Chapter 128 : The Institute for Deranged Machines (Patreon)

Doctor Decanov grumbled as he stepped out of the taxi he had taken to leave Blackrose Street and head to his next but unexpected visit, a burlap sack in his hand that he quickly shifted to put over his shoulder as soon as he was out of the yellow vehicle and had the space to move the heavy load without damaging his surroundings. The ugly building in front of him could be best described as a futuristic Gothic manor, large white panels of smooth plastic with curves to avoid sharp edges formed most of the structure while small silver plates formed long lines and paths on them that turned into shining chrome domed rooves on the towers at the corners of the building and the central structure, while blue holograms simulating spikes aimed at the sky crowned the place. On the walls, between the tall yet thin windows, more holographic apparitions decorated the exterior, mechanical monsters occasionally moving and growling to chase away birds that got a little too close.

He hated it. That decor was a mess born from the combination of two clearly incompatible styles, but everyone else went along with it because it suited the theme of the place. Had any of those things served a purpose he might have been more forgiving, but aside from the light-formed gargoyles nothing here helped the Institute in its functions, and even those had lost their effectiveness as could be seen from the dozens of feathery critters perched on the windowsills of the glorified asylum.

The pair of large human-like automatons armed with staves that ended in electrified claws guarding the needlessly gigantic entrance door stopped him, their glowing blue eyes scrutinizing him to decipher his intentions and glaring at the bag he was carrying with suspicion. The one on the right leaned a little closer, lowering his white plastic face to be level with the doctor's much squarer and metallic one, the cloth of his cyan guard uniform ruffling as he moved and the badge displaying his name under the cog plastered with the IDM acronym clicking against the body beneath, the pin on the other side hitting mechanisms hidden from view by the clothing.

"Identify yourself and state the reason for your visit."

"Doctor Ivan Decanov, here to see Dome and drop a potential patient."

The white artificial lips of the guard went down in odd ways at the sides as he frowned, the motors animating his facial features being imperfect. Soon, however, as though a spark was lit up behind them, the armed android's eyes lit up with recognition.

"Doctor Decanov! Come in, come in. Miss Dome will be delighted to see you again."

The sentinel gesture to his colleague and the two stepped aside, the doors between them opening on their own to let in the scientist. He did not speak another word as he entered, and yet another grumble was the only noise he emitted, aside from the stomping of his feet that began to resonate as he stepped on the metal floor of the Institute. This wasn't his first visit and he knew the way to his kin's office, thus the doctor did not stop or slow down on his way to take in the, in his humble yet factual opinion, horrid decoration. He hated the giant stairs in the entrance he had to walk up, he hated the numerous statues, holograms, and mindless machines placed here and there to honor robots through history and fill the empty space between the far too long hallways, he hated the needlessly fancy text above each door he encountered that described the content of the room beyond. He hated the place's pristine white and silvery look, as though this were a holy sanctum where nothing could be wrong.

The only thing he could appreciate about this abomination of architecture and interior design were the various adaptations and systems put in place to welcome different statures and conditions, with high ceilings and wide doorways to accommodate larger models, different lines of texture on the ground to let machines with wheels or threads move as comfortably as those relying on the legs, and rails on the ceiling that those needing support cables could use. Given what he'd been told by his client about the murderous old man in his bag, it was likely he'd use those, at least until he got properly used to bipedal locomotion. Not that he'd be free to walk on his own right away, the doctor didn't need to be informed about the violent tendencies of the ancient AI when a simple look at his glitching code exposed on his screen revealed some of the thoughts in that century-old mind of his. Those weren't pretty.

Before long Ivan was standing before the door to his friend's office, and it was only by courtesy that he bothered to knock. She was not only gifted with superior senses that went far beyond his own, but she could also connect herself to any of the cameras in the area, though doing for too long or too many at the same time drained her mental and physical batteries faster than she could keep up with. Not to mention she had probably already been informed by the guards at the entrance. The door slid out of the way on its own, letting him enter the room just as he was putting his arm back down.

Facing Doctor Ivan Decanov was Dome, the metaphorical face of the movement for robot rights as well as the woman in charge of the Institute for Deranged Machines, a facility created to host unstable AIs and help them return to a normal life, or provide a home if their condition could not be fixed or handled for both their safety and that of others. The name was a little pejorative, but sadly she had to put up with it, while she might be the one in charge she still had to put up with the whims of the city's administration.

Dome's appearance might surprise those who simply had a look at the outside, and even those who knew this kind of decor wasn't her choice would still expect her to have a design in line with the usual machines of Mecha Man, her original creator. Fools, the lot of them. There was a reason the robot didn't consider her maker her father, unlike the doctor.

She was tall yet sleek, with limbs longer than they should be to fit a proper humanoid silhouette, her hands reaching down to her knees when her arms were dangling down at her sides, though she rarely held such a posture. Her arms had a rather peculiar feature, in that the white pieces that composed their exterior plating and her fingers could align and squeeze together to form large blades or wings depending on who you asked, though the truth was they could act as both. Her legs were digitigrade, though it was hard to call them as such when each of her feet might as well have been a spike, only a small curved metal piece ending in a white numb discreetly emerging from her heel being breaking this smooth look, a necessity to allow her to walk without impaling the ground or having a gravity gadget active at all times.

Of course, the first noticeable thing about Dome was her namesake head. While few got the chance to see it upfront or from above, given the fact she was head and shoulders taller than the average human, her head was indeed a perfect dome. The white half-sphere wasn't barren of details of course, especially not when it was made to be an incredible sensory receptor. Camera lenses all around acted as her eyes, small satellite dishes directly inserted in the white metal as though they were craters acted as her ears, and barely noticeable holes led to olfactory receptors that in turn systems deeper within could perceive as tastes. The only missing sense from the dome was touch, not out of a lack of ability to install such a thing, but rather because there was no practical use for including it on her head. All of her existing receptors could act through a much larger range than most organic beings could sense, and she could easily switch each one for each individual mimicked organ, such as having a single eye use heat vision. A thin black stripe at the bottom of the dome was the only decoration on her head, aside from the various lines created by the minuscule space between the plates that formed it, each one made to be easily removable to avoid needing to take down the entire head to fix a single dysfunctional receptor.

Sadly, Ivan's friend's appreciation of practicality stopped there. Her upper and lower bodies, each one hosting a pair of limbs, were connected by a hidden metal spine covered by a film of white latex that acted as the skin of the waist. Her pelvic region, which would have been perfectly fine as a simple rectangular shape much like the doctor's, was instead needlessly detailed and similar to a human one, even mimicking the hips and upper parts of thighs despite her flat legs being connected to the side. Similarly, her chest was carved to form a light cleavage despite there being no use for mammaries for machines aside from potential additional space, which obviously wasn't the case here since they were made of synthetic flesh and not hollow metal, let alone the fact they were far too small to accommodate anything truly useful within that wouldn't too fragile to safely store so close to the outside of her body. At least her back kept some sense of practicality, a pair of small hollow silver rounded cones emerging roughly where shoulders would be on a human, cones that the Draskian knew for a fact were thrusters for a jet pack since he had helped design their earlier versions when she had first modified her body to suit her taste rather than her creator's.

Her voice, a mature yet highly expressive and emotional melody with what James would describe as a French accent, echoed in the room as she welcomed him.

"Ivan! It is good to see you."

"Dominique. Likewise."

"Please, take a seat. Oh, how long has it been?"

He answered her as he sat down in front of her, putting the burlap sack he had been carrying down on the ground.

"Eighteen days now, if I recall correctly."

"Oh, how time flies. Is everything going well? Is your little protégé fine?"

"Yes, Adam is good. He's adapting to the situation, and were it not for me asking him not to I believe he'd already be out there, living his life."

Her happy tone turned somber.

"You don't think he's ready yet."

"He still has trouble keeping his strength in check, but that should be solved in a few weeks, perhaps a month or two. No, my true worry is that he went through a traumatic experience, and all he knows is now forever out of grasp. I fear he might try to get his old existence back, rather than try to move on. That isn't a healthy life for a young man like him."

"He's not that much younger than you, Ivan."

"It depends on your definition of age. His body is still recent, for instance. And remember, we were made as adults. Our learning periods lasted only a year, but him? He's still going through it."

"You could always have him come here, instead of asking me for tips and borrowing my books and research."

"We both know the IDM is not suited for someone like him, and you don't have the diploma to help him without this facility's equipment."

"Ouch, words hurt, Ivan."

The Draskian only raised an eyebrow at the display of fake pain, leaving the two robots silent before she let out a small giggle.

"Oh, your father definitely forgot to give a sense of humor. How can you be so serious compared to your siblings?"

"Please, if you wish to interact with these clowns instead of me do as such. I'm sure they'd appreciate seeing a new face to mess with."

"A tempting offer, but I'll pass. To get back to your protégé, if you believe the Institute does not have the resources necessary for his mental health to improve, you could consult a regular psychiatrist, psychotherapist, or someone with suitable powers."

"I fear pushing the issue might make it worse. He's improved significantly since I first met him, and he should be able to finish this journey, so long as I stand by his side and provide the safety net he needs."

"So, you're worried about his mental health but also are certain that he can handle it himself. Have I summed up the situation well?"

The doctor let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

"Illogical, I know."

"Come on now Ivan, that isn't a bad thing. Why, I'm certain you'd be more popular if you showed people there was a genuine person behind the cold scientist and the aggressive narcissist."

"I don't need to be popular, Dominique. I don't care for the people's love or adoration, I care about progress, about advancing our understanding and channeling of the world and its forces. How does being on the cover of Robots Monthly help with that?"

"You saw that? I'm not convinced the photographer truly captured my personality, but he sure did a wonderful job showing off my body. My designers are getting a lot more requests since then."

"Good for Laura, her creations are wonderfully capable, but that isn't the point. All I need is a place to work and the resources to do so."

The taller machine's mature yet playful tone turned serious once more.

"I know you have been fired, again, and that your former employer's project has been blown to smithereens, again. Ivan, you can't keep doing this."

"They should stop trying to steal my inventions."

"Ivan, the number of people still willing to hire you that aren't Villains can be counted on one hand. How do you plan on financing your creations and providing Adam a home if no one pays you? Your troubles might hinder your protégé's progress."

Decanov was very happy not to be an organic being right now, otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from flinching. Still, these same thoughts that had once plagued his mind had been put to rest this morning by his meeting with his latest client, not only because the work on the factory was turning out to be much more fascinating than he once believed, but also because the man himself for all his love of theatrics and oddities appeared to be a much more reasonable and compromising person, to the point the Draskian found himself wishing to establish a long-term partnership, at least until a better offer came.

"I will let you know, Dominique, I already have a new contract."

The dome-headed robot straightened in her seat before leaning forward, surprise and curiosity slipping through her voice as she spoke.

"Really? So soon? Do they know about your history?"

"Sorry, but I signed a very clear NDA. I can't even tell you their name without their authorization. But, between the two of us, I am slightly optimistic about my future there."

"You? Not being a humbug? How have they achieved such a feat?"

"Aside from what I can't tell you, I just... How would Adam put it? I 'have a good feeling about this'?"

"Ivan, don't take it the wrong way, but you should stay on your guard. I don't want to rain on your parade, but this is highly unusual both for you and a company. I would love nothing more than for you to finally have found somewhere you could flourish, but someone willing to put up with your attitude so soon after yet another incident? I just don't want you to be used by a Villain or anyone of that nature. If you ever notice that anything's afoot, just call me and I'll tell Mecha Man about it, alright?"

The doctor rolled his eyes but nodded.

"I will."

"Thank you. Have you shared the good news with your father yet? The prison should still allow visits at this time."

"I planned on seeing him after I was done here."

"Oh, don't let me keep you. If you want to go, don't hesitate. You know I wouldn't hold it against you."

"I know, I know. But, truth be told, I didn't drop by just for a chat. I have something for you."

Dominique tilted her dome as her friend bent to pick up something from the bag he had left on the ground by his side, and the lenses of her cameras widened as she took in what he held in his hands and dropped it on her desk. The old box of a computer that might have been older than the city they lived in was attached to a spine of cables connected to electronics and batteries, and on its black screen a green pixelated face glitched on and off as it stared at her in wonder.

The taller white machine sensed the thing on her desk with all her receptors in silence for seconds before addressing the smaller grey one in a monotonous voice.

"Ivan?"

"Yes, Dominique?"

"Have you been carrying an incredibly damaged AI in a burlap sack that you treated no better than a bag of potatoes all this time?"

"Well, I only got my hands on it earlier this morning, so if you'd consider an hour or so as 'all this time', then yes."

She put her hands together.

"Ivan, normally I'd say this sort of thing to a human, but you are aware of how gruesome this is by our standards, right? This is no better than carrying a head with all vital organs somehow still attached and functioning."

He scoffed.

"Of course I know, I'm not of one of these dimwitted fools."

"Good."

She jumped up from her seat and began to shake him by the shoulders.

"IVAN! WHAT THE HELL?"

"This is completely unnecessary."

"IVAN. DO NOT BREAK PEOPLE DOWN!"

"I wasn't the one to put him in this state. He tried to ambush and murder people, they defended themselves. Really, he should be thankful that my employer had the decency to give him to me rather than smash him to pieces."

"IVAN. THERE'S A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DEFENDING YOURSELF, AND RIPPING SOMEONE'S HEAD OFF BY THE SPINE."

"I think it was the opposite, actually. They ripped everything but the head off. Nowhere near as efficient."

She let go of him and let herself fall back into her seat with a sigh.

"Ivan. Please. At least tell me why you brought him here."

"For one, he is undeniably insane. Aside from the attempted murder and possible serial killer tendencies, have you taken a look at his code? This isn't a full-grown AI, this is a bunch of babies stitched together to form an adult that miraculously succeeded at forming a single sapient and somewhat coherent mind. I'm not sure even the best of your staff and equipment could pacify him."

The way she squirmed in her seat told him that yes, she had seen the chimera-like coding of the entity, and she had come to the same conclusion regarding its possible healing, rehabilitation, and release.

"In these conditions, you understand why I didn't give him a new body. Not only that, but the second reason why I brought him here also makes me think that transferring him from this computer won't be so easy, if at all feasible. This fellow was found in the Sunken City. Knowing that and taking into account the age of this device, take another look at his code."

She leaned forward, and after a few seconds passed, she let out a gasp.

"This... This is..."

"Possibly the oldest non-magical artificial creature ever made in the ACS, perhaps the whole continent, though I wouldn't be surprised if some hidden technology-worshipping sect had achieved something similar prior. This isn't simply a madman, this is a relic. If he weren't sapient and sentient he would be more at home in a museum. The mayor sure would love something special like that to elevate Zalcien's status. 'Zalcien, home of the first sapient AI'."

"You want me to fix him the best I can, and keep him under wraps."

"For now. I have no doubt people like Sigmund would use such a primitive robot being so violent as evidence that all of us are too dangerous to be treated like citizens, and should return to being quiet and servile machines. Once he's merely deranged, more of a speaking monkey than an unstable murderer, then it should be safe to make his existence public."

"You know I don't like this."

"But we both hate Sigmund more."

She tapped her indexes together, her head slightly turned to have what most consider her central eye stare at the green pixels staring back at her, before nodding.

"Very well. I'll have people unfamiliar with coding handle him, at least until he no longer exposes his virtual soul to the world. I'll do what I can, but I can't promise anything, Ivan. You don't heal a broken mind like a broken bone or joint, even for us. The way he was made doesn't help."

"Thank you, Dominique. Oh, before I go, press the P key to unmute him, but try to isolate him beforehand. He tends to scream."

The doctor got up, his labcoat fluttering behind him with the movement, and in a few steps, he was out of her office. Dominique, meanwhile, took a second to realize what he had just said.

"Ivan, did you silence a person like an annoying ringtone? Ivan. IVAN!"

He was back in a taxi before she could catch him.