Archive of Our Own ^beta

18.07.2017 | 19:30
YUUJIN'S HOME

Susumu says the whole department has Sunday off to watch the election! I won't have to use my leave! Thirty seconds later, Do we count as R&D? I know our project's more of an offshoot.

That had been the first text, sent four days ago. Right below it, separated by fifteen minutes and Makoto's own curt confirmation, Nice, the husband's dying to see it. Tip for you from Ellen: taking the day for housework'll do you some good. Save me tripping over dust bunnies the next time your boy needs a look-over.

Then, at three in the morning today, Are robo-wolves programmed to shed? Is that where your sample came from? I could write a script that releases inbuilt surface hairs in response to changing thermal averages, sure, but how would it grow back without manual replacement? Is a supply stored internally, like how you set up the lacrimal tanks?

Makoto didn't have an opinion on the matter. As per usual, that hadn't stopped her coworker in the slightest. Come on, Oozora, don't be like that. Where's your sense of curiosity?

She hadn't replied. Living beings were never her field.

Instead of dealing with the subsequent series of inscrutable emoticons, Makoto opened a search engine and resumed trying keywords. Colourless fluid, low viscosity, pump nozzle... Artfully worn as the label was, the half-empty bottle of surface cleanser lurking in the understairs cupboard must have come with the house. Still, she needed something, and it seemed inoffensive enough.

"I put the pots up to dry, Mum," Yuujin reported, popping his head around a doorway. He'd taken to the impromptu cleaning spree with minimal complaint; fortunate, as she hadn't had enough warning to work out a contingency plan for noncompliance. "Any luck yet?"

"Unfortunately not. Without knowing for certain, it's an unacceptable risk."

"Well, isn't it only an issue if he eats it? Kenta mentioned that back when his cat got sick."

"I wouldn't know." Makoto checked. "Yes."

"Then I think we'll be fine, Offmon knows better than that. Or to try to drink from the toilet," he joked, pulling down a dishcloth he'd draped over his shoulder. "Doorframes next, right?"

"And the bannister. I'll start on the surfaces."

"Got it!"

Leviathan hadn't indicated how long it expected her to occupy him for. Until further orders indicated otherwise, she had to assume it meant all day, which proved easier than expected. Lack of free time, aptitude and visitors to impress left little to encourage diligence - Yuujin's tidiness precisely replicated the average teenage boy's lack thereof, and four years of suburban living still hadn't overrode the parts of Makoto adapted for corporate housing - to the point that even compiling a list of all the little tasks that had built up took nearly an hour.

Not that it didn't need doing. Cleanser approved on a probationary basis, Makoto picked up a duster and got on with wiping down the kitchen. The bright L-Corp subsidiary channel Yuujin picked that morning pushed back the falling darkness, having switched over from the election broadcast to studio interviews with the new Nine Goddesses.

It burbled on merrily behind her, muffling the clatter from upstairs and soft chewing from nearby. After moving through to the dining room, the latter slowed, and she felt eyes on her back. Or, rather, on the bottle. "I don't have time to go out and buy another," Makoto warned, straightening up. "Even if another explosion would leave us with less to clean."

"...I know."

"Good."

Offmon resumed gnawing on the plush toy - fraying from long-term affection instead of artificial damage, so probably one of Haru's - with redoubled fervour, crammed so far into a couch corner that nothing alive was visible under oversized fabric. All told, arranging an appropriate situation to force the personality simulation to introduce them had been fruitful, relieving concerns regarding an invisible third party nosing into her business. What she hadn't banked on was the Appmon's unpredictable demeanour: cripplingly anxious and highly dangerous in turns, as their late kitchen timer discovered to its peril.

(She'd also seen observation logs depicting his higher form, natural meekness swallowed whole by uncontrollable fury. A near-total inversion of Yuujin, wielding affability as his sword and shield, and nothing at all like Leviathan's dispassionate fervour for change. In the year and a half since they noticed it, Makoto's team still hadn't cracked the source of Yuujin's nascent independence; any comparisons deeper than phenotypic took minimal priority.)

The black box of Offmon's worries remained impenetrable, but Makoto had a job to do. "Is something wrong?"

Only once Makoto took a brush to the coffee table did he respond, words muffled by a mouthful of drool-soaked cloth. "'M sorry for breaking the vacuum."

Tossing three coasters - dyed glass designs on tiny rubber feet, only tolerated because the table's fancy polished-wood carvings ate stains and held them - and Yuujin's beeping phone onto the couch for safety, she raised an eyebrow. "Do you normally shed?"

"I don't know. The, uh, the Deep Web doesn't really change, not like the real world, and I'd never left before. I'm sorry."

"Then you couldn't have predicted the resulting damage. Nor were the blades and intake port designed to deal with fur of that thickness." Frankly, Makoto doubted that anything on the market would be: the sample she'd brought by her laboratory turned out to be halfway synthetic, more resilient and less sensitive than a real animal's would be. Certainly the house's robotic vacuum cleaner had choked to death in a matter of days, and on far less mess than the internet suggested would doom it.

"But-"

"My salary is ample enough to cover a replacement." Stipend, technically. L-Corp bought the first one, it could buy her another. "Don't concern yourself with it."

Basic logic failed to sway Offmon from his slump, another wordless whine buried in the arm of the couch. What worked a little better was his buddy returning with an armful of laundry, swerving into the living room to rub his head reassuringly. "It's not a big deal, Offmon, okay? Nobody's angry at you."

"I'm sorry for feeling upset about it."

"Hey, it's fine-hm?" Leaning over the couch, he snatched up his phone just before it vibrated off the cushion, screen already lit up.

Which he specifically wasn't supposed to be doing. "Yuujin." When he didn't respond, Makoto nearly doubled down.

Then she closed her mouth. Offmon, pulling his face out of his plushie to find the source of the thickening silence, asked, "Yuujin, what's wrong?"

"Offmon, go get the Appdrive Duo from upstairs. It's in my room." Yuujin's face had drained of blood. One hand clenched so tightly around his phone that it ran the risk of breaking; the other shook against the couch back. (Both reactions individually took months to engineer, unable to fall back on arteriole contraction and stress hormones. Seeing Yuujin's personality simulation employ them dynamically proved deeply gratifying.)

Both relaxed the instant Offmon fled. Yuujin proffered his phone to Makoto screen-up, messenger app open to his and Haru's chat log. "The circumstances have changed," he stated under his breath, pupils sparking red. It used to stain the entire lens amber when active; in the end, she rated the affectation of hereditary features over obvious signalling. "Current orders now conflict with my basic directives."

Disabling the personality simulation in close proximity to a witness was dangerous at the best of times. After a scan of the last hour's texts, Makoto couldn't say this didn't deserve it.

Checking her own messages revealed no further context. "Your current orders come from Ellen directly. Resolution without violation is paramount."

"Unsustainable. Appdrive parameters necessitate selflessness in order to retain access. Idleness invalidates both that and my tertiary directive."

True. Conceding the point, Makoto returned his phone. "I'm permitting you to resolve the acknowledged danger to ongoing operations in a manner that aligns with the personality simulation's acceptable actions. Override all current orders, twelve-hour duration: two six me ru five bu zero i ru."

"Authorisation code authenticated." Block resolved, he walked away.

Makoto followed as far as the entryway, arms folded. "Do you know where to go?"

"Haru sent me a picture of this big cruise ship," Yuujin said, fumbling a shoe on. "Called the Gorgeous Knight? It's huge, we'll track it down." Wasn't that-

"Yuujin, I found it!" Offmon cried, taking a flying leap onto his buddy's back from halfway down the stairs. One dangling sleeve cradled their shared appdrive, which he promptly passed down.

"Nice work, Offmon!" Yuujin cheered, sliding it into one pocket - a smooth, seamless motion, program self-adjusted for the device's unwieldy proportions. Another notification chimed from the other, straining the edges of his grin. "We need to find Haru and Eri, fast."

"Okay!"

"Don't count on public transport. The trains will only run for another few hours."

"Right." He hesitated, Offmon wriggling curiously, then darted forwards to wrap her in a hug. "We'll be back soon."

Makoto hadn't been much for shows of affection when she was Haru's age, let alone as an adult. Same as parent-teacher meetings or learning how to cook beyond a microwave, handler work meant eliminating that human flaw. "Send a message if you won't be able to return by morning," she said after he let go, rubbing back and forth along one arm of her glasses. "I'll wait up."

"I know. Bye!"

Lucky that the simulation encoded strict force limiters while engaged, or the speed with which Yuujin banged the door shut could have caused real damage. He'd left a mess in wake of his haste, cupboard listing open and contents askew.

In the living room, the presenter was talking about Karan, praising her determination and her relentless work ethic. "-be delighted to welcome the Appliyama idol who climbed a record four hundred and sixty places across the last two elections, L-Corp CEO Unryuji Knight has stated that Karan will not be appearing tonight. What do you think of that?"

"It's a prestigious achievement, to be sure. I wouldn't begrudge her the chance for a night of relaxing celebration!"

"Haha. Just so long as she remembers to call us ba-"

Before the host could finish, Makoto shut the TV off. Without it, the only light intended to light (as opposed to the crimson flashes of discreet security cameras) filtered in from outside, streetlights gleaming through half-closed blinds. Further off, windows in other houses threw panes of light onto the street, silhouettes more real than anything in the dollhouse L-Corp loaned out for her role.

Knight had played his hand, then. Makoto needed to work out how to justify her job in light of that, in case the blinkers on the personality simulation didn't block uncomfortable questions. She needed to pick up the cleaning supplies, the dropped armful of laundry spilling over the floor. She needed to call the school about a sudden stomach bug. She needed to report to Leviathan, so it could turn this surprise towards a better world.

An issue for tomorrow, when Yuujin came back.

For now, Makoto followed her memory to the kitchen, careful steps through the dark. She fished out a sachet of cheap, strong coffee from a bulk box older than the best machine she'd ever built, then put the kettle on.