Work Text:
I’ve been…bothered for weeks, maybe longer than that? It’s having adverse effects on my job. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t ignore it, even with the sound of other very loud machinery in the background, coming through the vents, even. That’s the entire purpose of this facility, after all. It mass produces these soldiers. Zetas, the most common models.
The problem is, the Biografts are made of artificial flesh.
There’s one in my workshop right now, something about a defect? I’m supposed to figure out if it’s a software or a hardware problem, and if it can even be fixed. That’s not really what I’m focused on, though.
The Biograft is on, needs to be if you want to run diagnostics. It’s warm, firmer than the average person. It vibrates lightly under my hands. I admit, I’ve always had an unusual fascination with machinery, but am I really that desperate? That’s not really why I’m in this line of work, but I can’t pretend I haven’t been tempted. It’s just sitting there on the worktable, eyes unblinking, I can tell they’re tracked onto me. I feel like I’m being observed, even though that doesn’t really make sense. Maybe I’m being judged.
No. I should at least try to find someone made of flesh and blood. Just…no. But I’ve always been curious.
It doesn’t really do anything as I take some screws to the paneling on its torso. That comes off cleanly, it always does, state of the art technology. I stare into the frustratingly well arranged parts and wires. Cables overlapping, compartments neatly divided for efficient replacement. The Biograft’s core glows orange. Blood rushes to my head.
Can’t do that. My job. No one would notice…would they?
“ YOU’RE TAKING LONGER THAN RECOMMENDED. " It pipes up. I know they can speak, but I hope it wouldn’t. It doesn’t help my situation.
“We have an extra complicated situation on our hands.” I respond, it doesn’t really know what an ulterior motive is, does it?
“ DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO. ” It responds, that’s not how they usually speak, but I’m not really thinking about that at this point.
It’s stress relief, that’s it. Nobody will notice. I’m acutely aware of how I’m exactly level to its torso.
“Extra through examination is required…” I say, it doesn’t respond back to that.
Might as well .
I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I put my hands on the grooves of its hips. My face came into contact with the Biograft’s machinery. It takes its hands off the surface of the worktable in…surprise? It shouldn’t be surprised, that doesn’t really matter to me regardless.
“ IS THIS…STANDARD PROCEDURE? FOR EXTRA EXAMINATION? ” The Biograft asks…?
“It is now.” I open my mouth, putting my tongue into a bunch of neatly bundled wires, I’m aware of how close it is to its groin.
The Biograft’s vibrations intensify, even though I haven’t really done anything to it yet. A couple of the wires go properly into my mouth and it shudders. It’s making some high pitched noises, maybe it’d be gasping if it breathed. I’m aware of how much stronger it is than I am, if it wanted to end this entire interaction I’d probably be done for, it doesn’t really matter. I realize that I’ve been waiting far too long for an excuse to do this.
The disparity in our strength is hammered into my head even harder when it puts its hands onto my head. For a second I think “This is it, I’m done for because I got too horny.” . I try to pull back, but it just holds my head in place.
“ IF THAT’S WHAT THIS IS, THEN DO IT THROUGHLY. ”
Oh, I see.
I keep orally tugging at the wires, I’ll have to put them back later, and definitely clean them, but that’s fine . Everything’s fine. I keep going, I think if it wanted to move me then it would’ve done so regardless of how I feel about it.
The Biograft starts shuddering, it lets go of my head and I hit the worktable. Peeking up, its head is rolling back. It’s still quite warm, probably warmer than it was when we first started.
It looks down at me and our eyes meet properly. “We haven’t figured out what’s wrong yet.” Is the only thing I manage to say.
“ ROUTINE MAINTENANCE ISN’T FROWNED UPON. ” Says the thing that could kill me.