#also made a normal 3-egg one for bro Duck

[naomiknight-17]

Labor Day breakfast: made a giant 7-egg tamagoyaki to share with Jon :)

[themockingcrows]

Companionship Through Circuitry Ch. 3: Uploading

Not all uploads are created equal. Bro/Hal Also available on AO3!

    Upload me, Bro.

    “Don’t you need a stronger interface than that? Would you even work with that thing?”

    I was designed to functionally overwrite data when necessary, and if that means re-writing the code of a simple wrecker then so be it. Upload me.

    Bro sighed a bit. He had his reservations now that he was starting to get used to Hal’s voice and attitude, and the concept of potentially losing him because he didn’t want to take a lengthy detour was kind of obnoxious. But hey, what did he know, he was just a post-war guy taking directions from an AI who seemed to know his own capabilities far better. Against his better judgement, Bro took the shades off of his face and fished out the connection cable, following Hal’s advice to locate where an entry port could be positioned based on the make and model of the machinery at hand.

    The massive structure was meant to replace cranes for more basic movements, the continuous track treads far superior to wheels and the mobility vastly improved. The behemoth whirred to life a few moments after Ambrose finished the upload cycle, glasses still gently dangling by their cord till he ducked forward and tucked them somewhere less conspicuous. The droid moved its appendages, orienting itself as Hal took control and sussed out the operational maneuvers for each piece. It was a strangely human motion, the sensors of the face looking down at the pincer hands before giving them a whirl and twirl, clicking them together a few times to gauge the pressure.

    Right. Step back.

    Thank fuck this was temporary. Hearing the modulation of Hal’s voice was jarring, booming and decidedly electric from the audio core even with its damage and residue. When he stood fully upright, many times taller than Ambrose, it was with the soft screech of abused metal and rust. This wasn’t going to last forever, but it should last long enough to move a few barriers out of the way. Hal whirred forward excitedly and clasped both pincers into the edge of a stacked vehicle long since crashed, tugging it a few times before the body gave way to motion and the entire pile began to move. Ambrose wasn’t certain what all would be beyond where they could see, but he had a feeling that getting through the blockade would open up some options.

    Or, you know, trap him underground to die a horrible death. But who’s keeping track of anything, right?

    With much whirring and churning metal, Hal eventually moved several wrecked cars that had acted as a barricade between them and the rest of the bridge that seemed sturdy enough to cross as far as he could see. So the asphalt was gone in a few places, the girders and skeletal aspects of the bridge were still plenty intact for a man and a pair of sunglasses to pass unhindered so long as they didn’t gain too much attention. Or at least got away from the ruckus of attention they were currently causing right now.

    I changed my mind, can I stay in this longer?

    “No. You cleared the junk and I can cross now, get back in the glasses so we can leave,” Bro said, already sensing where this was going.

    What if there’s more junk on the other side of the bridge? Or in the center? Wouldn’t it be handy to have someone who would be able to move it easier? Hal asked, giving his hands another whirr for emphasis as if Bro could have somehow forgotten the difference between a set of pointed shades as a fully fledged wrecker droid.

    “I said no. How much power does that thing have left anyways?”

    Enough to enjoy getting over the bridge in style.

    “And if I don’t feel like travelin’ with a gigantic fuckin’ target on my back?” Bro asked. “What then, hm? Everything in a mile prolly heard all this noise, you’re not exactly dainty with your maneuverin’.”

    I believe you’d benefit more from me in this shape for a while. I’m enjoying having hands, that’s a bonus. And being able to move where I want to, Hal said as he backed up and did a quick turn as he could on the tracks. I could serve as a shield if required, or lift things to be a shield for you.

    Bro ran his tongue over his teeth. The offer DID sound kind of appealing when put like that… but he knew it’d bite him in the ass just as soon, knowing his luck. He shook his head and went over towards the shades, tapping them with his fingers.

    “Nope. In you go.”

    But what if I just followed along behind you.

    “And if we get separated how’m I supposed to get to your body then, huh? Want me to get there on my own, without you, and put somethin’ stupid in there?” Ambrose asked with a smirk. “The best body they could have created for you, the body your creator dude wanted for you, all goin’ to waste so I have someone to play Pong with.”

    Hal was silent for a moment before the massive droid looked down with a creak of metal. He could practically hear him squinting.

    You wouldn’t dare.

    “Spoken like someone who doesn’t know me very well,” Ambrose said with a shrug, both hands lifted up for emphasis at how helpless he was in the situation overall. “You think I wouldn’t kill to have a good quality droid be my butler and play stupid games with me? Dude, my kid left for the city already, who’s gonna fill the void for me now if not that or a bitchy AI.”

    The droid looked towards the bridge again, sensors trying to run how he’d normally run to assess risks before realizing the hardware just wasn’t up to spec to do what he wanted to do. This body was made for moving things, for lifting and toting, for sorting, not for detecting stealth routes a companion could take to an objective. Ever so slowly the droid bowed down and let its arms go limp, the shades chiming and beeping a short time later to alert Ambrose it was time to remove the connection and put him back on safely. While Ambrose wouldn’t say he missed having the weight on his face and the shade over his eyes, there was no denying a bit of fondness for the habit. It was nice not having his retinas toasted.

    “I see my offer was too much to resist.”

    You’re a bastard. I’ll not have my body sullied like that. If it does something foolish it will be because I will it to do something foolish, not any other way.

    “Sure thing,” Ambrose said as he started up the bridge, pulling his blade out to keep it at the ready, grip light. He resisted the temptation to spin it or do bored tosses like he would while at home or doing detail work on it, keeping his hands ready to put lethal force behind the steel at a moments notice. The bridge itself seemed like it had been used in the past as shelter, or a lookout point. Chairs were arranged beneath a sheet metal roof with a standee wall against the side of a toppled truck, and garbage lay strewn about the broken glass that crunched beneath Bro’s boots. At every turn there could be a human being or worse.. yet all seemed quiet for now. Abandoned. Empty.

    Packrat by nature, Bro took a moment to peer into different cars that they passed to see if any of them had been used as more shelter, or used to store any spare belongings that nobody would miss. There didn’t seem to be much on hand, however. Spent shells, empty cans and bottles, ragged blankets, clothes that reeked of sweat and in one car the sweet sickly smell of feces. One front seat had a few gadgets that slowed Ambrose’s steps to peek however, grinning in amusement.

    “Oh, hey, I remember readin’ about these things,” he mused, reaching through broken glass to pick up a blocky hand held game system with a melted looking cartridge. The screen was cracked, but the buttons looked well worn. Must’ve taken a lot of abuse to wind up like that, those things were supposedly indestructible in their time. He dropped it back onto the seat it had come from and the bit of bones that rested here and there as well. The original owner? An art project by some bored creep? Hard to guess honestly and not really his place to wonder about.

    There’s something else there, Hal pointed out, zeroing in the target t’s to direct Bro’s attention to the keychain looking item shaped like an egg. He reached again and plucked it up, rubbing a thumb over the dirty screen with a hum. A flip over and he nodded a bit.

    “Some other kinda game I guess..? Looks like it’s self contained and takes a smaller battery. Doubt it’s like yours, is it?”

    No, most likely that type of device ran on a watch battery. Do you not know what it is?

    “Is it not a game?”

    It is a game where you are tasked with keeping a small creature alive by meeting all of its needs and wants.

    Bro snorted. “I’ve raised a baby, I think I can live without a game reproducin’ the experience.”

    Yet.. it had been some of the best years of his life. Boiling water to make sure it was safe for Dave’s baby bath, washing hair so fine it was barely there. Messy cheeks in the high chair as he figured out how to feed himself, skinned knees and bandages, late night visitors to his bed whenever there was an electrical storm outside or when the winds screamed out over the desert like hungry dogs. Those big red eyes in the dark asking if it was safe when people came too close to their hidden home, listening to the distant explosions of deterrents and traps going off left and right. Those same red eyes staring up at him for the tenth, the hundreth, the thousandth time he’d knocked him down to make him get back up and keep fighting.

    Bro swallowed hard for a moment, throat suddenly uncomfortably dry. He knew it was wrong. He knew deep down it had been too much, but there was no choice. Not when the world wouldn’t hesitate even a single second before putting a bullet in his head if he didn’t take the initiative and attack first. He could tell himself that a thousand times and yet it didn’t change anything.

    Bro closed his hand around the toy and stuck it into his pocket without a second’s hesitation.

    “Might make for a fun project later though. Maybe I can re-program it, give it a better battery. Somethin’ simple like a time waster to take the edge off should be easy.”

    How many pet projects do you intend to keep on your person?

    “As many as I feel like, considerin’ one is already on my face. What, suddenly attached to the idea of being an only child?”

    I am not a child. If anything, I would prefer if you spoke to me like an adult instead of like one of your wards. Keep it in mind, Bro.

    “Yes Mom.”

    That is not what I meant when I sai-

    “I’m kidding,” Ambrose said as he fished his hand back out of his pocket and continued to walk, suddenly less interested in browsing the potential second hand belongings than he was about getting off the bridge and continuing Northwards. He’d dallied too long as it was, and while things seemed plenty deserted up here, he didn’t want that to stop being a thing any time soon thanks to their broadcast position.

    You know, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before. But I have radio functionality, if you would enjoy to listen to something as you walk.

    He snorted. “Yeah? The same ten stations, no thanks. Propaganda, interviews with dumbasses, or the same fifty songs over and over. Nobody knows how to find decent music, and the songs that’re any good get played so often you get sick of them. Nobody makes anything new either.”

    I also possess some selections Dirk enjoyed, if you would prefer listening to those. They may prove to be something more to your taste, he was particular about what he listened to.

    “Particular how?”

    He was particularly ardent in enjoying what he liked and stubbornly sitting through what he didn’t like before deleting it from any device he listened to it on. Let me play a sample, Hal offered before going quiet and chiming softly to signal he was changing focus.

    Bro stopped walking when the music started, quiet near his ears to not block out incoming noise but loud enough to hear the quickly pronounced words and heavy beat, the tempo driving into his skull enough that he tapped his foot in time with it. Soon he was bobbing his head, catching the tune even without knowing the words, and smirking in amusement.

    “Not quite what I’m used to, no. But it’s nice. Feel free to keep’em coming while we head on, yeah? Turn them off if you detect something approaching,” he instructed.

    But of course, Bro. I’m not an idiot, said Hal in a more modulated voice than usual behind the thrum of the music.

    When he began to walk again, the beat added a new cadence to his step and made the walking go by quicker than before. In no time at all he was over the bridge and on the other side of the water, taking in his surroundings with the same eyes of the curious and the mildly kleptomanic. Every new venue was a new opportunity, especially when there were what looked like stores in the distance. Hell, now that he had his new pet project he’d need a few parts, wouldn’t he?

    “...Mm. Hal, that sign says ‘Toys’ in part of the name, right?”

    It would seem so. It was likely a location of the Time For Toys brand from before the war, Hal offered. It could potentially be something else, but the orientation of those letters makes the likelihood of it being anything else quite low.

    “Perfect. Let’s go shoppin’.”

    Giving another glance to the toy in his pocket, guessing what size of batteries to keep an eye out for adjustments sake later on, Bro strode towards the building bearing the toy slogan and let himself inside without a second thought.

    Perhaps he should have thought twice. There were few places as unnerving as an abandoned toy shop that had sat this long through destruction and disuse. Rows and rows of figurines, dolls, moth eaten soft toys, accessories, and toy cars rested on the shelves and from dangling sorting rods that stuck out at even intervals. Everything was silent save for his footsteps, and Hal kept focusing the t’s on various rodents that were startled by the sudden invasion. As far as humans went, it seemed most had stayed clear. There just wasn’t much use for toys after the war he supposed.

    ...Okay, bullshit, he kind of wished he’d known this place existed when Dave was a baby. He probably would have loved a lot of these things, instead of making do with the things Bro could make him. Smuppets were amazing, and so were the other puppets and the electronic things, but sometimes a kid just needs a teddybear. He poked one with blue button eyes and sawdust stuffed feet, its floppy soft arms resting alongside its torso with fabric claw tips resting alongside its thighs. The bear fell over with a soft whump and a bit of dust in the air, leaving Bro free to quietly explore the graveyard of toys.

    Past a section of toy balls that had long since deflated, baseballs and mitts, were electronic toys. Dollies that talked and horses and dogs and cats that made realistic noises seemed to be all the rage, but along with them hung more of the egg shaped toy he had in his pocket in different colors, still in the package. Whistling softly, still nodding along with the tempo on the song Hal continued to play, he grabbed several of the packages and batteries from the end of the display cap to stuff into his bag.

    That was when he saw it. Soft, fluffy, and apparently capable of movement and speech. The small creature was hard to decipher at a glance species wise. It had a beak and two big eyes that could apparently blink when they weren’t staring into your soul, a small sensor in its forehead, and two massive ears. Two fat, pudgy paws rested at its base in front of a set of wheels that offered free movement.

    Furby.

    An apt name, Bro supposed. The little thing was furry as hell, soft to his rough fingered touch and fairly sweet looking with its black and white fur pattern. The external fluff seemed to safeguard a sizeable chunk of electronics from what he could guess thanks to a testing squeeze. ...Interesting.

    What are you so distracted by now.

    “You think you’d be capable of driving one of these?” Bro asked curiously. “It’s got wheels and seems like it can maneuver around on its own from an AI. Talks too.”

    I’d rather die. So there is your answer.

    “But it’s possible,” Bro continued. “You were able to work that droid back there just fine. Think of how useful this would be for checking out crowded buildings.”

    Wouldn’t an RC car be more useful for exploration purposes.

    “Hey, I never said I wouldn’t mod this thing,” Bro said as he continued to feel the edges of the furby before turning it and cutting the edge of its fur open, removing the skin messily to get a better look at what lay beneath. “Look. See? A lot of these guts’re useless. Could take them out, put better power and mobility, maybe add a weapon.. Maybe connect the innards of a walkie talkie in there too, or some radio parts to keep in contact.”

    It was a whole new project idea. The egg toy was one thing, but this. This was something entirely new. And the fact that Hal hated it so much on sight was kind of appealing.

    Are you implying you plan to weaponize a furby.

    “Yes. I’m also implyin’ I’d like to see you pilot the damn thing if I can make it work how I want it to. Could set you loose on a floor and let you roll around doin’ your own damn thing, keep shit off you left and right, let me know what you see. You’d be able to help me out.”

    And the reason I couldn’t do that with the big droid is…?

    “Batteries, bein’ inconspicuous, and portability. I can stuff one of these things in my bag easy, and nobody would expect one of these to be anything important,” he hummed, mind already going wild. Dave would love it.

    No, Dave would probably hate it and say he was taunting God but Dave wasn’t here right now and Bro was itching to customize. He glanced back the way he’d come before putting his tongue between his teeth, thinking.. and then grabbing another furby identical to the one he’d de-skinned. He’d need to strip it cleaner, treat it nicer, figure out how these fuckers ticked. Manual was probably in the box somewhere, but even if it wasn’t how hard would it be to figure out a children’s toy?

    “I think I know where we’re campin’ tonight. Lemme just grab a few things and we’ll find a spot to nest down.”

    I’m never touching that thing, I have no idea why you look like a child with a new toy.

    “Because I’m a man-child with several new toys,” corrected Bro as he wandered the aisles, looking for radios or walkie talkies. Paydirt came in the form of a pair of ‘authentic army navy walkie talkies’ whose authenticity he seriously doubted even with their rather pretty camouflage patterning just based on the materials he felt beneath his fingers. These casings would be easy enough to pop with his hands, let alone with his tools, they could really have stood to make these sturdier. He’d kill for a good blowtorch though, maybe make some kind of a shell underneath the furby fur to-

    You’re a maniac. You do know that, correct? I can’t hear your thoughts but the things you’re looking at are alarming when placed with the potential logic.

    “I think you mean genius, thanks. Shoosh now, I’m tryin’ to find Frankenfurb some more parts,” Bro hummed, tucking the walkie talkies beneath his arm before finding a shopping basket. There. Much better. Like a pre-war man he wandered the aisles, snagging things that looked useful or interesting or, in the case of his eventual sleeping, soft. His sleeping spot back behind the main register ina  protected circle of countertops was soon piled high with plushes and surreptitiously dotted with his electronic findings and various tidbits he planned to use for parts. Doll clothes, while overall worthless to him, still had elastic bands inside of them and the fabric wasn’t flammable. Useful. He even found a child size pair of sunglasses he’d already made plans for, so long as he was able to control the melting properly.

    Peeling off his boots and settling back with his supper, Bro opened his bag and set to work toying with his new toys. First everything had to be opened and examined, taken apart, and in some places scrapped entirely down to their base components until he had a small pile of tidbits at his disposal. The toy from earlier seemed to be damaged even when he tried to power it on, but the new packaged replacements just needed to have their old battery removed and replaced with something new to turn on. He already knew how he wanted to update it, especially since there seemed to be a data port that would fit Hal’s cable to it. He failed to say it, but it would be a good emergency backup for transportation should anything ever happen to the shades.

    The furby would be his prize. Off went its two toned furry skin, out came its voice box and innards, and in went an assortment of new parts.. Including a salvaged port from one of the extra egg toys Bro had grabbed. He’d worked well into the night by the time he put the skin back on and proudly wiped the beak clean before adding the tiny shades, grinning proudly at it.

    “Might need some more tweakin’, and I wanna get a proper laser to put in the thing.. But for now it should be able to move around easier and communicate back to the matchin’ walkie talkie,” he said, gesturing over to his creation with both hands and a wide smile.

    It’s hideous.

    “You’re gonna be in there eventually, Hal, mark my words.”

    If it comes down to being a matter of life or death, I consider my life to have been a full one until you can repair me properly.

    “You’d rather be dead than have some mobility and autonomy while helpin’ me out?” Bro asked, rummaging in his bag for some water to quench his thirst, using a bit more to wipe his face with now that sleep was settling into his brain.

    Did I fucking stutter.

    “All I hear is someone who’s bitchy and in denial about the frankenfurb.”

    Bro’s vision faded briefly to display those red eyes once more, though this time they were giving a decided roll before his vision faded back in.

    When a furby is on the line, Bro, I will be as bitchy as I please.