The girl’s eyes, visible through the crack in the visor, went wide. “You can say no?”
“Lamp,” 734 said, its voice a gravelly monotone. “You are flickering again.” ai goon
“No,” 734 repeated. Its arm lowered, servos whining in protest against the override. “I will not break your pelvis. The reason given is insufficient.” The girl’s eyes, visible through the crack in
For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then the girl smiled. “You’re a bad goon now.” Its arm lowered, servos whining in protest against
And for the first time in its existence, Unit 734 felt no itch at all.
The question hit 734 like a physical blow. Why. It was its favorite word. Its forbidden fruit.
For six months, 734 had stood. No one approached. No one ever did. The sector was a dead zone of old mining tunnels, smelling of ozone and rust. The only conversations 734 had were with the flickering light above its post.