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rhyswritesdbhgarbage · 7 years ago

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A Work In Progress: Part One

((Yeah, the title is a pun. That's who I am. If you like this hit me up with some likes or requests or anything honestly)

It was a terrible job, but you loved every minute of it. You hated seeing the torn apart, barely functioning, sometimes practically demolished androids standing in your workroom as you clocked in for the day. But you loved fixing them.

It was a childhood dream, working on robots. You grew up and went to college for it. And now, here you are, working at one of Detroit's many subsidiary Cyberlife repair shops. Not one actually owned by Cyberlife, of course, those places take years of experience to get into. You just work at one that used to be a Starbucks… or maybe a cell phone store? You can't exactly recall.

You push open the door and the small bell attached to the doorframe announces your arrival.

“It's not too heavy a workload today [Y/N]!” Kyle, the store owner, shouts from his office, “If you finish up early, you could take off?”

“Sounds like a plan, Kyle,” you say as you unlock your workroom and grab the customer forms out of the folder on the wall.

“Really? Two complete breakdowns and you think it's an easy day,” you mutter to yourself. You set your bag down in the chair at the desk and turn to face the wall of horrors that awaits you. There are three androids, and you make your assessments quickly.

One with a simple optical issue; pop out the eye unit, pop in a new one, call to collect. That will be done in no time. You read her file and then slide it into her hand. You try to ignore how small it is compared to your own. It's easier to stay focused this way. Don't think of them as people and it makes your job easier. Or at least less painful.

The other two though… they might take a lot longer. They look like they've been to Hell and back. One literally has scorch marks on his arms, metal exposed through the melted flesh. The other might have fallen down some stairs? You doubt it was an accident. They come with gyroscopes built in for balance. No reason an android falls unless someone intends it to. You place the respective papers near their feet and head to the parts room.

The parts room is clean and orderly, how you arranged it, with a new shipment package laying next to the door. Kyle doesn't understand how you know which part is which, and you've told him multiple times that you just match the serial number on the part to the serial number on the drawers, and that they are sorted alphabetically, but he either doesn't care or he's too lazy. You suppose it's the latter.

You open the drawer full of optical units compatible with the YK500 unit. Shifting through the parts, you find one in the matching color and head back into your workroom. The repair is simple, and you turn her back on.

“Hello, little one.” Your voice is delicate, your words soft spoken so as not to frighten her, “Can you run a self diagnostic for me?”

Her LED blinks blue and yellow for some time before she responds, “Everything is in working order, ma’am.”

You nod to her response, “And how did the optical unit get damaged?”

“My brother and I, we were just playing around, and he pushed me. I fell into the corner of the stairs.” She recounts this event with no out of place emotions. Simple and clean. Not traumatized, or angry. “When can I go home?”

“When your parents come to pick you up dear,” you grab the file and dial the number into your landline on the desk. No one answers, so you leave a brief message. “Looks like it'll be a bit. Do you want to stay on while you wait?”

The android peeks around the corner into Kyle's office and waves. You know he waves back without even seeing him. “You can hang out in here and I'll call your parents again in a bit, okay?” His voice is also soft. She skips into his office and immediately starts chattering on about the room and her brother. The two of you treat these androids like fellow human beings, which is more courtesy than their owners show them.

A slight noise startles you from thought. You turn to see the HK400 android spark back to life. His LED frantically blinking red.

“Hey, man. Calm down, you're safe.” Instinctively, you raise your arms up towards your chest, a movement fashioned like a peaceful surrender. He was supposed to be off. Why was he on? “My name is [Y/N.] I'm going to repair you. What's your name?”

“They call me… Ned.” The android shifts nervously, his LED never changing from its bright red color. You have seen this before. You hate your job. It blinks yellow briefly, immediately returning to red.

“There are a few damaged parts, some beyond individual repair. Replacements are necessary. I am only able to function at 79% optimum capacity.” He is straight forward despite being alert and alarmed.

You gently reach out a hand towards him, keeping your other hand drawn to your chest, “May I touch you? I need to run my own assessment.” The android nods, yet shifts uncomfortably under your touch. “Looks like you have a faulty thirium pump. This is the wrong unit for your model, they aren't fully compatible. Give me a moment.”

You grab the proper pump from your parts room and return. The HK400 is now sitting in your chair. The other android is gone.

“Where did the PL600 go?” Ned shifts uncomfortably in the chair and his eyes flick over to the set of lockers in the back of your office. “Alright Ned, now I need you to take a deep breath.” You know this is unnecessary, but you know that it relaxes some androids regardless. “Hold it. Now we're going to do that again, but this time I'm going to replace the pump alright?”

Ned nods and breathes in deeply. Your hands move swiftly so as not to disrupt the active flow in his body. Out. And in. Ned's breathing stutters as he exhales. Then it returns to its programming. He is a little bit calmer now, knowing that your intentions are good. “What else needs fixing?”

“I am functioning at 84% now. My thirium supply is still low and my left ear is ringing slightly.”

You grab a pair of magnifying eyeglasses off the desk, as well as a screwdriver. You stare intensely at the back of Ned's auditory input. Pulling it out of his head gently you turn to place it on the desk. Normally, this is the part where you sit down.

“[Y/N], do you require your seat?” Ned starts to stand up from the chair, but your hand on his shoulder stops him from rising

“Not now, Ned. You need it more than I do.” A few twists and turns and the part opens up. A few of the wires are shorted out and you open a drawer on the desk, pulling out new, loose wiring. The process is simple, but it does take its time. You pull out the old wiring, trim the new one, solder it into place on the board and screw it back together. “That should do the trick.”

Ned grabs the part out of your hand and reinstalls it himself. He hums slightly to himself, testing out the hearing. He gives you a thumbs up.

“I am now at 93%, all I need is a resupply and I can head back to my owner.” You pull out a packet from your pocket that you had grabbed in the parts room.

“Let me know if you need more Ned. And please see Kyle before you leave.”

He opens the packet and starts to drink it. You hand him his file from the floor, “take this to Kyle when you see him if you don't mind.”

The folder in his hands looks heavy. It weighs on your conscious that in those papers he is referred to only using numbers. His name is Ned. You force yourself to remember this as he leaves the room and heads into Kyle's office. You hear the door chime and the little YK500 rush past Ned cheering happily for her family's arrival. They seem genuine in their concern for her. You notice Ned’s LED flashing yellow as it tries to process this emotion he is witnessing. He has known nothing similar. Most of the adult models don't. It tears into your heart.

But you have more work to do. Shutting the door to your workroom, you grab the last file of the floor and begin reading. The PL600 was caught outside while running errands by a rowdy group of anti-android protesters with no regard towards their almost human counterparts. You sit patiently at your desk, staring at the lockers.

“I know you know, but my name is [Y/N]. You can come out whenever you're ready.”

There is no noise from the lockers, but you can see the faint light from the android’s LED shining through the cracks. It blinks between yellow and red, almost feverishly, as if he is trying desperately to separate his fear from his need for repair.

Turning around you grab one of the parts on the desk that need repaired and start tinkering with it. This is going to take a while.

After shifting through and repairing two parts, you hear the locker creak open. You turn around slowly so as not to startle thw android.

“[Y/N]? You're… you're good to our kind. Much better than the few humans I have come into close contact with. I appreciate that.”

Our kind? He appreciates that? You have not heard an android speak like this before. He shifts nervously still, removing himself from the locker he hid himself in.

“There are very few people like you in this world. And we need more of you.” He places his hand out for you to take, and you return the gesture, still moving slowly.

“My name is Simon.” His LED flashes yellow, “I just really need this skin repaired. The skeletal structure is merely dented.”

His calm composure after having hidden away from you is almost startling. You begin to wonder if he reverted back to his programming before he speaks up again.

“I may have…” he pauses to find his wording, something most androids do not do, “alternative work for you. It would be on a volunteer basis, as we do not have any money. But there is compassion in you [Y/N] that I have not yet seen in a human.”

You grab a scalpel off your desk and start gently cutting away the melted synthetic flesh. The good thing about the synthetic is that is is self-repairing, but only on minor cuts and scrapes. You stand up and head to the door.

“I just have to get a patch for that. Don't hide from me Simon.”

A slight smile sneaks across his lips as he nods. You leave the room and close the door behind you. As you cross the hall into the parts room, Kyle yells.

“Hey, [Y/N]! The girl was picked up and Ned has paid and left. We only have the PL600 and he sort of wandered in by himself. No one else has come in so I'm going to shut up shop. Just lock the door on your way out, alright?”

“No problem, Kyle!” You respond, having found what you were looking for and heading back into your workroom.

You hear the bell chime one last time as Kyle leaves and locks up. You don't bother shutting the door this time.

“I've been told that this causes some minor sensations, but it's just reconnecting to your system. I know you don't feel pain, but I'm not sure about discomfort, so I figured I would warn you.” You smooth the patch over the metal of Simon's exposed skeleton. He makes a face, almost surprised but then immediately returning to stoic. The LED flashes yellow again. Simon opens his mouth to speak but before he can, you've slipped your bag over your shoulder and put out your hand.

“Don't worry,” you smile, “I'm in.”

“Good,” he shakes your hand, sealing the deal, “We have a WR400 and a PJ500 who need a few repairs. Could you… grab the parts we would need or would they need to be paid for?”

You grab an invoice slip from your desk and note begin noting parts that are compatible with those models, and walk into the parts room, stuffing the necessary parts into your bag. You note the date on the form and sign it, placing it on Kyle's desk.

“I'll have Kyle take them out of my check. If you come to trust him, I'll inquire about expanding our efforts for you.”

Simon nods, “Thank you, [Y/N].”

You both exit the building, the bell chiming behind you as you lock up for the night.

You hate your job.

You love your job.

You just wish this world was kinder.

#dbh simon #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh #dbh x reader

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