“Are you filing the report when we get back?” WISR asked as the speeder leapt into space.

Anny shook her head, “I gave him six months. Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”

“Still that’s… a long time to live through that kind of mistreatment. Even for a robot.”

“You’re right, no one should go through that, not even a robot. But if I told him ‘do it now, or else!’ nothing would be fixed. Giving him pressure and a time limit might just make it happen.”

The android didn’t respond, only leaned his monitor head against the window..

Anny broke through the reverie, “Are you still gonna ask the boss to reassign you?”

“I… don’t think I work well with anyone at this point, much less a human and one like you at that.”

The speeder yanked to a halt.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that if you would like me to be nice to you, you’d have to order me to do so. Oh wait, we don’t live in ancient history and I don’t have to listen.”

“What is your problem? We just completed our mission without PAXing a single android and we may have saved the lives of hundreds of robots! Aren’t you even a little happy?”

Before he could answer, she cut him off, “And don’t even try and tell me you coulda done all that yourself.”

“You’re right. Perhaps by some freak or fluke of nature, we did accomplish something. I still don’t like you, though.”

Anny sighed and aimed her speeder back to the crescent moon dotted with the towers and tall buildings of the city.

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J.D. Locke • Watercolorheart


The dining room that night was quiet, none of the overseers or partners or shareholders there to share in the misery of the androids. Anny and WISR alone sat across from Mr. Cassia.

“Now what is that thing doing here?” he demanded, setting aside his silverware in disgust.

“I thought we were discussing matters of our work,” WISR replied, his tone nothing short of cheerful.

The foreman elected to ignore him, instead turning to Anny.

“I trust you’ve finished the job. You know, the one I paid SYMM for.”

“As far as we can tell, any talks of uprising are justified,” WISR announced coldly.

The foreman coughed and sputtered, the lollipop in his mouth spattering onto the tabletop.

“And how does that figure?” he demanded, his face red.

Anny answered, “Working conditions are barely enough to keep them functional, let alone happy. Charging stations are overcrowded, forcing androids to work on low power reserves, and the quarters are far too warm, causing their systems to break down and overheat. Changing that alone would cut your repair costs in half, if you even bothered to fix the broken ones, which you don’t.”

“Now listen here, I didn’t hire you both to come in here and tell me how to run my business! Those things aren’t people and I won’t treat them as such!”

“You’re right,” she continued, “They don’t have the same rights as you or me. But they do have rights to begin with, and we’d hate to report this establishment for mistreatment.”

“And where do you propose I conjure up this money to improve ‘conditions’?” Mr. Cassia asked with a heavy dose of air quotes.

WISR’s parenthetical smile became a smirk, “Well, that’s the thing. If you do the math, with all of your laborers and low overhead, even accounting for those who don’t work very efficiently thanks to disrepair, you should be taking in at least 10,000 credits more than you report to Central Government.”

“Now that is a baseless accusation!”

“Is it? He’s a rather talented calculator, although an annoying one,”Anny admitted, “You have six months to improve conditions here for your working metal men or I will submit the report on the charges of Gross Mistreatment of a Robot and fraud to Central myself.”

Anny stood and began to walk towards the door.

“I’ll have your job, girl. I will. You will never work again if I say so! I own this moon!”

She ignored him and continued walking.

“Yes, I’m sure your ownership of this swamp will save you from an Interplanetary Tax Audit and felony charges,” WISR remarked dryly before following her out.

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J.D. Locke • Watercolorheart


The Library wasn’t technically off-limits to Anny, but she still didn’t want to be caught browsing the shelves. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t exactly a part of what was expected on the job, and there was no real good way to justify it. She slipped into the tiny room off Mr. Cassia’s office, looking over her shoulder once, twice, to make sure she wasn’t followed.

The air smelled like stale cigar smoke. S almost opened the paneled window across the room, but then she’d be caught for sure, and =the peppery atmosphere outside was no better. On either side of the window were a pair of tall, narrow bookcases, each one sparsely populated.

Anny tugged down the huge, hardback book, Basic Android Repair, which might have been a textbook from a trade school. The sticky, yellowed pages pulled apart noisily and the copyright was from the same year her parents were born. Beside it were books about logging and cultivation, their spines hanging off and pages warped. She was sure none of those would be useful.

Against the right side wall were rows of binders, each one given a date and labelled T1, T2, T3. Financial records, exactly what she was looking for! She pulled down the most recent one, footsteps sounded in the distance, the unmistakable jangle of Mr. Cassia and his belt of keys. 

Anny dove under the huge wooden desk, binder pressed to her chest, hand covering her mouth to muffle unsteady breaths.

His heavy heeled boots wandered in, and after an eternity, faded away. Finally, she let herself breathe, cracking open the cover and pulling out her phone. All these numbers may make no sense to her, but a calculator like WISR may find something useful there. She sent him close to a gigabyte of pictures praying he wasn’t too busy.

The response she got was immediate:

Will take a look. “Uprising” has no leader, robots just angry @ working conditions/lack thereof

Good 2 know, thx.

Carefully, she emerged from under the desk and gently replaced the binder, although she nearly dropped it in shock when her phone again beeped.

My office – Foreman

The foreman didn’t look up from his papers, lollipop stick swinging left and right under his stubbled moustache.

“What do you have to report?” he demanded. “I want this revolt dealt with and now.”

“What if it isn’t one robot talking about it? The supposed ‘uprising’? What if they’re just- just upset?

Mr. Cassia’s eyes narrowed.

“PAX them,” he replied, “PAX them all.”

Anny took a startled step back.

“Wh- what? Using my key costs 1,000 credits per use, to do your entire staff, let alone the time-!”

“Don’t care. You’ll have dinner with me tonight once the job is done and then you and your machine will get off my moon. This nonsense has gone on long enough.”

“O-Okay,” she stammered, pulling out her phone, “I’m gonna call WISR so he can help me get started.”

“Good girl,” he replied, biting down the lollipop in his mouth in an angry crunch.

Anny backed out of the office before tearing down the stairs and out into the swampy sunlight of Yamaya’s sunset. As she raced up the irritatingly steep hill, she frantically dialed her android partner.

“He wants me to PAX all of them!” she cried.


WISR’s voice was barely audible over the scream of electric equipment.

Breathlessly, she repeated herself, “Mr. Cassia… wants me… to PAX… all the androids! We have to do something!”

“Right! Got it!”

When he met her just outside the workhouse, she was completely out of breath, half-unbound hair plastered to her face with frantic sweat.

“Hey, easy,” WISR said, grasping her shoulders, “If you pass out, they might PAX me too.”

“Glad to know… where your priorities… are,” she gasped.

“Well, someone has to look out for me. C’mon, let’s get you into a cabin where it’s shady.”

The air inside was stifling and peppered with the burning spice that clouded the entire camp, but slightly cooler than outside.

“Is it always this warm in here?” Anny asked, fanning herself with a hand, “This isn’t safe for androids.”

“It cools down a little at night, but you’re right, most of the robots here are half-dead from the heat alone. Not to mention all the sawdust, lack of charging ports, disrepair…”

“No wonder why they want to rebel. That’s inhumane, like, illegal!”

“But what can we do? You have a job to do.”

“And I have no intention of PAXing a hundred androids today. We have to end this, here and now. Did you get a chance to look at the financial records I sent you?”

“Yes, and either our dear foreman was lying about the success of his operation to you or to the government, according to his tax reports he’s barely breaking even.”

“Then that’s it!” Anny cried, leaping up, “I know what we’re going to do!”

“What’s that?”

“We’re going to go to dinner.”

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J.D. Locke • Watercolorheart


Although the pepperwood plank salmon was delicious and the chilled wine imported from the planet Canenae was refreshing, there was only so much Anny could hear about “the boltheads” and “the metalfaces”. 

“And then- then it was begging me to stop!” a red-faced man guffawed. 

He coughed into his meaty balled fist, the flesh around his eyes erupting into purple. 

“But by then, its insides had already blown, wasn’t like we was gonna put it back together again! So I kept going until it was fit for scrap!”

Mr. Cassia gave a hearty laugh at that. 

“I’m sure that scared the gearies good n’ plenty!”

“Oh yeah! Not one of those things looked me in the eye a solid week!”

Anny set aside her cloth napkin. “Will you excuse me, gentlemen? I’m not feeling well. Must be the heat.”

“Of course, my dear!” Mr. Cassia waved with a smile, “Can’t wait to hear what your own calculator has to say about the rest. Goodnight.”

Over her shoulder she heard one of them bark to an android standing at attention in the corner, “More wine, rustbucket!”

Anny slammed the door shut, pressing her back against it and rubbing at her eyes. It was only when she’d opened them again, taking a few blinks in the planetlight, did she notice the android sitting on her bed.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded a bit more acidly than she meant.

“Forgive me your majesty,” WISR spat back, “But our mission will come to an abrupt halt if I cease to function.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I was fine before I had to work with you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Ah, yes, I imagine you were stuck with me by pure coincidence.”

“Hush. What is it you need?”

He reached into one of the enormous pockets of his cargo jeans and pulled out what seemed like unending piles of junk. A rolled-up android repair kit, a mini first-aid pack, a packet of crackers, a lump of paper napkins, and something that looked suspiciously like a hacked microchip for a video game cabinet.

Finally, he came up with a travel adapter, the kind that plugged into the wall and took hours to get a decent battery percentage.

“Have you a free outlet? I’m running low.”

Anny snatched one end of the wire from his hand as he settled the other into port at his wrist.

“You coulda done this yourself, you know,” she huffed as she bent down to plug it in.

“All of the charging stations in the cabins were taken and I didn’t want to be seen outside of them. And is it so hard to imagine that I’d want to check up on my darling partner, compare notes and such?”

Anny rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t need to barge into my room for that.”

“Ah, since your prior mission had gone so well, were you planning on letting your utter incompetence bring me down with you?”

“What did you just say?”

“I’m… sorry. That was uncalled for,” WISR finally said.

She turned away, “Doesn’t matter. You’d be thinking it anyway.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Here, let me see?” she asked, sitting beside him and reaching for his arm.

“But of course, who am I to deny you?”

Anny rolled her eyes but said nothing, pulling one of the tightly-wound wires from WISR’s wrist and plugging it into the top of the handheld device on her lap. The screen in the middle of it sprang to life with the requisite logos and startup screens before showing her a menu of options. Selecting one, it showed a list of error codes and messages, of which there were blissfully few and she let out a relieved sigh.

“And here I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t, but if you don’t come back in one piece, [boss] will have my head if not my job, and who knows what this environment would do to you.”

“Indeed, I’ve seen firsthand the effects the place has on other robots.”

“Yamaya sucks,” she said, mopping at her glistening forehead with the collar of her shirt balled in her fist.

“I agree. Here I thought our forced partnership would be the worst part of this job.”

Anny scowled at him.

“Do you really have to be so mean all the time?”

“Come now, you dislike this just as much as I.”

She leapt up and went to the window, the thick breeze off the bayou failing to lend any relief.

“We need to figure this out and soon. But we have a revolution with no way of stopping, a client who I hate with every fiber of my being, and with no answers, there’s no way out.”

She turned back to face him.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to help put a stop to this ‘uprising’?”

“No. Although it might be a bit self-righteous to think you can do anything to help.”

“That’s not true! That’s our job, to help androids in need. And these need us now.”

“Strictly speaking, our job is to do what the clients – the human clients — say.”

“They aren’t the ones who need us now.”

“But what exactly can we, alone, accomplish?”

“We could report the mistreatment. Androids have rights, too.”

“Only slightly more than your house pets,” WISR remarked sardonically, “But with the condition a lot of the robots are in, many would be scrapped immediately.”

“And that doesn’t help anyone.”

She grabbed at the tufts of her white-blonde hair and huffed out loud.

“What are we supposed to do?”

“What we’re supposed to do is the job. Find out who is leading this revolution, put an end to them via PAX or more permanent means, go home, collect our respective paychecks, and get suckered into doing it all over again. What we should do, however, is a little different.”

“What we should do is convince the foreman to treat his androids better and there wouldn’t be a need for an uprising at all.”

“Correct-a-mundo,” WISR replied dryly, “But he doesn’t care about the wellbeing of his androids at all. So what does he care about?”

“The other humans working here? We could stage an assault or start a fight!”

“And get Interplanetary called.”

“Right. Police would make everything worse. What about money? He sure cares a lot about that, he went on and on this afternoon about how much the operation rakes in.”

“Did he mention a number?”

Anny shook her head, “No, but I suppose I could investigate and find out.”

“Who knows, maybe there’s something in those numbers that will give us a clue.”

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J.D. Locke • Watercolorheart


Yamaya’s air was thick with swampy marsh water, tinging the atmosphere of the moon a sickly green. Moss dribbled from the trees, ran between the cobbletones, and clogged the fountain at the center of the square, every surface slick with something slippery and green.

Tumbledown wooden shacks, repair shops, and an equipment distribution and logistics building ringed half of the circle, flanking a massive white mansion house. A man emerged from inside as Anny touched down in an unoccupied parking space, and he leaned casually against one of the massive pillars, adjusting the jeweled clip holding the bolo tie around his neck.

“You must be the SYMM agents I sent for,” he said, a lollipop stick dancing in his mouth, the candy clacking against his teeth.

Anny reached out an arm to shake, but the man turned it over sideways, pressing his prickly lips to her knuckles.

WISR stiffened.

“Yes… Well, we’ve been dispatched-”

“I don’t recall giving you orders to speak, machine,” the man cut him off coldly, but his charming smile was back when he regarded Anny. “My name is Mr. Kazimierz Corin Cassia, owner and foreman. We run primarily on robot labor, although there’s a small crew of humans overseeing and repairing the things. Problem is that my overseers have been hearing some words of contention out of our units. We think one is discussing an uprising, or worse, unionization. But we’re not sure which one.”

“I imagine that’s where my associate comes in,” Anny said.

“Correct-a-mundo. It’ll pose as one of my laborers, and get word from the inside while we observe from the out. Make sense?”

Anny and WISR nodded.

“Some of my machines look too human for comfort, so I mark them all with one of these.”

From the table behind the pillar, he picked up a swath of itchy brown fabric.

“Oh, joy upon joy. Our first assignment and I have to be a slave,” WISR said.

Anny tossed the rough burlap garment at him. It hit him square in the chest and fell with a plop to the floor, forcing him to bend down and scoop it up. She hesitated a moment, instantly feeling guilty, but he’d already gotten it and settled it over his shoulders before she could help.

“Well, get over it,” she replied sharply, “We came here to do a job and we’re going to do it. Go join the ranks.”

A line of androids, monitors and synthflesh and metallic parts alike all streaked with the grime of grueling work, trooped by in a relentless march. WISR let his entire body droop in exasperation before he resigned himself to the hunched fold of the other robots and trudged to his place in line.

“It always talk to you like that?” the foreman asked Anny, crunching noisily on the candy.

“It’s our first mission but so far, yeah.”

“Come then, lemme show ya a tour of the operations.”

Mr. Cassia led her up a massive hill with steps set in the earth, bordered by old and splintering wood. About halfway up the incline, sweat plastering her shirt to her back, Anny began coming up with better names for the logging camp: ‘Camp This-Stupid-Hill’, ‘Camp Never-Shoulda-Taken-This-Job’, ‘Camp Why-Me’. As they got closer and closer to the top, she choked back the spicy smell of fresh-cut pepperwood .

“Ya alright there?” Mr. Cassia asked, offering a huge and callused hand to help her up the last big step, which was seemingly that much worse than the others.

She tried to make it without his aid, but stumbled up and into his grip anyway. She swore her feet completely cleared the ground as he hauled her up.

“F-Fine. Fine,” she stammered as she tried to get her bearings again.

Stinging salt streamed into her eyes and she tried to wipe it away with her wrist, only to find that did little to help.

“Now over here,” he gestured widely to a building of brown-stained wood, “Is where the magic happens. C’mon, there’s water inside.”

Rows upon rows of androids shoved logs through debarkers and slicers, kicking up more clouds of spicy sawdust that left Anny doubled over coughing.

A big meaty palm came down on her back, over and over again until she could control her unsteady breaths.

“Here,” Mr. Cassia said, shoving a paper cup into her hands. The water was cool but also stung her lips with the specter of capsaicin, “I know, takes some getting used to. I wouldn’t have called you and your pet unless I was sure. Here we slice the timber, grind the bark to ship out as spices, and prepare the lumber. We do it all on-site to keep overhead low and pass the savings on to the customer. Either way, our little operation makes money hand over fist, year after year. You wouldn’t think the most profitable enterprise this side of Camenae would be on this little moon!”

“Where do you get your androids?” Anny asked, not nearly as amused as he.

“Most are pre-owned. Families looking to upgrade will trade in older models, which get sold for labor like this bunch. They’re cheap, they’re easy to get ahold of, and they’re replaceable. I don’t rake in credits by the millions buying new, that’s for sure!”

“And they’re treated well?”

Mr. Cassia grimaced, “As much as a machine can be. We do our best to keep them in working order, but we don’t go out of our way for comfort or luxury.”

“Do you think adding more amenities could put an end to this ‘uprising’?”

“What, you think fluffing up a few pillows could make them stop wanting to take what rightfully belongs to me? Soon, they’ll be demanding air-conditioned cabins and two hour work days and then nothing would get done!”

“But with such a high labor turnover, PAXing one android when others could dissent seems like a waste, looking at cost alone-”

“I said no. I’m not sending this tin cans on some all-expenses paid vacation here! You and your machine will find out who’s gotta get PAXed, and you get out and that’s final. You hear?”

Anny turned away, twisting the paper cup in her fist.

“Understood, sir.”

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J.D. Locke • Watercolorheart


The speeder was a XJ-89321, sleek and shiny in iridescent blue-violet colors. Inside, the seats were a buttery faux leather and WISR annoyingly discovered how to turn on the seat heaters before he could figure out how to turn them off. An orange miniature teddy bear, possibly a Silly Meal toy, hung from the mirror.

“This is a rather… unique vehicle,” he remarked, looking over the interior.

Anny grinned, “Don’t’cha love it? My dad and I built him; I named him Skippy and he’s such a good boy.”

She patted the dashboard with a hand and revved the engine a little as if the ship was responding happily. WISR rolled digital eyes.

“The mentality of humans never ceases to astound. You manage to assign a personality to nearly everything around you but never bring yourself to see them as equals.”

“Don’t be a Mr. Grumpy Gears. I’m not happy about this partnership thing either, but you don’t see me insulting your entire race in one go.”

“Believe me, dear,” the android grumbled sardonically, “I am just as displeased with this situation as you are. If not more so.”

“With any luck, we’ll convince the boss this was a terrible mistake when we come back. For one reason or another.”

Anny flipped a handful of switches and, without seeing if WISR was properly strapped in, shoved forward the yoke. The speeder darted towards the glass dome overhead cradling the crescent moon-shaped city of Lunette, blasting through the opening port and into the perpetual night of space.

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J.D. Locke • Watercolorheart


As soon as Anny stumbled out of the office, the other Agents of Synthetic Minds Management, or “SYMM”, who were milling around instantly found something interesting to do.

Jalissa pretended to file some papers. Mirae was reading from the folder in her hand, seemingly unfazed by the fact that it was upside down. Endon leaned back easily as he perched on one of the desks, the butterfly knife in his hand darting in and out as he twirled it lazily without looking.

“Boss really chewed you out, huh?” he asked.

Mirae snapped her folder shut and whacked him with it.

“Be nice.”

“Hey! It’s true! We all heard it,” he whined, rubbing the back of his head, “You aren’t fired, are you?”

“She lost her PAX key, it coulda been used to wipe hundreds of androids before someone even realized it! What do you think?” Jalissa cried.

“No, I haven’t been fired,” Anny said, her face grim despite her friends’ antics, “I’ve got one more chance, but they’re assigning me a partner to – and I quote – ‘keep me out of trouble’.”

“Are you serious?”

Mirae quirked a single auburn eyebrow. 

“Did they say who?”

“Can’t be one of us, we’d get her into even more shenanigans. Somehow.” 

Endon smirked before his knife closed painfully on his fingers, making him yelp and sending it clattering to the ground.

Anny bent down to pick it up off the synthwood floor and handed it back to him, flicking the blade shut.

“Dunno yet, but I’m supposed to report to Nik’s lab.”

“Nikolae? Like, Nikolae Wise, the robotoscist? You’re supposed to report to him? Don’t we, like, outrank the Science Team?” Jalissa said, twirling a blonde lock of hair around a pink sparkly fingernail.

“In theory, they work for us in support, but it’s not like we can order them around or anything. Not that I’d try with Nik anyway,” Mirae said. “You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Not that he’ll be any happier either way. Wish me luck, guys,”Anny grumbled.

Jalissa cheered, “Luck!”

“You’ll do fine,” Mirae said.

“And if this new partner gives you trouble, we can just, y’know,” Endon flicked the knife back open, “stab them or something.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Anny took a deep breath that fell in a defeated sigh before trudging to the Science Department.

The sanitized and blindingly bright halls in this part of Synthetic Minds Management headquarters made her wrap her arms nervously around her middle, anxiety twisting in her stomach. Through one lab’s windows, she spied an android splayed open on a stainless steel table, wires and tubes spreading out like unravelled viscera. In another, robots stood in neat, ordered rows and stared with vacant, light-up smiles at nothing. These made Anny gulp and hurry past. There was no mistaking that those robots were PAXed.

Arriving at Nik’s lab, she pushed the glass door open and marveled at the size of the room. She’d heard a rumor once that the lab was supposed to go to the Science Lead, but Nik’s uncanny penchant for unusual experiments meant they had to give it to him. It sounded believable enough, she supposed.

Nikolae made it no secret that he didn’t like her, but then again, Nik didn’t like anyone. He had one of two moods, the wicked cat-got-the-canary malevolence of knowing something terrible and waiting for someone else to find out, or when that got boring he switched to utter boredom and unmitigated contempt. 

Even then, it seemed odd the way he pointedly ignored the robot slumped in the chair against the far wall. 

The android looked like an ordinary human in a pair of olive cargo jeans and a black t-shirt reading ”USER UNFRIENDLY”. He could almost be mistaken one except for the old-fashioned CRT monitor of greige plastic and glass sat on his shoulders where a head was supposed to be.

“This is my new partner?” Anny asked, examining her reflection in the switched-off screen, “He looks so… weird. Kinda retro.”

“Trust me, it was more unsettling when we tried to give him a face.” Nikolae said.

“Still, did you have to make him so-?”

A green, pixelated screen tilted up.


Anny screamed, falling painfully on her backside. “Why didn’t you tell me he was awake?” she cried.

Nikolae offered a hand up, laughter in his cold green eyes, “Oh, it was much funnier this way. So I heard what you did to get stuck with him.”

Anny looked down, away, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“The boss was not happy. It was my job or… this.”

“Well, he picked one hell of a robot to drag you in with. WISR here is a real piece of work. Honestly, you should quit before you have to actually put up with him.”

“You… do know I can still hear you, right?” the android asked.

Anny leaned over half at the waist, trying to meet those green eyes projected on his monitor, but it felt so strange. Intellectually, she knew that he didn’t see out of those eyes, and she couldn’t help but notice her reflection in the glass.

“WISR? What’s that stand for?”

Nikolae leaned his back against the steel desk, folded his arms, crossed his legs and his cold smile grew into an unmistakable smirk.

“Wiser Than You”

Anny frowned, “It just stands for ‘Wise Robot’, doesn’t it?”

He blinked a few times blankly.


She rolled her eyes.

WISR’s exhaust fan let out a sigh, “What’s our mission, that’s so important you two had to drag me out here for it?”

“I had nothing to do with it I don’t want this any more than you do,” Anny said, “We’re heading to Yamaya, the moon of Vesta. There’s a logging operation out there with some kind of problem, something about a potential uprising?”

“Ah, and we’re supposed to quash it? Excellent, I’m guessing it’s the PAX then,” WISR replied sarcastically.

Anny stiffened, snapping up the plastic key hanging off her coiled bracelet into her palm, its edges digging in painfully.

The PAX program was the simple, proven way to “repair” distressed androids and the one SYMM advocated most for. It was a simple hotfix that went into their systems and rooted out any and all negative emotional data, wiping it all clean. She’d witnessed it half a dozen times before and even had to do it herself during training. It made Anny shudder, the way they were suddenly, blankly happy without any semblance of a sad thought or personality left.

“Not if I can help it.”

WISR tilted his big plastic head at her, but Anny ignored him.

“Is there anything I need to know about him?” she asked Nik, jerking her thumb at the android. 

The roboticist had clearly moved on to doing something else, examining a microchip’s silver teeth in the fluorescent light.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, is there like, anything I need to do to keep him running? Or if he breaks or…?”

“You want me to tell you how to do your job?”

“No- No, not like that!” Anny waved her hands frantically, “I’ve just never been partnered with an android before!”

Nik glared at her, “You were taught basic repair. Anything else, you bring him back here. It’s not rocket surgery.”

“Right. Sorry I asked. Come on, WISR, let’s get gone.”

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