I cut many parts. If you’re not interested to read the uncut, please don’t look for it on my profile.
Enjoy :)
-giccho
-----
A light and (un)funny comedy about an android who has a question for its master.
"Professor, why do I still exist?" Said the figure standing rigid beside him. Silver hair, small face, and white skin. He preferred "her" instead of "it".
Now he postponed his dinner because of her.
"Don't call me professor. I didn't even go to college."
"Understood, Master."
"That's no good too. Gosh, I am just trying to enjoy my mashed potatoes here."
"Understood, Potato-freak."
"Ooi! It's getting worst, isn't it?!" He stood up from his chair and bawled at her.
"Okay. Master is fine."
"Understood, Potato Master."
"Right. Now wait here while I go collect all potatoes from every farm in this region." He gave a snide comeback.
"Master."
"What now?"
"I was joking. Haha haha." Her mouth moved awkwardly when she laughed with a flat and stiff expression.
"Stop." He halted her toneless laugh. It was not laugh. She was reciting a two-syllable word of "haha" in a monotonous way.
He sat back on the chair again. With a spoon, he stirred his -favourite- mashed potatoes on the plate above the table. The magnificent smell of it that filled the bright-colored dining room was starting to subside.
"Now sit."
"Understood, Master." She went and sat across him.
"Your question. Elaborate, while I savor this delicacy."
He started eating while listening.
"Understood. Few days ago, I saw a woman talking about something on the television."
"..."
"Then, there came another woman, holding a shiny knife on her hands, approached the talking-woman. I predicted there was going to be a bloodbath."
"..............."
“But nothing happened. It turned out that they were selling knife. Not even a drip of blood was spilled. Unfortunately.”
“It’s fortunate.” He stressed on the word as he finished half of his food.
He grabbed a cup beside the plate and started drinking. He put back the cup after he drank enough.
“And?” He started filling his mouth again.
“They said that a knife is made to cut. It is the main function. Even an inanimate object has its true purpose of existence.”
“…”
“When an object no longer functioning, it loses the true purpose of its existence. They said that a dull knife is useless and should be thrown away.”
“So you want to buy their knife?”
“Incorrect. Master, you made me with the purpose of combat. To help our country win the war. You made my prototype when the war started. However, the war was over when I was completed”
He drank the remaining water after he finished the food.
“I have lost the true purpose of my own existence; to combat. Then, you installed various functions of house chores in me. Now, instead of shooting enemy, I do laundry, cleaning the house, and cooking. Et cetera.”
He let out a sigh of satisfaction as his throats refreshed.
“Why do I still exist? I am a dull knife that needs to dispose of.”
He moved the empty plate and the cup to the side of table.
“Listen, Sevia. When I completed you, I felt something I had never felt before. It was a satisfying joy. You’re my first creation with implanted AI. It’s as if you are my daughter.”
“Daughter? I’d rather be your wife, Master.”
He ignored that.
“Anyway. When the war was over, I was disappointed by the billion of money I couldn’t have. But I was relieved I didn’t have to hand you away.”
“Am I not a waste of resources?”
“Look Sevia. I am not a philosopher, okay. I am just someone who tinkers with machines and only know how to screw a bolt.”
“Indeed. You like to screw me.”
“Right. Wait, what?”
“You screw me a lot any time. You would take out your big and long screwdriver and screw me good. Night and day.”
“IT IS MAINTENANCES!!!” He shouted loud. “Stop saying it like that. You’re making it like do something else than maintenances.”
He collected composure before he talked again.
“What I am saying is that I may be wrong. I am not Kierkegaard or Nietzsche. But I know that there are things human couldn’t just dispose of. It’s called sentiment.”
“Sentiment?”
“Human do things like that. We have a certain object which hold a sentimental value which even transcend the worth value. Everyone has their own story which makes it hard to dispose of.”
“Is that mean that I have a sentimental worth more than a billion of money you could have from selling me?”
“Yes.” He shyly averted his gaze from her.
“I see.”
The dinner room suddenly felt quiet. He liked how it was somehow strange yet calming. But he ended it.
“Oi, Sevia?” He noticed the current blank stare of her.
“Pardon, Master. I was recording this precious moment in my database.” Her stare was not blank anymore.
“I see.”
“By the way, Master. I am the 3rd generation female-modeled Supercombat, and the 14th version; hence S3v14 is my identifier.”
“I know.”
“Yet you keep calling me Sevia. Do you have a unique number blindness or something?”
“O-kay, I am just going to ignore that, and keep calling you Sevia.”
“Master, you are strange. I want to be you wife after all.”
“I’ll pass.”
He took the empty plate and placed them in front of Sevia.
“Now, Sevia. It’s my turn to ask you a question.”
“Yes, Master. What is it?”
He handed the plate and smiled at her in the most candid way.
“Can I have a second of you delicious mashed potatoes?”
Sevia stared at him a little, before she took the plate from his hand.
“Yes, Potato-freak Master.”
Mimicking what she saw from her master, Sevia gave him the same candid smile.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
