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HunBun: Gonna get dinner. Be right back!
Miles_Per_Hour: No problem. I will just do some quest grinding while I wait.
Miles_Per_Hour: Don’t take too long!
HunBun: I won’t ^-^
Miles_Per_Hour: What are you going to be having for dinner, Honey? If you don’t mind me asking.
HunBun: Fish :3
HunBun: Talk later, Kilometers. Don’t do the raid without me, okay? (ꈍᴗꈍ) ♡
With a pull, I gently unplug the cable connecting to the computer from the slot on the side of my metal head. Everything felt cold, the warmth of data surging to my head gone.
The coldness of the air reminded me of reality. Metal claws that scar rather than cute, nimbe paws.
My unit was designated as a Neo Super FX DSP-41 Alpha. In the past, my creator called me Metal Sonic - when he once believed I was capable of fulfilling my purpose - but now in the present he calls me only Metal.
I spent most of my days now in the Eggnet server space on the Egg Carrier. While I did not have a room of my own, I have isolated a set of computers for my own purposes regardless. I used them to play video games as they help me forget why I was here.
Father no longer required me to go on field missions after I had refused to capture the rabbit named Cream. When he first gave me the order, I told him through a written note that I did not want to do it and that I still felt immense guilt over the last time I kidnapped someone.
I remembered how he stared at me with a puzzled look, fingers twirling his mustache. I thought he was going to decommission me on the spot, that I've finally been proven a complete failure. Another defective model, no worse than Gamma and one who deserved the same fate.
But then he smiled, mumbled something about how ‘Sonic like’ that was, congratulating himself on his genius, and then told me that I was off that mission entirely.
That was three months ago. I have since been stationed on standby on this ship. Father had stated that as long as I made myself useful by doing chores such as cooking, cleaning and laundry he did not care what I did. I was not to leave the ship under any circumstances but otherwise he left me alone.
It was dinner time for Father, so I made my way to the kitchen and cracked open a few eggs. As they sizzle in the pan, I pondered questions. What was it like to eat? Do most organics only consume food as part of their programming, or would they do so willingly without the drive of hunger? The calendar on the fridge listed the Man of the Year. Father was round and big which meant he likely ate for either pleasure or performance. Maybe both.
I would sigh but I couldn’t even speak. What was it like to sigh? I wish I knew as it was one of my favorite emotes to use as Honey. The faster I finished preparing Father’s dinner, the quicker I could go back and hang out with Miles. He is the first thing resembling a friend I have ever made.
More eggs were cracked - he demands every meal to have omelets, scrambles and sunny-side ups. Once his dinner was done, I flew my way towards his room, the tray with his meal in my claws. My metallic arms trembled as I got closer. Will he be in a good mood today?
His room had a lavish, huge red and black bed in the middle and was surrounded by almost hundreds of computer screens in every angle. Father often used a flying chair to navigate between corners. There was a small table in tne corner with action figurines for his 'battle plans'.
He was seated in front of a large computer unit, in a giant chair with many, many monitors, typing frantically, lines of programming code reflecting off his glasses. I was able to quickly process some of it - even though I know I shouldn’t - and realize it was related to Extreme Gear engineering. Father had developed an obsession over the sport for reasons unknown to me. I would ask but I am unable to.
For a moment, I caught a glimpse of myself off one of the darker screens. I hated my red eyes. Why did I have to look like such a monster? The thing I was modelled after didn’t look like a monster… so why did I?
Father had no reaction to the dinner tray being placed onto his desk. I would smile if I could - no reaction was better than bad reaction. Time to make my way back to Miles-
“Metal.”
I froze. Did I forget something? His orange juice was prepared properly this time, along with the vodka. I couldn’t reply so I only turned.
“Thank you for making dinner, son.”
My only reply was a nod. No way to say ‘you’re welcome’. At least Father was in a very good mood today - he must be making a breakthrough.
Why was it that while it was nice for Father to acknowledge me as more than his other machines… it did not feel right? Was it because I knew I was only an artificial creation, not a true son?
It wasn’t long before I made my way back to the server room and plugged myself back into the computers. Warmth of data and electric current. The closest thing to happiness that I could ever find.
HunBun: Hi Miles! I am back .⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝
Miles_Per_Hour: Welcome back, Honey.
I did not pick out the name Honey. Miles simply guessed that was my name, and I told him ‘that’s right!’
There was no need to correct him. I hated my real name.
His avatar ran over to mine, which was an amber cat in a bright red dress. He played a brown fox in mismatching gear that had zero color coordination - a complete lack of fashion sense but he said that this was what the meta was.
I didn’t care about the meta much. There were many other ways to earn credits in the game. One of the coolest features in Gunsmith was that you were able to fully design fabrics, materials and outfits with a fair degree of customization. I have spent entire days and nights simply creating custom outfits in the editor.
Did you know it was entirely possible to become a Gun-illonire exclusively through selling fits on the marketplace? I had become a sort of celebrity in the community for my designs.
We played for an hour or two, regularly texting as we did dungeon raids. Miles often enjoyed discussions of topics relating to programming, mathematics and engineering even as I healed him against enemy attacks. I once asked why he was so interested in having these conversations while playing and he typed that it was because I was the only one who could 'keep up with his intellect.'
Miles would get along very well with Father if they ever were to meet.
Miles_Per_Hour: Do you have Discord? We can vc there.
HunBun: No. What’s that? (,,•᷄ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?
He explained that it was the chat for gamers. I typed that I wasn’t a gamer, but he said that I was totally a gamer because I had already clocked a couple thousand hours in Gunsmith which in his words was 'super cool'. Maybe it was cool - I had no need for sleep or other biological limitations.
Miles_Per_Hour: You should join! My friends are really nice and I think they’d like you.
HunBun: Are you sure? I am not sure that is a good idea… they don’t know me in real life.
Miles_Per_Hour: Yeah it’s cool! My friends let anyone in these days haha.
HunBun: Okay Kilometers… if you say so. That sounds fun ^^