When you first step into Techibis, you would stare in amazement at all of the tiny, humanoid little machines, just sitting on the shelf. Little sleeping dolls you could call them, waiting for a key to turn so they can open their tiny eyes and stare at the world around them. The world that made them. And of course, like the sane little machines they are, would most likely go right back to sleep. The chaos and general insanity would be too much for a saint to handle, much less a temperamental android, like myself. But anyway... Don't you ever wonder where they came from? No, not a workshop, silly moose, but the idea of them. I mean, it's not like Doc just all of a sudden thought "Hey, I'm going to go make adorable chibi-style androids." No, that's not how it happened. See, it started more like this:
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December 25th. Christmas. Also, Doc's birthday. He was going to be six years old in about two more hours, presents stacked high under the tree. But this tree was no ordinary tree, not one of those boring coniferous trees at the store. Nope, this tree was a palm tree. As you can see, Doc did not a have a "normal" family, which could be very good or very bad, depending on who you are. The one present underneath the large, potted palm tree that Doc had wanted to unwrap so badly was from his weirdo mother. A doll collector. He sat by that tree, just staring at the bright blue wrapping paper and enormous bow until the clock struck midnight. Then, he lurched into action, frantically grabbing at the box as if his very life depended on what ever was inside of it. He should be, considering it was the early, pre-historic build of me. The shredded, shining paper pushed aside, he slid open the lid of the rather plain cardboard box.
Within that box lay a tiny doll (me), only about as big as a man’s hand. It was evidently female, with plain sea-green hair and ball joints clearly visible (Still me). She was dressed in an asymmetrical light blue dress, obviously of his mother’s making. Any other boy would be ashamed to be given a doll as a present, but for Doc, it was the best thing anybody could give him. He didn’t even open his other little gifts, instead taking me out of the box and placing his lips gently on my pale, plastic forehead.
“Your name will be Remmy.”
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14 years later, Doc is in University, studying mechatronics. Okay, well, exactly at that moment, he was sleeping. Outside, snow fell from the sky, and I, even after all these years, was sitting on his bedside table, waiting for him to wake up. When he finally did open his eyes, the first things he saw were my wide-open, beautiful eyes.
And so it began.
It struck him with blinding speed and the force of several large elephants. There were dolls that could blink with the help of a simply lever, but why not take it one step further? Or rather, several countries further? Why not make a doll that could blink by itself? And why stop at that? Why shouldn’t they be able to walk, talk, and think? That was what drove Doc to creating me. Or rather, Remmy 2.0.
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It had taken him two years of extensive research and study, trial-and-error, and a lot of notebooks, but it was finally over. He had finally created me (the most advanced piece of machinery on earth). There we sat, on the cluttered table in his workroom, side-by-side. I was faithful in every way to his mother’s Remmy, but yet also improved. My sea green hair was streaked with neon and purple- his mother’s favourite colours- and tied in intricate little braids. My body was seamless and soft to the touch, not like hard, tough plastic. You could still feel metal though, just under the surface. Just enough to remind you people that I was a machine, not a baby or some kind of kitten. Lodged in my back was a techni-colour key that matched my (epic) outfit. Taking a breath, Doc reached behind me and turned it slowly, gently. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and he was afraid he had failed.
But then my eyes snapped open and a smile appeared on my tiny face. It was nice to see who woke me up and told me all of this. It was then that Doc knew he still had a lot to do, but also that a little piece of his mother was with him every step of the way.
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It took him a while to get his bearings on this whole owning-a-business thing, but with a few (a lot, actually) bank loans and more luck then a leprechaun, it was now a week until the grand opening. And he hadn’t bothered to hire new employees. You see, he initially thought that he and I would handle everything just fine (PFFT…), but as paperwork piled up all around us and contractors started speaking legalese, he decided it was finally time to hire somebody else. Somebody who knew what “accounting rate of return” actually meant. I sure didn’t.
We were beginning to lose hope when out of the blue, the shop bells rang. I jumped off of Doc’s work desk and ran to the front, eager to greet whoever had stopped by. As expected, he followed me. There was a woman there, looking at me, a tiny android, half amazed and half annoyed. Jeez, what was her problem? She was wearing a blazer, dress pants and pointed flats. Office clothes. Not even covering his mouth, Doc laughed. Not at the woman particularly, but how professional she looked. And how much he… was not.
“Excuse me. I’m here about a job application, but if I’ve-“She started, but was quickly interrupted by Doc, still trying not to laugh. He failed miserably.
“You’re hired.” Although the statement was splintered with giggles from both him and I, it came out with enough finality. The woman, soon to be known as Adele to us, blinked twice. I thought she was thinking: “Was this in the contract?” Work with a giggling madman and his robotic brat?” She probably had half a mind to just walk out, but this was the only job still open. I checked.
She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat impatiently. “Dr… Vottec, calm down. You may call me Adele; I’m here to apply as a shop manager.” He nodded, grinning widely at her.
“You’re already working here. No need to be such a stiff Adele.” That said, I burst into a brand new fit of giggling, and he followed, as if we shared a brain. Adele pursed her lips and tried not to be annoyed at her new boss. Until I, his little electronic rugrat, chipped in.
I could tell the laughter was grating enough, but my voice was too much. “Do you think she can sit down in those pants Doc?” He laughed a full hearted laugh this time, not just giggles. I saw the red rise in Adele’s face, a mix of anger and embarrassment. She walked right past us and into the only other door there- except for the bathroom door, and shut it. We could hear the little click! of the lock.
The room got very quiet all of a sudden, and Doc was probably wondering if he’d gone too far. He left me in the front room, swinging my feet over a shelf. Of course, I jumped off right after and followed him in my silent way. He unlocked the workshop door. “Are you okay?” He called, without really looking in. Shuffling steps were heard, and the rustling of papers. He looked inside. There was Adele, re-arranging all of his folders and sifting through the sheets he had lying on his desk and around the floor. He laughed quietly and she looked up, as if just noticing him. “I think I’m going to like you Adele.” She said nothing, and simply turned around again, still organizing.
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And that’s the end of the beginning. What you see today, the dozens of Techibis sleeping along the walls, running around the store, dancing on the display, and then there’s me. Remmy, sweet-talking all the customers into buying new stuff while Adele fills out forms and makes phone calls. Doc’s usually around her desk, teasing her a little. These days, she just rolls her eyes at him and keeps working. He doesn’t leave her alone unless he’s in the workshop.
Makes me a wee bit suspicious, really.
