Scrap Metal Philosophy 14 (Patreon)

Scrap Metal Philosophy

Chapter 14

-VB-

“Why a robot?”

“Irony, sentimentality, and history.”

“Please refer to me as Silly.”

“And what’s with the name?”

“Short for silicon.”

“... Now, I feel bad for a robot. Were you always bad at naming?”

“My cape name is Techscav because I scavenged tech from dump yards for my first tech creation. I am just literal.”

“Too literal.”

“Yes, father is too literal. What if I get bullied for my name?”

“You’re being silly.”

A week after their talk with dad, Taylor found herself sitting inside a small workshop with Alan and one of his newer creations, a gynoid named “Silly.” Silly looked like a human. Something about silicon pseudo-skin, minute microexpression capable carbon fiber muscles, and a host of pre-downloaded expressions that allowed her to act and react without having to spend months learning each expression through interaction with regular people.

All Taylor understood from the tech talk was that Silly would not out herself as a gynoid without extensive damage. It did not, however, make Taylor feel good about being next to a blonde-haired, green-eyed, and delicately-figured machine who looked better than she did, and she was an actual human!

… Whatever. Today, she was here to talk about her training, because that was what Alan told her would be their next focus.

“So what kind of training are we doing?”

Alan turned to her, and she momentarily froze up at the cold, dead look in his eyes. He was acting really weird today.

“I’m going to be honest. This is my first time training someone,” he said. “But I have been trained a lot, so I thought to myself, ‘why don’t I just copy what I had to go through?’” He paused and shook his head. “I … would like to think that half of the reason why I am capable of doing what I do because I went through that training.”

“... Okay. What do I have to do?” she asked him. The way he said it sounded like a veteran, cape and soldier alike, but she was sure that he was just exagg-.

-VB-

She wheezed with what little energy her lungs had left, because the rest of her laid trembling on the ground with her face pressed bonelessly against the grass.

‘Demon.’

Thinking was too much work. She wanted to close her eyes and let the sweet embrace of death(sleep) guide her to purgatory where the pain of her existence would dissipate into fine ash… and into calm, lifeless nonexistence.

Unfortunately, she had asked for help from a demonic slave driver, who wasn’t keen on letting her escape so easily.

She hadn’t felt this exhausted ever, even though she’d run five miles before non-stop. It was her routine!

She tried to move her arm but all she got was a twitch out of it.

Groaning? She knew that was a trick. A vile trick. If she went so much as close squeak, then she would be forced to get up.

But she really was too tired. She can’t even get up.

“Did you finish the last push-up?”

She couldn’t even respond. Alan, shut up. Let her sleep. She wanted that blissful end of consciousness.

“Father, my partner collapsed on her eighteenth push-up. She completed four kilometers of run, forty sit-up, and forty air squats.”

“I told her not to push it.”

“You did. You told her to start with a set of twenties.”

The creator who birthed this demonic slave driver tsked pitifully at her. “Alright, let’s get her over there to the cot. She’s not getting up and training again any time soon.”

She felt Alan pull her up and carry her over to one of the benches he’d installed in the workshop. When he set her down, she felt the cool freshness of the metallic seats and almost snuggled into the cold.

“Are you alive, Taylor?”

“... Yesh.”

“Oh good.”

“Silly is a demon.”

“... What did she do?”

“Nothing Taylor herself did not ask for, father.”

“You whipped me.”

“... Silly?”

Taylor groaned as she turned her head around to see Silly humming while wringing the towel Taylor had used. She ignored Alan, who was staring her down.

“I would not call towel strikes ‘whipping.’”

“My ass … is probably … red.”

Alan raised an eyebrow and Silly hummed away.

-VB-

If the physical training had been a hell on her body, then the awareness training was a bitch on her mind.

See, Silly can adjust how she looked. Alan gave her that ability, not a power but a mechanism of Silly’s body, so that she could help Taylor at a moment’s notice.

However, the help she got right now was not the one she expected nor wanted.

Taylor shivered as she tried to look for Silly in back end of an abandoned warehouse filled with machines and corridors.

Creakkk.

She whirled around and saw no one in the dimly lit hallway. Sweat ran down the side of her jaws.

Krrt.

She jumped in place and nearly cussed out the radio before picking it out of her pocket. She pressed down on the speak button. “What?” she demanded with a hiss.

“{You have five minutes to finish.}”

She gritted her teeth and quickly powered on through.

All she had to do was not get tagged. Silly couldn’t tag or move her when she was spotted.

She looked at the chair that was on its sides, broken bottles, and some burnt papers as she made to move-.

Ratatatatatap.

“FUCK!” she shouted and whirled around.

Nothing. Just dust, rust, and a dimly lit corridor.

This place was hell, and worse, there were very few bugs that she could use to detect Silly. Even worse, Silly was a robot and not a human; many of the senses bugs used to find large animals didn’t work at all against Silly.

Her mission was to reach the end of the maze without getting tagged, but this felt closer to a horror movie tryout than “awareness” training.

She turned around-.

Her eyes locked onto a chair that had been on its side, now sitting upright.

She was here.

Ratatap.

Taylor ran for it.

“KYAAAAHHHH!!!”

She got scared anyways.