One of Those Guys That Jizzes Over Tesla

Haruto took a sip of his energy drink, leaning back in his seat and pushing his dark hair back out of his face. His fingers left dark smudges on his pale forehead, but he didn't notice. He hadn't slept for 36 hours, but he didn't want to; there was too much interesting work to be done.

A few feet away from him, on a metal table, lay a charging robot, stuffed full of wires pulsing electricity into its circuits. He tried not to look at it; he knew he'd grow too excited.

Instead, he focused on the work at hand: creating a more realistic fleshlight. He had been having problems with this one lately; instead of maintaining a realistic warmth, it would grow uncomfortably hot to the touch in minutes. Though Haruto had only had limited experience with members of the opposite sex--or really, other humans in general--he could guess that that wasn't biologically accurate.

The robot on the table emitted a peaceful buzz, much like a low, quiet hum. Within his circuits, he was becoming aware again. Without warning, the robot on the table suddenly sparked with a loud bang. The low buzz was gone and in it's place a more human-like hum took it's place.

Then, he sat up. Suddenly, he was alive and not dead. He remembered being dead (though that was the extent of his memories). Being dead was not pleasant, and he was certainly glad to no longer be dead. Though, he was equally worried (a strange emotion, he found) that he was not safe. It looked familiar but not all at once (perhaps he had some sort of memory malfunction?). As he blinked his eyes which not really require blinking, he find himself finally seeing another being in the room. A human.

Haruto dropped his tweezers and his fleshlight, staring at the machine in front of him with awe.

"...Do you recognize voice commands?" he asked reverently, reaching out a hand to stroke its face.

The robot flinched away, but he did not make any other movement. He wasn't sure if he could speak (something told him he could, but he had no desire to speak yet, a very strange feeling, one he wasn't sure he was supposed to be having, and yet, there it was). He stared at the human, examining him. Suddenly, and without any warning, he was standing up, looking for a reflective surface. He settled for a piece of metal.

He did not look like the human. Though, he was surprised to find hair. He didn't know he had hair (did he grow it while he was dead? He wasn't sure corpses grew hair, though how he knew that was beyond him). He reached down to touch the reflection but when he saw his own hand he stopped and examined it instead. His fingers flexed well, though a bit stiff (being dead had that effect even on robots, it seemed). He turned back to the human who, undoubtedly, wanted answers.

"You didn't build me," he said. He was surprised at the deepness of his own voice, and at the tone. It was somewhat accusatory (though that had certainly been a mistake (a malfunction, yes) for he didn't mean to sound that way).

Haruto shook his head, mildly aroused by its voice; it had the slight, unnatural undertone of a VI.

"No, I wouldn't be able to afford the parts. But I--I fixed you--no, I resurrected you. I'm not your creator, but you can think of me like your savior."

The robot stared at him for an awkward amount of time, processing information.

"...I do not understand," he finally said. "I was dead and you brought me back. That is fact...

"But I do not understand...why."

Haruto laughed and patted the robot on the cheek.

"Well, I've always wanted a robot, and I couldn't just leave you lying there.  Why not bring you back?  Aren't you happy to be alive again?"

"Happy?" An emotion, he knew. Though, he was unsure of what it was, precisely. Quantifying it was difficult. Was he happy? He didn't think so. "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you'll be happy if you perform your intended functions?" he suggested innocently.  "Do  you know what you were made to do?  Can you recall the data?"