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“Hey SecUnit!”
Had I possessed a working governor module, I would have been forced to respond. Thankfully I didn’t, so I at least had the option of pretending that I hadn’t heard the human yelling at me from inside the communal washrooms. There was absolutely no reason I'd need to go in there, unless the humans that were currently occupying it started stabbing each other or something. Which they weren’t, ergo, I wasn’t required to care.
“I think it's ignoring me.”
“Yeah, cause you don’t have supervisor privileges”
Despite the hushed tone, I could hear every word they were saying. Even without my enhanced hearing there were audio inputs hidden in the washrooms. (Yes, there are also cameras. Yes, that was weird.)
“SecUnit, get in here now.”
I paused my serial and let a barely audible sigh slip out from behind my helmet. It was something I’d often seen humans do and I had to admit, it was a pretty good move. Joints unlocking, I treaded into the washroom, mentally preparing myself for whatever fresh wave of stupidity I was about to endure.
I had no idea why they wanted me to go in there but all the reasons I could think of weren’t good ones. Being stationed on washroom guard was pretty bad but usually uneventful save for the occasional stabbing incident. At least I had the option of ignoring the cameras and watching my serials while I pretended to be observing naked humans slipping all over each other.
The two humans who had called me in were still damp from the showers, although thankfully, they weren’t naked. I could tell they were young, just past the peak of adolescence. Great. Just great.
The taller one, a female with dark bushy hair, was standing just in front of the waste receptacles with her hands folded behind her back. There was a strange expression on her face, like she wanted to laugh but was trying not to.
Sometimes, humans would order SecUnits to do stupid shit like clean toilets or unclog drains because they found it funny. If you asked me, it was a gross misappropriation of resources.
(No one ever asked me, but whatever)
The other human in the washroom was smaller and male. His hair was a lighter colour and his face was speckled with brown spots. When I entered, he’d stepped back slightly, clearly intimidated by my presence.
“It’s not going to like, attack us or something?” He asked the other human. She chuckled, “Of course not, they have this thing in their heads that stops them from going crazy and stuff. That’s why they don’t just kill people all the time.”
(Oh the irony. So far, any plans I had made to go on a rogue murderous rampage had been put firmly on the back burner, but the option was looking more promising by the second.)
“Can it drink stuff?” The first human asked quizzically. He was new on this contract, new to contracts in general. He had come from a colony in a distant planetary system, recently acquired by PresharVoxHill. This was probably his first time seeing a SecUnit up close. According to his feed id, his name was Maize.
“No.” I said, before the other human could answer for me.
The second human, whose name on the feed was Ingrid, was a generational indenture who had recently been given an interim supervisory position. She was on route to management track but hadn’t qualified for the promotion just yet. (That’s code for, her family didn’t have the credits for it.)
“Take off your helmet,” she ordered. She was still technically a supervisor, so I had to do what she said.
Maize got a weird look on his face when my helmet folded back. Sort of like he was about to have an involuntary bowel movement or something. Gross. If he did, I wasn't going to clean it up. I'd risk exposing my hacked governor module and getting melted down to avoid that particular nightmare.
“Why do they look so…?” he trailed off.
“So human?” Ingrid finished. She looked thoughtful, “I don’t know.”
I didn’t know either. Things would probably be better for me if I looked like a humanform bot. (Things would probably be better for me overall if I was a humanform bot.)
“Maybe because it's cheaper to manufacture ComfortUnits and then stick guns in them?” That was the most likely answer. SecUnits and ComfortUnits do share the same basic configuration although obviously there are some pretty significant differences.
Ingrid shook her head, “Who cares? Anyway, watch this.”
She pulled an unmarked bottle from behind her back where she’d been hiding it. “Drink it.”
Tipping my head back, I started to pour the contents into my mouth without hesitation. This wasn’t the first time I’d been ordered to consume something. Usually it was excess condiments or illicitly procured alcohol, humans really thought it was the height of amusement to watch SecUnit’s struggling to consume their awful human substances. It was disgusting, but it wouldn’t do any harm besides clogging up my internals a bit which was an easy fix in the cubicle.
“Make sure to finish the whole bottle,” Ingrid snickered.
As soon as the liquid hit my tongue I knew this couldn’t be alcohol or condiments, the viscosity was all wrong. It was thicker, a gel-like texture that coated the inside of my mouth and throat. I had already turned my taste receptors off but I caught a whiff of whatever it was and was hit with an acrid, chemical smell.
Ingrid had just ordered me to drink an entire bottle of the company standard antibacterial soap. It was the cheap kind, handed out en masse on these types of contracts and designed to obliterate all living bacteria on the surface of the skin. (And incidentally, portions of actual skin. A lot of humans were walking around with minor skin irritations due to the harsh chemicals.)
I didn’t think it would have that much effect on my internals. I hoped it wouldn’t. I turned my pain sensors down just in case.
“Wow, I didn’t think it would actually do it!” Maize was staring bug eyed as I downed the bottle of hand wash.
“Of course it did.” Ingrid said with an eyeroll, “It has to do everything we say. Everything I say.”
I had to pull the bottle back. I don’t breathe as much as humans do but I do need to breathe. Even with my pain sensors tuned down, the soap was starting to burn the soft organic tissue in my mouth. It was distinctly unpleasant, but hey, at least it was clean.
“Wait, where will it go?” Maize asked.
Ingrid looked at me, “I dunno, probably- Actually SecUnit, where will it go?”
“The liquid will be stored in an internal storage department until it reaches capacity. Then it will need to be cleared in a company issued cubicle.” I said, which wasn’t a total lie. I just didn’t want to tell her ‘the contents of this bottle will go directly into my lung, which will then be violently ejected as soon as you leave me the fuck alone.’
“Hah, look its blowing bubbles!” Ingrid giggled. She was right, the soap had started reacting with my artificial saliva and the minute I’d opened my mouth to talk, foamy suds had started leaking out around my lips. I swallowed it back down, hoping they wouldn’t notice the slight twitch in my right eyebrow.
“It looks kind of angry,” Maize whispered, he had drawn inwards almost like he was trying to hide behind Ingrid. There was a worried looking expression on his face.
“It’s fine, it’s just soap. It’s not going to damage it or anything,” she wrapped her arm around Maize’s shoulders and gave him a soft smile, “We’re not going to get a fine.”
That was probably true. Although, the company would be able to issue a fine for extra cubicle use or something. If someone reported them that is.
“SecUnit,” Ingrid fixed me with a hard look, all the gentleness from before gone from her face. “Finish the bottle.”
Oh right, I still had almost half the bottle left. My buffer took that moment to finally chime in, “This is nonstandard use of company equipment.”
“Drink it. That’s an order.”
I didn’t know what my face was doing at that moment, hopefully something typical for a SecUnit. I tipped the bottle back again and let the thick, gooey gel ooze down into my mouth. I had swallowed stuff before but admittedly, I was out of practice. It might be easier to just allow gravity to do its job and let the soap drip down my throat. That way I could engage as little of my organic processes as possible.
What I didn’t count on was that my organic tissue, upon noticing that I wasn’t swallowing properly, then decided that I was choking and reacted accordingly. A heinous retching noise started up somewhere at the back of my throat and suddenly it was a lot harder to breathe. The soap was filling my mouth, my throat, it was a lot like drowning only, it smelled like antibacterials.
“Um, I don’t think-” I could hear Maize’s vague protests, even as my sensors were overwhelmed with the harsh chemical smell.
“It’s fine!” Ingrid snapped, “Don’t tell me you actually feel bad for it?”
Maize wilted, “I mean… This just feels-”
My head was still tilted back so I couldn’t see him but I could tell he was looking at me. I could have switched to the camera feed, but I didn’t actually want to see any of this.
“It feels wrong…” He trailed off.
There was silence for a moment, interrupted only by gurgling coughs I was desperately trying to hold back. Then, Ingrid said quietly, “No Maize, when PresharVoxHill bought out your home and forced your family into slavery, that was wrong. When they force us to increase our production hours, and put restrictions on our food rations, that’s wrong. When they charge us extra for basic med-care, that’s fucking wrong.”
Her tone was starting to raise in pitch and I could hear the tremble of barely suppressed rage in her voice. “What PresharVoxHill is doing to us? That’s wrong. Aren’t you angry about that?”
Maize cleared his throat, “Of course but-”
“But what?!” Ingrid jabbed a hand into my chest. “This is- this is a fucking machine! If it was ordered to shoot one of us in the head, it wouldn’t even hesitate!”
That was… true.
“I saw one of those things break Lida’s arm, all because she needed an extra meal ration. She was six months pregnant! Do you think it gave a damn about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course it fucking didn’t! You think these things care about hurting us? You think they care at all?” Ingrid was shouting now, the words bouncing off the tiles of the empty washroom. “How can you have more sympathy for the fucking SecUnit’s than you do for us?!”
Maize was silent, worn down by Ingrid’s outburst. The bottle was empty now and I was just standing there like an idiot. Alerts were filling my feed, warning me that my lung had reached its holding capacity and would need to be emptied as soon as possible. I… did not feel good.
“SecUnit.” I clenched my jaw and turned my head slowly towards her. “Did you swallow it all? Show me, open your mouth.”
I obliged, parting my lips just enough to show her. Tiny bubbles drifted off into the air, set in motion by my shallow breaths.
“Haha, look at that! More bubbles!” Ingrid clapped her hands, her laugh high and reedy, approaching manic. “Isn’t that funny?”
“Yeah, funny.” Maize echoed, giving a solitary ‘ha’ in response. I wanted to cough again but I was afraid that if I did then all the soap I’d just ingested would come right back up and I really didn’t want anybody to see that. Besides, if that happened there was no telling what Ingrid might do. She might order me to drink another bottle of handwash or something equally as foul. Beneath the armour, my organics started to sweat. The waste receptacles were right there.
No… Please.
“What are you doing?” A sharp voice cut abruptly through the tension that had settled over the washroom. Ingrid and Maize’s heads snapped towards the doorway where supervisor Beatty was standing, arms folded across her chest.
“We were- it's not-” Maize stuttered.
“Nothing.” Ingrid said, “We weren’t doing anything. The SecUnit just came in here while we were in the showers. It was probably trying to perv on us or something.”
Supervisor Beatty raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it for a second. She hadn’t yet noticed the trickles of soapy fluid around my mouth or the poorly concealed empty bottle of handwash behind Ingrid's back. “SecUnit, is that correct?”
Well, not the part about me wanting to see them in the showers (why the hell would I want to do that?) or the part where I came in here of my own accord. So I guess none of it was true.
“I will prepare and send you the report at your earliest convenience,” I said. I had already edited out the parts where Ingrid had forced me to drink soap, so I packaged it up and prepared to send it to supervisor Beatty’s feed. It was a bit risky, but I doubted Ingrid or Maize would be in any hurry to contradict my version of events.
“Just tell me, SecUnit. Were you damaged in any way?” Supervisor Beatty said. She was giving me an out, I liked Supervisor Beatty. (Well, I didn’t actively dislike her at least.)
“This unit has not sustained any permanent damage to its internal structure,” my buffer said, thanks buffer. I was too distracted by the unpleasant feeling of my lung, strained beyond capacity, to think about forming words.
She nodded her head, “Well if that’s the case, Unit go back to your station. Ingrid, Maize your allocated time is up and- arghhh!”
There was a terrible retching noise as my overfilled lung decided that no actually, it couldn’t wait, it needed to eject the foreign substance within it right away, please. All over the floor in front of the shocked humans.
Maize yelped and jumped backwards, away from the foamy puddle spreading across the tiles. It was a sickly green colour, paled with diluted internal lubricants.
Supervisor Beatty sighed, a resigned sort of sigh. Fixing Ingrid with a glare she said, “You know the fines for damaging equipment don’t you?”
All the bravado Ingrid had been displaying earlier had been stripped away. Her fists clenched, open and shut and her eyes were starting to fill with tears. She looked softer somehow, I could see now how young she really was.
“It isn’t fair!” She said in a wavering voice, “It’s just a stupid robot! It’s fine!”
I gagged. Internally, I felt my lung clench again. Oh great, so there was still more.
“Go to the storage closet on level five and get supplies. The two of you can clean this up,” supervisor Beatty said sternly. “Then, get back to work. I’m going to have to file an incident report for damaging company property.”
Ingrid huffed and stormed out of the bathroom, Maize following close behind. I barely registered them leave, too busy heaving another sudsy flow, bent double as the foamy substance worked its way back up through my throat.
When I was finished, I straightened up to see that supervisor Beatty was still there. She had walked closer to stand directly in front of me and her gaze met mine. I wanted to look away, that way I wouldn’t have to see the sorrow in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said to me, I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing. “I’m guessing you’re going to have to report this to the company then?”
A governed unit would have already done that. I pulled open the form in my feed.
“Supervisor Beatty, I am contractually obliged to record and report this to the company.” I said in a hoarse voice. My throat itched uncomfortably at having to say so many words.
Her lips twitched downwards. “They’re just kids…”
“Yes.” I said.
“They’re hurting. They’re angry. They don’t know what to do with that,” She said, “All this-”
Her arm waved around the washroom. I didn’t know what she expected me to glean from that vague gesture. I didn’t know if she expected me to understand anything at all. When I didn’t reply, her arm dropped and she looked at me again, “You said before that you didn’t sustain any permanent damage. Was that true?”
“Yes.” My lung would definitely need some minor repairs but according to the diagnostics I'd been running, it was still functioning within acceptable parameters. The temptation to lie and tell her I’d require a more serious repair cycle needled at me, but that would only escalate things further. I needed my cubicle. I needed to be somewhere a human wasn't looking at me or talking to me.
“If there’s no damage then surely clearing out your internals in the cubicle could be filed as routine maintenance?”
“Yes.” The company could file extra charges for additional maintenance but at least PresharVoxHill would absorb those. Ingrid and Maize would be spared the fines. My system’s pinged me with a warning that something in my lung had sprung a leak. I grit my teeth.
“Then…” Supervisor Beatty looked uncomfortable now. “Then, I see no reason to file a formal report.”
So that was it then. Supervisor Beatty had given me an order not to report this to the company. Except supervisor Beatty clearly failed to understand that company protocol dictated I record and report every minor infraction, even if I had specifically been ordered not to. Especially if I had been ordered not to.
I pulled the unedited footage from the past half hour, including the part where I projectile vomited all over the floor. Maize had just started his indenture, six months into a twelve year stint and he hadn’t even made a dent in the massive amounts of debt he had already accrued. Ingrid had missed the opportunity for promotion to management, but she had been made interim supervisor so there was still a good chance she’d be able to qualify in a few years time. The fines for damaging company property were disproportionately large, this would set them both back quite a bit. Would serve them right, the little fuckers…
I closed the file and deleted the footage from my feed. Then I deleted it from my permanent storage, just to be safe.
“Acknowledged.” I told Supervisor Beatty, flicking my eyes away from hers and down to the floor where the disgusting puddle of ejected fluids was starting to congeal. It was tinged with blood.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you SecUnit.”
My nasal receptors burned with the scent of cheap antibacterial handwash, sharp and acrid.
SecUnit?
SecUnit? Can you hear me?
Is everything okay in there?
I snapped back to reality in a tiny washroom on Preservation station. Mensah was in my ear and a backlog of worried pings were lined up in my feed.
It took a minute for my brain to pull itself together and remember that I wasn’t in a grimy communal washroom on some depressing contract. I was in a (marginally less grimy) washroom on Preservation station. Where I apparently lived now, at least some of the time.
I turned the tap off. I don’t know how long I had been standing here with my hands under the cleaning fluid, completely out of it. I could still feel the burning soap in my mouth, could still feel the discomfort of ejecting the fluid from my lung, could still smell it.
Oh, because I was actually smelling it, that’s why. The last of the suds had washed down the drain long ago but the lingering scent of antibacterials remained. I analysed the scent in my processors, it wasn’t exactly the same but similar enough to trigger something in me.
(I still have my memory recall incidents from time to time, I don’t think they’re ever going to go away completely. I think I preferred it when the subject matter was something my brain invented and not something that had actually happened to me.)
Do you need me to come in? Mensah sounded concerned, her emotions bleeding through the feed ever so slightly.
No. I’m fine. I said. Everything’s fine.
She was waiting for me outside the washroom when I came out, worry creasing lines into her face. I could tell she wanted to fret over me but was holding herself back.
“Did you want to talk about anything?” She asked gently.
“No.” I could talk to her, I knew that. I could tell her anything and she wouldn’t cry or get too distressed, or try to tell me that everything that had happened had been evil and wrong and poor SecUnit had just been doing its job and whatever. I could tell her about what happened in that washroom, I could tell her everything and she would just…
Listen.
(This is why I like Mensah. This is why she’s my favourite.)
But I didn’t want to do that. It was a nice day and we were on our way to see a live performance in the station's theatre. It wasn't often Mensah had time to see these shows and she had been looking forward to it. She didn't say it but I knew she was looking forward to seeing me as well. I didn't want to ruin that by dumping all my emotions on her.
Plus, I had been looking forward to seeing her too.
We started the route to the theatre, Mensah walking just a few steps behind me. The drone I had trained on her let me know the anxious look on her face hadn’t left yet. On the feed she asked, Are you sure you’re alright?
I paused my stride and took a deep breath. The intensity of the memory recall was starting to fade and I had already deleted what I could from permanent storage. I knew I’d have to talk about it when I did my next trauma treatment but right now, I just wanted to see the performance. I’m fine, really.
We fell in step together and when she was by my side, I let my hand slip into hers. She was warm and soft, and so very human.
Maybe one day I’ll tell her about the things that had happened to me, the things I had been forced to endure. The things I had been made to do.
But not today.
No, today I was on Preservation station, I wasn’t with the company and it was a good day.
“Let’s get going. The show will be starting soon.”