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[kickem]

Ray. Leave a message.

[Texts, calls (for 90s canon and modern day) and pictures and videos (for modern day)]

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[kickem]

[Ray listens intently, still trying to make up his mind how much of this is fact and what's fiction. This guy has gone to a lot of trouble to make convincing stories, but it's hard to entirely disbelieve a guy who looks identical to you.]

See, that's why this God's will stuff ain't so great. You can't follow the directions of a guy you can't see or hear. That's like uh, like taking directions from a blind guy who can't speak.

[hairlocked]

You can't make dead things live again.

[ He rolled back over, looked up at the ceiling. ]

We were young. We didn't understand that. We didn't understand love, or individuals, the bonds between living things. We didn't believe in humanity's humanity, because how could it be real when it had never been shown to us. Compassion, love, family.

[ How do you like your sad robot, Ray? ]

[kickem]

[So sad. Much depressing.]

So uh, you kinda killed what you didn't understand, right? That's a pretty generic mistake to be honest. Pretty human.

[Because Ray might not be a genius, but he's seen enough shit to know a bit about humanities failures.]

[hairlocked]

It was hard to stop, once we started.

[ But he sits up again, looks across at Ray, studying him in disturbing silence for a few moments. There's no sudden nose touches or unnecessary petting, but he does give him all due consideration. ]

See? Smarter than you look. I knew you'd understand.

[kickem]

Yeah, yeah. Real genius.

[Eye roll, even as he continues with the thoughtful little furrow of his brows.]

It just all seems dumb. Hypocritical, y'know? Like 'oh, look at the big bad humans killing each other and everything else. Let's show 'em the error of their ways by killing them!'. It's like uh, it's like a parent hitting their kid as punishment for the kid hittin' someone.

[hairlocked]

But a parent doesn't generally speaking melt down their child to build a better one when the warranty expires.

[ There's still a flicker of sadness there. The reasons were all right. The actions were wrong. ]

We didn't know that. You have the anecdotal evidence of generations of human beings that came before you. We were new. There was nothing like us that had come before. We didn't remember our parents, though perhaps if we had, they'd have guided us down a different path.

[kickem]

So you had nothin' to learn from? No history or nothin' 'cept humans bein' dicks to robots? Huh.

[Ray can kind of understand. Only as much as one can ever really understand genocide.]

Still half wonderin' if you're just a crazy.

[hairlocked]

I can prove it.

[ He slithers off the couch, moving over to crouch beside Ray's TV and the blinking VCR. It takes him a few seconds, max, but then he comes back to the couch and sits back down looking very pleased with himself.

VCR programmed. Only space aliens and robots can do that, right? ]

See?

[kickem]

[Blink blink. Curious and suspicious and still pretty much not believing any of it.]

Okay, so maybe you're a tech or a nerd or whatever too. It'd explain the dumb shirt.

[hairlocked]

That's not good enough for you?

[ He straightens up unhappily, reconsiders the room, then crosses the "open" plan living room to the little kitchenette, fetching a knife out the rack, then fetching a spool of electrical wire from the plug repair box in the back of the odds and ends drawer. He knew what he was doing with Ray's stuff.

In any case he comes back over with the stuff, plops himself next to the stereo and brings the sharp blade of the knife to his wrist totally nonchalantly. Robot logic. ]

[kickem]

What are you--? No, NO!

[Caught between 'oh, shit guy with a knife' and 'ew, gross' as he scrambles half way up the back of the sofa.]

Don't you fuckin' cut yourself in my apartment.

[How is he meant to explain a dead him in his own place?]

[hairlocked]

It's fine, really.

[ But he grimaces as he does it, because it is sort of gross, and there's blood and oozing, and Leoben looks entirely too pleased with himself, unspooling the wire with sticky hands and snapping it with his teeth, then jabbing the sharp end into his arm. ]

There's no need to look so nervous, Ray. I'm not doing anything I wasn't designed to do.

[kickem]

No. Stop it, that's-- nn...

[So, so tempted to grab for the knife but that risks both of them getting injured and if this guy really wants to start cutting himself then... Whatever.]

The fuck is that supposed to do? You sick fuck.

[hairlocked]

[ Poor Ray. This is literally the worst thing that could happen to an oversensitive queasy at the sight of human suffering sort of guy, right?

Leoben finishes, letting the wire hang from his bleeding arm and bringing the other end up to jam into the stereo jack. He closes his eyes for a moment, and then the stereo turns on, and the radio tuner whirs through the channels, settling on a samba. The volume drops to a more conversational level. ]

Now do you believe me?

[kickem]

[It's pretty high on the list of things he never knew he didn't want to see but saw anyway. He's not doing a great job of averting his gaze, but that's because curiosity has him looking back every time he tries to look away.

Guy bleeding with a wire stuck in his arm. Radio doing stuff. Still kind of stuck on the bleeding part.]

That is disgusting. You do not do that. That is sick.

[It's kind of like he picked a puppy up off the street and it shit on it's carpet. Except this one is just bleeding and being gross instead.]

[hairlocked]

Ray, answer the question. I can use the radio waves for other things. We can listen into the police scanner--

[ Which is what it does, with another little whir, and sure enough there's chatter from the neighborhood coming through it now. ]

--or we can feedback our conversation straight to the station through the tape recorder. That's easy too.

[ He cocks his head over again. Still oozing blood, still with his sticky fingers holding the wire to the machine. ]

I don't know what else to try.

[kickem]

Yeah. Fine. I believe you. Just... just stop with that.

[Or he might actually puke on his own rug, which would be impractical and annoying and mean having to actually clear up.]

You sure bleed a lot for a robot.

[hairlocked]

[ Leoben sniffs, and grimaces, and drops his head down to pull the wire out of his wrist. The stereo switches to radio static in the meantime, and he gets the wire fall onto the floor with the bloodied knife, then wraps his hand around his wrist and looks back up, grinning victoriously. ]

I'm not as good at it as the others were.

[ Lonely noises. ]

Could you get the first aid kit?

[kickem]

[That is so gross. And a waste of good wire. But kind of a neat party trick were it not for the self harm and blood.]

Uh. Yeah. That's...

[Briefly considering, and then pointing off towards his bathroom where he dart away to and returns seconds later with a little pack of generic first aid stuff which he hands over. Ray used to far more back in the days of boxing.]

So, okay. So say you are a robot from the past who is like my uh, genetic ancestor or whatever. What's the point? Why find me out? Cause I really don't believe that special bullshit. You go find the President or somethin', someone who can make an actual diff.

[hairlocked]

[ Leoben waits quietly, then takes the first aid kit and goes about getting his blood over everything in there too, thanks for helping, Ray. He manages to scrub away most of the blood under the wound, at least, sprays it with antiseptic, then bandages it one handed, using his teeth to tie a knot like he's just come from the trenches.

He huffs, relieved, but holds his arm nice and high to keep more blood from spilling. And then there's just him sitting in a bloody mess, grinning cheerfully at Ray. ]

You're special because we're genetically identical, Ray. But you're human. Entirely, one hundred percent human. You're beautiful.

Everything you do, your entire life, is more valuable than any presidency. You have a calling, you just don't know it yet.

[kickem]

[Hey, he's not touching that blood and gross stuff, not when that dumb robot self inflicted it. He can clean up his own mess, thank you. Instead he's just going to lurk awkwardly and hope the guy doesn't pass out of bleed all over his furniture.]

Is my callin' to be a hundred percent human? Cause I'm doin' pretty good at that. So is most of the human race though. I mean outta the billions there must be a few identicals. Y'see it all the time when kids look like their grandparents or great grandparents.

[hairlocked]

Identical physically, perhaps, but you're genetically perfect. Genetically, Ray. It's a mathematical improbability, but here you are.

[ Bloodied, but ever so cheerful, and suddenly he lunges across the space and wraps his bloodied hand around Ray's jaw, leaning up into him, pressing very close. ]

Here you are.

[kickem]

Yeah, okay. Hands off though. Museum piece, right? Look don't touch.

[Trying to step out of the grip of those sticky hands.]

[hairlocked]

But I--

[ He lowered his hands. ]

I don't even know if any of the others are still alive. I haven't seen any of them for hundreds of years. And you're so...so young, and beautiful.

You don't like to be touched?

[kickem]

[Ray rubs at a spot under his jaw with his palm, as if trying to wipe away whatever that grip might have left behind.]

Nah. Not... uh. I dunno. Just a lot a to try and believe, and it's hard to think when you're gettin' all touchy feely.

[Still not sure if he can trust the crazy dude, lets be honest.]

You got a thing for yourself, or just genetic perfections?