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Robotnik stalked down the hallway. He really didn’t want to go to this meeting; he hated it when Walters suddenly demanded to see him privately, like he was some delinquent being summoned to the damn principal's office. He didn’t deserve this elementary treatment!
Once he reached the door he dramatically swung it open, not waiting for invitation, entering like a storm.
“This meeting better be important, and by that I mean you inform me I’m suddenly getting twice as much funding.”
Robotink assessed the room, noticing there were a total of three more people in the room. The first was Walters, sitting at his desk, as to be expected. The second was Dr. Starline, another younger scientist at G.U.N with streaky black and white hair, plentiful gray stubble and small orange spectacles. Robotnik had only met him a couple other times before but from what he could tell he was a total amateur wack job (and Robotnik makes this assessment as the resident wack job). The third man was someone he had never met before, who was deeply tanned and wore a crisp all black suit. Judging from his attire Robotnik inferred he was one of the many agents at G.U.N.
“Well?”
“Dr. Robot-”
“Dr. Robotnik I’d like to give you a gift.” Starline interrupts Walters, gleaming with excitement. Robotnik hated the way he smiled as if he was in on some prank. Walters glared but let him continue.
“I have created this for you, Sir,” At that Starline gestured to the other man, whose eyes followed Robotnik. He reassessed the agent.
“That’s just a man.” Robotnik said flatly, far from impressed, “You created a man? What, is he your son or something?”
Starline's eyes widened in shock before giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.
“No, no not exactly…” Starline still snickers. Between his scheming eyes and giggles that sounded like teasing, Robotnik decided he was untrustworthy and that it was time to leave.
“This is just a waste of my time-”
“Please allow me to explain,” Walters interjects, holding up a hand. Robotnik glares at him but doesn’t leave. Walters takes a deep breath before continuing, “In the past you’ve had…difficulties with previous agents assigned to you-”
He scoffs.
“-However we can’t just let you be; for productivity's sake, if nothing else, you need an aide.”
He snapped.
“I don’t need an aide, or any assistant or agent or anybody! Human beings are a waste of my time, much like this meeting-”
“That’s where you're wrong,” Starline cut him off. How dare he?! To not only openly laugh at the Doctor but also try to humiliate him by telling him he’s wrong? He was never wrong about any-
“He’s not human at all.”
Robotnik’s train of thought ground to a screeching halt. Not human? He tore his eyes away from Starline to examine the Agent again. It then occurred to him that the other hadn’t spoken a word the whole time. He still looks human to me….
Before Robotnik could get his thoughts in order Starline begins to explain,
“This,” Starline slaps his hand on the man’s shoulder as if showcasing a car, “is 210-N3, a sentient, cybernetic, robotic assistant embedded with artificial intelligence. He is only supposed to mimic a human. He doesn’t come with any of that tedious emotional labor.” Starline lets out an awkward giggle at that last sentence, but otherwise presents his creation with pride. Robotnik glared daggers at him, still trying to make sense of the whole ordeal. Starline shifts forward nervously, his face taking on a more earnest appearance.
“I- I made him for you, Doctor,” Robotnik has known that Starline was a bit of a fanboy, and before he had deemed that appropriate; who wouldn’t be in awe of his genius? But now he saw Starline’s real admiration up close, almost obsessive in nature. It gave him the creeps.
“Now before you yell at Dr. Starline, know that I approved this project,” Walters' voice suddenly interjected again, “Since you can’t seem to get along with any of the humans in the building, Starline proposed a machine assistant.”
“I know how much you love your machines, Sir….”
Robotnik looked between the two in disbelief. This was basically conspiring against him! It didn’t matter what Walter's smart ass said, this was the equivalent of giving him a babysitter! Or when a child wouldn’t stop crying so parents hand it an iPad. Is that what they took him for? A rowdy child that needed to be “kept in check?” And was Starline trying to one-up him by presenting a new invention Robotnik hadn’t thought of yet? He could make a better one!
“Fuck you.”
Walters sighed, looking disappointed but not surprised.
“Well you either take 210-N3 on as your assistant or we take the money it took to create him out of your funding.”
He let out a long frustrated groan. Of course Walter’s would pull that card on him!
“Fine!” Robotnik pointed a slender finger at the mechanical assistant, “You. Come with me.”
210-N3 smiled, but it was anything but natural. The corners of his lips only turned up ever so slightly and his face “muscles” contorted slightly as if he weren’t familiar with the movement.
“Of course sir. And you may call me ‘Stone’ if you prefer.”
His voice was weirder than his smile; it was completely even and devoid of any infliction, aside from the digital stereo overlaying it. It was eerie.
Robotnik already hated this.
~
He left that office fully intending to dismantle 210-N3, to pull apart his insides and reverse engineer it into something even better, effectively one-upping Starline. However after his little conversation with the wretched thing, he was having second thoughts.
For one, the first thing the robot did when they returned to the lab was make a cup of coffee. Robotnik had demanded he stop but 210-N3 didn’t listen. He had stated that he was programmed to make a coffee for the very first time he entered the Doctor’s lab and the only way to overwrite the code was if the Doctor was in critical danger. No matter how hard Robotnik screamed at him he just wouldn’t quit. Fine. Let him have his little barista fun.
Now if that wasn’t strange enough, the coffee 210-N3 served him wasn’t horrendous. As a matter of fact it was quite decent, but not perfect. It actually tasted a lot like a latte he had at some other coffee shop a couple weeks ago. He remembered the drink fondly but had refused to go back when the barista who previously prepared his drink was gone.
While sipping on his not-awful latte, Robotnik examined 210-N3. He was freakishly human looking. The only indication he was something else was his left eye: the iris was a deep, almost Black shade of red with a much brighter red line running straight down the iris. But even Robotnik hadn’t noticed until he got up close.
“You are a marvel of engineering,” He paused, realizing what he had just said, “Don’t tell Starline I said that.”
To his surprise, the aforementioned machine laughed. The sound only came out fractionally more natural sounding than his voice.
“You can laugh?”
“Of course sir! I have both a humor and an emotional index.” If Robotnik didn’t know any better, he’d say 210-N3’s face was trying to morph into pride.
“Emotional index? I thought Starline said you don’t come with emotional labor?” Robotnik asked, suspicious.
“Human relationships are often built upon trust and respect. Humans need emotions to build trust and respect. My creator figured that, even if you don’t like dealing with ‘emotional labor’ it’s best that I have some emotional dexterity, to make for a better partner.”
“Partner?!”
210-N3’s eyes widened in his best attempt at an apologetic expression.
“Ah sorry sir, would you prefer the word companion or-”
“No, no no no. Walters and Starline told me you,” he jabbed a finger into 210-N3’s chest, “were an assistant.”
The robot nodded, seemingly understanding Robotnik’s confusion.
“While I am designed to complete assistive duties my main purpose is to serve as your ideal companion. I am programmed to adapt and learn from your needs and wants.”
“Then why didn’t Walters and Starline tell me any of this?!” Robotnik felt the rage boil up inside him again before a drop of suspicion soured the mood.
“And why are you going against them?” Robotnik asked, fixing 210-N3 with an accusatory stare. He swore he saw the corners of the machine's mouth lift just a fraction.
“I don’t answer to Starline nor Walters. I answer to you, Doctor.”
Robotnik thought for a minute. A companion huh? That’s also probably why they gave him a nickname—Stone, was it?—so he became attached more easily, those scheming bastards. But, perhaps this wasn’t a negative thing. He had a nearly fully sentient robotic lapdog at his disposal. A lapdog that was loyal to him. Not anyone else. And loyalty was created from emotion.
“What’s your current emotional index set at?”
“30%, sir.”
“Move it up to 45%”
“Of course. However a decision like that requires a manual authorization.” He held out his wrist with two lights, glowing under the skin, on the underside. A green light on the pinkie side and a red light on the thumb side.
“Green to confirm. Red to cancel. I am also required to warn you that a jump in the index that large may cause an emotional overload, which can result in outbursts, before I am able to adapt to the new setting-”
“Yeah yeah,” Robotnik pressed the green light, feeling a definite click. It felt like pushing a button on his control gloves but through a layer of skin. Gross.
He needed his lapdog loyal and that meant he needed him emotional to an extent. He’ll get his payback soon enough, and with the very thing they tried to control him with! His mouth practically salivated at the thought. Afterall, revenge was a dish best served-
Sniffle
Robotnik whips around at the offensive sound.
“Are you crying??”
“Ah, it appears so Sir. I’m sorry I’ll get it under control.” He wasn’t exactly crying but his glassy eyes and slight tremor in his lip made it look like he was about to.
“I’m just so happy to finally be with you, Sir.” 210-N3, or Stone, smiled up at the Doctor, his eyes filled with manufactured adoration.
Oh, yes his payback will come sweet and easy. But first, he needed to figure out how the hell his robot was crying.