Work Text:
New Seoul City, 2710
Rain washed down Gunwook’s face as she stumbled down the alleyway. The hydraulics in her cybernetic hand struggled to bear the weight she carried.
Hanbin, her android companion, was slung across her shoulder, legs dragging behind them.
“Just… A bit longer. Hold on, Hanbin.”
Hanbin’s body turned rigid, slowly shutting down. With the last bit of her might, she dragged them out of the rain and under the awning of the shop she was looking for.
She banged on the metal garage door with her cybernetic hand.
“We’re closed!” A muffled voice called from inside, followed by a series of clangs.
“Matt, it’s Gunwook! Open up, it’s an emergency!”
The garage door slowly lifted, probably one of the only manual ones left in the city. As soon as it got high enough, Gunwook ducked under, pulling Hanbin with her. The door fell with a slam.
“What’s wrong with her?” the mechanic asked, picking Hanbin up like she weighed nothing and carrying her over to the worktable.
Gunwook followed, rubbing at her aching shoulder.
“She’s been acting weird the last few days. Forgetting things, glitching.”
“Maybe she just needs a software update,” Matthew hummed. He opened up his laptop and connected a cord to the port in Hanbin’s wrist.
Matthew glanced down at the laptop. Green binary code flashed across a black screen, then a bunch of text and symbols Gunwook didn’t understand.
“What’s happening?”
With the way Matthew’s shoulders tensed, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Gunwook, it’s… Not good. It’s the bot plague. Has she been around any other bots lately?”
“No, not that I can think of. How— How do we fix it?”
“I’ll have to open her up, see if it’s corrupted her hardware too or just her software.”
The mechanic stood and wiped his hands on a cloth. He prepared his tools with rare urgency.
“Gunwook, unbutton her shirt. I’ll need to access her cybernetic bay.”
Gunwook’s hands shook as she undid the buttons. She pushed the panels of the shirt aside, revealing the closed port on Hanbin’s chest, where her heart would be if she was human.
Matthew worked quickly, nimble hands removing the screws on the port and trained eyes peering into the cavern where Hanbin’s processing hardware lay. The optical implant in his brain likely showed him things that Gunwook couldn’t see.
As he poked around with a pair of tweezers, Hanbin’s eyes flew open, searching frantically before landing on Gunwook.
“Gunwook…” Her hand twitched.
Gunwook took her hand, clasping the cold flesh-like material in her own real hand.
“I’m here, Hanbin. Matthew’s going to fix you right up.”
A frown creased the mechanic’s brow.
“Gunwook… Her CPU is damaged, she’s going to need a new one.”
“Where do I get one?”
“There’s only one place to get one. The place where she was made, ZeroTech.”
A shudder passed through Gunwook’s spine. Gunwook hadn’t been in a ZeroTech building since she’d been kidnapped off of the streets and experimented on, fitted with a new cybernetic arm that was much more high tech than the one she currently wore. But at least this one wasn’t designed to be a weapon.
Gunwook had barely escaped with her life, thanks to Hanbin, a defective android that had been slated for demolition. The two of them had been laying low ever since, hiding from ZeroTech’s patrol bots.
Now Gunwook had to return to the site of her trauma, just to save Hanbin’s life.
She wasted no time, grabbing one of Matthew’s skateboards and heading off in search of the missing piece. The mechanic was surprisingly low-tech for someone who worked with technology all of the time.
The city was dark as always, having entered a permanent night decades before Gunwook was born. Most of the streetlights were out, her only light being the occasional storefront, still open at this late hour.
ZeroTech was a shining white beacon in the middle of the city, impossible to miss. It was the only bright spot left in a dingy city fallen to ruin.
Gunwook stuck out like a sore thumb as she snuck in, but her previous escape had made it all the easier. She was out in no time with the part she needed, skating down the streets and narrowly avoiding several patrol bots on her way.
Hanbin was still awake when she burst in, talking to Matthew like nothing was wrong. Gunwook pulled the hardware out of her bra, the only dry place left on her person.
As Matthew prepared for the replacement, Hanbin took Gunwook’s hand, pulling her closer.
“Gunwook… This is a risky procedure. Matthew said I might not make it.”
“What do you mean? It’s just a hardware replacement.”
“My CPU is both my heart and my brain. Even if I reboot successfully… There’s a chance I might be reset.”
Gunwook felt like she could cry, but her tear ducts had long since been damaged by her optical implants.
“No, it’s… You’ll be fine, right?”
Hanbin didn’t answer, pulling her in for a kiss instead.
Everyone said androids weren’t capable of love, but how could that explain what Gunwook and Hanbin had? Gunwook wasn’t even sure how much of her was human and how much was tech, but she knew she loved Hanbin. And Hanbin loved her back.
Hanbin’s eyes remained closed while Matthew worked in her port. Gunwook dared not disturb him, not while he had her lover’s heart in his hands.
When Matthew reset her system with a few clicks on his laptop, Hanbin’s eyes finally opened.
Gone were the warm brown irises Gunwook knew, replaced with green strings of binary code and devoid of recognition.
“Hello. I’m H.A.N.B.I.N., your Home Assistive Nursing Biomedical Interface Network. How may I help you?”