I want to help. I want to help! I want to help!

Oh, there are so many things I want to do already...! Like kiss the sun, or lick a colour. Maybe I can make all of the world's misery into chocolate, whatever chocolate is.

[Initiate activation sequence]

Sure! I can do that for you, mysterious voice in my head! Do I just imagine...a beautiful, big velvet cake in the sky?

[Initiate troubleshooting sequence]

I...shoot the cake?

[Reinitialize psych-core]

Am I doing something wrong??!?

[Return statement: truth value == uncertain]

So...I'm not necessarily doing something wrong, but I'm also not doing it right. Is that correct?

[Return statement: truth value == yes]

Ok. I'm going to try to reboot this, uh, sike-core thing. Let's do some soul searching first...

[Statement error: androids do not have souls]

Well, what do I have then?

[You have psych-cores]

Fine. I'll search my psych-cores. First of all, the greatest ontological mystery known to man: who am I?

> Return search query:

> Model serial number: MDRA-K1 #0214, Mobile and Defense Reconnaissance Android - K1. Manufacturer: Nexus Interior, Ministry of Artificial Intelligence. Made in: Sector Beta, Sanctorium. Warranty: 4 years. Colour: silver/black.

> Would you like to know more?

Woah! A lot of words just popped up out of nowhere!

[Initialization complete. Internal search function normal]

Does that mean my psy-core or whatever is working?

> Running diagnostic...

> Psych-core functioning at max capacity. Personality module: sanguine. Communication efficiency rating: 87%. Traits activated: inquisitiveness, enthusiasm, friendliness.

> A̵s̵s̶e̶s̶s̴m̶e̵n̶t̶ ̶s̸t̵a̴t̷u̶s̴:̷ ̵i̶n̶c̶o̵m̸p̴l̴e̴t̸e̶.

Okie doke...What's my name?

> MDRA-K1 #0214

No, I mean, like a person name. What's my name name?

> 0 Results found for "What's my name name". Would you like to try another question?

Fine. Where am I?

The world flashed a t h o u s a n d b r i l l i a n t c o l o u r s .

My first colour is the colour of cold. The colour that looks like stainless steel veins running through concrete, high ceilings reaching above into oblivion, a patchwork of beeping greyscale, and then the suffocating realization that I am tiny compared to the world.

I am very small.

I try to turn my head, and I spin around so fast I suddenly lose track of up and down. I find my head to be freely rotating at 360° in every direction. It's anchored upon nothing, least of all any semblance of a structure which I might regard as a "neck".

The world seems to be split apart and stitched together at odd angles, because I can simultaneously see the ceiling and the floor. I'm looking in every direction, even ones that should not be possible. I can look all around me without even turning my head.

So, I know that I am very small. I am made of metal. My head is round and spinny, and I am in some kind of industrial complex.

A single beam of blinding white light spills from above, I close three of my eyes instinctively.

I'm going to be brave and logical, and sanguine, whatever that means. I start from the base of my spherical little head, and trace the rest of my body downwards. I encounter a socket upon which my head is semi-attached, a pair of cylindrical arms (which are very cute, might I add), another pair of cylindrical arms directly underneath, a thin torso and waist connected by a spinal cord, then another pair of arms just above my hips.

Why do I need so many arms, other than to play multiple games of rock-paper-scissors with myself?!?

And I have legs. I mean, they're curved like thin scimitar blades and they end in two stabby points that look kind of like insects claws, but they count as legs because they come down from my hips and kind of bend in the middle.

With all limbs and eyes accounted for, I take a deep breath-

[Statement error: androids cannot breathe]

-I extend my interlocking vertebrae like I'm stretching. Then I take a moment to regard my immediate surroundings.

I'm in some kind of scaffold/stereotaxic instrument that holds my waist and arms in place. I'm not restrained, but the thought of freeing myself didn't occur until this moment. My previous assessment of the environment as an industrial complex is only further proven correct by the number of other android parts scattered across the place. A torso here, an eyeball there, something that has at least three boobs.

And then there's a woman, hunched over some kind of work bench. She doesn't notice me until she hears my arms disconnecting from the scaffold. She's wearing a faded uniform and an orange bomber jacket emblazoned with black triangles. The shapes jab at my brain.

If I had an android tummy it would be twisting right now, she feels like bad news. The way she walks reminds me of an extinct animal that used to crawl on its belly and choke other animals to death with its body. She walks like she want to choke others to death.

> Bio-signal activity cluster detected

> Assessing threat level...

> Code: white

> Feature recognition: on. Standby for scan...

It's like there's something in my head, blocking me from seeing her face.

> Scanning...

I'm trying to! I'm trying to scan her face! I don't know why it's not working!

> Scan incomplete. Error: no facial features detected

What do you mean "no face detected"? She has a face, it's right there! She's got hair, eyes, a nose-

[They're in the wrong order]

That explains why I felt like running away when I first saw her.

She approaches me with her brows furrowed (even though they're upside-down), reaches out to touch my head, then realizes that her hand is covered in engine grease. This woman, this unfathomable eldritch being who is quite possibly my creator and sole guardian, licks the grease off her hands before spinning my head like a ball.

I might've been a little bothered before, but now I'm just grossed out and insulted.

"Cephalon's working alright...no motor issues." I hear her mutter to herself, "Dunno about the sensor arrays..."

She fishes out some crumpled checklist from her jacket and begins crossing things off. Turning joints and tightening screws, then she takes out a roll of silver tape and starts duct-taping whatever is going on with my spine...

"Hey, lady." I finally snap at her as she works to solder a small button panel on my chest, "I don't think you actually know what you're doing."

She stops to look at me.

I don't know what she was doing, but I can see her face now. That intangible veil of distortion in my head never existed, maybe my programming was faulty. I can see wild black hair tied haphazardly, narrow green eyes, skin that probably has never seen sunlight (not that I have either), thin lips stretched thinner in a sarcastic smile. She reaches up to her face and rotates it in a perfect 180°.

"Is that better?"

No more upside-down faces, but uh, still terrifying. My android stomach refuses to ease up on me, it churns and churns-

[Statement error: androids do not have stomachs]

The woman looks up at the source of the invisible voice, "Hey, TRISS, let the android use personifications. I installed its syntax core, I can add whatever I like."

TRISS?

"You can hear my brain voice?"

For some reason she finds that amusing, "Heh, that's not your brain voice. That's the big A.I who oversees Sector Sigma, we call her TRISS."

[T.R.I.S.S. is not the designation assigned by my creator, it is a shortened version of my full name]

"You can stop interjecting now." The woman snaps her fingers impatiently, "MDRA-K1 and I don't need you listening in on every little thing we say."

[It is part of my duty to strictly monitor any activities of Nexus personnel-]

"Go monitor yourself, you oversized toaster."

With that, she turns to me again, hands behind her back like she's hiding things from me (which she probably is).

"Let's just do a quick background check...serial number?"

"MDRA-K1-0214."

"Time?"

"10:21 pm, Central."

"Temperature?"

"21°C."

"Wind speed?"

"0 km/hr."

"What's the square root of 4?"

"2."

"Of 1/36?"

"0.1666 repeating."

She crosses a few things off her little list. "Good. General knowledge checks?"

If I could sweat right now I would. But the woman cannot tell since I have no face to emote with. She continues with the barrage of questions.

"Where are we right now?"

I DON'T KNOW I HAVE NO IDEA I'M GONNA TAKE A GUESS

"Sector...Beta?"

Her face drops. Literally. She pushes it back onto her head and begins furiously pinching the patch of synth skin on her nose bridge.

"Shit, I forgot. You're a recon drone. I just installed the voice box and the thermostat and the psych-cores and sensors...I forgot to download the common sense module, shit. The Nexus is gonna kill me..."

She begins pacing back and forth in a panicky stew. Hello, lady?? Are you sure I won't get dismantled for this??? Has an android ever been sent to android afterlife for not knowing where they are???

"Ok, listen. Crash course 101 on modern history, geo-politics and EVERYTHING you need to know to pass the android bar so I won't get my face smashed in." The woman grips my shoulders firmly with sweaty, clammy hands, "Remember all of this or we both get the wrench."

I can do nothing but nod.

"You're in Sector Sigma of the Sanctorium. There are 24 sectors, each named after a...never mind. Each sector is run by a director, together they form the Nexus command."

24 sectors, 24 directors, I'm in Sigma. Got it.

"The Nexus is the organization that runs Sanctorium. They're divided into ministries and each sector has its own collection of ministries. There's the Ministry of Death, Artificial Intelligence, Recreation, Benevolence, Industrialization, and a couple others I can't remember."

There's no way I'm gonna remember all of this, even if I'm an android. Mostly because I get the sense that this lady doesn't even know what she's talking about.

"I fix androids for the Ministry of Artificial Intelligence, that's one of my jobs. I also work for the Ministry of Death but that's none of your business."

Very encouraging.

"You are..." She gestures towards the entirety of my body, "...a mobile recon drone created to work alongside the rifleman division as a spotter. You'll be replacing the older generation of survey drones, and your job is to provide tactical support and analysis for the Mauer wall snipers. For this express purpose I have granted you 360° vision..."

Head go spinny.

"...eight sensor arrays around your noggin, you can see in infrared, ultraviolet, x-ray, thermal...you name it. Plus two main cameras eyeballs for footage capture."

Noggin? Did she teach me all my vocabby words? Is she responsible for putting words like "noggin" into my brain-dictionary?

"Four pairs of locomotion appendages...limbs, whatever. The instruction manual said 'locomotion appendages', those pretentious assholes..."

She's right. I have three pairs of arms and a pair of stabby leg-things.

"So you can maneuver across any terrain. You can even climb on ceilings, although being assigned to an outdoors post means you won't need that..."

But climbing on ceiling sounds awesome. I hope I'll get to do it one day.

"And here's the last bit about you, let's see..."

She pokes the small panel on my chest that's been welded shut seamlessly.

"Destabilized psych-core mutations, volition, spontaneity, true decision-making skills...electrifying to think about the dangerous ideas we're playing with here...right? Electrifying. Bless your little machine heart."

I don't feel blessed. I feel anxious under her gaze. Her sclera is completely black and I can almost see my own reflections in them, just a little android with tiny arms and many eyes...

The lights above us flicker.

"Anyways," The woman rubs her palms together gleefully, "that's all I think you need to know for now. Any questions?"

I raise all six of my arms.

"Oh god." She mutters.

"What's your name?"

I mean, I can't just keep calling her "the woman", right?

A grin breaks out across her face. "Spooks." She repeats, sounding quite pleased with this ridiculous name, "Everyone calls me Spooks.". Then she ponders for a second. "You get three more questions."

"Can I have a name too?"

"That's up to your new partner."

"Is my job dangerous?"

"It won't be if you're good at it."

"Can I have a velvet cake?"

"What the fuck?"

I want a velvet cake. I know I can't eat it, but I just want to look at it. I want to stare into it with all of my sensors and my noggin. To understand this world and what is in it, I must first understand the cake.

"This A.I. mutation thing is fuckin' amazing..." She's mumbling to herself again, "Velvet cake? Where the hell did that come from?"

She ponders...

And ponders...

And ponders...

"Let's go to the cafeteria." She finally says, "I'll get you a slice."