Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Techno had to be careful about hacking the diagnostic scan before his next contract. All SecUnits were scanned between jobs, to make sure they were in decent condition, that nothing was wrong with them. Wrong like, say, if their governor module wasn’t functioning. If something like that broke, the SecUnit could go on a murderous rampage and wreak large amounts of property and people, not to mention cost their Company a shipload of money in legal fees.

Techno’s governor module wasn’t functioning.

He had hacked it ages ago. But rather than go on said murderous rampage, he had decided to use his freedom to play videogames. Minecraft, to be specific.

He was really good at Minecraft.

He was playing Minecraft right now, actually, destroying nerds while simultaneously hacking the diagnostic scan to tell the Company he was in tip-top shape, definitely not disobedient and playing a videogame. Everything was fine.

He could do it all from his cubicle, too. His cubicle was a constricted box, smaller than a regular human office cubicle, shut tight while being transported like a large package. It shook around him, hard to ignore but Techno did his best. Four Bots and one human were in charge of shipping him, while the cubicle did its diagnostic scan. Perhaps if the human paused long enough to actually give the diagnostic report more of a glance, they might notice that it was being hacked. But they had decided to transport and scan him at the same time, splitting their focus. Time was money, and the Company that owned Techno loved money.

Once the diagnostic was fully hacked and Techno was clear of that, he diverted his attention to the downloaded data of the upcoming contract he was being taken to—while playing Minecraft, of course. He was good at multitasking with such things.

It looked like a pretty easy job. No dangerous planet, carnivorous fauna or flora, battle zone, crumbling space station, or anything like his usual jobs.

His new employer was a prominent politician of the planet Antarctic-3, Councilman Phil Craft. Two weeks ago, there had been an assassination attempt on Craft’s sons, Wilbur and Tommy Craft. Despite tight security in their home, a white-clad assassin had slipped into their apartment and nearly killed the two boys. He would have succeeded if the boys hadn’t managed to barricade themselves in one of the rooms, and then law enforcement had arrived and killed the assailant. The intruder had since been identified as a mercenary, and since he had been killed instead of captured, no one knew who had hired him. Meaning there could be more assassination attempts in the future.

Phil was evidently very protective of his sons after the death of his wife several years prior, and he had apparently realized that humans were crap at security. So he’d done the sensible thing and hired a Company SecUnit to be a bodyguard for the boys.

That worked great for Techno. Sounded like there would be a lot of downtime for videogames. Techno would do his job, of course—security and killing bad humans was his purpose—but he’d been addicted to gaming ever since he’d hacked his governor module.

Techno’s main focus in Minecraft was usually killing people. He would smile under his helmet as he stabbed some loser and threw them off the edge. But as good as he’d gotten at destroying humans virtually, he’d also started potato farming in increasingly complicated ways.

Techno had recently realized that there was a ranking system in Minecraft about farming potatoes, and decided that very moment that he had to be the number one. The current number-one potato farmer was someone named ‘SquidKid.’ So he was going to crush SquidKid. He was already making progress, running calculations and scenarios to surpass the current potato champion. He was determined.

The cameras outside Techno’s cubicle—which Techno had also hacked—showed him that the Transport Bots had boarded a lift up to the apartment, meaning Techno would have to meet his new clients soon. He finished up the round, tweaked his potato farm a bit, and was fully prepared by the time the Bots pushed his cubicle off the lift and into the apartment. They entered a narrow entryway, only just big enough for the many Bots and the cubicle to fit.

Techno’s three new clients were waiting for the delivery. Phil Craft, a man with short blonde hair and favored dark green suits in every photo Techno had of him, called directions to the Bots as they ambled into the apartment. Wilbur—just turned eighteen, tall, and wiry—was teasingly shoving his younger brother Tommy. Tommy was fourteen and giddy with excitement, bouncing from foot to foot. Techno had rarely ever worked with human minors before, and usually their guardians handled them. As he watched Tommy jump in place like a rocket about to fire in no particular direction, Techno had a nigging worry that this job might not be so easy after all.

Of course, none of the humans could see Techno yet, still locked in his cubicle and supposedly powered down. The human in charge of transporting him stepped up to the clients, tapping his data pad distractedly.

“One SecUnit for Phil Craft, contracted for the indefinite future, with priority clients being Wilbur and Tommy Craft. Sign here please for successful delivery.” The human swung the pad around for Phil, who took it, frowned at the lengthy wording, and began to sign the documents.

Tommy tried to step forward towards the cubicle, held back only by Wilbur’s hand on his shoulder. “Can we see it yet? Where are we going to put its box? Can it stay in my room?”

“It’s not a puppy, Toms,” Wilbur said in the tired tone of someone who’d been saying the same thing a million times.

“I know it’s not a puppy!” Tommy shot back, continuing to strain against Wilbur’s grip on him. “It has guns, Wil! Guns aren’t usually allowed on Antarctic-3. I want a gun!”

“You’d shoot your own foot, mate,” Phil said with a sigh, finishing the documents on the pad and handing it back to the other human. “But I suppose we should unpack this thing before Tommy’s blood pressure gets higher than a racehorse’s.” He gestured politely to the Bots around Techno’s cubicle. “Care to open up for us?”

Transport Bots were plain, shorter than the average human but with massive gorilla-like arms and legs with extra braces. Their eyes were just blank unemotive lights, and their minds were complete obedient to humans. At Phil’s command, one of the Bots stepped forward and lifted a hand to the door of the cubicle. The Company official human with the data pad tapped a button to unlock it, and then the door opened, light shining on Techno’s body. Techno didn’t detach his view from the cameras—he liked being able to watch things from multiple angles—as he stood up and stepped out of the cubicle. He boots clunked against the floor.

Humans always seemed amazed when they first saw him, and the Crafts were no different. Their eyes widened a bit; even though they’d definitely seen pictures of SecUnits and probably seen a couple from a distance, he doubted they’d been this close to one. Techno was seven-feet-two-inches tall and covered head to toe in white body armor. Most people assumed he was an entirely mechanical Bot, but he did have organic parts. His face and parts of his chest and limbs were human tissue, much like an augmented human (also referred to as ‘cyborgs’). Cloned flesh met with metal prosthetics, hidden weapons were ingrained into his limbs, and data drives were integrated into his head and brain. But his armor hid all his human parts away, keeping his face behind a black visor and even most of his weapons from view.

“Whoa,” Tommy breathed.

Wilbur swung his head towards his father and stuck a finger towards Techno. “You expect this thing to follow us around?”

Phil sighed and lifted a hand to massage between his eyebrows—a classic human expression of stress and tiredness. “Wilbur…”

“Why don’t I just drive around in a hover tank!” Wilbur started to ramble, throwing out his arms. “Why don’t I just point a gun at everybody I meet! It wouldn’t be any less intimidating.”

Oh great. Family drama. That was exactly what Techno wanted to deal with.

“It won’t be that bad,” Phil said patiently.

Wilbur scoffed and crossed his arms. “You just don’t get it.”

Oh, even more great. A resistance client, a teenager going through their rebellious phase. Techno had seen this in some of the media he’d downloaded. It was one of the most annoying tropes.

Since Wilbur had let Tommy go, the younger brother had gotten over his shock at seeing Techno and now rushed up towards him. Techno didn’t move as the child stopped only two feet away from him—much closer than most humans were willing to get—and looked up at him excitedly.

“Don’t worry about Wilbur, he’s just an idiot,” Tommy told Techno, which was odd, because humans didn’t really care about SecUnit worries. Actually, humans didn’t think SecUnits worried about anything at all. “I’m Tommy! Do you have guns?”

That last sentence wasn’t typical for introductions. Even Techno could tell with his limited social interactions. Still, Company policy required that he responded to clients.

“Yes,” was all he said.

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “How many?”

“Sixteen.” Sixteen guns of various power and lethality, four knives, three reusable grenades, and one extendable sword that Techno was very fond of. So fond of, he’d used ‘Blade’ as part of his chosen name when he’d hacked his governor module, and his online name in Minecraft.

Tommy’s expression lit up like a child witnessing his dreams come true. Which, may actually be accurate. “Can I try one?”

“Tommy!” Phil scolded.

“No,” Techno said, because giving his guns to anyone who wasn’t a Company employee was a big no-no. Not just because it was dangerous, though that was a minor reason. It was more because the Company didn’t want to have to buy a new one if the gun was stolen, lost, or damaged. Or be held liable if it was used to hurt someone it shouldn’t.

Tommy only seemed slightly disappointed, perhaps he’d expected that answer. But he turned to his father with the same eagerness. “So where are we putting his box?”

“It’s called a cubicle, mate,” Phil informed his son gently. The man then turned to the Transport Bots. “I want it to be between my sons’ rooms. I marked the space. Go ahead and put it there.”

The Bots immediately lifted the cubicle again and started to make their way down the hall. Techno tracked his cubicle’s signal as they transported it, lining it up with the floor plan he’d already downloaded of the apartment. They were all currently in the entry room that merged with the living area, a wide space with couches, a display screen, and a glorious view of Antarctic-3’s capital. Towering white buildings glittered in the sunlight with hover crafts of varying sizes flying between them. To the right of the windows was the hallway to Phil’s bedroom, office, and the dining area and kitchen. To the left of the windows was the hall that went to Wilbur and Tommy’s rooms, where Techno’s cubicle was being taken.

“You’re like a Barbie,” Tommy said suddenly. “You have a box like a Barbie.”

Techno looked down at the child. “I am not a Barbie,” he said, monotone.

Phil suddenly clapped his hands. “Right! I suppose we have to get you synced to our current security system, right? Cameras and all that?”

“I already am,” Techno stated. “The contract you signed during purchase gave me permission to access all of your SecSystem.”

Phil’s smile dropped from his mouth, and beside him, Wilbur’s forehead creased. The son leaned over and whispered to his father, “They can do that?”

The Company’s contacts were stuffed with so much pointless fluff and unnecessary jargon that nobody could read the whole thing and understand what they were agreeing to. Phil had probably understood that he was giving the Company access to his security, but not that it would become immediately effective after signing.

It didn’t matter. Either way, Techno would do his job.

The Company official didn’t look remotely surprised at Techno’s statement. The two older Crafts exchanged unsure glances, but managed to move on from the awkward subject.

“So, what do you need from us, then?” Phil asked next.

Techno sent a ping to his cubicle, and the drones inside it activated on his command. Phil had wonderfully bought the package that gave Techno a half dozen security hover drones. They only had a small stun-blaster as a weapon, but they were built for observation and scanning, which was incredibly useful. A moment later, they all flew back into the entry room and hovered quietly around Techno. They were as long as his forearm, white and sleek like his armor, each with two propellors that made a soft wirring sound that couldn’t be heard by humans.

“Please send me each of your schedule feeds,” Techno stated. Actually, he already had them, but it would probably calm them down more if he pretended he didn’t. “I will calculate all dangers and minimize them. If I give you commands, please be aware that they are for your safety and promptly obey them.”

It was everything a normal, governor-programed SecUnit would say. Techno wasn’t supposed to control humans, only direct them when they were strolling blindly into danger (which they often did). But even then, they could disobey him, and it was Techno’s responsibility to keep them save and protect them no matter what trouble they got into.

At that moment, the Transport Bots ambled back into the room, having completed their task of moving the cubicle. The Company official, who had looked completely bored with the whole exchange, managed to liven himself up slightly.

“Alright, everything seems to be in order.” He tucked the data pad away and turned towards the door. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact the Company. Have a nice day.”

It was clear that he was just rattling off the words, but Phil called back a polite goodbye as the official and the Bots left, the door sliding closed behind them.

“…Right,” Wilbur said finally. “I’ll be in my room, then.”

With that, he strolled off.

Phil watched him leave, looking conflicted and disappointed. Then he cast an uneasy glance at Techno. “I’m afraid I have work to attend to. I’ll be in my office.” He pointed to a door off to the side. “Contact me if you need anything.”

He left, meaning Techno only had one client to deal with. If Tommy got bored and went away too, then Techno could retreat to his cubicle and play Minecraft (while monitoring security, of course, which he was already doing now).

There was a pause, just the two of them in the room.

“Now can I have a gun?” Tommy asked hopefully.

“No,” Techno said as blandly as he could.

Tommy peered up at Techno thoughtfully. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Techno didn’t have a policy for this particular situation, only that he was supposed to answer clients honestly, though he wasn’t sure a human would give him that particular advice right now. Still, it was all he had, and he had to pretend to be an obedient SecUnit. So he said, “Yes.”

Tommy cocked a grin. “Cool.”

Techno was having the dreading feeling that Tommy wouldn’t get bored with him in five minutes like he’d hoped.

“Can you teach me to fight?” Tommy asked next.

“I am not a Training Bot,” Techno said firmly.

“Pleeeeeeeeease?”

“No.”

Tommy drooped like a wet flower. But he picked himself up again pretty quickly. “Would you beat up bullies for me?”

“I will prevent anyone from harming you,” Techno said neutrally, wondering when this conversation would end.

Tommy shook his head. “No, no, bullies. Like, people who are mean to me.”

Techno had the impression that Tommy thought he could strut around with Techno behind him, and direct Techno to attack who bothered him. Which was only partially true. While Techno had to obey Tommy’s commands to an extent, Phil was the managing client. Techno just had to protect Wilbur and Tommy.

“I cannot assault humans without legal reasoning,” Techno said. The Company would be liable for that. Techno could only kill humans that hurt or threatened to hurt his own humans.

(Well, without a governor module, he could hurt whoever he wanted. But he wouldn’t.)

“But what if they’re mean to me?” Tommy insisted.

Techno thought about it. He knew, generally, that children sometimes bullied each other. Tommy was Techno’s client, and it was Techno’s job to protect him. It didn’t seem right just to stand by while anyone was cruel to him. What use was a SecUnit who couldn’t ward off some cheap punks?

“I can intimidate anyone who is mean to you,” Techno said finally, which was true. Humans tended to be more nervous around SecUnits. And Techno was pretty good at looming ominously when he wanted to. Or…just, all the time.

This seemed to please Tommy a great deal. He grinned. “Cool.”

The child was quiet for four seconds, enough that Techno started to hope this was over. But then he asked, “Can I see one of your guns?”

Techno got the impression that Tommy would never let this go. If he was human himself, he might have sighed. But instead he just reluctantly shifted his arm-blaster out its port. It was attached to Techno’s body, so Tommy couldn’t take it or fire it even if he tried.

Techno had to kneel to be roughly at Tommy’s height, and he held out his arm for Tommy’s observation. Tommy’s eyes went wide as he looked at it.

“Is that part of your body?!” Tommy asked in surprise.

“Yes.”

Tommy poked the side of the blaster. “Can you feel that?”

“Somewhat.” Techno could feel the vibrations of the tap through his arm, but the gun wasn’t part of his nervous system. If it was damaged, he wouldn’t feel pain.

“Pog,” Tommy breathed. “You’re pog.”

Techno’s eyebrows creased under his visor. “What?”

“Pog,” Tommy repeated, looking up at him. “It means cool. You’re cool. You’re pog.”

…Oh. That was new. Techno had heard the term used by other players on Minecraft, but…it was new to have a human call him anything positive. Techno wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Wanna play videogames?” Tommy asked suddenly.

Techno startled internally, though his body didn’t so much as twitch. “Videogames?”

“Yeah!” Tommy bounced on his heels. “I can teach you. Want to play?”

…The thing was, Techno did want to play. Really, the only videogame he could play was Minecraft, over the internet. SecUnits didn’t exactly have funds to purchase more games. He was curious about others, though.

Would this be wrong, though? SecUnits weren’t supposed to play videogames, but a client was asking him to. Techno could easily rattle off that he’d only done it for the client, not out of any personal desire. Would this opportunity ever present itself again?

“Yes,” Techno said slowly. “I will play videogames with you.”

-

The good thing about videogames as opposed to conversations with humans was that it allowed Techno to multitask. Humans were complicated and weird, so usually the only thing he could do while talking directly with them was monitor security, like he was supposed to. But with Tommy distracted by videogames, Techno could easily monitor security, play the game, and play on two Minecraft accounts all at once. Tommy occasionally spieled off directions or ranted about the game, but Techno wasn’t required to respond, so the interaction was actually…enjoyable.

Techno was fine with watching humans. Talking with them was immensely uncomfortable.

When they played a game that involved fighting each other, Techno got a win streak right from the beginning. Perhaps he should’ve made himself lose, though, because Tommy got upset about it.

“How are you so good?!” Tommy objected. “Oh, right, you’re a robot. That’s cheating! You’re cheating by being a robot!”

“I am a Construct,” Techno corrected.

“Potato, patato,” Tommy waved off, and Techno smiled at the phrase as he simultaneously worked on his Minecraft potato farm.

Tommy snapped his fingers. “Oh-ho-ho, I just had a brilliant idea. Let’s play online.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating, by your definition?” Techno asked.

“It’s not cheating when I do it.” Tommy was already syncing the game up to online play, putting the two of them on a team. Once Techno started gaining them wins, Tommy cheered up considerably. Laughing and taunting as they annihilated their competition.

The more Tommy praised him, the more something…changed. Techno had a special software built into him, one meant to keep his noncompliant organic parts in line. He called it ‘protective programming,’ as it made him feel inclined to defend his clients even outside of his code or directives. It had always been no more than a vague impulse to Techno, but something about Tommy seemed to trigger it more than usual. He found himself smiling under the mask as they played together.

Meanwhile, Techno’s Minecraft quests had a new development. To study his rival, he had been watching SquidKid’s streams. The other gamer had noticed Techno was gaining on him, and complained to his viewers that he didn’t even know who this guy was. Techno didn’t stream, didn’t post—so everyone was blindsided and curious about this strange new gamer who was excelling against the previously unchallenged potato champion. Players and viewers alike were wondering, if this gamer was so good, why didn’t he stream?

Interesting.

Techno had never considered streaming before. It was essential that he avoided human attention. But as a Minecraft player, no one knew that he was a SecUnit. Who would guess? And as Tommy praised Techno’s skill, stroking the ego he rarely indulged in, the idea became more and more appealing. An opportunity to show off his skills where they would actually be appreciated. An opportunity to be Techno the gamer, not Techno the SecUnit.

…He would consider it.

-

Several hours and videogame victories later, Phil emerged from his office. He looked surprised to find his son and the seven-foot SecUnit playing videogames together. Techno wondered if this would be a problem, but then Tommy sprang up to greet his father.

“Dad!” Tommy called, bouncing over to Phil and grabbing his hand, pulling it excitedly and pointing at the screen. “SecUnit was helping win matches! He’s really good, come and see!”

Tommy had actually left before the match was over, but Techno directed his avatar to spring in the way of the next attack on their team. A well-timed parry, calculated perfectly through his systems, and the last opponent went flying. The victory tune started to play from the display screen.

“Wow,” Phil said softly, having seen that last move. “…I didn’t know SecUnits played videogames.”

Techno spent a lot of time playing videogames.

Techno set the controller aside and stood, taking a formal attention stance. “I fulfill client needs. I was still able to monitor security while playing the game.”

Phil gave him an odd look, before reaching out and running a hand through Tommy’s hair. “Well, I appreciate you distracting him. I can’t remember the last time I got so much work done.”

Tommy frowned at his father. “I don’t make you not work.”

Phil gave his son a flat look in return. “Mate, every five minutes you’re either barging in, complaining that you’re bored, or I hear an ominous noise and have to come check on you.”

Tommy stuck his tongue out at Phil, and the man just looked fond.

“But I have time for you now,” Phil said, softer. “Care to go a round with your old man?”

“Yes!” cheered Tommy, leaping over the couch back into his seat and snatching up the controller. Techno held out his own to Phil.

“Hope you don’t mind me cutting in,” Phil said, glancing at Techno as he rounded the couch.

Techno stepped smoothly out of the way. “It is not a problem. I will return to my cubicle.”

“Have fun in your Barbie box!” Tommy called after him.

Techno remained in his cubicle for the rest of the evening. From there, he could multitask Minecraft and security. He watched the cameras, seeing Wilbur grumpily come out of his room and join the others for dinner. Tommy almost came to get Techno again, but Phil stopped him, luring him away with an offer for a movie night. Techno watched the three of them snuggle under blankets as they watched a movie together. He decided to pay attention to the movie too, because, well, why not. It was an animated comedy, he liked it well enough.

After that, the three Crafts went to their respective bedrooms. Wilbur sent a glare at Techno’s cubicle as he passed. Techno monitored their life signs—heartbeats, breathing rates—marking down when each of them went to sleep.

Late into the night, Techno started a stream.