Vale stood in the warm wooden stillness of his new home, the floor faintly creaking under his boots as he tightened his grip on the eight-legged robot. The small metal creature writhed in his hands like a bundle of frantic wires.
"Let me go!" it barked, voice buzzing through the quiet space with sharp, metallic panic.
Vale couldn't help a short laugh, a soft exhale of disbelief.
"Calm down, will you? I'm not going to hurt you."
The robot froze. Its thrashing dwindled into tiny, hesitant twitches. Vale felt its frame relax, bit by bit. That was… odd. Machines didn't calm down at someone's word. Not unless they understood fear..... or trust.
Robots weren't supposed to understand either.
His brow furrowed.
"Why are you suddenly struggling less?"
Ember, now draped across Vale's arm like a smug, sentient scarf, slid closer until his scaled nose almost touched the robot's chrome shell. The little machine trembled.
"You said you wouldn't hurt me," it answered.
Vale's head tilted in genuine curiosity. The words weren't mechanical. They held… reasoning. Maybe even emotion.
"You're not remotely controlled, are you?"
That possibility bothered him. If someone was controlling it, this behavior made no sense. No remote operator would bother simulating fear like this.
The robot paused, its legs stiffening, then finally said,
"…Something like that."
Vale narrowed his eyes.
He hated vague answers, but something about this machine made pressing too hard felt wrong.
"Well… want to have a talk?" he offered.
The robot twitched, almost startled.
"You'd do that?"
Vale blinked.
"Yes? Isn't that normal?"
It wasn't normal, actually, but he realized that only after saying it. He didn't know the culture here, the rules, the expectations. Maybe people didn't treat strange robots kindly. Maybe this thing had only ever been studied, not spoken to.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Anyway, I can't help but notice… your AI is incredibly advanced. Talking to you feels like talking to a person."
"…Something like that," it repeated.
Vale let out a slow, bemused breath. "You keep saying that."
The robot shifted its legs closer together, almost shrinking.
"I'm sorry… Could you maybe put me on the bed? Talking is easier that way."
Vale shrugged.
"Sure."
He walked across the room and placed the little creature gently on the duvet. The robot's legs folded beneath it, posture oddly polite, like a tiny guest trying not to stain the furniture.
Vale sat on the edge of the bed.
"So," he asked, "do you have a name?"
The robot twitched.
"My… name?"
Its lights dimmed, brightened, dimmed again. Processing. Searching for something that it couldnt find there.
"I don't have one."
Vale nodded slowly. It wasn't surprising, but something about hearing it aloud felt… lonely. Even Ember paused his sniffing, head tilting curiously.
Vale tapped his chin.
"Well then… how about I give you one?"
The robot's metal frame lit with a quick pulse of white, like a heartbeat flickering through steel. It lifted itself on its legs and dipped down in a tiny nod.
"If you want to," it said, "I would love a name."
Vale smiled. Something warm stirred in his chest.
He studied the robot's surface, chrome and polished yet gently scratched from use, reflective enough to catch the dim light from the lamps.
"Chrome, then?" he said.
The machine went utterly still. The quiet stretched until Vale wondered if he had somehow offended it. He leaned in.
"You don't like it?"
The robot snapped back to life.
"No, no! I like the name! I was just," its voice glitched, "celebrating in my core!"
It shook with such unrestrained joy that Ember jumped back, puffing up indignantly before crawling back to Vale's shoulder in protest.
Vale snorted softly.
"Well… nice to meet you, Chrome."
"You too, Vale," the robot chirped.
Vale blinked.
"…How do you know my name?"
Chrome froze again. Its legs tapped lightly against the sheets in a nervous rhythm.
"I heard Miss Rosemary call you that," it said quickly.
Vale raised an eyebrow. Something about the way it said that suggested it wasn't the whole truth. But he let the matter rest. He had enough questions spinning in his head already.
Silence drifted through the room, comfortable but fragile.
Then Chrome spoke again, it's voice small, hesitant, almost afraid of its own words.
"Vale… this might be a strange question."
Vale looked directly at it.
"But… do you want to be friends?"
Vale blinked, startled.
"Why?"
Chrome jolted, legs jittering in embarrassment.
"Well, I don't really… talk to people. Ever. And I don't have any real friends. I've always wanted some. Someone to talk to." Its voice wavered. "So I thought… maybe it would be nice if,"
It cut itself off, turning its body around as if ashamed.
"Forget I asked."
Vale stared at the little creature, this trembling machine trying so desperately to be something more than metal.
His chest tightened with something he didn't recognize. Something unfamiliar, warm, and strangely grounding.
He reached out and placed his palm gently on Chrome's smooth metal shell.
"Sure," he said quietly. "I'll be your friend, Chrome."
Chrome's lights flickered in patterns Vale didn't understand, joy? relief? something heartfelt translated through circuitry.
"Now then, Chrome," Vale said, folding his arms as he studied the little metal body perched on his sheets, "I have to ask, what were you doing in my room?"
Chrome's legs stiffened. For a moment, it didn't answer at all. Then, reluctantly, the small drone's voice crackled to life.
"Well… I was sneaking around in this drone. I wanted to see more people." Its voice dipped. "But please don't tell anyone. I'm not officially allowed to leave my station yet."
Vale let out a soft huff, half amusement, half in disbelief, and gently rubbed the top of Chrome's shell with two fingers.
So Chrome was a drone. Or rather, this was one of his bodies. The way he spoke made Vale think the true "Chrome" existed elsewhere, puppeting this skittering metal form from a distance.
The mention of a "station," though…
That made Vale wonder. What kept Chrome confined? And who enforced it?
Before he could ask, Chrome's small voice chimed again.
"Vale… how long will you be here?"
The question startled him.
"Well… Evelyn's taking me shopping tomorrow. So this might be my first and last night in this place."
Chrome's legs folded tighter, like a creature shrinking in on itself. Silence draped over him for a long moment before he finally asked,
"Would you mind if I joined you?"
Vale blinked. The faint grin that had become his default expression around the little drone faded, replaced by a puzzled frown.
"How would you do that?" he asked. Knowing Evelyn, she'd notice a grain of sand out of place, much less a robot sneaking along behind them.
Chrome paused, almost sheepishly.
"I'll make some improvements to this drone. That way she won't be able to detect me. And… I'll be of more use to you."
Vale rubbed his chin as Ember gnawed curiously at one of Chrome's legs. The little dragonling chirped when it tasted metal, unimpressed but persistent.
After a long moment, Vale sighed and nodded.
"All right. Sure. You can come. But if you get caught?" He pointed a warning finger. "I'm not the one taking the blame."
Chrome jolted upward in a burst of pure joy, lifting all eight legs at once before dropping back down with a clack.
"Yes! I mean, good. Great."
It steadied itself, clearing its "throat" a purely mechanical sound.
"But as for getting out of here, don't worry. I have many methods of travel."
Before Vale could ask what that meant, Chrome hopped off the bed onto the wooden floor.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Vale."
And then,
Chrome vanished.
He didn't run.
He didn't crawl.
He simply sank straight through the wooden floor as if gravity had suddenly decided to pick favorites.
Vale's breath hitched.
"…what?"
He dropped to a crouch, pressing his hand against the spot Chrome had disappeared. Perfectly solid wood. No gaps or seams. No magic shimmer either.
"So it's not just people who get to be special around here," he muttered, pale eyes still wide.
He rose to his feet with a shaky exhale and glanced toward the window. The ocean glimmered faintly in the distance, darkening as the sun finally surrendered to dusk.
"I need fresh air."
He turned, grabbing a cloak from the hook. Ember, already curled into a warm coil on the bed, lifted his head just enough to blink at Vale with sleepy judgment.
"Get some rest," Vale whispered. Ember chirped once, then tucked himself into the sheets.
Vale stepped silently into the main hall, closing his bedroom door behind him. Lamps hummed softly, casting long shadows across the polished stone. He found a key ring hanging on the wall, his key, its metallic tag was engraved with strange symbols.
He took it and pocketed it, then he walked down the long, quiet corridor, searching for whichever path led to the outside, toward air, toward stars, toward a moment where nothing spoke in robotic static or tried to kick his head off.
Just a breath.
a moment of peace.
Or something near it.