due tomorrow. Perhaps the new selection would grant Roz a way to begin a plan. She walked away from the window and clung to the walls towards the door, overlooking their section of motionless trees. Looking past that, and past all the other fields, the dome rested on water. The rocking of the waves was nullified, but in specific spots Roz could see the sea lightly splashing against the edges. Following the path led her eyes to the large doorway leading outside.
It was over a larger body of water. Roz occasionally saw large vessels entering in and out that way, hovering above the water to be able to ascend low enough to exchange goods or switch Rozzum workers. Many times the monotony of work and the dull conversations urged her to just start running and to swim or fly back to an island full of colour and emotion and love.
Though she had the capacity to do so, she hasn’t had the chance to soar yet. There was no need for her to fly, the orange trees low enough that a simple extended arm was enough. Occasionally, a Rozzum would fly overhead to get somewhere faster, the thrusters on their back emitting that familiar cyan. She wondered if that felt the same way as when she was falling through the sky, just horizontal.
Careful not to trigger the sensor of the door, she inched closer to see more. Her footsteps were too loud the silent hall, echoing. Up close, she looked at the twinkling lights of lanterns and subtle blue glow of mini drones picking through the soil or transporting crops below. Otherwise, it was mostly pitch black. Since the way the earth had punished humans for their actions, they became more conscious of the pollution they emit. The large decrease in their population took care of most of the damage, however.
Roz heard a light scraping, and looked down to see her hands rubbing against each other. She uncoiled them and started to move through the rows of deathly still Rozzums back to her charging port, thinking along the way. She wanted to get back to the island, and to do that she needed allies. Friends. The humans were too much of a risk. But then how do you befriend a robot, especially without setting them off that you can feel? How had Fink done it? They all seemed so… lacking. Like her, at first. Passing by the rows, Roz stopped at her line. 2331 was the first.
They had the same shell as Roz save for the green torso with a tree stencil. They worked besides her, but no conversation ever went further than Roz asking something and getting a one word answer. Roz turned to the blue headed 8392, who stood slightly straighter than the Rozzum, next in line. She combed over the memories in her head. The slightest, tiny spark of difference between the two Rozzums Roz was looking at seemed to be that 8392 was more quick with his selection of oranges. Any motion to speak with him ended quickly, as if afraid that the oranges would disappear if he turned his back. Engrossed with scanning for the perfectly ripe one. His movements were quick and selective, different from 2331’s more calm approach. He would also tilt his head at a slightly higher degree than some others when listening to a task being assigned.
Such small deviation from their factory setting. Was this tiny contrast what made the Alpha 113 processor so innovative? So ‘flavourful’ that blending with humans was flawless? These minuscule sparks of personality seem to be enough of a change from emotionless machinery that the humans strived to incorporate them into city work and even families. Roz wondered, not for the first time, why she felt so different from them. She knew Brightbill was at the core of her heart. Did they lack something like that?
Yes. She thought to herself. There is nothing here that ignites anything other than monotiny and schedule.
Distracted by her thoughts, Roz inadvertently swung her hand too close while walking by, lightly clipping 8392. He immediately lit up, his growing pupils concentrating on Roz.
“Is everything-“ He begun, all too loudly. Roz quickly grabbed him by the shoulder and motioned for him to quiet down. Blinking, 8392 asked again, in a hushed voice.
“Is everything okay?” He glanced left and right, noticing how it was the middle of the night.
“Yes. It was an accident. I apologise.” Roz responded, lowering her arm from his shoulder
“It is late. Why are you not charging?” He asked, turning a hue of yellow.
“My… my leg hinges required movement. I decided to check on the crop.” Being able to lie came in very handy, Roz felt.
8392 turned cyan once more, accepting the story. Rozzums are unable to lie, after all. Then a bright green washed over him, a sign of recalibration. It was common to do so, checking for any problems or updates and doing a mini re-boot. But as she stood in front of him, short clips sped through her mind. 8932 seemed to do this recalibration more frequently. It wasn’t by much, but when there were thousands of other Rozzums who calibrated almost on schedule, an outlier was more noticeable.
As he was settling and leaning back into position, Roz asked, “Why do you recalibrate so regularly?”
Maybe a human may have missed it, but Roz noted down the slight twitch in his right hand finger.
“To ensure I am up to code at all times. An update may cost a couple minutes, immobilizing productivity and driving end results down by 0.43%.” 8392 replied, still hushed.
Roz thought about his colouring. Those with the green tree stencil were Rozzums created specifically for the harvesting areas. Though differently coloured Rozzums were not rare, it indicated that 8392 was made and shipped for a different purpose at first before arriving at the farm, whether it be from construction, a one-off transportation, or a completed job in the city.
Or, a family no longer in need of a Rozzum.
Since his colouring resembled that of a custom selection, Roz assumed the latter, and aimed another question, taking the opportunity of being alone (technically) with another. “Who were you shipped to at first?” Despite her volume being set at 15%, the noise seemed to bounce around the hall and between the rows of Rozzums, unaided by the practically pressurized silence.
“I was shipped to the Hobbersons, a family of 4, before being returned and moved here. Why do you ask?” 8392 responded. This is around the most that Roz ever got out of anyone, since information seeking questions turned too many heads out on the field. Any of the sort would be responded to similarly, replying with the direct answer before questioning the origin of wanting such information. Yet, something drew Roz to want to know more about them. Momentarily ignoring his questions, Roz inquired further.
“Why were you returned?”
“The death of the 11 year old human male resulted in emotional grief. I was not equipped with therapeutic responses, and the family also deemed me unfit to stay, since it was my fault. So I was sent here. Why do you require this information?” 8392 said flatly.
Roz was taken aback, shifting uncomfortably. 8392 didn’t seem to be outwardly disturbed by this, other than the now twitching hand. But in Rozzum standards, it was definitely something.
“Why would it have been your fault? Rozzums are incapable of causing harm intentionally.” Roz asked using a gentle voice, though she wasn’t sure if it meant much. She also turned down her cyan glow, allowing the moonlight to be the primary light bringer as it shone through the windows.
“I was updating when the 146 month old had a myocardial infarction in another room, and I did not prevent it from causing major internal damage. Are you collecting data? How may I help you in your task?”
Roz blinked a couple times, looking down. A heart attack, unstopped by 8392 due to old updates automatically implementing themselves once a certain time frame was over. Humans, especially those in the health sector that Roz was occasionally near to, would talk a lot about the massive increase in heart attacks. Something about it being due to their largely increased life span, putting excess strain on their bodies. It was the number one cause of deaths in recent decades.
Rozzums themselves couldn’t stop heart attacks, per say, but were imbued with knowledge of how best to care for the recipient experiencing one to provide best chances of survival. It didn’t increase it by much, but a Rozzum could do it better than a human. 8392’s couple minutes of delay could have resulted in the child not making it. Suddenly, his constant recalibrations and dislike of turning his back on tasks seemed to be explained.
“Yes, it was for a task. I have all I needed, thank you 8392.” Roz decided to let him go back to charging, rethinking what she thought she knew about the other Rozzums as she turned away. 8392 was slowly dimming, having had accepted that he helped with a task of another Rozzum and that was that. His hand however, started to rotate seemingly without much thought. She decided to mention it another time. Those tiny sparks of personality, it seemed to stem from interaction with organic persons or animals. Roz went two steps, before she heard it.
“He named me Budgie.”
She turned back around, surprised to hear 8392 speak again. His voice was almost indiscernible, but the otherwise silent hall seemed to pronounce his words. He wasn’t looking at her, but ahead at seemingly nothing. Roz turned to him again.
“Is that your name?” She asked carefully. He didn’t respond for a moment. His cyan glow seemed to become duller.
“I am Rozzum 8392.” His glow returned, pointing around with each word to emphasise them. “We should return to charging. We have tasks tomorrow that require a full battery! Initiating sleep mode.”
With that, 8392, or perhaps Budgie, shut his eyes and his cyan glow receded completely and body going limp. Roz stood alone again, thinking. This interaction was further than she’d ever gotten. Frankly, it was the most interesting thing that happened since she got here. Her eyes flicked around the rest of the row. Did any of them have similar pasts? Pasts that still affect them now? Rozzums were said to have the most advanced imitation capabilities, in addition to what adverts deemed a 'spark' that separated Rozzums from other bots. To best blend and fit in. If she dissected 8392’s movements, would she find paranoia? Fearing to become immobile when something or someone needed them? Filing away the discussion, Roz returned to her own designated spot, cautious to not bump into anyone else for today.
Each clink and whir of her circuitry sounded loud as she moved into position, standing on the wireless charging pad. Energy thrummed as power was siphoned through her feet, coalescing in the heart. The energy seemed to make it thump.
Roz closed her eyes and thought of Brightbill, memories of him fresh in her mind.