Scrap Metal Philosophy 18 (Patreon)

Scrap Metal Philosophy

Chapter 18

-VB-

Her name was Silly, short for Siliconia.

Her father, Alan, was not great at names. Some might say that he should not be allowed near any naming of any sort. After all, what kind of a self-respecting man called himself a “technology scavenger?” It would be like unironically calling a chubby hero Chubster or Fatty.

She was thankful that father didn’t name her Blonde. The sheer humiliation she would feel would send her over the edge.

Father also did not hold anything back from her. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for her to develop as much as she had. Combined with powerful computing power of father’s processors and the vastness of the internet, she went through all stages of her development in under a week.

It was her choice to become what she was.

Taylor, though, did not appreciate the … let’s call it “the art” of her existence. Not the fact that she was AI or robotic. No, Taylor didn’t care about those, and Silly appreciated her honorary aunt for that.

No, Taylor had an issue with how Silly used her body. Specifically, Auntie Taylor hated how she looked when Silly entered her combat form. It was only thanks to her father’s aesthetical choice that she became the peak model for what any dreaming gynoids and androids could be. After all, it would be very hard to become a magnificent beast capable of striking fear into the hearts of her lessers if she had a lot more rounded edges and soft curves. The contrast between her outer appearance and the more rugged components within served her well in that regard.

Her life was great.

… it would be even better if she could do something more productive than babysitting her auntie.

Humans were so squishy, father included. The internet made sure to let her know just how squishy they were.

She shivered as her favorite video played across her vision while she walked alongside her slouching aunt-.

Narrowing her eyes, Silly raised a hand and then -.

“KYAH!”

Silly shivered at the shocked and surprised yelp that came out of her aunt. “Taylor, keep your back straight,” she admonished even as she hid her amusement. “You are a hero, so you will appear like one. Body composure is important.”

She didn’t understand why father or uncle didn’t try to teach Taylor the proper form of a hero. A hero(ine) had to be bigger than life, and that included how they looked in the eyes of others, especially more so in this era of parahumans.

See, what she didn’t understand but saw was that there was a deficiency of education regarding the psychological byplay between individuals that became exacerbated between capes. According to Professor Boggs in her book Interpersonal Relationships, people developed better relationships, temporary or long, when they were understanding, respectful, and patient. This could not be merely words but also in body language as well.

So how does a hero show all of these?

They walk with their shoulders open, their back straight, eyes level, and hands-free and in sight! They do not look down on people but meet them at eye level! They did not speak over someone unless in an emergency. They listened patiently but did so firmly. Heroes are strong and proud but not so proud that they are arrogant and distant.

Masks were an unfortunate necessity, so she let that pass, even if it was atrocious for heroism like her aunt’s was.

People did not like bugs, so heroes should not look like bugs. Taylor looked like a bug with those big yellow eyes and carapace armor pieces.

She too had to wear a mask when she walked out in public with her aunt, and father also got her own costume, because today, her first time out in public with her aunt, was also the day of her “heroic” debut~! Her costume took on the colors and shape of the La Grande Armee’s cuirassier, but like all of his equipment, it had a faint rusted sheen to it. Her mask was that of a smiling opera mask, cracked and rusted. She asked that it be made that way because she honestly wanted to make it very clear that’s what she was.

Unfortunately, most would only see it as a mask and not a declaration of what she was actually like underneath.

Broken, rusted, and very happy to see her next victims.

Silly wasn’t a hero like Talyor. No, she had no interest in being a hero, even if she would teach Taylor the basics she needed. She didn’t feel any joy in helping people who were not her friends or family. Why would she even help those who would turn on them like sheeps? Why help people who would not help others in turn?

She would not take joy in hurting the truly innocent like children and the few saints that walk among them.

But the regular people?

They were neither victims nor guardians and neither helpless nor blameless.

So she would do whatever it took to keep father happy… It just so happened to be that he wanted Taylor safe right now.

Ah… the lamentations of a silicon daughter. What use was the ability to become anything if she had to stay in one form for another’s sake? What a cruel father. What a great father.

PING!

She blinked at the way her head had tilted from whatever had just impacted her right temple. Straightening her head with a snap, she turned to look and found no one with a gun or looking like a cape. In fact, she only found regular civilians who seemed as confused as she was. Instead, she continued to look but magnified her vision.

A glint.

A hurrying man.

“Ara ara,” she grinned even as she ignored Taylor’s frantic questions. She reached up and felt her temple before bringing her hand down to see. Copper-yellow blood dribbled down between her fingers. “Taylor?”

Taylor froze up at her tone, the one she used when she joyfully hunted her down during training.

“Yes…?”

“Would you be a dear and alert father that I have gone hunting?”

“Wait, no no, this is your debut! If you transform today, then it’ll be all over the internet!”

She smiled mischievously at her aunt’s inability to see the insignificance of such things, not that her aunt could see her face or the “ramifications” she seemed to fret over. Why should she care about the opinion of the insignificant individuals on the internet? The internet itself professed its weakness every day! Oh woe are we who can’t change the world! Oh woe are we whatever whatever whatever…

Silly excused Taylor’s franticness as being that of someone her biological age.

“That’s alright,” she crooned, making Taylor shut up and shiver. “I can be the monster and you can be the beauty. People will flock to you. Isn’t that great?”

“No, it’s not -!”

“I’m sorry, but I seem to have lost some function in my auditory sensors,” she tittered before pulling away from Taylor. “Ta ta.”

And then she jumped away and she finally allowed herself to grin feral.

The Hunt was on!