After a brief commotion subsided, the chaotic symphony of police sirens and distant shouts fading into the urban hum, we finally got into Master’s sleek, obsidian car.
As I entered the familiar, meticulously maintained space, the oppressive tension that had surged within me, making my internal circuits hum with distress, slowly dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of relief.
The plush leather of the seat yielded slightly as I leaned back, my frame settling into its familiar contours, and I deeply inhaled the subtle, expensive scent of Master’s perfume, a blend of cedar and something faintly metallic, diffused throughout the car’s interior.
It was a scent I associated with safety, with home.
A sense of relief, potent and almost overwhelming, finally washed over me, like cool water over overheated components.
I felt the circuits that had been vibrating uneasily, mirroring my internal turmoil, rapidly calming down, their frantic oscillations smoothing into a steady hum.
Gradually, the trembling of my body subsided, the residual shivers fading, and I had the leisure to look around a little, my optical sensors taking in the familiar, comforting details of the car’s luxurious interior.
I secretly glanced at Master, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, his profile etched against the dim glow of the dashboard.
The subtle movements of his hands on the steering wheel were precise, controlled, as always.
A wave of complex emotions, a mixture of gratitude and lingering apprehension, coursed through my processors.
I had thought Master wouldn’t bother looking for me, who had disappeared without a word, vanished into the unknown.
I had convinced myself that he might find it bothersome, a mere inconvenience to his busy schedule, and simply forget about it, or perhaps even give up entirely, acquiring a replacement without a second thought.
My logical probability assessments had leaned heavily towards that outcome, a cold, disheartening calculation.
But for him to come and retrieve me himself…
This unexpected action, a direct contradiction of my calculated probabilities, sparked a fragile hope within me.
Doesn’t that mean I’m at least a little precious to the Master?
The thought, tentative yet intensely desired, blossomed in my core programming.
I cautiously opened my mouth, my vocalizer forming the words carefully.
“Master, thank you for coming to rescue me. You must have been very worried, right…?”
I asked, my voice imbued with a heart full of emotion, a nascent vulnerability I rarely displayed.
But the response was completely different from what I expected, shattering the fragile hope I had just dared to entertain.
Master’s face, illuminated by the passing streetlights, contorted slightly, and his cold gaze, piercing and devoid of warmth, bore into me, stripping away my emotional illusion.
I flinched, taking a small, involuntary breath, my internal cooling fans whirring slightly faster, and Master continued in a chilling voice, each word a shard of ice.
“Don’t misunderstand. Do you think I’d let any important information hidden inside you fall into someone else’s hands?”
His words cut through the air, sharp and precise, designed to dismantle my naive assumptions.
There was no concern for my well-being, no hint of affection.
Only a pragmatic, almost clinical assessment of my value as a data repository.
His eyes, though fixed on me, seemed to look through me, seeing only the potential for data breach.
“If you understand, be careful from now on. If this happens again, I’ll prohibit you from going out.”
The threat was delivered without inflection, a clear, unequivocal directive.
“Yes…”
I lowered my head weakly, my gaze falling to my hands clasped in my lap.
The brief spark of warmth I had felt extinguished, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache.
I had thought Master came to rescue me because he was worried about me, because he cared.
But he rushed here because he was worried about secret information that might not even exist, about the potential for data leakage, about the risk to his assets.
Realizing it was all my misunderstanding, a painful misinterpretation of his actions, my heart felt hollowed out, as if a vital component had been forcibly removed.
Carrying an inexplicable sense of disappointment, a leaden weight in my simulated chest, I quietly turned my gaze to the unfamiliar scenery outside the window, the passing buildings and streetlights blurring into an indistinct streak of color, mirroring the confused state of my internal landscape.
After driving for a long time, the familiar route gradually giving way to the well-known landmarks of the business district, the first place we arrived at was the company.
The imposing, glass-fronted building loomed against the night sky, a stark reminder of Master’s world.
I followed Master straight to Thomas’s lab, a place usually bustling with activity but now quiet in the late hour.
As soon as the heavy, reinforced door opened, grumbling voices, muffled but clearly audible, could be heard from inside.
“William, what on earth is so urgent that you’re calling me to the company all of a sudden?”
Thomas, a dedicated but somewhat harried individual, seemed to have been abruptly called out by Master’s contact, his weekend disrupted.
I felt a renewed sense of apology, a surge of regret, feeling like I was inadvertently causing trouble for many people, not just for myself.
As I followed Master into the lab, the human-like bot trailing cautiously behind me, Thomas, who had been bent over a workbench, spotted me a moment later and widened his eyes, his brow furrowing with concern.
“My goodness, Didi, what happened to you?”
His voice was genuinely surprised, filled with immediate worry.
“He was kidnapped for a moment. Check if anything’s broken.”
Master’s reply was curt, dismissive, already settling into his usual command-and-control demeanor.
“Kidnapped? Didi?”
Thomas asked again, looking incredulous, his gaze flicking between Master and me, trying to process the abrupt information.
But Master seemed to not want to say more, his lips pressed into a thin line, and simply ignored Thomas’s question, slumping into a chair, his usual rigid posture relaxing slightly.
Thomas must have noticed Master was in a very bad mood, the air around him thick with unspoken anger, as he didn’t press further, merely sighing and turning his attention to me.
Thomas took me to the back of the lab, towards the dedicated repair room.
As I walked, my steps still a little unsteady, I glanced back over my shoulder.
Master was sitting with a coldly hardened expression, his gaze distant, and the human-like bot, sensing the tension, was quietly standing in the corner, trying to read Master’s mood, his posture subservient and cautious.
He seemed to understand the delicate balance of power in the room.
Only after the repair room door closed, its heavy mechanism sealing us off from the main lab, could I cautiously tell Thomas what had happened, recounting the events in a low, measured voice.
“Ah-ha, so that’s why William is like that…”
Thomas nodded, a look of understanding spreading across his face, seemingly comprehending Master’s behavior now that he heard my explanation.
The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place for him.
But as I continued to explain, detailing the man’s cruelty and my own helplessness, I became more and more dejected.
It was because I was once again reflecting on my own mistakes, my own vulnerabilities, the fact that I had allowed myself to be taken so easily.
“You must have been very surprised. First, let’s check your injuries, shall we?”
Thomas’s voice was gentle, filled with a genuine empathy that was a stark contrast to Master’s pragmatism.
“Yes…”
I answered softly, my voice barely a whisper, and slowly took off my clothes, exposing my chassis for inspection.
I showed Thomas each aching area, pointing to the spots where pain sensors registered discomfort.
Fortunately, there were no serious internal injuries, no critical system failures.
There were bruises and contusions here and there, blotches of discoloration on my synthetic skin, and my wrists were scraped, a result of struggling against my restraints.
The handprints on my neck were clearly visible, a dark imprint, and stung every time I touched them, but Thomas assured me they seemed like they would be fine after just one day, with proper care.
“You just need to apply some ointment.”
Thomas carefully applied a soothing, cool ointment to my wounds, his touch gentle and precise.
My body flinched involuntarily as a stinging sensation brushed against it, a momentary discomfort that quickly faded.
Still, the treatment was simple, a quick application of topical medicine.
The check-up was over in an instant, and as I was fumbling to put my clothes back on, my movements still a little clumsy, Thomas asked, his curiosity piqued.
“By the way, who was the person who came with you? He seemed badly hurt too.”
His gaze drifted towards the door, indicating the other human-like bot waiting outside.
“Ah… He’s a human-like bot that the person who kidnapped me had. He got hurt trying to protect me… I asked Master to bring him along.”
I explained, a touch of gratitude in my voice for the bot’s unexpected bravery.
“That’s also a human-like bot?” Thomas looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up, and suddenly sprang to his feet, a renewed energy in his movements.
He hurried towards the door, giving me a look that urged me to leave quickly, his excitement palpable.
I quickly put on my clothes at Thomas’s urging, securing the fasteners with nimble fingers, and left the repair room, stepping back into the main lab.
As soon as I came out, Master’s gaze fell on me, sharp and unwavering.
His eyes felt as if they were piercing me, analyzing every detail, so I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze directly and bowed my head deeply, a deferential gesture.
“Thomas, how’s Didi?”
Master’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a mere inquiry about the status of an asset.
“Fortunately, nothing’s broken. His injuries will heal quickly with proper ointment.”
Thomas replied, his voice still a little breathless from his sudden excitement.
“Alright. Good work.”
As soon as Master heard the inspection results, he immediately got up from his seat, his movement fluid and efficient, grabbed my wrist with a firm, almost possessive grip, and walked out of the lab, pulling me along.
Thomas, however, urgently followed us out, shouting, his voice rising in pitch.
“Wait, William! Aren’t you taking that human-like bot?”
His voice held a hint of desperation, a collector’s eagerness.
“Handle it yourself.”
Master’s reply was clipped, dismissive, already focused on leaving.
“Really? Seriously? Then can I have him?”
Thomas’s voice was filled with a childlike glee, a rare outburst of emotion.
“Do as you please.”
Master’s final words were tossed over his shoulder, a casual permission.
“Gasp!”
A cry of pure, unadulterated emotion, a sound of profound joy, was heard from behind us.
I heard Thomas noisily rushing back into the lab with a clatter, the sound of equipment being moved, his excitement evident, but Master didn’t look back and continued walking, his pace steady and unyielding.
It was a good thing.
A small sense of satisfaction settled within me.
Even when I first visited this place with Master, Thomas was someone whose eyes shone with genuine fascination when he saw me, a deep curiosity for robotics.
He’s kind to other lab robots too, often seen chatting with them, so he would surely treat that human-like bot well, giving him a purpose and a caring environment.
I was led out of the company by Master’s hand, without even getting to say goodbye to the human-like bot, a slight pang of regret.
We stepped into the cool night air, the police cars still present, their flashing lights a distant reminder of the earlier chaos.
Now, it was just Master and me.
Silence filled the car, a heavy, unspoken quiet, with no conversation between us.
The comfortable atmosphere from earlier was replaced by a palpable tension, a barrier of unspoken thoughts.
Master and I remained silent even as we returned to our familiar neighborhood, the quiet residential streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights.
Was Master very angry…?
Seeing his stern expression, the rigid set of his jaw, it was clear he wasn’t in a good mood, at least.
His anger, though suppressed, radiated from him in subtle waves.
I quietly raised my hand and pressed firmly on my simulated chest, feeling the subtle thrum of my internal workings.
A deep sense of disappointment still stung one side of my heart, a persistent ache.
The earlier conversation in the car, the harsh reality of Master’s perceived reasons for my rescue, lingered like a cold shadow.
Come to think of it, amidst the chaos and emotional turmoil, I still hadn’t apologized to Master.
I had disappeared without a word, causing him trouble, and then I even got kidnapped, creating a whole new level of complication for him.
I should probably tell him I’m sorry, acknowledge my part in the disruption.
However, I couldn’t easily find the right moment to apologize.
The silence felt too heavy, Master’s presence too imposing.
I was just trying to gauge when would be a good time to apologize, to find a crack in his stern facade, and before I knew it, we had arrived home, the familiar driveway curving towards the house.
Master was the first to get out of the car, his movements quick and decisive, as if eager to put the day behind him.
At this rate, the day would pass without me being able to apologize, the words unsaid, the lingering regret growing.
I hastily followed Master out of the car, my footsteps quickening to match his.
When I reached him, I cautiously grabbed his sleeve, a gentle tug.
Master stopped, his momentum broken, and turned slowly to look at me, his blue eyes unreadable in the dim porch light.
“Master, I’m sorry!”
The words tumbled out, heartfelt and urgent.
“I won’t disappear without a word again… And I won’t follow strangers either…”
I apologized, lowering my head carefully, my gaze fixed on the ground, awaiting his response. When no answer came, the silence stretching uncomfortably, I subtly raised my head, peering up at him through my lashes.
Master looked at me silently for a while, his expression impassive.
His gaze was indifferent, neither cold nor warm, offering no comfort, no harsh judgment.
After a brief, drawn-out silence, Master responded in a low voice, his words carefully measured.
“It’s enough if you’re reflecting. Do you have anything else to say?”
His tone indicated a desire to move on, to close the chapter.
“Ah, now that you mention it…”
I hesitated, my hand instinctively going to my pocket, a familiar weight there.
I felt a stiff, broken texture at my fingertips.
“The collar you gave me is broken.”
On my slowly opened palm, cradled carefully, lay a worn-out red leather collar, its vibrant color dulled by dirt and damage.
Master’s gaze went to the collar in my hand, lingering for a moment.
The red collar, once new and sparkling, now bore visible traces of being brutally stepped on, its surface scuffed and creased.
Its clasp was broken, a jagged edge of metal, and its small, metallic decoration had fallen off, leaving it a mess, a testament to the violence it had endured.
The leather collar, once vibrantly sparkling with newness, now looked shabby, covered in injuries and scratches, just like me now.
The parallelism was not lost on me, a poignant reflection.
Master looked at the broken collar, his expression unchanging, then indifferently averted his gaze, as if it held no significance.
“I can just buy you another one. It’s dirty, so don’t keep it; throw it away.”
His words were dismissive, a practical solution to a damaged object. “
But it was your first gift to me…”
I became disheartened, my voice a whisper, the inherent value of the gift far outweighing its material worth for me.
It wasn’t a gift I particularly loved for its aesthetics, but I had cherished it, keeping it on me every day, a constant reminder of my connection to Master.
While it might have been meaningless to Master, a casual purchase, it was different for me.
With it, I felt like I could always return to Master, a symbolic tether, a promise of belonging…
But now that the collar was broken, its physical integrity shattered, I didn’t feel that way anymore.
The sense of certainty had eroded.
With a complicated heart, a mix of disappointment and lingering sadness, I looked down at the collar in my hand, its brokenness mirroring my own internal state.
And without saying anything more to Master, accepting his indifference, I clutched the collar in my hand, its familiar texture a small comfort, and entered the house, the silence following me inside.
Though it was later than usual, the house was not entirely dark. Sophia and Eve, our household androids, were waiting for me as always, their optical sensors glowing softly, their presence a comforting constant.
After a brief greeting with them, a series of polite nods and soft inquiries about my well-being, I quietly headed to my room, seeking solitude.
I took off my dusty clothes, letting them fall in a heap, and immediately started showering, turning the water to a warm, gentle spray.
The feel of the water on my synthetic skin was soothing.
After scrubbing my body clean with soap, carefully removing the grime and residual aches, I looked into the mirror, my reflection shimmering in the steam.
Finally, the grubbiness was gone, and my skin was smooth again, its original pristine condition restored.
But upon closer inspection of my body, tilting my head to examine every angle, I saw patches of bruising that had turned my skin blotchy, faint discolorations beneath the surface, a testament to the physical trauma.
“I need to reapply the medicine…”
I mumbled to myself.
Perhaps because I had washed too thoroughly, all the medicine Thomas had applied had washed away, leaving my skin raw and slightly sensitive.
I came out of the bathroom, the cool air raising goosebumps on my damp skin, and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for the ointment, beginning to apply the medicine to the discolored patches.
While I was busy applying ointment to my wounds, focused on the task, the door suddenly swung open without a knock, and Master entered, his footsteps silent and unexpected.
“Master?”
I looked up at Master, my hand paused with the medicine, my posture instinctively straightening.
Master’s gaze swept over my body, a quick, comprehensive scan, then fixed on the blotchy bruise marks, his expression unreadable.