Robots
Title Robots [2/?]
Pairing Frank/Gerard
Rating R
Summary In the not so distant future, robots created to look and operate as humans have replaced human labor. Some people like it, others hate it. Frank, a musician adamantly against the advancement of "Human Helpers" discovers they're not so bad when he ends up owning one.
Warnings Sex, swearing, probably drugs and drinking
A/N I'm getting back on the wagon and writing again. This will remain in my personal journal until complete, then will be transfered to MSC, hope you enjoy. I intend for this to be rather short, less than 10 chapers.
Things weren’t too bad for Frank, at least he did have a job outside of his band, no matter how shitty is was. He worked as a stock boy, stocking Human Helpers. Everyday, his job reminded him of how much he hated robots. Crates came in by the hundreds and it was up to Frank and several other stock boys to unpack them, dress them, then seal them in the store’s case and put them on the floor for people to pick out.
Last year, this job didn’t exist. Human Helpers could only be ordered by one company. Now the monopoly was disbanded and the robots were displayed in nearly every store window.
As Frank dollied another crate off the back of a truck he thought to himself, quite bitterly, that this was the one job Human Helpers should have. These things were fucking heavy, he’d never understand how people could have relationships with robots. Aside from the fact that they were betraying their own kind, they’d break some bones having one lay on them or sit in their lap.
Because the boxes were so heavy, he never bothered to use the security strap on his dolly, something weighing several hundred pounds was not going to easily tip over. However, when Frank got to the last wooden crate, it felt light, like it was empty.
“Fucker’s probably disassembled,” Frank muttered to himself as he started to wheel it down the ramp from the back of the eighteen wheeler truck.
When the wheels of the dolly hit the pavement, the light crate toppled over and the side that hit the ground cracked.
“Fuck!”
“What happened?” The truck driver was out of his cab and next to Frank in an instant. He was a big man with a whiskery beard and a slightly disfigured face, obviously human.
“Shit, my boss is going to be fucking pissed, these cost more than a month of my salary!” Frank exclaimed.
The truck driver looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well,” he said slowly, “don’t let anyone know that I’m doing this, but if you promise to clean this up I’ll say it fell out of the truck.”
“Really?” Frank looked up at the guy in astonishment.
The man shrugged. “That’s how I got mine, it’s probably broken anyways,” he said.
Nodding vigerously, Frank started to right the crate. “All right, I’ll have this shit picked up. Thanks.”
The driver nodded and smiled before walking back to his cab and writing on his inventory sheet. “Like I said,” the trucker started once he’d come back, “just make sure that one’s not around when your boss shows up.”
Once the broken wood and packaging peanuts were discarded, Frank properly opened the crate. At first he thought the Human Helper inside was a girl, it had shoulder length black hair and long eyelashes and pale skin, but once he saw the entire body, he realized he was mistaken. When he’d first started working as a stock boy, he’d felt embarassed and kind of ashamed to see all the Human Helpers nude. Sure, they weren’t people, but companies were making them look more and more like people, even in areas that Frank didn’t really want to see.
He looked around quickly to make sure the other stock boys were busy cracking open crates and hauling out Human Helpers before he lifted the possibly broken robot out of the crate. It was light, as if it were only a shell and there was nothing inside, he was easily able to sling it over his shoulder. But, unlike most Human Helpers, who were freezing before they were turned on, this one was warm.
“What the fuck?” Frank murmered to himself as he carried it to his car. One more quick look around and he had it stuffed in his back seat. As an afterthought, he threw the pile of dirty clothes he’d been meaning to take to his parents house to wash over the robot.
“Hey!”
Frank spun around and came face to face with Haleigh. She was, without a doubt, the strangest person Frank had ever met and if he hadn’t known any better he’d think she was a malfunctioned Human Helper.
“Oh, hey,” he breathed with a quick sigh, then flashed her an awkward smile.
“What are you doing over here?” She tried to peer over Frank’s shoulder as he slammed his car door shut while brushing some orange and blonde hair away from her face.
“N-nothing, I was just getting some cigarettes out of my car.”
“Oh,” she smiled and seemed to relax. “Can I bum one?”
As the two smoked Frank’s Camels, Haleigh took a deep drag then exhaled slowly. “So,” she started once the cloud of smoke had cleared.
“So?”
“I decided I’m going to quit. I’m giving Mr. Robertson my two weeks notice after my shift.”
Frank blinked in surprise. He’d often thought about quitting but never thought he could be hired anywhere else, not since Starbucks put up an announcement that they’d be re-staffing with Human Helpers. Besides, Haleigh had always told him off for bitching about the robots. “Why?” He finally asked.
“Because,” she took another drag of her cigarette and exhaled as she spoke, “they’re great and everything for work. I really do think they’re helpful, but a line has to be drawn somewhere.” When Frank just gave her a blank stare she elaborated. “My fiance dumped me because his Human Helper is more available than I am,” she gave out a small laugh, “I mean, of course it is, that’s it’s job, to do whatever he wants it to! He even named it.”
Frank winced. He remembered when he’d been outraged by his own girlfriend who had left him for ‘Mark.’ “I’m in the same boat as you with shit like that, but where are you going to work?”
Haleigh shrugged. “I have a degree in audio engineering, I was thinking I could be an audio technician and work at a club or something. At least then I could put my fucking peircings back in.”
“Let me know how that goes, maybe you can get my band a gig wherever you work,” Frank said with a laugh.
“You play in a band?”
He nodded and shrugged a little, all modesty and blushes. “Yeah, we’re nothing serious. I mean, I want to be, but we’re still getting out shit together.”
She laughed and started to cough on some smoke that was caught in her throat, by the time she was done, she’d turned bright pink and gone all bug-eyed, which made Frank crack up. “You know,” she started once they’d both calmed down, “this is the most we’ve ever spoken to each other and we’ve been working here for how long?”
Well truthfully, Frank had thought she was fucking weird and had been avoiding her on that premise, but now she seemed pretty cool. “It’s a shame you’re leaving now,” he said.
“Oh, well we could still be friends. Maybe you should let me drop by while you practice sometime so I don’t ruin my good name by recommending a shitty band.”
“Sounds fair.” Frank stubbed out his cigarette and Haleigh followed suit. “We’d better get back to work.”
Pairing Frank/Gerard
Rating R
Summary In the not so distant future, robots created to look and operate as humans have replaced human labor. Some people like it, others hate it. Frank, a musician adamantly against the advancement of "Human Helpers" discovers they're not so bad when he ends up owning one.
Warnings Sex, swearing, probably drugs and drinking
A/N I'm getting back on the wagon and writing again. This will remain in my personal journal until complete, then will be transfered to MSC, hope you enjoy. I intend for this to be rather short, less than 10 chapers.
Things weren’t too bad for Frank, at least he did have a job outside of his band, no matter how shitty is was. He worked as a stock boy, stocking Human Helpers. Everyday, his job reminded him of how much he hated robots. Crates came in by the hundreds and it was up to Frank and several other stock boys to unpack them, dress them, then seal them in the store’s case and put them on the floor for people to pick out.
Last year, this job didn’t exist. Human Helpers could only be ordered by one company. Now the monopoly was disbanded and the robots were displayed in nearly every store window.
As Frank dollied another crate off the back of a truck he thought to himself, quite bitterly, that this was the one job Human Helpers should have. These things were fucking heavy, he’d never understand how people could have relationships with robots. Aside from the fact that they were betraying their own kind, they’d break some bones having one lay on them or sit in their lap.
Because the boxes were so heavy, he never bothered to use the security strap on his dolly, something weighing several hundred pounds was not going to easily tip over. However, when Frank got to the last wooden crate, it felt light, like it was empty.
“Fucker’s probably disassembled,” Frank muttered to himself as he started to wheel it down the ramp from the back of the eighteen wheeler truck.
When the wheels of the dolly hit the pavement, the light crate toppled over and the side that hit the ground cracked.
“Fuck!”
“What happened?” The truck driver was out of his cab and next to Frank in an instant. He was a big man with a whiskery beard and a slightly disfigured face, obviously human.
“Shit, my boss is going to be fucking pissed, these cost more than a month of my salary!” Frank exclaimed.
The truck driver looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well,” he said slowly, “don’t let anyone know that I’m doing this, but if you promise to clean this up I’ll say it fell out of the truck.”
“Really?” Frank looked up at the guy in astonishment.
The man shrugged. “That’s how I got mine, it’s probably broken anyways,” he said.
Nodding vigerously, Frank started to right the crate. “All right, I’ll have this shit picked up. Thanks.”
The driver nodded and smiled before walking back to his cab and writing on his inventory sheet. “Like I said,” the trucker started once he’d come back, “just make sure that one’s not around when your boss shows up.”
Once the broken wood and packaging peanuts were discarded, Frank properly opened the crate. At first he thought the Human Helper inside was a girl, it had shoulder length black hair and long eyelashes and pale skin, but once he saw the entire body, he realized he was mistaken. When he’d first started working as a stock boy, he’d felt embarassed and kind of ashamed to see all the Human Helpers nude. Sure, they weren’t people, but companies were making them look more and more like people, even in areas that Frank didn’t really want to see.
He looked around quickly to make sure the other stock boys were busy cracking open crates and hauling out Human Helpers before he lifted the possibly broken robot out of the crate. It was light, as if it were only a shell and there was nothing inside, he was easily able to sling it over his shoulder. But, unlike most Human Helpers, who were freezing before they were turned on, this one was warm.
“What the fuck?” Frank murmered to himself as he carried it to his car. One more quick look around and he had it stuffed in his back seat. As an afterthought, he threw the pile of dirty clothes he’d been meaning to take to his parents house to wash over the robot.
“Hey!”
Frank spun around and came face to face with Haleigh. She was, without a doubt, the strangest person Frank had ever met and if he hadn’t known any better he’d think she was a malfunctioned Human Helper.
“Oh, hey,” he breathed with a quick sigh, then flashed her an awkward smile.
“What are you doing over here?” She tried to peer over Frank’s shoulder as he slammed his car door shut while brushing some orange and blonde hair away from her face.
“N-nothing, I was just getting some cigarettes out of my car.”
“Oh,” she smiled and seemed to relax. “Can I bum one?”
As the two smoked Frank’s Camels, Haleigh took a deep drag then exhaled slowly. “So,” she started once the cloud of smoke had cleared.
“So?”
“I decided I’m going to quit. I’m giving Mr. Robertson my two weeks notice after my shift.”
Frank blinked in surprise. He’d often thought about quitting but never thought he could be hired anywhere else, not since Starbucks put up an announcement that they’d be re-staffing with Human Helpers. Besides, Haleigh had always told him off for bitching about the robots. “Why?” He finally asked.
“Because,” she took another drag of her cigarette and exhaled as she spoke, “they’re great and everything for work. I really do think they’re helpful, but a line has to be drawn somewhere.” When Frank just gave her a blank stare she elaborated. “My fiance dumped me because his Human Helper is more available than I am,” she gave out a small laugh, “I mean, of course it is, that’s it’s job, to do whatever he wants it to! He even named it.”
Frank winced. He remembered when he’d been outraged by his own girlfriend who had left him for ‘Mark.’ “I’m in the same boat as you with shit like that, but where are you going to work?”
Haleigh shrugged. “I have a degree in audio engineering, I was thinking I could be an audio technician and work at a club or something. At least then I could put my fucking peircings back in.”
“Let me know how that goes, maybe you can get my band a gig wherever you work,” Frank said with a laugh.
“You play in a band?”
He nodded and shrugged a little, all modesty and blushes. “Yeah, we’re nothing serious. I mean, I want to be, but we’re still getting out shit together.”
She laughed and started to cough on some smoke that was caught in her throat, by the time she was done, she’d turned bright pink and gone all bug-eyed, which made Frank crack up. “You know,” she started once they’d both calmed down, “this is the most we’ve ever spoken to each other and we’ve been working here for how long?”
Well truthfully, Frank had thought she was fucking weird and had been avoiding her on that premise, but now she seemed pretty cool. “It’s a shame you’re leaving now,” he said.
“Oh, well we could still be friends. Maybe you should let me drop by while you practice sometime so I don’t ruin my good name by recommending a shitty band.”
“Sounds fair.” Frank stubbed out his cigarette and Haleigh followed suit. “We’d better get back to work.”