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One of the many things that set robots apart from humans is the simple fact that they are deliberately designed to be a certain way. The very fundamentals of genetics means that humans come out more or less randomly. One versed in biology can determine what outcomes could potentially result from the union of two humans, but which of those outcomes actually occurs is up to fate. Robots, on the other hand, are put together piece by chosen piece. At every step of the creation process, a machine’s creator must decide what materials to use, how they want the end result to look, what functions they want their creation to be capable of, and so on and so forth. This is true even for reploids. Though they have the free will to decide what they want to do with their lives, they still must come out of production with the basic characteristics their creator gave them.
So for what purpose then, Zero wondered to himself as he ran a brush through blonde synthetic strands, did his creator decide to curse him with such ridiculously long hair?
For most humans, what they do with their hair is simply an aesthetic choice. Whether they grow it out long or cut it short or even get rid of it entirely, the only purpose is for personal expression. Some would argue that a person’s hairstyle can indicate a person’s gender, which would explain why most female reploids are designed with long hair while their male counterparts have short hair. Zero would argue that that reasoning is pointless and doesn’t make sense. Plenty of humans and reploids go against that perceived standard as does he himself. Someone’s hairstyle says more about their personal style and preferences if anything. And if his creator had decided to give him long hair based purely on aesthetics, the thought process must not have been more complex than, “it just looks cool”. Either way, keeping his hair the way it is was ultimately still Zero’s choice.
Zero had just as much free will as any other reploid. If he wanted to cut off his hair, he could do so at any time. In fact, he had been tempted several times in the past to grab his z-saber and hack it all off. Yet every time he thought about it, he stopped just short of going through with such a drastic change. It wasn’t for lack of motivation; trust him, his hair had caused him plenty of irritation. It was just… well, it didn’t look bad when it was taken care of. His hair was very similar to a human’s, but if he cut it off, it would never grow back. What if he cut it and decided he liked it better the way it was before? He could always see someone about replacing his lost hair like he could for any of his other parts, but it would be a waste of materials just to satisfy his pointless whims.
And so, here Zero sat in his quarters carefully undoing each and every tangle in his hair. Every single day he had to go through the painstaking task of maintaining it. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he were simply a regular civilian reploid, but he was a Maverick Hunter. The nature of his job required that he get into high-intensity situations, many of which are counterintuitive to the upkeep of a hairstyle like his. For example, he once had to chase a Maverick through a nature reserve and ended up getting his hair caught on so many bushes and branches that he was pulling twigs out of it for a week. He doesn’t even want to get started on how many times his hair had gotten in his face in the middle of fights. Or how many opponents have tried to yank it. Even so much as a light breeze messes it all up. At this point, he was convinced that his creator made him with long hair as a sick joke to piss him off and make him waste an hour of his life every day. Nonetheless, he still dutifully cared for what he was given upon creation.
By now, he’s no longer annoyed by the tedious task. Instead, he uses the hour he spends on it to transition into low-power mode before settling into his maintenance bed and powering off for the night. Thankfully, the monotony doesn’t require much of him. Use a spray bottle full of water to loosen up tougher knots and a brush or comb to get the job done. Use a bit of shampoo to help wash out mud or oil or whatever substance manages to get stuck in his hair. Finish the whole thing off with a bottle of conditioner and a good wash to bring back the softness then let it dry. That’s as interesting as the process gets; it’s repetitive and time consuming. He has every step so meticulously practiced that not a single strand is left out of place or gets pulled out by his brush. Then when tomorrow comes and his hair inevitably gets messed up, he repeats the whole thing all over again.
A plus side to the tedium- or perhaps it was a downside- was that Zero was afforded plenty of time to let his mind wander. He used to focus entirely on his hair-related task, but now it was second nature and he could practically do it while powered down. So he tried to keep his thoughts on meaningless things to distract himself instead, but sometimes he couldn’t help when something more serious plagued him. Things like his strange nightmares of an elderly roboticist or the never-ending war with Mavericks or how Sigma continues to be a persistent thorn in everyone’s side even after death. But for today, the effective distraction on Zero’s mind was why he still chose not to cut his hair after all this time.
Sure, there was the possibility of regret, but it wouldn’t be an irreversible change. At some point, annoyance would trump potential regret when it came to this particular decision. When he tried to imagine what he’d look like without his long hair, the image his processor conjured up was… weird. It felt off, not right, like something was missing. But that feeling could easily go away with time as he got more used to having short hair. If he ever decided to go through with the idea, that is. Maybe the real reason he doesn’t cut it is because, deep down, a part of him likes the daily routine of undoing the nightmarish rat’s nests he gets stuck with.
…Nah, that definitely wasn’t it.
A gentle series of knocks coming from the door stole Zero’s attention. That careful quietness, that precise cadence of knock-knock-knock… Zero knew exactly who had come to visit. Though, it wasn’t like anyone else ever came to see him in his quarters.
“Come in,” Zero called out.
The door quickly slid open to reveal Zero’s best friend, X. He looked exhausted, his vibrant blue armor covered in scrape marks and oil stains. The expression on his face said that the day had very much not gone his way.
“I hope I didn’t come at a bad time,” X said as he entered the room.
Zero still had at least half an hour left to go on his haircare routine, but it’s not like that fact was of the utmost importance. Setting his brush down, he said, “Of course not. Just doing my hair, like always. You look worse for wear, though. Just come back from a mission?”
“Yes. I turned in a report as soon as I returned to base and then came here.”
“You didn’t go to the medbay first? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I used up a sub-tank, I’m fine.”
Zero had a witty comeback about X being a hypocrite on the tip of his tongue. If the roles were reversed and Zero had returned from a mission looking banged up, X would have been the first to drag him kicking and screaming to the medbay. But X looked so tired and Zero could sympathize with wanting to be with his best friend right after a tough mission. After all, Zero himself had skipped out on more medical check-ups than he could count for that very reason. So he said nothing as he watched X pull up a chair and sit next to him.
Turning his own chair so he was facing away from X, Zero threw his hair over the back of his chair. He asked, “Well, since you’re here, mind helping me out for a minute?”
X answered the question by picking up a comb and a spray bottle from the nearby table and getting to work on a particularly nasty knot. He expertly worked at the problem in front of him, quickly getting absorbed in the menial task. He may not have had the pleasure of doing this every night like Zero had, but he was no stranger to the routine.
“Is free will a gift or a curse?,” X asked.
Zero didn’t answer the question, knowing that his best friend wasn’t really looking for an answer. Starting with a loaded question like that meant that X simply wanted to vent about his feelings and his struggles. If that was what he wanted, then Zero was always willing to listen.
X continued, “I understand that Mavericks infected by the virus lose themselves to it. They can’t help their uncontrollable, violent urges because of it and there’s not much we can do to help them other than fight… but what about the ones who choose to become Maverick of their own will? Why? What’s the point? I don’t get it…”
“Did something happen on your mission?,” Zero asked.
“Nothing particularly stand-out. A group of Mavericks tried to take over a nuclear power plant and threatened to blow the place up.”
“But they weren’t infected?”
“As far as internal system inspections done after the arrests are concerned? No. That’s the problem… They chose to do what they did, no outside factor driving them to do it.”
“Did they say why they did it?”
“...”
Zero felt the tugging of a comb running through his hair stop. Turning his head slightly, he saw X looking downcast from the corner of his eye. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said.
X shook his head and returned to combing Zero’s hair with greater focus, the busywork helping him relax and gather his thoughts. He said, “No, it's ok. The group of Mavericks were a nihilistic extremist group with the goal of… of ending all reploid life. The nuclear power plant they attacked was the main energy provider for a nearby reploid power core manufacturer. Their leader went on and on about how reploids were an affront to nature and the resources they required to sustain themselves were too great a strain on the Earth.”
“Sounds like they were a bunch of quacks,” Zero said.
“I… I kind of understood the point they were trying to make,” X admitted. “More and more reploids are being created each year, requiring more and more resources to make and sustain them. It’s getting to the point that the reploid population is starting to rival that of humans. Sometimes, I wonder… why do reploids- why do we exist? Why were we made to mimic humans as closely as possible? To further the evolution of humanity or simply because the concept could be done?”
“Why do humans exist? Why do humans make more humans? Keep asking yourself philosophical questions with no real answers and you’ll be stuck on them all day.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. That straightforward attitude of yours is something I’ve always liked about you. It helps me feel grounded whenever we talk.”
Zero didn’t respond and instead chose to stare intently at the wall ahead of him. He felt his face heat up upon hearing X’s words- something that always happens whenever X compliments him. When it first started happening, he had thought there was a malfunction with his cooling systems. Maintenance checks proved him wrong, but also couldn’t tell him why it was happening. At this point, he’s accepted that the part of him that was built to be human was something he would never understand. If it only happened with X, though, then it couldn’t have been a bad thing.
Still, Zero was determined to quash whatever feeling made his face heat up. At least while X was still around because he’s learned before that that feeling shows itself with a blush (something he was a bit embarrassed to find out he could do). Yet the only thing his mental processors could focus on was the sensation of his hair being brushed and cleaned. The gentle tugging, the careful undoing of knot after knot, the relaxing sensation of gunk being washed away. There was a great sense of comfort in knowing that the hands running through his long strands belonged to X; that he trusted X- and only X- to do this for him. Those thoughts did nothing but make the heat he felt even stronger.
The question at the forefront of Zero’s mind was, why him? He continued to find himself cursed.
Thankfully, X continued talking, “Anyways, I obviously don’t mean to say I agree with that group’s methods. I just… I wish the world could know peace so that there would be no more conflict.”
“I don’t know about a world without conflict,” Zero admitted. “Sounds a bit… I don’t know, boring? To me, at least.”
X laughed. “Of course you would think that. You’ve always enjoyed a good fight.”
“I mean it, though. Think about what a world without any conflict- any at all- would be like. There would be no fighting, no disagreements, only perfect peace all the time. If there’s never any problems to overcome, I’d wonder, what’s the point of doing anything at all?”
“You think people would become apathetic when all they know is peace?”
“Probably, yeah. Everyone does what they do for a reason, even Mavericks. If they don’t have a reason to do anything because everything is already perfect, then what happens?”
It seemed that, for once, Zero was the one who had X stumped with a philosophical question. X didn’t reply immediately, instead quietly contemplating the question he was presented with. The methodical rhythm of brushing and unknotting meant that he wasn’t discouraged by his best friend’s rejection of the idea of true, everlasting peace. If he was, he would have stopped again, his worry causing him to become trapped in his own mind.
That was good. Zero often worried that his blunt way of speaking and lack of tact compared to X would only serve to distress his best friend. After all, X is a chronic worrier who both believes in a brighter, more optimistic future than Zero, but also finds a way to make anything sound like an endless spiral downward. He always asks about the why’s and if’s of everything, considering every possible outcome. It was a strength and weakness Zero admired as much as he struggled to fully understand at times.
Finally, X spoke again, “Then how about a world where any conflict can be solved through words and not violence? As long as there’s no need for innocents to be caught up in the fighting or for humans and reploids to lose their lives, then maybe that’s enough.”
Zero tried to picture the world X proposed. It sounded… rather pleasant, he had to admit. It was a world that could still strive for change and growth, where people have their differences but can overcome them with time and effort. In that world, even opposites can become the greatest of friends. Just like X and Zero themselves. If that’s the kind of future X had in mind, then Zero would share that dream with him.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good compromise,” Zero said.
The pair soon fell into a comfortable silence after that. Despite the somewhat heavy nature of their conversation, the atmosphere felt a bit lighter than it had when X first walked in. X’s worries had been eased for a time thanks to Zero and in return, Zero found himself feeling very relaxed with someone else handling his hair care routine. In fact, he had nearly powered down completely after only a few more quiet minutes. Normally, he wouldn’t let himself be caught being so vulnerable with someone else around. Luckily for him, the one person he could make an exception for was right there with him. It was all too easy to feel safe around X.
Then, suddenly, Zero’s systems flared to life when he felt something smother itself in his thick hair. Turning his head as much as he was able with his ponytail pinned to the back of his chair, Zero could see X nuzzling his hair like it was an especially comfy pillow.
“You’re going to mess up my hair again if you do that,” Zero said.
X pressed himself further into his blond “pillow” and said, “Can’t help it. It’s too soft and fluffy.”
Zero was left stuck between wanting to poke fun at his friend for being weird again and trying to stop himself from sounding embarrassed. But then X continue to talk:
“Thank you for always being here for me, Zero. No matter what happens, I’m happiest when I’m with you.”
In the end, what Zero responded with was, “I’m happy whenever we’re together, too. That’s why we make such great partners.”
The words came out much too lackluster and simple for Zero’s liking. There were so many things he wanted to say to his best friend to show just how much he truly cared for him. But even if he struggled to express himself the way he wanted to when it came to his more complicated emotions, the pair knew each other well enough by now that words were not needed. Their sincerity rang out through their actions and their devotion was made clear through tender moments like these.
And so was the reason Zero kept his hair just the way it is. To continue to have such tender moments with the only person he’d dare share them with.