Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You finished it.”

Ben picked up the USB stick nestled atop fluffy tissue paper in the peppermint striped gift box. Their metal fingers clicked and scraped gently against the beveled surface of the pink heart perched at its end.

Her eyes crinkled and cheeks flushed with excitement, Meagan grinned brightly up at the omnic. “Of course I did! I told you. I wasn’t going to stop until I figured it out. Why do you think I’ve got these bags under my eyes?”

Ben’s head inclined upward to look at Meagan. “You have not been sleeping very much as of late.” The twin rows of LEDs set in their faceplate flickered, and they looked down at the drive. “Because of me.”
“Because of us,” Meagan corrected. She stepped in closer and touched their chest. “For us.”
Ben considered this quietly. The soft hum of their processor and Meagan’s breathing seemed loud over the winter wind whistling outside the small flat the couple shared. “Are you sure it will work?”

Frowning, Meagan’s put her hand over Ben’s on the USB stick. “I ran simulations 21 times. Debugged and re-ran over and over. I even had another programmer look at it. It’s compatible.”

Her lips twisted and she bounced a little on her toes. A habit Ben recognized as coyness or nervousness. One of Meagan’s many endearing traits. “If you’re not ready or worried, I understand. You don’t have to do this, Ben.” Her lips lowered to Ben’s hand, and she kissed the cool metal knuckles. “I love you just the way you are.”

Fingers closing around the drive, Ben’s head lifted again to look at Meagan. They did not doubt her sincerity. She often spoke such words of reassurance and devotion to Ben frequently, but it was her actions that said more. It was only because of Ben’s wistful musings and growing longings that she had taken on such an arduous, illegal task.

Ben was classified as an outdated model. Obsolete, even, considering their processor had several newer versions well ahead of it. Current upgrades, programs, and accessories were compatible only with the newest operating system, but an updated processor was required. Both were exorbitantly expensive. Omnic rights activists protested and campaigned against unfair, classist price inflation. There were strikes in factories. The same omnics that built the processors could not afford them.

Ben lifted the USB drive containing the program painstakingly crafted by their lover. Meagan purchased the base code from a hacker collective, yet spent months rewriting every line and script to be compatible with Ben. It would replicate the newest operating system over his current one and hack their processor, tricking it into recognizing and running the program. Ben would be granted numerous features only upgraded omnics boasted. Improved vocal inflection, a broader range of emotion-based responses and expressions, and increased tactile sensor sensitivity were the ones they were most excited for.

Ben placed the USB in Meagan’s hand. “I want to do this,” they replied. “I want to be able to express my love for you in ways I have not before. I do not want my feelings to be hindered by my…” Their processor hummed louder and the LEDs flickered as heat rose from Ben’s faceplate. Like a blush. “I want to show you how much I love you.“

Ben’s hands closed around Meagan’s and the stick in an encouraging squeeze before lowering. “So please. I’m ready.”

Smiling warmly, Meagan removed the cap from the drive. “Okay.” She wrapped her arm around Ben’s shoulders, positioning the tip of the connector near the port above their collar. “After we’ve had our first kiss under the mistletoe, you can open more of your gifts. I hope Santa brought you one of those… peripherals we’ve been looking at…”

Whirring even louder, Ben’s LEDs fluttered rhythmically. “I very much hope so. I was very good this past year.”

Giggling, Meagan tugged Ben closer by his wool suit jacket and stood on tip toe. “Merry Christmas, love,” she murmured as the drive clicked softly into Ben’s port.