Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a long walk from the market to your home, but that was completely your fault.

You strolled through the small town, and anyone passing by would greet you warmly. Someone even shouted your name from the community flowerbed, waving with enthusiastic friendliness. A stark difference from when you first moved here where others would barely notice you and be on their way. You continued along the charming cobblestone path that followed the river. When you reached the dirt path, and the river opened to a lake, was when the grocery bags in your arms stirred.

First Aid popped his head out, pulling down the paper to look across the body of water. Far on the opposing side was the vineyard that graced these rolling hills. Autumn leaves skimmed over the rippling waters and on the air was the sweet smell of grapes. Golden cornstalks and waving fields of wheat heralded the end of a bountiful season.

You heard them before you smelled that fresh country air people always raved about, and First Aid chirped at the deep bugled call of a bovine. This is why you took a detour. You passed the thickets that veiled the dairy farm, and on sight, the minibot was warbling excitedly to see the cows. You slowed your steps and a few cows looked up from their languid chewing.

First Aid leaned out the bag as far as he could without toppling, and let out a low and long beeewooooo.

A brown cow mooed back.

The medibot trilled, waving excitedly and nearly tilting over your balanced bag of garlic. You chuckled and hummed for him to settle, and continued on. First Aid seemed to huff at your admonishment, and climbed into another paper bag. More than likely, he was still glaring disapprovingly at the apples you purchased, but a few bruises wouldn’t kill you.

You leisurely made your way up the forest path that separated you from the neighboring animal farm. It opened up to a vast land of rolling hills and tall, golden, grass. There was a small pond you rounded. A few frogs jumped in, startled at your footsteps. You recalled when trash was the only thing living in those waters.

Your home crested on the horizon. It was a simple farmhouse, nothing big and fancy, and probably not even considered a farmhouse by magazine standards. It had no wrap-around porch to house creaky rocking-chairs; no peaked roof with the creepy attic window where ghosts were wont to gaze from; and no winding driveway complimented with blossoming trees and a babbling brook.

It was just a simple, rustic, house on a large plot of land that was once a farm.

Your feet found the gravel path. Every step was accompanied with the sounds of brittle leaves and grinding stones. You passed fields of the crops you and your new friends planted. The pumpkins were ready for pies and carving, the eggplants fat on their vines, and the sunflowers bowing their farewell to autumn. You took a deep breath. Pride and the crisp, cool air filled your lungs.

You spotted Perceptor, Brainstorm, and Swerve among the cornstalks. They barely noticed you as you passed, deep into whatever they were working on. Knowing that little science-bot, Percy, you’ll probably receive a detailed report on soil amendments, crop rotations, and pest deterrents to prepare for the next planting season.

As you drew closer to your home, you caught onto the pitiful wailing trill of a small mech. Near your front door, Tailgate was trying to climb his way up the window sill. You paused, tilting your head to try and guess what made him so distraught. First Aid chirped, obviously asking what you were wondering, not that Tailgate’s digitized warble gave you any answers. 

You looked to the medibot as he pointed to an old spider web under your awning. Upon inspection, you noticed a bee was stuck, and your heart just swelled as you sighed.

“Aww, Tailgate. Is that one of ours?”

Tailgate warbled in those recognizable tones that indicated an uh-huh.

You set your groceries down and lifted the flightless mini-bot to the old web. “You get her, then. She won’t sting you.”

Tailgate carefully collected the honeybee and pulled off the webbing from her little body. The bee was frantic and buzz-buzzed. Tailgate buzz-buzzed back. You brought him back down when he had the little bee safe and secure, and smiled as the bug calmed in his hold.

“You want me to take you to the hive?”

Tailgate’s chirp of affirmation was followed by First Aid’s tones of disapproval. He didn’t seem pleased to leave some of the food that should be refrigerated out in the autumn sun. You ignored him while he beeped in your ear, and you carried Tailgate down the path along your property. You passed the peppermint you planted earlier this year, already sprawling across your path and turning purple for the coming season. You spotted Drift cutting a few sprigs – whether he was pruning or making you tea, you wouldn’t find out till later.

You meandered your way past your chicken coup, noting that Fortress Maximus and Red Alert were filling a hole – an attempt – made by a fox or coyote looking to have a snack in the night. The security bots looked up at you, and while the largest of the two only nodded a greeting, the other scrambled to stand and salute. You laughed and waved your hand to calm him down. “At ease, Red. Thank you for keeping an eye on the chickens. Good job.”

Red Alert kicked at the dirt bashfully and resumed what he was doing.

You then crossed the open door to your barn. It looked like the entire mechanical crew was preparing your tractor for the winter. Nautica, Skids, and Chromedome were so busy, they didn’t see you pass, but your resident detective waved at you from the loft. You figured Nightbeat was looking for a way to solve your persistent mouse problem. None of the bots seemed too keen on getting a cat, seeing that they already had a fur-covered menace to deal with.

Several paces beside your barn lie a greenhouse in ruin. To repair such a thing would take time, labor, and money; all of which you were slowly accumulating more and more with the help of these little mechs. Among the rubble, Ultra Magnus was surveying the area with – and you nearly missed the littlest bot – Rewind standing beside him. You knew that bulky mech was crunching numbers with your tiny archivist and almanac. You wondered if you’d have enough funds for next season to fix the greenhouse, and then you wondered what you would grow in it. You were sure Ultra Magnus had a list prepared.

Finally, you came to the area designated to your beehives. The grounds smelled sweet with lavender, nasturtium, and mums that Riptide was strangely ga-ga over. The bees were understandably busy, bulking up their winter stores double-time, but you mainly noticed the lip of the hives entrance. Whirl sat, kicking his tooth-pick bird feet leisurely. On the opposing box, standing like a sentinel, Cyclonus guarded the landing-pad entrance.

You set Tailgate beside Cyclonus, who greeted you with his usual curt nod, as his little conjunx released the lone bee back in her home. You smiled and turned to Whirl. He puffed out his chest and pointed down at his feet. There, corpses of yellowjackets and various other hornets lie in pieces. First Aid let out a long and soft tone, akin to whooaaa.

Fall was the season the carnivorous insects would seek out things that are sweet, and things that are meat. These two guarded the hives well. With a parting praise that simply melted Whirl, but had no effect on Cyclonus, you made the long way back towards the house. 

You opened your door before collecting your groceries, and were immediately greeted with a cacophony of noises that sounded like a battle between an ancient dial-up router and a finicky fax machine. A flash of fur bounded by you, knocking over your bag of apples as your roommate ran outside with a squealing mech in her jaws.

Behind her like screaming ducklings, Velocity and Rung were trilling at the dog that came with the house. First Aid wailed at all those apples rolling on the ground – oh no, all those new bruises! God forbid! You stood there, sighing, watching the dog that adopted you run circles around the two bots, playing keep-away with her favorite victim.

“Stop chasing her,” You called out to them, “She’s turning it into a game, just stop chasing her.”

Velocity and Rung came trotting back up to you as you set down First Aid. You waved them out of the way, and they started collecting the apples back in the bag as you approached the dog. Her great snow-shoe paws slapped the ground as she bowed, ready to dart off.

“Drop him,” You commanded firmly.

She dropped her quarry, swishing her full and fluffy tail from side to side. No guilt. No remorse. All the sweetness in the world.

“Good Girl,” You praised, and she jumped up, bouncing back and forth as you closed the distance to pick up the medic-bot. He grumbled and warbled like a struggling PC. You used your shirt to wipe him off.

Your fluffy companion ran around you for a few orbits before darting off to the chicken coup. You heard Fortress Maximus tone out a sharp command – as he was one of the few she listened to. The chunky security mech was extraordinarily good with the animals.

With Ratchet staring daggers at you, more than likely muttering all sorts of curses in his robot language, you shrugged apologetically. “She just wants to play, Ratch. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t see the innocence in it, as he was mostly the target. You ferried him back inside the house, and set him down where Velocity and First Aid looked him over for damage. Thankfully, the resident canine was gentle enough with the bots. You collected your groceries, and with the medical team trotting to keep up with their arms full of a single apple each, you entered your modest house and deposited everything on the kitchen counter.

You were greeted by the one mini-mech that demanded your attention persistently. Rodimus was warbling for you to lift him up, already impatiently scaling up your pant-leg like a kitten. You unmindfully scooped him up and hoisted him onto your shoulder as you weaved your way around the kitchen, avoiding the skittering bots trying to help you put food away.

Rodimus continued to speak in your ear, sounding like a toddler’s first attempt at dubstep. It was cute, how he tried to hold conversations with you, but you couldn’t understand a lick of what any of these mechs were saying. It was fine, as you have found ways to communicate, but times like these were frustrating.

“I wasn’t gone long. Anything happen?”

“⏁̶͚̽⊑̵̤̃⟒̴̬͐⍀̵̖͐⟒̷̻͗ ̶͉̓⍙̶̦̃⟟̷̤̀⋏̶̭̽ ̷̨̛⏁̴͈͠⊑̷̡͒⟒̵̠̍ ̴̝͐...” He rallied off.

“Oh.” You were clueless. “Just let the dog outside, next time.”

Rodimus tugged at your hair, beeping with his own vexation. Your answer was wrong.

You finished putting everything away, and made your way to the table where books, binders, and loose papers laid strewn about. Sitting on the table’s surface among this chaotically organized mess, was a mini-mech that rivaled Fortress Maximus and Ultra Magnus in size.

Megatron.

He glanced up at you, then at Rodimus perched up on your shoulder, and returned to his paper. You pulled the receipt from your pocket and set it beside him.

“We have mulch on the way to help over-winter the garlic, but the price for delivery has gone up. Could you tell Magnus for me? It breaks my heart when he looks so disappointed.”

Megatron looked over the receipt, then pointed at the kind of mulch you bought and looked up at you, his deep, digitized warble inclined in a question that you anticipated.

“It’s a good brand. Heat-treated to kill off any larva and pests. We won’t have the infestation of vine-borers this time around.”

You answered correctly. He nodded and with a sweep of his hand, gestured to the apples you bought. You smiled, excited to share, “I want to try making apple cobbler. Remember the recipe we got in the mail? I want to try making it.”

Megatron made a few conversational beeps, then glared at Rodimus who pulled at your ear, peeping softly as if telling a secret, and pointed for you to go outside. You chuckled and stood, excusing yourself from one of those who helped you on the paperwork-end of running this farm, and let yourself back out of the house.

You stood there on your porch, Rodimus on your shoulder, taking it all in. You remembered when it was just a dirt field filled with rocks and trees and weeds. You remember clamoring through the nearby woods, searching for food and things to sell. You remember trying to hock anything and everything you could find.

Now, look how far you’ve come. It took a while to get to this point, and you had longer to go, still.

You gazed at all you accomplished, thinking on how you couldn’t have done it on your own, not without these crazy little mechs that you happened upon.

And to think how it all began with a single letter, a plucky dog, and a dilapidated shack that was once home to a crazy scientist.     

Chapter Text

Parsnips did not grow overnight.

Farming was a lot harder than you thought.

But you knew that. You knew that the moment you received the inheritance letter. To go from your life of working a regular nine-to-five to digging in the dirt and tending plants from seed to crop, you knew this was going to be a feat.

Knowing was always different from raw experience.

And still, you left all you knew behind for a rustic cabin on the great expanse of Little Star farm. Named for having a mysteriously wonderful view of the night sky on cloudless nights, you tried your best to appreciate the sight of little glittering stars while knowing mice and spiders held regular sparring tournaments under your rickety bed frame.

You got this. You’ll make it work, but parsnips did not grow overnight. Seeds cost money – money you were currently not stressing about. There was nothing to stress about, not on the beautiful countryside with its small town and charming forests. You were fine. You just had to supplement your income in other ways.

Bringing you to now: foraging for things to sell in the charming Cindersap forest, in the rain. Your raincoat helped you stave off the cold spring downpour, so at least you were still relatively dry and warm. Your hands were a little cold, caked with mud that you wiped on sopping wet grass. Still, old habits had you brush an itch off your face, leaving splotches of mud. You were a good and proper wildling of the wood.

If your old coworkers could see you now, trudging through the woods, mud on your cheek, backpack filled with fresh flowers, horseradish, wild leeks, and onions – they would think you were crazy.

Maybe you were. To take on a defunct farm with plumbing that moaned like a chatty whale would be considered daunting. But even in this rain, surrounded by the fresh smells of greenery, earthy pines, and the flowers from your pack, you couldn’t help but feel this sense of peace. You heard in your mind: you got this.

You continued to trudge along, falling to your knees for a bushel of dandelions. You worked the trowel in the mud, aiming to take as much of the root as possible to keep the plant from wilting prematurely. Rain continued to pelt the pine trees that surround you, pattering on the undergrowth in a melody that had no words. You heard rustling above it all. You looked up, expecting to see the scurrying tail of a squirrel or the farewell white fluff of a rabbit.

You met the bright sky-blue eyes of a muddied beast.

Your brain tried to fit a block in a circle sized hole, taking a bit too long in deciding whether you should run or not, because this animal was a canine. A coyote? A wolf?

You blinked several times. A dog.

“Ohh,” You breathed out, “Oh, hello. Hi, there.”

Like anyone else coming across a stray, you attempted to communicate with it like it was a toddler. The dog’s tail started whipping against the foliage. Friendly? Seemed like it.

“You lost? Do you have a collar?”

You edged closer, crouched, slowly angling your head to try and see the neck of the animal. You didn’t have to be a groomer to know the dog was in poor condition. They were filthy with all kinds of forest debris woven in its fur. You also noticed the dog had something in their jaws.

“What do you have there, huh? C’mere sweetie – Oh!” You tried hard not to panic as the dog jerked their head away. Whatever they had, it was just as muddy.

You didn’t want to startle them. You coaxed them closer gently, but every time you would inch in to grab whatever was dangling from their maw, they would stay just out of reach. Irritation turned into delight as you realized they weren't shy. They were playing keep-away with you.

Retaining your soft tones in the cool rain, you took a different approach. You tried petting them, scritching their ears and sides. They were so matted and caked with mud, burrs, leaves, twigs – poor thing! It broke your heart as you wondered how long they were out here, alone with their weird little toy. You finally seduced the animal with belly-rubs, finding they were a she, and proceeded to snatch the toy from her lazy hold.

She instantly got to her paws and started jumping for it, bounding in circles around you, ready for you to throw it. You casually turned away, trying to get a better look at it. Under all the muck, you could make out a doll-like thing, but it was edged, blocky in some areas but streamlined in others. A robot doll? It was made of a hard material, and a little heavy – heavier than wood or plastic. Was it made of metal?

“Burrrrww!”

You looked at the dog, and she was in mid-bow, burring at you in a sound that was not quite a growl, but not quite a howl. Her wagging tail assured you that she wasn’t threatening you by any means.

“You like this thing, eh?”

She danced a bit when you held it up, transfixed like you had a steak.

“Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll give it back to you,” You said, like she could understand you. You held onto the toy, and as you predicted, she followed along, bumping into your side as she tried to walk and watch her little friend in your hands. You had no idea why she was so fixated on such a weird thing.

It wasn’t very late in the day, but late enough where people started closing up shop and heading out to the tavern. You passed the animal farm, making a mental note to visit tomorrow and see what your neighbor had to say about the stray dog. Maybe she belonged to this farm?

You continued up the path north to your property, passing the weeds, rocks, trees, and logs – all to your name. You continued up to your cabin, the dog following you inside without trouble, and shook out all the water from her coat. Joy.

“You hungry?” You asked, holding the toy out for her. You expected her to rip it from your hands, but she took it with a gentleness your fingers were grateful for.

She went off to lay with her item between her paws, and she watched you build a fire. It took you a bit, as your kindling continued to burn out before it caught your wet logs on fire, but eventually you made fire! You rugged Ranger, you. You swung on your cast iron pot filled with water, rice, and a few of your spring onions.

You continued to complete your end-of-the-day routine. You brought in buckets of rain water and rinsed off what you foraged, tying them up in bundles, tallying up what you were selling, and hurriedly putting them in your pick-up box to be sold elsewhere. By the time you were done, your cabin smelled of your meager dinner.

You sat at your splintery table by the light of your lanterns and fireplace, surrounded by the melody of water dripping into pails, and yet you still smiled while watching the dog scarf down the dinner you shared. You gave her a little more of what was on your plate.

The night was coming to a close, but you dragged your feet going to sleep, especially when your new roommate had her nose under your bed, tail flicking from side to side eagerly. Something was under there. You left her to a little mousing while you inspected the toy she had, rinsing it off in one of the many buckets of rainwater.

You didn’t have much in the way of tools, so you ended up finding a twig to help pick out the crud between the cracks. Joints started to move as you worked out the grit, finding this was looking to be more made of metal, even though there was little to no rust. You were no mechanic or tinkerer, but you weren’t that clueless.

You had to switch out for a cleaner pail of water, and continued washing this strange toy. It was brightly colored with reds and yellows. The designs on certain plates made it look more like a walking rubix cube than a child’s toy. Your thumb rubbed over the plate on its little chest. Your eyes took in the symbol. Branding?

Your mind was a roadmap of questions. Maybe it was from that new super-store? Maybe it was a collector’s item? Maybe those little kids would know what this is? Can you sell it?

Your nail hitched on a seam, and the chest-plate lifted just a bit. You encouraged it open with a pop, and its chest plate slid down, exposing a muddied mess inside. You pulled your lantern closer to get more light, submerging the toy to shake all the grime out. When you pulled it out and shook the water out, something fell back in the pail. You fished it out.

You had no idea what you held in your fingers. It was spherical in shape, a gem caged in a bronzy-gold metal. You held it up to the firelight by the little handles that surrounded the little ball in a square, and the way the light hit the center, it sparkled and reflected a rainbow of blues and pinks of all shades.

Pretty. Hell of a time to give up wireless-internet, because you could totally use that font of data to find out what you were looking at. You muttered to the dog that had long forgotten about you, “What is this thing?”

You traded out for a new pail of clean rainwater again, this time moving close to the fireplace for better lighting. You used your trusty twig to pick out the grime and gunk from inside, and you tried to get a better look. The inside was hollowed out to fit this... was this a battery? A power source? Was that was this was? Did this thing get so dirty that the connectors got corroded – like a bad battery in a remote?

You were really reaching, but you had nothing better to do on a rainy night but speculate.

Drying as much as you could on your dingy shirt, you placed the weird little orb back in the opening, and it fit loosely, like a battery that wasn’t quite snapped in place. Carefully, you pushed, feeling a little resistance.

You jumped when you heard something crack – but you didn’t break anything. It finally popped into place. Hard to imagine it just fell out while you were washing this – maybe a kid dropped it and it jostled loose. Maybe the dog had something to do with it.

There were an awful lot of maybes tonight. You won’t lie. The mystery was a little fun.

Then, commotion.

Nails scrabbled along your wood floors as the dog chased something down, and judging by the pitched squeaks, she caught something. Before you could garble out a vowel, the dog had something dark between her teeth, shaking it and releasing before it could bite her. It soared across to the other side of the cabin and plopped on the ground – still alive.

That was a BIG rat.

You could have jumped up on the chair. You could have screamed like all your old coworkers when they found a tiny spider in the window. You could have packed up and moved right out of the cabin and let the rat continue to take residence, because squatter’s rights.

You armed yourself with a broom that made better tinder than cleaning.

The rat bee-lined for your old television, hoping to squeeze its plump little body underneath. You slapped the broom down and swiped it like a hockey-puck away. Straw from the broom went scattering about.

You witnessed pack mentality at its finest. The rat went for your bed, and the dog cut it off, snapping at it but not making contact as that little thing was ready to throw down. You flanked the critter and ran for the door, throwing it open. The rat tried to go further in your home, but that dog continued to cut it off wherever it tried to flee, herding the rodent towards you.

You cocked that broom back and smacked that rat outside, throwing the door closed. You squealed out a victorious cheer that had the dog jumping on you to give you rat-flavored kisses. You hugged and rubbed her dingy coat, praising and cooing.

“Ohh good girl! Good-est girl! Good –"

Movement caught your eye, and your head snapped over to your fireplace. Another one?

The toy you left behind was alight with softly pulsing reds and whites. It was sitting up, rubbing its head like it had a wild night.

It was sitting up.

You edged closer, broom in your grip so tightly, you felt splinters dig in. You wanted to make a noise to call the dog’s attention as she snuffled at the door. She obviously had her own priorities, wanting to go outside to pursue her quarry.

The straw of the broom-end rattled like a shy snake as you reached to poke, or to shove this toy that suddenly moved on its own by whatever dark forces into the hellish depths of your fireplace. Then, the thing looked at you. You think. It raised its head, little blue lights on his face – eyes? – flickering as they took in its surroundings before returning to you.

It was looking at you.

Then it let out a trilled screech, its arms coming up to ward off your weapon of choice, and something sparked from its little arms – a flame.

Your broom proved just how useful it was as it went up in flames in a FWOOMTH!

There was a creature that could light things on fire within your only home, which was probably just as flammable. You screamed.

The firestarter screamed.

The dog howled, not wanting to be left out.

Chapter Text

The morning air was warm with a humid haze. The path to the north of your cabin still had cold puddles from last night’s rain, and the woods still smelled of fresh grass and wet pine. The horseradish you loosed from the damp earth came willingly, and you hurriedly uprooted a few daffodils on your way to the Carpenter’s store.

Although Robin didn’t sell it, she was kind enough to give you the oil she used to sharpen and protect her tools from rust. You felt bad as she took time to show you how to oil the blade of an axe and the correct way to sharpen it on a stone. You never corrected her on why you needed this oil. You wanted to compensate her for the small mason jar full of the smelly ooze, but she waved it off as being neighborly.

“By the way,” You asked before you headed back out the door, “Do you know anyone who lost a dog?”

Robin’s face flashed a brief moment of panic. “The only dog I know of is Dusty. If you’ve been to the tavern, it’s the brown dog –"

You shook your head, knowing the town dog she referred to. “No, no. She’s black and white, lots of fur. I found her in the Cindersap, yesterday.”

“It was pouring, yesterday,” She said, full of sympathy for either you or the dog.

“I know,” You responded dryly.

Robin made a few thinking faces before giving her best advice. “Marnie’s farm is near there, right? Maybe ask her. And I think that artist, Leah, owns the cabin around there. I’d start with them.”

“Thanks.” You started to step out, hearing the carpenter call out after you.

“Oh! And if you’re in the forest, keep an eye out for my axe, will you? I lost it around there.”

You promised to search next time you’re out and hurried back to your cabin. Not because there was only so much time in the day and you still had work to do and an income to maintain, but because there was a tiny, little fire-starting robot still lurking within your matchstick cabin.

You hadn’t had this much excitement in your life since you opened the inheritance letter and read that Little Star farm was now yours. You just couldn’t decide if this was good excitement or bad. Some stress can be good, some stress was normal, but you were pretty sure the stress of your broom getting turned to a torch was categorized as bad.

Last night, you were lucky to have enough sense to throw your broom-turned-torch outside and stomp out any lingering flames that dropped to the floor. The little toy-robot man hobbled under your bed and hid – and you weren’t about to go reaching for something that lit things on fire.

Instead, the dog was the one who went after him, sticking her head under the frame and swishing her tail happily. You found the nearest non-flammable item, expecting to hear the yelps of your furry acquaintance getting singed. The surge of adrenaline prepared you to hulk-out and hurl your bed across the room, armed with a cast-iron pot as your new weapon of choice.

But the sounds coming from the strange thing stopped you.

Warbles and trills; digitized sounds varying from old computer tones to synthesized humming that would make any new-age musician’s mouth water. You listened, holding your breath, putting a name to the effect these sounds had on your heart.

He was talking. He sounded scared.

You left him alone, spending that night sitting at your table. You mulled over your options, but first you had to figure out what options were available to you. Should you tell people? Who would you tell? Who would even believe you? Should you put a bucket over him and hold it down with a rock? Leave the door open so he can let himself out?

Then the dog might get out, but that’s not what made you hesitate. Eventually, the little robot peeked out, but he never strayed from the dog. She was attentive, though you suspected she wanted to play more than protect. He knew her. When you first met her, the dog carried his lifeless body in her mouth like a toy, but maybe you were misinterpreting the situation.

He watched you as much as you watched him, and you noticed he was struggling to move. His joints were probably a little stiff. What would you do if you needed to loosen up a rusty hinge or bolt...?

You don’t remember passing out at the table, but you do remember waking up feeling like the trash you’d always fish out of your pond. You must have stayed up well past midnight.

So you woke late and scrambled to your northern-most neighbor to buy oil for the little robot that nearly burned down your home.

This was supposed to be a stress-free lifestyle.

As you returned, relieved to find your cabin in one piece, you opened the door to find the little robot scurrying back under your bed. The dog bounced along, happy to be chasing something for a hot minute, then jumped over to greet you.

You’d admit, the charm of such a creature was heart-warming. She jumped on you, desperate to lick your face, yipping with glee like she didn’t see you an hour ago. Despite the last twenty-four hours, you found yourself smiling and cooing to the stray.

“Aww pretty girl, I missed you too. I did. I asked Robin if she knew you and she didn’t. Do you know Marnie? Are you Marnie’s dog?” You caught yourself talking to her like she was people. That’s fine. People talk to animals all the time. No red flags here. “Here. Don’t eat these. I have to sell them.”

You dropped your foraged items on the ground, giving her something to sniff. With a loving scritch behind the ears, you left her to kneel a safe distance from the bed. You spotted the blue lights of the robot's eyes peer out at you like some monster from under the bed.

“I don’t know if you understand me,” You said, “But I think this might help you. I’m not... I’m not entirely sure what you are or what’s going on, but please don’t burn my house down.

“It’s all I have. I literally left everything behind to come here and I’m learning as I go – and I don’t think I can learn how to deal with a pile of ash as my home. So just, if you understand me, don’t burn my house down.” Anxiety was threatening to turn you into a babbling idiot. “Right. I’m just going to leave this here. I have things I need to do, and I’m sure your dog-friend is hungry, so I’m gonna get working on that. I... I’m just going to leave you alone, okay?”

No response. There was a big possibility that he didn’t understand you at all and he was plotting to roast your creaky bedframe to cinders. You took a deep and calming breath – if he wanted to, he would have already. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You unscrewed the lid of the jar and left it behind.

You started your string of chores with filling up your cast-iron pot with water and uncooked rice, selecting a leek from your forage bounty to add some semblance of flavor. You set the rest of your items in a pail of water to soak off the mud. As you hung the pot over the hearth, you spotted the robot tentatively sticking his little hands in the oil.

You tried your best not to stare, but with how he moved, how he curiously looked everything over – this was either a very advanced artificial intelligence, and you’ve seen enough movies to know how this story ends, or he was a living machine with a purpose and as sentient as you, and you’ve seen enough movies to know how this story ends.

He looked up and you quickly averted your gaze back to what you were doing. You focused on trying to relight the fire with the remnants of the embers from last night. Unfortunately, you forgot to plan ahead and all your tinder was still wet from last night’s rain. This might take a bit.

You jumped when you heard a chirp.

The bot was standing a little closer, working his limbs, rotating his shoulders like an athlete stretching before the big game. He pointed at what you were doing.

“Uhh, do you...? I don’t understand, are you asking what I’m doing?”

He beeped, waving his hand in that universal ‘go on’ gesture.

“Fire. I’m trying to make a fire so I can cook.” Then you added on quickly, “Without burning everything down.”

He set his fists on his hips, warbling a few octaves lower and... was he sassing you? Your head cocked to the side as he started talking, gesturing to himself and then to what you were doing, taking a few more steps forward. Forget the fact that he was moving much better, but he was moving as a person would while having a conversation.

You reigned in your excitement that there was some form of communication happening. He drew closer, but you could tell he was still apprehensive. He was just as scared of you as you were of him.

You scooted away to give him space, and he aimed his hands towards your collection of damp twigs and shavings. From the pipes on his arm, a feather of blue flame blew out like a blow-torch. The tinder went up without any further issue.

Instinctively, you leaned forward to gently set larger branches over your baby fire, blowing gently to encourage it to grow. The little robot stumbled back at your sudden movement, but you paid no mind, focusing on sustaining the only thing that can cook your breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When the fire was stable and the pot was warming, was when you looked down at the still sitting firestarter.

“Thank you.”

Breep! He chirped back, face alight with a smile.

Sentient, living machine it is, then.

You still moved slowly, as you would around a spooked animal. You held your hand to him, and he gripped onto a finger. You noted he was still stiff as you helped him up.

“I’m going outside,” You announced, “I have to wash a few things and put them in the bin. Then I have to water my crops and then get the next plot of land ready for planting. Are you okay, here? I’ll be back in a bit to eat.”

He crossed his way back to his jar of oil, warbling at you conversationally in response.

As much as you wanted to berate the little thing with questions, you did say you would give him space and not hover. You rose to your feet with a huff, “Maybe then we can figure out how to talk and find out who you are.”

He chirruped, almost sounding offended.

You left out the door, leaving it open for the cool spring breeze to air out your home. The dog took advantage and meandered in and out as she pleased, probably tracking in mud. Maybe you should look into getting a new broom.  

You did as you said you would. You rinsed your paltry collection of foraged items and bundled them up for the market bin. Unless you visited the forest or the beach, you wouldn’t make quite as much money today, but what were you going to do? Leave this sentient toy robot here? One that can light fires?!

You took a long and deep breath. Calm down. The last encounter you had with him was an encouraging one. He helped you. This was a good thing. You were establishing a positive relationship with a living toy oh my god – but things were fine. Everything was fine.

Fine, like your parsnips. A few of them were ripe and ready for uprooting. As you pulled them from the soil, the green fronds smelled of sweet wood and earth. The vegetable was fat and long and straight. Your foresight to remove all the stone and aerate the soil a foot below paid off, and the sense of accomplishment was near euphoric. This is why you decided to take on the farm.

These were easily high-quality crops, and you were looking at a decent payout. You could have enough money to buy more seeds. It was still early in the season, maybe you could buy cauliflower! You’d have to sit down and do some serious math to figure out if it would be worth it.

Oh but you had parsnips!

And whatever the hell the dog just brought you. She tromped through your garden, holding a rusty spoon in her mouth. You quickly relieved her of it and gathered your things to wash and sort in the bin. You planted yourself on the steps of your porch, marking down your bounty and tying them up in bundles.

You paused often to pet the dog, taking moments to pull out twigs and try to detangle knots. She was still in poor shape, even though she acted as happy as could be. Hopefully, you could find her home and possibly help clean her up. You noticed from the corner of your eye the robot came peeking outside, looking around before slinking back in.

You returned inside, continuing to give him space as you moved your breakfast off the fire, setting it to cool. You thought long and hard to yourself – you had to keep a reasonable income, but there were things that needed to take priority. Yes, you had this weird living toy scurrying around, but there was someone who needed more attention than your wallet.

You made up your mind to take the dog to the animal farm south of your property. Marnie should be able to give you some guidance.

The digitized speech called your attention, and there the little robot stood, pointing to the oil spill he made on the ground. You withered. That stuff smelled.

Wait.

It spelled RODIMUS.

Chapter Text

You always smelled the cow pasture before you spotted the building.

It wasn’t an awful scent that mingled with the spring daffodils. Your neighbor took good care of her animals and their living space. They were always clean, well-fed, and they always appeared happy and healthy. Marnie seemed to know what she was doing, which is why you were heading straight for her place.

And you didn’t come alone.

The little robot man hung out from your backpack, clutching up on your shoulder to see where you were going. It was a strange sensation, to have this weighty little thing grabbing onto your clothes like a toddler. You would have him walk on his own, but the dog kept trying to play with him, running circles and trying to pick him up; and then he would play back, dodging and tumbling away from her jaws with squeals akin to ah-ha!; and then no one was going anywhere.

You could have left him at the cabin – you were fairly confident he didn’t want to burn it down, but the main reason you brought him was because it made the dog follow. She trotted along, looking up expectantly at your beepy passenger, sometimes jumping and running by to get you to chase her. Eventually, she found her kicks sprinting off at a flock of birds, and then chased a squirrel up a tree, and then dove headfirst in a shrub after a rabbit, and then, and then, and then – she just never stopped moving.

But no matter what, she always came back to check on her friend.

Rodimus. He was intelligent enough to convey that this word he wrote on your cabin floor was his name. It was frightening and exciting all at once, and you were at a complete loss on what to do. This living robot on your shoulder could communicate far better than you anticipated. Could you possibly find a way to talk to this thing that spoke the language of a struggling router? Could he tell you where he came from?

You paused before approaching the farmhouse, taking a moment to scan the area. Off in the distance was a small cabin by the river. Further downstream was the Cindersap forest you visited regularly for your foraging adventures – the same place where you found the two.

You turned your head to take in Rodimus from the corner of your eye, sweeping your hand across the expanse of your view. “Do you know this place?”

He let out a couple low-toned beeps in the succession of uh-uh while shaking his head.

You pointed south towards the forest. “I found you out there with the dog. She was carrying you. Do you remember anything?”

Rodimus responded, but of course you couldn’t understand anything. He warbled and trilled, gesturing about, pointing to his head, to his chest, to the river, to the path back to your farm – he was just all over the place.

You withered. “I’m sorry. I wish I could understand you.”

He patted the side of your face, beeping in tone of its okay.

You glanced towards your neighbor’s farmhouse, indicating with a nod. “I...I don’t know if you want people to see you, but...” You trailed off with your own indecision. You were between wanting to show everyone this little robot you found, to keeping him a secret because what if someone tried to take him? You only recently moved here and people were still strangers to you.

He made the decision for you as he slipped off your shoulder and hunkered down in your backpack. Secret, it is. You continued your way to your neighbor’s with the dog in tow. It was late in the day but not late enough where stores would close – except the farmhouse was locked. You knocked on the door.

A few beats passed before a little dark-haired girl opened it a crack. She stared at you. “Hi...”

“Is your Mama home?” You asked, but she was already fixated on the dog. The little girl looked both excited and disappointed.

“Jas, tell them I’m closing early, today.” You heard a voice; one you’ve heard before when she came to introduce herself as your neighbor. You struggled to remember her name.

“Sorry!” You called between the crack of the door. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but I really need your help. Marnie, right? It’s your neighbor.”

Jas stepped away from the door and a woman came up to greet you eagerly, “Oh howdy! What can I – oh my gosh!”

Her gaze went right through you and onto the dog. Marnie immediately melted, obviously not talking to you. “Where did you come from, you poor thing?”

The dog was completely oblivious to the attention coming her way. Even as you stepped aside, she tracked the bag hanging from your shoulders.

“I found her while foraging, yesterday,” You recounted, “I was hoping she was yours, or you knew who she belonged to.”

“No one I know has a Husky. They don’t make very good farm dogs.” Marnie stepped past you to kneel before the dog, looking her over. “Maybe someone in town got one?”

You no longer existed as she rubbed her down, checking for tags in the process. The dog finally gave Marnie attention and licked the woman. “Aww you’re a good girl, huh? Did you run away? Are you a runner? You don’t have a collar...”

If you found her owner, then maybe you could get a few questions answered about your stowaway. You asked, “What should I do?”

“We can post a few flyers, but she might not be from Pelican Town at all. No farmer I know would own one because Huskies like to wander, and they can explore for miles without some kind of fencing.” Marnie looked up at you. “We might never find her owner. I can help you try to find her a new home.”

You felt stirring in your backpack. Whatever face you made, the woman caught on and followed up with an alternative.

“Unless you plan on keeping her.”

You might have to. You had no plans on separating Rodimus from his fuzzy friend. Your plan was to find where she came from and, in turn, everything you could on this living robot. But, if that didn’t pan out, then your option came down to only one.

 “I would offer to take her, but...” Marnie filled the silence of your internal struggle. She winced some as she glanced at her livestock. “These kinds of dogs have a pretty high prey-drive. I could try to train her, but I wouldn’t want to risk my chickens...”

“No, no, I completely understand.” You witnessed first-hand that this dog loved to chase things that scurried. You waved your hands around in an attempt to speed up your chatter. “And I wasn’t coming here to try and give you a dog. I wanted to see if you knew her and maybe get some help cleaning her up. I don’t have a tub, or brushes, or scissors, or soap...”

Marnie smiled patiently up at you. “You don’t wash a matted dog. It makes the knots worse.”

You smiled patiently back. “Exactly why I came to you. You know about these sorts of things. I figured you could tell me what to do, or at least what I should use.”

“Oh! Of course I could help with that! I have everything you need.” She stood, looking about for a few fretting moments before turning back to you. “Let me get a few things locked and put away and I’ll get you set up. Meet me by the pasture gates.”

You nodded, and she went back inside. You slung your pack around to hold, using it to coax the dog around the pasture fence. The cows watched suspiciously. Rodimus clamored up to poke his head out, letting out a low be-woo as he was fascinated by the large animals. It made you smile.

The dog planted her paws up on the fence, tracking them in a way that made the bovines nervously step a fair distance away. You patted her head, firmly stating, “Settle.”

She didn’t pay you any mind, save for an ear flicking in your direction. It was when Rodimus toned out a few syllables, that she directed her attention on him, leaning over to try and nose at your backpack.

People usually gush over the usual story of a boy and his dog, but you have never seen the story about a dog and her robot. Switch that around. She was obviously his dog. You angled the bag just enough to let Rodimus reach out to bap at her nose, and she responded with playful burs and growls that did not help the cows with their anxiety.

You all suddenly stopped when Marnie came out to herd the cows in the barn. Rodimus slipped back in your pack and you slung it back on your shoulders, letting yourself inside the pasture at the farmer’s invite. You helped her drag out a metal tub, a hose, and a bucket filled with supplies while the dog found something to roll in.

With a quick tutorial on what was what, Marnie left you to the task. First things first: you had to get the dog to hold still. You set down your backpack and opened the flap. Rodimus gave a quick peek around before crawling out. You knelt to impart your newfound knowledge to the little robot:

“We need to give her a bath, but we have to brush and cut out the knots, first. If we don’t take care of the mats in her fur, they’ll give her problems – you heard Marnie explain all the nasty things that could happen to her skin, right?”

Rodimus nodded and tried to pick up a pair of scissors. He looked like a knight wielding his lance, and all he needed was his trusty steed. She was currently eating something in the yard. You carefully plucked it from him and replaced it with a small pin-brush. “I need you to help keep her still. Can you do that?”

You never knew anyone could scoff at you in EDM, but Rodimus waved you off and turned away, warbling a whistle. The dog came running. 

You coaxed her to sit and lay down, planting your butt on the soft, spongy grass and going to work. It wasn’t as hard as you thought, with most of the knots and mats coming out with her undercoat – poor thing must have been sweltering with all that dense fur. You thought you would be alone in this, but Rodimus went right to work with you.

When he wasn’t petting or distracting the dog to keep her still, he tried helping you. He would try to untangle most of the knots with his little fingers, and when he couldn’t, he would bring it to your attention for you to handle.

“Thank you,” You would praise.

“℣̴℣̸∑̷⅂̵ℭ̵0̵ℿ̶ℿ̵∑̶!” He would trill in response, positively beaming.

It finally came to bath time and you let the fuzzy girl have a break. Rodimus squealed as she picked him up in her jaws and tore across the pasture with a burst of energy. The chickens behind their fence screeched as she raced by. You just stood there, filling up the tub, letting out a long sigh.

What were you getting yourself into?

“Everything alright?”

You jumped as Marnie came outside from the side door. You smiled nervously, glancing at the dog bounding up with the living toy, zooming around you, trying to get you to chase her for it.

“Just giving her a break before her bath.” You tried to coax her closer, but she stayed out of your reach with that infuriating game of keep-away.

The animal farmer laughed. “Look at her go. They really love running, you know. Some dogs need a big yard and – oh? What does she have?”

You pretended to have something in your hand, offering it like food. When she came to inspect, you quickly grabbed Rodimus, grateful that she let him go easily and that he went still, appearing more like a toy figure than something alive.

“It’s something I found her with.” You held him up for her to see. Her face contorted with confusion. It was safe to assume she didn’t recognize him at all. You prayed Rodimus would keep up the act as Marnie took it from your hands to inspect.

“She had this? It’s hard, like metal. This is a terrible toy for a dog, it could break her teeth!”

You eagerly, but calmly, took it back. “She doesn’t chew it. She just... holds it.”

“That’s ... very odd,” Marnie pointed out the obvious.

You shrugged, then jolted with a thought. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“It doesn’t look like any toy I know of. Maybe JojaMart is trying to get kids hooked on something new. I can never keep up, nowadays.”

You looked down at Rodimus, wiping the slobber from his little frame. “If... If I’m trying to find out more about this toy, do you have any suggestions on who I could ask?”

She huffed out an oof as she mentally scoured through everyone she knew. She started rallying off names as she helped you get the dog in the tub.

“I would just start asking around. Penny could ask the kids she tutors; Jas doesn’t have anything like that, but maybe Penny can ask Vincent. Pierre sells mostly supplies for farmers, but he might have seen it in a catalogue. Gunther runs the museum and collects old things, but he might know other collectors. Heck, maybe Maru, or Abby, or even Sam – have you met Sebastian? This looks science-fiction-y enough that he might know.”

You recognized, like, two of those names. You didn’t spend a whole lot of time socializing when you moved in. You had a farm to fix up.

Marnie must have been unnaturally keen on your body language, because she simply smiled. “You haven’t met many people, have you?”

You tried to smile back. “I’ve been so busy. The only time I go to town is to shop at the market. I don’t know where a lot of places are.”

She set a friendly hand on your shoulder. “I have an old map that’s just collecting dust. I want you to have it. I’ll label it with everyone that I know so it’s easier for you to find people. Okay?”

You snorted, “Yeah, I’ll just show up at people’s houses and say Hi.”

“Good. You really need to go out and meet people.”

You blinked. You were being sarcastic.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to go get a few things together for you,” She said, “Keep at it. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

You were left alone, again. You looked down at Rodimus, watching the lights on his body brighten back up. He looked up at you with a questioning chirp as you looked him over.  

“Did you recognize any of those names?”

He shook his head with a few sad meeps.

With a sigh, you set him on the ground and went to work lathering up the dog. Rodimus jumped up to cling on the edge of the tub, watching what you were doing, and warbling at you with that backseat-driver kind of attitude. You ignored him, draining the mud and crud water and went in for a second lather and rinse.

You suspected snubbing the little bot was probably the bane of his existence. He decided to scale your pant-leg like a cat, grumbling all the way. You tried to focus on slopping the conditioner in the dogs soaked fur, but the feeling of something crawling up you made your skin... well, crawl.

Rodimus clung to your shoulder, using your hair as rope. You winced, hissing at him to stop. He garbled back and pulled at your ear, trying to find something to cling to as you moved around. The dog stood still as you rinsed her one last time, and you found yourself taking in the mini-mech from the corner of your eye.

“I’m going to try as hard as I can to find your home,” You said softly, loud enough for him to hear, “But I need your help. Anything you can think of, anything you can remember, try to find a way to tell me, okay?”

Rodimus beeped in your ear, and it was low and sad. You wished you could understand him. Maybe he couldn’t remember, or maybe he didn’t want to go back home. Maybe something happened. Maybe he was just as lost as you.

So many maybes.

When everything was rinsed off the dog, you were able to see the iconic colors that made her a Husky: the predominant black and white, dusting with grays and beiges. She leaned into the towel as you rubbed her down, and she escalated to trying to play tug-of-war with it. Rodimus cheered encouragingly for you to yank back like it was the Thunderdome.

The game was quickly over when you heard the door. You let the dog have the towel and cradled Rodimus against your chest as he pretended to be lifeless. Marnie stepped beside you, laughing as she watched the dog run victory circles with her new prize. Then, the newly clean canine started rolling all over the ground, picking up grass and leaves on her shining coat. You withered.

Marnie gave your back a friendly pat. “Say, I’m about to head to the tavern. You’re more than welcome to come along.”

Yeah. Bring a little fire-starting robot and his hyper-charged dog-friend in public. You smiled apologetically. “Maybe next time. I still have things to do.”

Your neighbor smiled this matronly smile, and you caught onto hints of pride and admiration. She pulled out a rolled-up paper and handed it out to you. “Little Star Farm is in good hands. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come talk, okay neighbor?”

“Thanks. Someday, I’ll find time to come to the tavern with you.”

She nodded her farewell and made her way down the dirt path towards town. You took lingering steps along the pasture, glancing back at her retreating form. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know people, but there was just so much going on.

You hugged on Rodimus a little tighter as he loosened up, clinging to your shirt as you tried to tuck him under your arm to unroll your new map. He squirmed to get a better look. You nearly dropped him as a loud bang of a slamming door made you jump.

A man nearly collided with you on his routine quest into town. You met him before, briefly. He was the surly, dark-haired nephew of Marnie that made his work uniform his daily attire. It was not a pleasant meeting. You didn’t get his name.

“Watch where you’re going,” He snapped.

You stepped aside and he hardly spared you a glance as he trudged along.

Rude. And a reminder why you left the city. You huffed as you turned, briskly taking the path back to your house. Rodimus clamored up your shirt to hoist himself on your shoulder. He threw an obscene hand gesture in the direction the man left.

You sputtered, “Rodimus, no.”

He grinned at you, cheeping defensively with an innocent shrug. Like a parent whose child just belted out a cussword, you tried not to laugh. 

With the dog trotting along, you made your way back to the wild lands of your farm and to the miracle of your still-standing cabin. There were a few more hours left before it got dark, so you emptied your pockets on the porch, set down your pack, and went to work on clearing up land for the next garden plot.

Rodimus scampered around, exploring whatever he could. He even tried to crawl up in your mailbox. The dog was more interested in what you were doing, excited that you were digging and tried to help. When you would pick up sticks and logs, she would try, too, but most of the time she would drop them somewhere else where you would have to pick them up, again. Though, like a boomerang, she always darted off to see what Rodimus was doing.

There was no other word for it. It was cute.

Daylight grew thin and you were starting to feel tired. You took a moment to sit on the steps on the porch, looking over all you’ve done and what you had yet to do. The dog snuffled through your yard, tracking the moles that made your field home. She may have made a poor farm dog, but she made for an excellent ratter.

Rodimus warbled for your attention. You looked over at him, finding that he had your new map spread out. You scooted over and stretched out, lying on your side and getting down to his level to join him.

“What is it?”

His bright eyes met yours, and you caught onto a bit of frantic energy. He pointed at the Cindersap forest.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s where I found you two.”

He pointed again, insistently. You leaned in close to see where he was tapping. You’ve been to the edge of the forest where the cliff overlooks the ocean, but that wasn’t where you found him. Your brows knitted together.

“Do you... do you want to go there?”

Rodimus nodded.

“What will we find there?” As soon as the question left your mouth, you regretted it. It was too complex, going beyond a simple yes or no.

But he answered. Rodimus put his little hand on his chest. Either he meant that’s where he came from, or that you were going to find more like him.

Chapter Text

The smell of wood-smoke had you sitting up in a full ninety-degree angle. Your cabin was on fire. The entire farm was in ruin. Chaos reigned abound, but at least you still had your parsnip garden.

You rolled out of bed in a hurry, blankets twisting around your legs, causing you to tumble on the wood floor in a sound not unlike a drum-roll. You frantically searched around, kicking off your bindings in a frenzy, grunting like a caveman who just discovered the difference between vowels and consonants, and found your cabin still standing, unmarred.

Rodimus beeped curiously. He stood by the flickering fireplace, face twisted in a mix between being concerned for you, and laughing at you.

Your mouth opened and closed about as much as you blinked. He started a fire for you. He was up before you, and started a fire so you could cook your breakfast. Your face split in a smile. Well, how ‘bout that?

The dog trotted over to greet you in her favorite way: putting all her weight on your chest and subjecting your face to dog-kisses that felt more like waterboarding. You gave her as much time as you had air and nudged her off.

“Good morning,” You said to your roommates.

Rodimus toned back in the same inflection and returned to tending the fire. You helped him put on a larger log and went about a morning routine that didn’t involve you cultivating your hearth back to a cooking heat. You got to sizzling your breakfast much earlier than you usually would, and there was such a good feeling about getting a jump-start on the day.

And it was going to be an eventful day, almost overwhelmingly so. You sat at the table, taking a moment to survey the map of the Valley, mentally listing all the things that needed to be done. You tried not to feel stressed about it. Being busy was good. Fulfilling. What didn’t get done today could always be done tomorrow. Relax.

The dog scratched at the door and Rodimus left the fire to try and jump at the doorknob. You watched for a few beats as he struggled, even trying to climb up the dog, but she didn’t seem to appreciate having her fur pulled. It was then, that the little bot turned to you and glowered.

Rodimus let you have it with a series of bleeps and warbles, and you sat straighter. What did he say to you? You were unsure whether to scold him for it or not, because you were just watching him without offering to help the vertically challenged robot. Rude.

“Sorry, sorry,” You apologized, rising up from your seat to cross the room and open the door. “I was seeing if you could get it.”

He toned back sharply. Your reasoning was unacceptable and flawed.

The dog bolted out, immediately honing in on the crows in your garden like a stealth missile with a vendetta. The birds flocked off, cawing at this new deterrent you had acquired. You frowned at the mangled parsnip they dug up and pecked to ruin. Great.

You looked down at the feeling of Rodimus tugging at your pant leg. He indicated with a jerk of his head towards the parsnip-murder scene that left his optics glinting inquisitively. You explained, “Crows like to nibble at my garden – anyone’s garden, really. I should take a little time to build a scarecrow, but I don’t know if I have the right stuff to make one.”

Rodimus responded in his dial-up chatter, waving his hands about conversationally. You knelt and gave a patient smile, trying to interpret his body-language as best you could.

“I could swing by the library. I’m sure they have some farming books,” You said cheerfully, then it died down to a mutter, “Heaven forbid we get a cell tower out here to get some internet reception. I could find out in seconds.”

You think he buzzed in agreement. His attention went out to your farm briefly before turning it back to you. There was an eager brightness to his eyes as he held out his hand southward, having a very ‘after you’ gentlemanly pose to it. 

“Rodimus,” You hesitantly began, sifting through your brain for the best possible way to explain fiscal responsibility to a sentient AI machine that doubled as the world’s coolest lighter. Blatant honesty was probably the best way to go. “We’ll go to the forest, today, but there are things I need to do, first.”

He let out a low tone of aggravation, planting his fists on his hips with a questioning tilt to his head.

“How to go about this...” You shifted from kneeling to sitting on your dusty porch, trying to get as close to his level as possible. “I need money. Money lets me buy food, seeds, and things to repair this cabin so I can live in it. In order to get money, I need to grow crops or find stuff in the woods to sell. Do you understand so far?”

His nod was hesitant, but he beeped inquisitively, waving his hand out over your plot of parsnips that the dog snuffled through.

“Yeah, those will get me money, but I need to keep planting seeds. To grow crops, I need seeds. To get seeds, I need money. To get money, I need to sell the crops I grow.”

Rodimus crossed his arms and shook his head, droning disappointedly.

You smiled weakly, unsure how to take his response. You continued to barrel through this odd conversation, “Eventually, I’ll get this whole gardening thing down pat and I’ll start making a bigger profit, but right now, I have to do a little extra.” You leaned down a little more to try and impart as much of your promise as you verbally could. “I am going to help you, but I need to do these things to help myself. I’m on my own here, and if I slack off on anything, I’m the one who pays for it. Do you understand?”

He was quiet for a moment, bright eyes flicking from the ground to you, then to the field. You sat up straighter and sighed. Was he having a little tantrum? Or maybe he didn’t understand. You turned your gaze out to your only plot of profit, watching the dog gnaw at the pecked-up parsnip. At least it wouldn’t go to waste.

You nearly jerked away at the feeling of Rodimus touching your hand. You returned your attention on him as he grabbed at your fingers, tugging at them to try and urge you to stand. He warbled at you, waving outwards towards your meager farm.  He was encouraging you.

A smile broke across your face. You held his tiny hand between your fingers and thumb, giving it a grateful shake. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll help you, but be patient with me.”

He beamed with a smile of his own, nodding.

“Here’s the plan: I’m going to take the pot off the fire to let the biscuits cool while I’m clearing out a new garden plot. After that, I’ll have to run to the store to buy the next round of seeds, and then I’m coming right back to plant them. Then, we can run out to the woods. Okay?”

Rodimus brought his fists together like an eager little boy about to be the bestest helper in the world. He pealed back in a variety of excited trills.

“Let’s get started.”

Rodimus went running out into your field to accomplish whatever task he gave himself. The dog noticed the movement and bounded for him. He squealed in protest as she tried to play with him.

You left them to it, doing as you said: beginning with setting your hot skillet full of breakfast aside to cool off to an edible temperature. You returned outside to find Rodimus in your parsnip plot, looking it all over with a studious hand on his chin.

As you started clearing out a designated area for your next grow-bed, the dog came over to help by digging where you tilled and... sure, you’d call it helping. Aerated soil made for happier plants. As you started working on the next plot, you caught a whiff of something burning.

You immediately searched for the firestarter, finding him attacking some encroaching weeds via roasting. You nervously trotted over, quickly looking over your crops to make sure he didn’t get confused and singe any of them. Upon inspection, you found that he weeded the area, pulling out some of the smaller pesky plants, but burning the larger ones that would require a trowel.

Rodimus chirruped, looking up at you with a hopeful smile.

“Holy shit, this is awesome!” You cried breathlessly, then slapped a hand over your mouth, “I mean, thank you! This is really helpful – thank you so much!”

He planted his hands on his hips proudly, basking in your praise with a purr.

“Do you want to help me over here?” You pointed towards the new plot you’ve started clearing. “All those weeds will work their way over to choke out any new seedlings. Think you could give me a hand?”

Rodimus nodded with a positive breep and scampered to the offending greenery. He set to work yanking and lighting the tougher ones aflame. You got this section cleared much faster than you would have on your own. For as little as he was, he packed a punch. You got the area as ready as ever. A glance at your watch told you it was barely mid-morning. You were making good time.

“I’m going to grab my breakfast and head for the store. Are you good here?”

As you rose to stand, Rodimus came trotting towards you, looking up expectantly with a few chirps. You tilted your head some. “You...want to come?”

Duh, you heard in bell-tone. The sassy little robot even rolled his head along with his bright eyes. Brat. You still found yourself smiling. “Fine, you can ride in the pack, but you have to stay quiet.”

Rodimus glibly waved you off and made his way towards the porch. You nibbled your lip a moment, contemplating. You met some of the townsfolk – many of them came forward to introduce themselves to you. There were more out there in the valley you had yet to meet. Did any of them know about Rodimus and where he came from, or what he was? Would anyone recognize the dog?

The dog!

You jogged towards the cabin and grabbed your biscuits, calling for the dog and rewarding her with one. You could take her with you into town and see if anyone had seen her before, or heard of anyone missing one. Finding where the dog came from could possibly give you answers about Rodimus.

You wrapped up your food to go and knelt down to offer your open pack, letting the bot tumble in. You gently fixed it on your back and began the hike down the dirt road into town. The dog gladly followed, exploring off the trail every so often, but always returning. Rodimus pushed aside the flap and clung to your shoulder to get a better view.

The spring air greeted you warmly. The maple trees along the main road had shed its buds in favor of rich, green leaves. You paused near the decommissioned bus-stop to uproot a cluster of dandelions, and Rodimus watched from your shoulder, cheeping softly in your ear. Was he asking questions? Talking aloud? You couldn’t tell, but you still offered what little wisdom you learned from foraging.

“You have to get as much as the root as possible, or else the plant will wilt before it even gets to market. I had to learn that the hard way.”

Rodimus nodded firmly.

You offered the dog another half of your biscuit and continued your way into town. When you felt the cobblestone under your shoes, you nudged Rodimus back in your pack and he closed the flap. The usual hubbub greeted you as most townsfolk were already up and at’em in these mid-morning hours.

An elderly woman tending the towns’ flowerboxes looked up from her planting and watched you walk by. The local doctor paused from entering his clinic to give a double-take. The man who minded the only tavern in the valley stopped to watch you enter the general store.

Correction: they weren’t looking at you. They were looking at the dog.

She was orbiting around you, sniffing at things, looking at people, and checking up at your backpack. You should probably get a leash, especially after Marnie warned you on how these dogs liked to chase. Thankfully, no one was looking at her with disdain or anything that would cause a negative crease to their brow. She was pretty. You did a good job cleaning her up.

You continued to enter the General Goods store, opening the door for your new roomie. You were immediately met with the cries of two adult women.

“Aww! Look at that!”

“What a beautiful doggie!”

She rolled in something on the way here, but sure, she was lovely.

One of the women you knew as the shop owners wife, Caroline. She introduced herself the first day you came to her husband’s store to buy seeds and kindly showed you around the shop and their home – which doubled as a sort of community center. She was one of the many genial friendly people you’ve met, but any conversations you had always seemed to end with ‘come visit the store’. You didn’t take it personally. She had to make a living, too.

The other you’ve met in passing. Leah, you think her name was. She looked to be about your age, wearing a flower in her loosely braided brunette hair. She lived in the cabin south of Marnie’s farm, if memory served you. It was hard to keep up with all these new faces and mind a failing farm.

Speaking of, you shouldn’t dally long. You left the dog to field all social interactions as you veered off to the seed section of the shop. They descended upon the dog, giving many pets. Gladly taking a bullet for you, she did her husky burs and gave her new friends all the kisses.

You cringed. She also ate something she found in a bush on the way here, too. You decided to live dangerously, grabbing both potato and cauliflower seeds to add to your parsnips. Quickly going over in your head if you needed anything else, you made your way to the register.

“Abigail, come see this dog!” Caroline called out.

The owner of the store, Pierre, greeted you with his usual amiable smile. He looked over the packets you laid out and tallied them all up, conversationally adding, “I had no idea you owned a dog.”

“I don’t. She’s a stray.”

“Really?” He seemed genuinely interested. “No tags?”

You shook your head, turning to look over your shoulder when Leah spoke up.

“Did I hear you right? A stray? Where did you find her?”

The door off to the back of the shop opened, and a purple-haired girl stepped in. Abigail. She was the daughter of Pierre and Caroline, and that’s all you really knew of her. She glanced at you before making her way out onto the main floor, gasping in a squeal at the sight of the dog. She was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren.

You answered Leah’s waiting question, editing much of the story, “In the Cindersap. I was deep in the woods, and she came up to me. She seemed like she’d been out there for a while. I took her to Marnie’s yesterday, and she helped me clean her up – she look familiar to anyone?”

Everyone answered no on varying degrees. Leah looked past you at Pierre, asking, “Maybe we could put some fliers on the community board?”

He rounded the desk to join the others, bending down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “We should put fliers all over town. Mayor Lewis might have an issue, but we should really help the newcomer and this poor dog.”

“Maybe we can ask Haley to take some pictures!” Caroline exclaimed.

You weren’t sure if this was backfiring or not. This was the attention you were originally hoping for, of getting help to try and find out where she – and in turn, Rodimus – came from. At the same time, you felt this sad little pit well in your stomach. Bittersweet, you think is the word to describe this feeling.

You set your pack on the counter, laying out the money for Pierre to collect when he was finished baby-talking the dog. You lifted the flap and found Rodimus huddled down near the bottom, looking up at you in anticipation. You promised to help him. You reached in, gently wrapping your fingers around his frame, pursing your lips together and blowing out a soft shh. He nodded and the lights on his body blipped off.

You turned back to the group, holding up this strange robot toy for all to see. “What about this? Anyone know what this is?”

More head shaking. More petting and cooing. More enthusiastic planning to involve the entire community in putting out fliers. Abigail was the only one who abandoned the group to approach.

“Looks pretty cool. Is it a robot?”

“I think so.” You gave a friendly smile, trying to remain in a spectrum of calm. “I’m trying to find out more about it.”

Abigail held out her hands in a silent request to hold it. You gave Rodimus over and she inspected it, bending all the joints carefully. She continuously turned it over, and you wondered if the little bot could get dizzy. “Why don’t you bring it to the tavern on Friday? You can ask my friends. Sam has a little brother and Sebastian is smart when it comes to technology. Have you met them?”

Your smile turned apologetic. “I’ve... been trying to meet everyone, but with the farm...”

“Oof. I get it,” She said with a sympathetic lilt, “I used to explore out in those fields and it was so overgrown, I couldn’t get very far. You must be really busy. Well, if you find yourself wanting to take a break, come to the tavern on Fridays. I’ll introduce you.”

“Thanks, I’ll try.” You didn’t sound very convincing.

Abigail handed Rodimus back to you. “Where in the forest did you find it?”

You thought a moment, wondering if you should share that you found him with the dog. You opted to just answer her question without adding any extra information. “South over the river, but way before you reach the cliff.”

“The forest is so thick there. I almost got lost a few times.”

“I take a compass.” You didn’t want to share how you learned the importance of carrying one.

“I should get one,” She nodded a few times before adding, “Have you been to the west? Where that big pond is? There’s a tower deep in the woods up on a hill, and sometimes at night you can hear weird noises and see flashes of light coming from it. I always wanted to get closer, but I get too scared.”

You blinked, unsure how to take this nugget of information. “Avoid the spooky tower in the west, got it.”

“Abigail, don’t scare the new farmer with your ghost stories,” Pierre chided, looking less like an intimidating father while giving the dog belly-rubs.  

“It’s not a ghost story, dad,” she snapped, “A wizard lives there, not ghosts.”

And that was your cue. “I should get going and get these seeds in the soil. Thanks so much for your help, guys. If any of you hear about someone losing a dog, please let me know.”

“What about pictures?” Leah asked, looking up at you from the floor with those big doe eyes.

“Ahh, maybe this weekend?” You shoved Rodimus back in your pack.

“Stop by my place. It won’t be a bother.”

You nodded, simultaneously patting your leg to get the dog’s attention. “Sounds good.” The dog wasn’t budging. You made kissy noises. She still ignored you.

“Thanks again.” You took your backpack and shook it. Rodimus chirped in sharp, startled protest. That got the dog’s attention. She left everyone to nose at the bag.

While a few others were searching where that strange noise could have came from, you backed out of the store, parting with, “Have a good day. Bye-bye, now.”

You hurried homeward-bound before anyone else could stall you. When you were a safe distance away from the public, you hugged onto your pack and opened the flap. Rodimus scowled at you.

“Sorry. She wouldn’t come.”

He grumbled in low, shuddering warbles as he climbed up on your shoulder, making sure he grabbed some of your hair on the way up. You tolerated it because you deserved a smidge of his ire. The walk back was long and quiet, giving you time to replay the conversations you had.

You found yourself snorting. “A Wizard. Puh-leese.”

Rodimus buzzed back with the same attitude.

You turned your head enough to look at him. “Do you think the fliers would help find out where you came from?”

He answered in words you could not understand. His hands were gesturing all about, pointing to himself, pointing southwards, and pointing at the dog. It wasn’t a no, but it also wasn’t a yes. Either way, he didn’t give any indication that you shouldn’t.

You returned to your farm and sat down on the steps of the porch. Rodimus looked over the seed packets you unpacked, and you hunkered down to flip the pouch around. “There are instructions on the back, see? It tells you how far apart, and how deep to plant the seed. There’s even how much water and sun it needs.”

He nodded, beeping an uh-huh, and started walking off with your parsnip seeds. He was going to plant them, on his own. You couldn’t stop the smile that painted your face.

You went straight to work, planting your cauliflower and potatoes in the new plots you made. Rodimus dumped over your watering-can trying to drag it over. You only knew about it when he trilled out a slew of bleeps.

“I’ll do that, don’t worry.” You went over and picked it up. “Once I’m done watering, we’ll pack up and head out.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you left him to fill up the can at the small pond close by. You knelt to draw in water, frowning as you spotted a glint of a soda can lying on the bottom. You sighed. There was so much to clean up.

One thing at a time.

You took your full can and watered your seeds, trying hard not to fall too deep in your thoughts. Instead, you tried to plan all the things you should bring on your hike into the Cindersap. You should definitely pack a lantern.

You finished and returned to your cabin, finding Rodimus lugging out your cold breakfast from earlier, all wrapped up in a handkerchief. He dropped the sack on the dirty porch, but you still smiled. “You wrapped that up for me?”

He chirruped, planting his fists on his hips and nodding proudly.

“You’re such a great help, you know.” You bent down to reward Rodimus with a gentle stroke along his back while picking up your food. “As much as I want to find your home, I wouldn’t complain if you lived here with me, that’s for sure.”

He stood there, still and surprised, as you loaded up your backpack with the things you’d need to go exploring – and foraging. You wouldn’t pass up any good plants to sell. You closed your cabin door and stepped off your porch, looking back to check on the still dazed Rodimus.

“You okay?”

He jumped, eyes flickering as he beeped out a huh?

“You okay, Roddy?”

Rodimus seemed to brighten at his nickname. He pealed an affirmative and ran towards you. Fluidly, you leaned down to catch him as he jumped for your pant-leg, and you boosted him up to your shoulder. He trilled for the dog as you started walking for the southern path of your farmland.

With the dog trotting along and Rodimus standing on your shoulder like a captain of a ship, he pointed forward and droned out a call that made you wince. He continued to chatter in your ear as you walked briskly, trying to conserve as much daylight as possible. You eventually crossed the bridge and made your way back into the Cindersap forest, and forged on deeper within.

You would pause to pick anything you could forage and sell. Rodimus clung to your shoulder, at first, watching as you knelt to loosen a cluster of spring onions from the dirt. He slid off and took in the scenery with his wide, bright eyes. He almost looked contemplative, like trying to remember something.

Whatever he was thinking, he gave up and decided to try and help. He grabbed at an onion leaf and tried to yank it up from there.  

“Not like that. You could rip off the top,” You instructed, “You loosen the dirt around the onion, first. You dig, then pull it up gently. You want the leaves on the top.”

You demonstrated as you were imparting the wisdom you discovered from trial and error when first foraging. You let Rodimus hold the onion bulb. He toned lowly, looking over the dirty vegetable, then up at you. You smiled encouragingly. “This is what will help me make a little money.”

He nodded with sudden determination and held it up for you to take, eagerly skittering off to search for more. The dog came and went as she pleased, vanishing in the green undergrowth then coming back while chewing and swallowing whatever it was that she found. You made note to avoid any dog-kisses after this.

You finished collecting the patch of wild onions when you heard him call out insistently. You were slow getting to your feet, and he was all a-ruffle when you found him, scolding you with purls of impatience.

He didn’t find any plants, but an axe.

“Oh...Ooh!” You realized as you picked it up. You found the name engraved in the wood: ROBIN. “Hey! Good job. You found our neighbor’s axe.”

Rodimus was all a-twitter, cheeping and beeping excitedly, like someone recounting a story and adding more embellishments than necessary. You tucked the tool in your bag, picked him up, and whistled for the dog. She came along as you continued deeper in the woods.

The sun was falling low in the sky by the time you spotted the glittering ocean through the trees. You made your way to the cliff, standing a few feet from the edge to take it all in. It was a wide, empty expanse of blues, fading into a line where water met the sky.

Rodimus tapped the side of your face, and you turned your attention on him. He wasn’t as entranced as you. Instead, he tried to draw your gaze to something in the water further up along the rocky shoreline.

You squinted. Far, far, up from where you were, there was a half sunken boat tied to a nearly-rotted post. Huh. You hiked the way along the ledge to get closer. It wasn’t a big boat, looking more like a two-man pond-boat. There was a precariously thin path making its way down to the shore. You had no plans taking a route that looked more appropriate for goats.

You squatted to look over the edge. “Why would someone have a boat out here? Those rocks look a little unsafe to have one tied up out there. How long – Ow!” Rodimus cut you off by pulling your hair. You went to scold him, flinching every time he yanked. “Roddy, stop that. It hurts you...know...?”

He was pointing insistently into the forest behind you. You were staring into the greenery, and without him, you would have missed it completely. Maybe you already had. The forest was a natural place, so why would you look for the geometric shapes of a building overgrown with greenery?

A building that the dog circled around before comfortably slipping into a hole between the rotted slats of wood. This was where she lived? This was what you may have been looking for. Evidence of where they came from. You hurried up and inspected around it, searching for clues. No address, no name plaques, nothing to indicate who it belonged to. It was bigger than a toolshed, but smaller than your cabin.

You hoped for a front door, but nature did much to reclaim the house. You lit your lantern with shaky hands and went the same way as the dog.

Inside was dark, smelling of fungus and earth. You held up your only light-source, dimly revealing your surroundings. Rodimus climbed down, hitting the ground with a chirping grunt, and skittered off while you were taking a panoramic spin. You were no detective, but something seemed off.

This place was obviously abandoned, but not in the way where someone packed up in an orderly fashion and left. The work-tables along the wall had rusty and overgrown equipment spanning from microscopes to computers to machines you couldn’t even guess their purpose. On the shelves were dust-caked books, boxes long rotted through with their contents spilling out, and crates of rusted scrap metal.

Metal that was shaped similar to your new robot friend. A gasp hitched in your throat. Was he made here?

Rodimus bleeped for you, and you found him trotting up while holding something in his hands. It was a strap with something hanging from it. You knelt on the ground and by the light of your lantern, inspected this thing. It looked like a belt, but it was much too short – it was a collar!

The dog tag was rusted to hell, but you rubbed it enough where you could make out the name.

Starlet.

Her name was Starlet.

And your farm was named Little Stars. It all just seemed to fit together. You turned to search for the dog, singing out her name, but it died on the back of your tongue. You found her curled up under one of the tables, cuddling in a nest of her own making. Rodimus petted her nose as she held another toy between her paws.

She looked so sad.

This is where she lived, alone, for who knows how long. You knelt by her, and her tail swished a few times as you rubbed her ears sympathetically. Whether it be with you, or whoever she was separated from, you silently promised that Starlet would never be alone again. She didn’t try to play with you as you took the toy from her, holding it to the light of your lantern.

Rodimus warbled and chattered at you with a new kind of desperation. He came up and tugged at your shirt, and you wished you had the attention span to guess what he was trying to convey. You were too busy absorbing the fact that there was more like him.

You used your shirt to wipe the grime from the new robot. He was about the same size as Rodimus, having more edges than curves. There was more of a boxy look to him, and his colors were less flashy: predominantly white with orangey-red parts here and there.

Rodimus was nearly wailing for your attention, pleading.

Was he begging you to fix this one, too?

Could you?

Chapter Text

The rumble of thunder rolled across the forest, carrying with it a gust of wind that rattled the budding trees. The rotted shack creaked all around, warning you on overstaying your welcome any further.

You made the difficult choice between lingering and eventually bunkering down all night in an unsafe environment that would make OSHA foam at the mouth, or by doing future-you a favor of leaving to beat the storm while navigating a darkening forest by the meager light of your oil-lamp.

“Rodimus, we need to go.”

Your little friend warbled frantically, but you couldn’t tell from where. You searched the dark corners of the wide space, finding yourself fighting this curious monster that gnawed at your common sense. Your search turned into a lengthy scan to see if there was anything else in arm’s reach. Eventually, your gaze fell to the new boxy robot you held in your hand.

There were more of them. Here, in this very room – laboratory! That would be a good word to describe this building. A sketchy laboratory, hidden in the densest part of the forest, with a convenient route to an obscure craggy cliff any self-respecting fisherman would avoid, all to hide an equally suspicious escape boat and you should really leave. 

“Roddy! We have to go,” You urged firmly, and you spotted his bio-lights betray his scurrying. You called on your dad-voice, “Now, mister!”

Rodimus buzzed back, obviously not taking kindly to you flexing your authority, but returned to you all the same with an arm full of grimy trinkets. You knelt, about to lean in to see what all he was bringing, when a branch hit the roof with a loud enough crack that made you yelp. With a quick glance to make sure the whole thing wasn’t going to come down on you, you shoved the new bot in your pack. You unapologetically swiped up the squirmy mech, bounty and all, and dumped him in alongside his friend, ignoring his bleating protests.

You felt him kick around in your bag, but you would apologize later. The storm had picked up, and what you thought was the sound of debris hitting the roof was actually hail. The joys of spring weather had you moving quickly, hunkering down and squeezing between the rotted slats of wood.

Wait. You were missing someone. You paused halfway to look back, seeing the dog still curled under the table in the dusty nest that was her home for so long. The light of your lamp caught the glassy reflection on her eyes. Your heart nearly broke. Your new fuzzy friend didn’t look like she wanted to go.

“Starlet,” You called the name you found on the dog tag.

She must not have heard it in so long. She raised her head, cocking it in a near ninety-degree angle, and the fluff of her tail swept the ground in a few strokes. Your heart wept.

“We’ll come back, later. Let’s go. C’mon.”

Starlet rose to her snow-shoe paws and padded up to you, and you took that moment to bury your fingers in her thick fur and hug her. It was like hugging onto a fluffy pillow, smelling of earth and forest. She was a good dog. How could anyone leave her behind? Leave her alone? You released her and guided her out past you, and she waited as you finished wedging yourself free.

By the grace of your compass and the dim light of your lantern, you moved as swiftly as your feet could take you without meeting face-to-trunk with any trees. Rodimus rang out his protests with such a bumpy ride, peeking out to give your ear a what-for. When the rain became a waterfall from the blackened sky, he huddled back in your pack where it was dry. You cursed past-you for not packing appropriately.

You finally made it out of the Cindersap and belted out into a run. You could hear the swollen river rush on as you raced across the bridge. Your lungs began to burn as you sucked in cold air, and you slowed to a pitiful jog. Even Starlet didn’t share her usual enthusiasm in exploring. Her head hung as she trotted along, sometimes a-ways ahead of you and looking back with that ‘hurry up, bi-ped’ energy.

Your cabin was in sight as you huffed. Running was not your thing. Farmers don’t run. Farmers also don’t neglect to check the daily weather reports. Now, you know better. Entering your semi-dry cabin, you whimpered. The dog shook out her coat, seeming about as soaked and miserable as you.

You set your backpack on the table, opening it and letting Rodimus crawl out. Your teeth chattered while you asked, “Cou-could you puh-please start a fire?”

He chirped an affirmative and hopped down from the table, to the chair, and safely to the floor with ease. He went to work throwing in tinder and branches small enough for him to carry and stoked the hearth. While he was busy, you changed into something warmer and dryer, toweling yourself, your hair, and then the dog.

You added a few logs to the proud robot’s crackling flame and set your waterlogged boots by the fireplace, along with hanging up anything else that needed to be dried. You placed pails under your clothes as they dripped.

You felt very tired. Exhausted. Your feet scuffed the floor as lifting your heavy legs became an effort, and you heard a slight wheeze every time you inhaled. You might consider sleeping in, tomorrow.

The thought prompted you to switch on the old TV that came with the cabin. Rodimus was warbling for your help, and you boosted him back up on the table while you placed out buckets in the usual – and already puddled – drip spots within your cabin. You ignored Rodimus’ insistent chirping as you listened to the static-filled weather report: heavy storm all night and throughout tomorrow.

There was some positive note in all this. You didn’t have to water your crops, tomorrow. You could afford to sleep in.

Now you gave the mini-mech your attention, sitting at the table. He had already emptied much of your pack, setting aside your foraged items in neat piles. That was nice of him. You wanted to work on washing and bundling them straight away, but you couldn’t will yourself to get up. It wasn’t just your tired bones that weighed you down, but what your eyes were drawn to.

Rodimus was kneeling by the boxy robot you brought from the shack. He was trying to pull and scrape away as much grime and dirt as he could, but with those tiny hands, it would take him all night and day. There was a part of you that wanted to call it a night; to drink some warm tea, curl up by the fire, and turn in early. That part was certainly overshadowed by the beast named curiosity, and it demanded to be fed and indulged.

You would cook it a five-course meal.

“Here,” You offered, taking what you presumed to be his lifeless friend. You used your wet shirt from earlier, because you had to wash it anyways so why not? With Rodimus watching intently, beeping little encouraging tones, you scrubbed off and picked out the majority of the muck till the white robot was near-sparkling. If you had to do this a few more times, maybe you should invest in a few little brushes and cotton swabs.

Your cabin felt a little too warm, but you shivered. Your hands were having trouble staying steady as you oiled the mini-mech’s joints, and your nose started to feel raw with how often you wiped it with your sleeve. It progressively ran more and more till every other inhale became you sniffling. Your blinks became longer and longer. Your rickety bed sang a siren’s call.

You jolted, feeling Rodimus tap your hand. You blinked, meeting his upturned face take you in with a note of concern. He cheeped with a questioning lilt.

“I’m fine,” You lied. “I have him as cleaned and oiled as I can. What do I need to do, next?”

Rodimus had a hesitance about him, and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Did he want you to stop working? What for? Because this might be a secret, or because you were feeling under the weather? Either way, he indicated your next task by tapping on his chest plate, then pointing to the new bot.

Between this being completely new territory in a field of robotics you’ve never heard of, and being caught in a haze of fatigue and an all-around shutdown-mode on an organic scale – you just could not connect the dots.

Rodimus stared at you, shifting his stance from side to side with his own struggles on how to communicate. He decided to abandon you and kneel at his friend’s side, working his fingers along the boxy robot’s chassis. He tried lifting – no, opening! That’s right! When you first found Rodimus, you opened his chest and snapped this weird little shape in place. Was that what he was trying to do?

You maneuvered your hands around Rodimus, trying not to get in his way as you hitched your nails along the seam he was working. Along with those cleaning brushes, maybe you would also invest in fine tools. You should probably start making a list.

The boxy bot’s chest opened with a starling pop.

It was empty.

Empty? What were you supposed to do now? You opened your mouth, about to ask, but a yawn came out instead. You swayed in your seat as you rubbed your eyes. It did little to alleviate the pressure you felt building behind them. You didn’t want to admit it, but damn it. You weren’t getting any better.

You tried to breathe through your nose. You were congested. “Roddy... I don’t feel good.”

He responded with a few soft peeps. He stepped up to you, patting your cheek in a patronizing ‘there, there’ tone. He directed your gaze to the things he collected and proceeded to breedle at you in encouraging notes. Almost done, it roughly seemed to translate.

You went to speak, but it came out as a croak, followed by a coughing fit. You buried your head down in your arms as your brain pulsed with each cough. You wheezed when it was all over, and you raised your head to see Rodimus recoiled with the most concerned look on his face.

“I must have stayed out in the rain for too long,” Your voice came out as graveled as your soil.

The little firestarter stepped up to you again, reaching up to pet your forehead. He spoke in that soft, melodic-dubstep chatter, and your eyes fluttered. He tapped you again and pointed to your bed. He was telling you to lie down.

“But your friend.”

He jutted his little finger towards your bed, as if he could point harder. He gave you a sharp chirp.

You smiled weakly. “I’ll help you in the morning, I promise.”

Rodimus nodded, toning to the dismissive sounds of okay, okay. He pushed against you, urging you to go lie down. You rose slowly, using the unsteady table to steady yourself. You didn’t know if he needed to sleep or recharge or however little robots got their rest, but in case he didn’t, you left him the jar of oil and a shallow pail of water.

You sleepily glanced at your foraged plants, still muddy and uncounted. You’ll just have to deal with it tomorrow and hope they’ll keep till the next pick-up.

Shame, neither that nor your promise would be kept.

 [.‸.]

You woke off and on to the crackle of fire. You were sweating about as much as it was raining, but no amount of heat kept you from shivering. Your mouth was dry and tacky, having breathed through it for the majority of the night. Your nose was simply not there – being only a feature on your face with no real function. It was cemented shut.

You were sick. It wouldn’t have been as alarming if it wasn’t for the fact that you lived alone. Not completely alone, as Starlet came and licked the sweat from your face. You whimpered and whined, weakly fending off the dog who wanted to drown you in kisses and share with you the flavors of whatever she’d snacked on earlier.

She relented at a sharp, commanding tone that was not from Rodimus.

You opened your bleary eyes at the feeling of something tugging at your blankets. Rodimus was pulling himself up like a seasoned rock-climber, and turned around to help pull up the little boxy-framed robot you brought home. He was moving on his own. His blue-lit eyes looked at you.

“You fixed him?” You half-asked, half-cheered, all between coughs.

Rodimus preened with a bleep, then toned out conversationally while gesturing to his friend. The new robot stepped to your face till your vision of him blurred, and you felt him touch your forehead. He stepped back and beeped for your attention. Upon the glass of his chest, a number blipped: 101.7F.

You blinked several times. Were you hallucinating, or did this thing just say you had a fever? Maybe the fever was causing the hallucination. Maybe everything before never happened, and you’ve been in this feverish dream of robots and farming – maybe there wasn’t even a dog?

You were home alone, sick, with no one to take care of you. That much was true.

The boxy robot turned to speak with Rodimus in that fax-machine, dial-up, EDM language. The firestarter nodded eagerly, hands all over the place – per usual – as he pointed and talked. He gestured to you, warbling worriedly. Whatever they were planning, they both agreed with one another. Whether it was to your aid, or demise, you were in no position to object.

They continued to talk, or more like Rodimus was listening to his new friend bark out some instructional tones. He pointed to the table, the kettle, your food and foraged plants – he almost sounded like he was giving orders. Rodimus nodded and rappelled himself down your blankets, and you heard the rapid-fire taps of his wee-little feet across your wood floors. He definitely was on a mission.

Your new roommate turned his attention on you, and you blinked slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Hey... don’t write your name in oil on my floor. It’s a pain to clean up.”

He glanced down at Rodimus and warbled out a laugh. They can laugh! You tried laughing with him, but only rattled out a cough that had your head pulse. You groaned and whined, clenching your eyes shut to ride out the headache. Your eyes fluttered open when you felt movement, seeing the new bot crawl his way down your blankets. That’s fine. You wanted to fall back asleep, anyways.

You tried to, at least. Your cabin filled with the sounds of both robots and a husky hell-bent on making every noise within their vocal range. It was hard to decipher if the clattering of something crashing on the floor was real, or a fever dream. You couldn’t even will yourself to move as you felt one of the bots climb up on the bed.

His insistent tapping on your chin had your eyes fluttering open. The new one was back. In his hands were several pills you recognized. You bought a few packs a while back last time you overworked yourself to illness. 

He brought you medicine.

You smiled, feeling your chapped lips split. Your voice cracked, “You got those for me?”

He chirped an affirmative, waving you closer and pointing down at the floor. You rolled on your side and peeked down over the bed. There, Rodimus stood, hugging onto a cup of water like someone lifting up a barrel of wine. You busted out into a fit of laughter that quickly evolved into a coughing fit. This little doctor-bot patted you sympathetically till you got over it.

“Thank you,” You said as you lifted the cup from Rodimus’ hold. You took the pills and drank it all. The woody, gritty taste told you Rodimus got this from one of the pails that collected your roof drips. Whatever. You were in no position to complain.  

When you were finished, you smiled the best you could and tried to thank this new robot with your creaky voice. The white mini-mech didn’t seem interested in your gratitude, motioning for you to lie back down.

You didn’t know this little guy, and there was a small, obstinate part of you that stared at him. Who was he to start giving you commands like...like some pushy physician? You blinked. Rodimus lit fires. This one certainly did not. Was this some... medical model of some kind? Were there different types of these little robots?

The white mini-mech stared right back, fists on his hips as he chirruped harshly, like an old man barking at the kids on his lawn.

You coughed to clear your throat a few times, feigning the squirms of finding a comfortable spot. You finally listened, laying on your side. He nodded approvingly and climbed back down your sheets. Once he was away, you leaned forward to try and get a better look at what they were working on.

Rodimus had somehow found his way back on your table, kicking down your foraged items that would definitely be bruised, wilted, and completely unsellable by the time you get better. You let out a long sigh and closed your eyes, focusing on the pitter-patter of rain and the low rumbles of thunder assuring you that your garden would be watered, at the very least.

[ᴖᴖ]

You slept hard.

The only thing that woke you was a burning sensation in your nose. You sniffled, and the smell of freshly grated horseradish cleared your sinuses almost painfully so. But at least you could breathe through it, again.

You sat up, groaning and rubbing your eyes and face. Your head felt much better, but your neck felt a little stiff and damp. You must have sweated out the fever, judging by your pajamas and bedding. You took in your cabin in both awe and disbelief.

The fire in the hearth was going strong, turning your single-room home into a hothouse. Poor Starlet was sprawled against your front door, sucking up what cold drafts she could as she panted miserably. The soup kettle was swung off the heat, but you could see the steam rising from the open top. In the rainwater-filled pails on your floor, the plants you foraged were bundled and washed, sitting inside and looking just as healthy as when you picked them.

A trill made you wince, hitting your brain like a needle in your ear. Rodimus and his friend were on your table, and the little firestarter wielded your knife like a little knight. He abandoned chopping your horseradish and climbed down.

You were dumbstruck. They cooked. They cleaned. You swung your feet off the bed as Rodimus scrambled up your blankets. He pushed against your side like he could move you, commanding in his dial-up chatter.

You unmindfully pulled him up in your lap as you continued to piece together what you were looking at. “I’m fine. I feel...”

The white mini-mech stood on your table, pencil in hand like a warrior wielding a pike. He gestured to an empty bowl. No spoon, just a bowl. Was he... telling you to eat?

“...Better.” You stood, hugging the squirming mech against your chest. “You guys did all this? How... how?”

When you looked down at Rodimus in your arms, he had a shy pout to his face as he finally stopped fighting you. You muttered an apology and boosted him up on your shoulder while inspecting their work. You started with the steaming kettle.

They made a rice soup, complete with spring onion, parsnips, and a few young dandelion leaves. How good it tasted remained to be seen, but garnished with the horseradish they chopped was guaranteed to clear your sinuses completely.

“How did you do this?” You turned your head to take in Rodimus. He responded with a grin and posed like a beefy strong man. It made you laugh – and cough.

You ladled in some of the soup in the bowl provided, having to fetch yourself a spoon that Rodimus insisted on inspecting, and sat at the table. You finally saw what the little boxy bot was writing on your ledger.

Onion: 5
Daffodils: 3  
TOTAL: ___

You didn’t care that he called the dandelion flowers daffodils – he was going off of your notes and drawings from when you were first learning to forage, and ‘big yellow flowers’ vs ‘little yellow flowers’ wasn’t the best description if only one flower was present.

You didn’t care that he mirrored your past entries, leaving room for you to write what payment you’d receive. You didn’t care that his handwriting was a poor impression of yours, as the pencil was more like a big branch in those little hands of his.

You could only focus on one thing: They could write.

“You did this?”

The white mech nodded.

You huffed breathlessly, looking it over again because maybe you were still suffering from a fever and this was all another elaborate hallucination. “Can... can you write more like this? Like, can we talk like this? Can you write down answers?”

He shook his head.

You squinted. Was he having you on? You raised a brow, tilting your head to what he already wrote.

He responded with a few grunting beeps, pointing at his head with a few taps.

“I don’t understand. Are you saying you have to learn words? No, no that doesn’t seem right. It’s obvious you know how to read – right? Don’t answer that, of course you do, you’ve been reading my journal – so is it writing? Do you need to learn to write?”

The mini-mech gave you a tired look as you rambled. When you finally paused long enough to take a breath, he picked the pencil back up and scribbled in the margin:

⋔̷̺̅⊬̶̮̽ ̸͙̏⍙̴͉̎⍜̶͎̌⍀̷̙̋⎅̷͉̐⌇̵͍̊

You blinked. “I’m... a little lost here.”

He shifted his fuck-it gaze at Rodimus on your shoulder, who shrugged. Maybe if you were technologically inclined, you might have picked up what these robots were trying to convey, but you threw your lot with farming.

You rubbed your face. Fever dream, indeed. This was wild. You were sharing your creaky, leaky, little farm cabin with two tiny robots that spoke in beeps and boops and wrote in some weird machine scribbles, and if you wanted to communicate with them, you had to learn some alien language? Why the heckin’ not?!

“Alright,” You groaned out a sigh. “Moving on.”

Rodimus chirruped an encouraging note from your shoulder.

“So, what do I call you?” You inclined your head to the boxy, white mini-mech. “Do you have a name?”

He turned back to your book, scribbling under his previous markings. You withered because you didn’t think you could read his machine gibberish. You turned the book around to peer at the shapes.

℟̶@̶₮̸ℭ̴|̶-̶|̸∑̸₮̸

Shapes became letters.

You sucked in a breath. There were actual letters hidden in it all. It occurred to you, maybe it wasn’t a learning issue, as much as it was a programming issue. He had pointed at his head – where his brain would be; a brain that was worlds apart from yours. You had to go back to that shack in the forest, and this time, you would be prepared.

You looked up at your new roommate with a smile. “Hello, Ratchet. Please, make yourself at home.”

Chapter Text

“You found my axe!” Robin couldn’t resist hugging you.

You stiffened up like a board. You were acutely aware of how close her hands were to your backpack.

She grabbed your shoulders and gave you a gleeful shake, making a happy little squeal like you just delivered her wayward child. “I have missed it so much! I had to use the spare axe and I nearly cut my foot off. You have no idea how much you helped me.”

You cracked open your best smile, but you might be just nervously baring your teeth. “I was out that way, so it was no trouble.”

“When?” Robin’s smile fell, giving you that accusatory stare only a mother could muster. “It stormed all day, yesterday.”

“The day before,” you said, “before the weather rolled in. I would have made the trip, yesterday... but I was sick.”

Her brows rose. “Sick?”

“I got caught in the storm on my way home.”

“There was hail.”

“Yes. I know. I was there.”

Robin breathed, fussing over you by feeling your forehead. “Are you feeling better? Why didn’t you call me?”

Even though she breached your personal bubble, she meant well. You gently took her hand and peeled it off. “I don’t have a phone.”

Robin’s face went on a quick jaunt, morphing from a wince at her realization: she was babying you when you weren’t really her baby; then to pity, because you were still playing catch-up to make your cabin more into a semi-modern home, and your only means of outside communication were physically walking to whoever you wanted to talk to, or writing a letter.

The latter was a learning experience in itself.

“And I’m feeling much better. I...wasn’t alone.” You tightened your fingers on the straps of your pack, alleviating the extra weight you lugged about.

“Aww. I heard you found yourself a stray.” She left you to rummage behind the counter. “You sound like you really went through it. Here, let me pay you for your trouble.”

You held up your hands to ward off her monetary reward. “Actually, I was hoping to ask you for a little help.”

Robin set her hands on her desk, a curious tilt to her head. “Of course, neighbor. Anything you need – just not my axe.”

You laughed weakly at the carpenter’s humor, but the woman wasn’t joking. You ventured on, “I’ve been finding... things. Little things, like toys, or-or machines. I wanted to clean and fix them up. Do you have, like, little tools I can buy off of you?”

Her brows rose, again, pleasantly interested. “Finding some interesting stuff on your farm?”

“The dog likes digging.” You gave a casual shrug. It wasn’t completely a lie.

“Well, if you’re finding artifacts or precious stones, take them to the museum. I heard Gunther is trying to restock the exhibit. He’ll probably give you something for it,” Robin said. “But if you’re trying to repair something small, you’ll need tinkerer’s tools. They should be small enough.”

You turned your head slightly, waiting for any indication of your silent passenger. Your backpack was still. He gave none.  

“That might be what I need. How much?”

She clicked her tongue. “I don’t have any for sale. Most of the tools I have are much bigger, made for maintaining larger machinery.”

Your shoulders slumped, but you tried to stay positive. This was only the first person you asked on your journey, today. You still had a list of people to visit and find the items your new friend needed. You were hoping that list would end here. You didn’t want to waste any more time or money. There wasn’t much to forage when it came to chatting.

“But my daughter likes tinkering around on gadgets. Maybe she has some tools she can lend. Have you met Maru?”

You shook your head for more than one reason. “No, but –"

“Maru! Are you in the lab?” She called out and you winced.

“Yeah!”

“Come here a minute!”

“I’m busy!”

You waved your hands frantically. “Please, nevermind –"

Robin did that terrifying raptor-mom-shriek, “Maru, don’t be rude!”

You closed your eyes and held your breath, attempting to leave this awkward situation by willpower alone – either by means of passing out or teleportation, you’d take anything, right now. You opened your eyes and nope. Still here.

The young woman came stomping into the adjacent carpenter’s shop and dropped her tantrum as soon as she saw you. Her face colored with embarrassment. “Oh...You didn’t say we have company.”

Just as uncomfortable as her, you shifted your stance. What does someone do at a time like this? How could you eloquently move past this like a charming socialite? Just stand there. That was all you could do.

“You’re the new neighbor, right? I’m Maru.” She gave her mom a pointed glance. “Sorry you had to hear that. I was in the middle of... would you like to see?”

No, thank you. It wasn’t that you were being unfriendly. You had a timetable. You had a mission. You had a big plan that you got up for at the brink of dawn to water your plants. You lamented your social life, but at the same time, you were kind of doing something cool and mysterious. That seemed like a worthwhile tradeoff.

You put on your friendliest smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just popping in –"

“She needs some fine tools. Do you have a tinkering kit she can borrow?” Robin just barreled over you.

“I can look.” Maru waved for you to follow. “Has my mom shown you our laboratory?”

You were about to dig your heels firmly into the wood floors and assert your dominance over the situation. You had a rogue mini-mech frolicking about your farm with a Husky who dug ankle-snapping holes in your yard for sport; and you had a passenger in your bag, so frighteningly still that you wanted to check to see if he was still there.  

But Maru said the word that piqued your interest: laboratory.

“No, not yet.” You followed, glancing about to take in your surroundings on the way through the foyer.

“I help my dad, sometimes,” She said as she led you inside the white-tiled room. “When I’m not working at the clinic, I’ll be in here messing around with gadgets.”

You halted at the entrance of this large room, taking in a panoramic sweep of the laboratory. Everything was neatly placed on counters and tables. Shelves were organized with books and boxes, all legibly labeled. The decorations were modest, and you suspected some were related to study more than for aesthetic.

It was a far cry from what you remembered in that little shack. The machines had so much overgrowth and rust, you couldn’t tell if they were the same as any of the ones here. You meandered along one of the island countertops, idly asking, “Is this the only lab in the Valley?”

Maru was busy rummaging through a few cupboards. Her back was to you, but you could hear the shrug in her tone. “As far as I know. My dad said there used to be a public one at the community center a long time ago. Why?”

You paused. Beside a machine reminiscent of an old-fashioned scanner-printer, was a familiar blueish-violet rock. You blinked, both wondering where you saw that before, and how to respond. You looked up at her with a peach-pie smile. “Still trying to get the layout of the town.”

“You know, if you need someone to show you around, I wouldn’t mind.”

You were a little fixated at the moment, hand hovering over this strange stone. You leaned in, wanting to get a closer look, but not wanting to touch something that was lying in the open in a laboratory. You’ve seen the movies. Bad things always happen to the curious person who touched weird things. 

Maru startled you as she set a box down beside your hesitant touch. You sucked in a startled gasp and she winced a smile. “Sorry. I know what it’s like to get lost in something.” She picked up the stone fearlessly, earning a panicked garble from you. “Have you ever seen iridium, before?”

You’ve never even heard of it, before. You shook your head, then barked out a yelp when she just tossed it into your hands.

“It’s a rare mineral, but it’s most abundant here. It can make the strongest tools, or even be used as a component to build some pretty advanced machines. We don’t know much about it, other than some old stories saying it comes from meteors that crashed here in the Valley.”

You held it up, the light catching it just right to glint up pieces in a vibrant blue. It was rough-edged, but if it was cut and polished like a gem, would it sparkle?

“That theory could be plausible since it is radioactive.”

You set it down and gave her a patient, albeit forced, smile. “Is it, now?”

Maru laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s no more radioactive than a banana. Maybe a little more – but that’s such a small amount. We’re fine.”

You wouldn’t lie. This was kind of interesting. Maru seemed like such an interesting person. You really should get out more, meet the people and make friends. Later, you promised yourself. You had little friends who needed you now. You picked up the kit, indicating to it with a jiggle. “Good. I wouldn’t want to turn into some mutant before I go off foraging. Thanks for this.”

She thankfully picked up on your inching towards the door and walked with you. “No problem. Someday, you should bring over what you’re doing and we can sit in the lab and work on stuff, together.”

You let yourself out, nodding with a bright smile, but your words carried no such enthusiasm. “Sure. I might take you up on that. Thanks, again.”

You didn’t let her comment any further as you closed the door and hurried to the steps up along the side of their home. You intentionally jostled the bag as you fielded them two at a time. Leading to the familiar mountain path, you continued at a brisk pace, feeling Ratchet clamor out of your bag.

He clung to your shoulder, giving you a glare that made you ease your steps.

“I was hoping you would give some kind of signal to tell me if this is what you want.” You pulled out the kit tucked under your arm. You opened it for his perusal. “This better be what you need.”

The medi-bot took his sweet time, tiny hand thoughtfully on his tiny chin as he looked them over. He peered, then breeped in a that’ll do kind of tone. He even added a dismissive wave for you to put them away.

You’re welcome, you thought bitterly. You snorted, pairing it with a roll of your eyes. “You know, I never really talked to many people when I first moved here. Now, you guys have me running around, chatting it up, and lying.”

You slowed your steps, turning your head to take in the bot on your shoulder. “The hardest part? I’m trying to listen to them when they talk, try to find the right way to hold my hands, try to act normal. Now, my neighbor thinks I know how to use these tools. I know nothing about little machines. I know nothing about you.”

Ratchet patted you, droning out a few notes.

“Don’t be condescending. I may not understand you, but I know those sounds.”

He crossed his arms, giving you that parental from-under-the-brow stare. He warbled out a few gravely tones, sounding nearly accusatory and scolding.

Per usual, you filled in the blanks and took a wild guess. You admitted, “I’m just really nervous about today.” You turned your gaze back to the path and resumed walking. “I moved here because I wanted to start over. I wanted something real. Something I can touch and just... I don’t know how to describe it. I knew nothing of what I was getting into. You could read so many articles, watch so much how-to’s on the internet, but nothing prepared me for what it was really like. I was lucky some of the people here were nice. I had help.”

You searched upward at the cloudless, vibrant blue sky. “I want to help you, like others helped me, but what if I can’t? I’m not as smart as Maru. I don’t work in some fancy lab. The place where I found you, I don’t know a single thing about what I’m looking at. How can I help you if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

You nearly tripped on yourself as the mini-mech started climbing down your body. You were about to grunt a few vowels of protest, until you saw what he walked towards: A cluster of daffodils. He looked back at you, grabbing on one of the stems and giving the flower a gentle jostle.

You stood for a moment, nearly laughing at how small he looked beside the plant. You approached and knelt, running your fingers over the long, tapered leaves.

Ratchet gave the stem a sharp tug, and you quickly stopped him. He looked at you, and you expected him to have his grumpy frown, but he had a small smile. He set his tiny hand on yours and waved over the flower with the other. His gravelly, fax-machine words explained something you wish you could understand, but there was something warm and encouraging with the way he gesticulated about.

He didn’t admonish you for what you didn’t know. Was he praising you for what you did know? For what you taught yourself?

Not passing up a good opportunity, you sunk your fingers in the dirt. The cool, damp soil colored your skin and nails. It shifted and crumbled as you lifted the daffodils out by their roots, and there was always a small victory trumpet that played in your heart whenever you successfully uprooted something you could sell.

You brought the big bloom to your face, taking a deep breath. The sweet smells of spring, condensed in such a pretty flower.

Feeling Ratchet’s tap on your knee grabbed your attention. He was probably urging you to move on. Instead, you found him posed in a way to display his chestplate. A line wavered and peaked on his screen, repeating the motion over and over.

That was your pulse.

You blinked. Why was he showing you your heartbeat? You blinked again, this time turning your attention to the daffodil.

Did Ratchet stop you to smell the flowers? Was he making an effort to soothe your anxiety? You looked back at him, opening your mouth to ask, but finding how he watched you with his own warm smile made you abandon your speculation.

“Thank you.” You smiled back. “This was a good find.”

Ratchet nodded with curt professionalism and his perpetual grandpa-frown returned. You slipped the plant in your pack as he scaled his way back up to your shoulder. Renewed with confidence, you continued back down the mountain path with a short-lived pep in your step, as the medibot beeped in protest at such a bouncy ride.

The spring foliage gave way to your sprawling farm. It was always daunting to see so much land needing so much care. You turned to stroll towards your still-standing cabin, finding that Starlet had worked on a pretty impressive hole, almost tunneling under your home. At this rate, you’d have a cellar by Fall.

With a sweep of your gaze, you found Rodimus in your garden, still fighting the good fight with your encroaching weeds. The plot was a battlefield of smoldering green. You hoped your crops were not on the casualty list. 

The dog came to greet you as you set your stuff on the porch. Nearly every white patch of fur was brown and she endeavored to paint your clothes the same. You let her rub her face on your pant leg, simultaneously scratching her ears while you washed and bundled your foraged items. You were decent at multi-tasking.

You left her to enter your cabin. The fire had long died out, and the biscuits you cooked this morning had chilled. It didn’t matter. You packed them up, along with your lantern, compass, a few bowls, a cooking pot, the machine oil, your newly acquired toolkit, and even your sweat-stained bedsheet.

It needed to get washed anyway.

You walked out and closed the door behind you, pausing after taking a few steps out on your porch. You stood there, taking in your measly garden and overgrown property. You inherited this farm and you felt you could barely even call it a farm. There was so much to do. Every day, there was so much to do.

And you were about to go back to the freaky abandoned shack to find a way to help these two little robots.

This was crazy.

You thought leaving everything behind to fix up this farm was intimidating. So what the hell were you doing going off on adventures, keeping secrets, and helping these strange mechanical creatures you knew nothing about? You didn’t sign up for this. What if this whole entire thing was bigger than you could handle?

You heard Rodimus let out a cry of victory, having conquered a pretty large cluster of weeds. He cleared out a pretty wide patch all on his own, although he couldn’t move much of the bigger things, not that he didn’t try. Those were the things you could handle.

You could handle more than you knew. You handled the first few months of living here, of sleeping in a rickety bed, reading by candlelight, boiling your water before drinking – you could handle more than you could ever imagine.

So let’s try.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed the straps on your pack and looked down at Ratchet. He waited patiently this entire time, letting you have your moment. You knelt, hand out. “Are you ready?”

He chirped and nodded sharply, stepping up to grab onto your fingers as you lifted him to your shoulder. Your heavy steps on the wood stairs caught the dog’s attention, but it was your words that gained Rodimus’. “Let’s get going.”

The little firestarter cheered and skittered your way. You bent down enough to scoop him up and boost him up on your shoulder. His energized, bouncy warbles had Starlet run circles around you, fueled by this excitable charge.

You made your way southward, mindful of Marnie’s farm as you passed. It was a nice day, and it wasn’t unfathomable that you weren’t the only one out and about. You kept an eye out for anyone, because you had little confidence you could explain away why you had a backpack filled with camping gear and two mini-mechs for company.

You couldn’t remember the last time you went out camping, but how hard was it? It would only be slightly rougher than staying within your own home – put a sheet on the ground and you wouldn’t know the difference.

You hurried across the bridge into the Cindersap, and this time you knew what you were looking for. You passed a cluster of dandelions, and even a few wild leeks, but you couldn’t be distracted. You only had to sacrifice one day to dedicate all your time to helping your new friends.

You made it to the cliff, and the ocean was cold and glittering under the young spring sun. You stole a small moment to admire, then turned to follow along the cliff till you found the wrecked boat. You turned back towards the thick of the forest and treaded north. You spotted the geometric shape of the shack much easier this time around, now that you knew what you were looking for. You were relieved it was still standing.

You circled the structure first, as if you were a master carpenter and could see the faults in the building’s foundation. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. Maybe you were searching for an out. You were just being nervous. Or maybe the look on Ratchet’s face was making you uneasy. The boxy little mech had a pensive frown that could wilt flowers. He looked nervous.

You set them down and knelt by the opening. They tentatively entered with Starlet right behind them. You took your time, lighting your lantern. You stole one last glance out towards the glimmering sea between the trees before ducking inside.

Rodimus and Ratchet were already at work, climbing about, searching through the old, dusty, crumbling boxes. Starlet was busy watching them curiously, even jumping up to put her front paws on the counter like a naughty dog. You peered. She better not do that at your place.

You joined in their search, but not really knowing what you were looking for. You tried opening books, but papers flaked away at the slightest touch. Ink had long since blurred, or bugs had moved in and ate their fill. You left those books alone.

You noticed Rodimus trying to open a metal container or machine – you couldn’t tell. It was so overgrown and rusted. You aided him, pulling away the vines and yanking open the lid. The hinges screamed like a dying hell-spawn. You were sure everyone in town heard it.

Within, were round marble-like stones. You held your lantern over it, taking care not to touch random things in a secret laboratory. They were blue, sparkly, and pretty familiar.

Ratchet chirped for your attention. You turned to find him standing by three little bodies. They were different in shape, size, style – but they were still like him. You came closer, squinting. They were caked with dust. A spider even made a home along one of the grooves once upon a time.

You tilted your head to the medibot, gingerly poking one of the lifeless shells. “What would you like to me to do?”

For something that couldn’t speak a lick of anything you could understand, he was surprisingly comprehensible. Ratchet spoke, but his gestures were what helped. It was a far cry from how Rodimus would talk to you, waving his arms about like he was floundering. The medic waved his hand over the bodies, then over himself.

“Clean them up? Like I did you?”

He nodded. You were getting good at this.

You collected the miniature cadavers and left your lantern inside the shack. You didn’t know if they needed it, but you didn’t while you slipped outside and back into daylight. With the help of your compass, you made your way north to where the river swept close before spilling out into the ocean.

It was peaceful; quiet, save for the gentle burble of running water. You knelt by the bank with your rain pails and went to work. You used the toolkit to pick out the crud that nestled between the cracks and washed off the layer of dirt that collected. The tiny brush made your job so much easier.

Another one, red and white and boxy. There was one that was all red with a scope on his shoulder. Then the last one was a teal blue with angles and points. It made you feel kind of...sad. How long were these little guys laying here, collecting dust and dirt, forgotten?

You returned back to the shack, this time lugging as much of the river water as you could. Upon entering the shack, Rodimus breedled for your attention, having found three more bodies requiring your expertise and protection. Starlet had laid claim to these ones, pinning them with her snow-shoe paws.

Ratchet had a little workstation laid out by the time you set down his new patients. You tried to take it all in from the din of your lamp, but Rodimus was trilling for assistance, being an unwilling participant of tug-of-war.

You saved the mini-mech and gathered your next three to clean up. Retreating outside, you soaked these new bodies to soften the grime while setting up your own space. You built a fire, though it took you a bit without your friend’s help, and set your pot beside the flames to get it warm. You might as well settle down for the night.

This was how you helped. You scrubbed these strange little robots clean, making it easier for Ratchet to do whatever he needed to do. You finished three, then Rodimus would find three more. The day was dragging on, and the sun was swinging low in the west. You threw some of your stale biscuits in the pot to warm.

The chill came with the night, but you didn’t want to retreat in the abandoned shack. The mold and dust inside was already starting to wreak havoc on your nose and eyes, and you weren’t about to start a fire in that unless you were aiming to destroy evidence. There were no more little robots left for you to clean up, so you sat at the fire, alone.

Lights flickered between the cracks of the shrouded building, and you peered. What was going on in there? What went on in there? What was the purpose of this place? Maru wasn’t aware of any other place than her family’s lab, so was this one old, or secret?

Starlet came slinking out, her nose turned up in the air to smell what you were cooking. You shared a few nibbles with her, scratching her ears.

“How old are you?” You asked, like she could answer. “Were you here when this place was working? How long had you known those little bots?”

She looked at you, sky eyes glinted by the firelight. Clueless and cute. She inched closer to attempt licking the minuscule crumbs from your mouth.

“It doesn’t matter,” You said under a sigh, scratching the thick fur on her chest. You repeated, “It doesn’t matter. Whatever happened, however you all got left alone, it doesn’t matter. You won’t be alone, ever again. Not you, not your friends, not anyone.”

She put a paw up on your arm. Your heart nearly popped and withered right there. You held out another morsel of your paltry dinner.

“Not even me.”

The dog let you hug her close as she swallowed the biscuit in one bite, and in turn, you let her pin down your arm to lick every molecule of food off your hand. You laid beside her, face buried into the fluff of her coat, your back against the fire. The air in this space was still, cradled with the soft pops of the fire and the steady breathing of the dog. Warmth lulled you into a sleepy haze, and with heavy lids, you inwardly doubted you could sleep like this.

Except you did. You must have, because Starlet stirred and got up, whining soft yips of excitement. You opened your eyes to a slate gray haze of morning, feeling cold and damp from the chilly morning dew. Your body would certainly protest from sleeping on the ground.

You sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from your gaze. Your vision cleared to see what the fuss was all about.

The dog was on her back as a few of these shapes rubbed her belly and warbled with her whines of glee. Your brain tried to piece it all together. These shapes were like Rodimus and Ratchet. Shapes of all kinds. Shapes that looked at you.

You scuttled back, blinking and gasping. A few of them blared and breeped in surprise. 

There was more of them, the little robots, and they were over twenty of them.

Chapter Text

This is what a mother duck must feel like.

It was the wee hours of the morn. The forest fogged over, carrying with it a headier scent of earth and green. It was the type of haze that gave you caution, like stepping into a quiet home that was not yours. You half-expected a beautiful stranger to step from the mists and offer you their ambrosia-like fruit. Fae or not, your stomach wouldn’t accept any food with how many knots it tied itself in.

No one would see you, you told yourself. Between the weather and the spring foliage, you had plenty of cover. You doubted anyone was up. Maybe Marnie, as she had the organic alarm clocks that were her chickens. Just to be safe, you led your gaggle of tiny robots closer to the west to avoid any possible run-ins.

Would they be called a gaggle? A herd? Pack? School? What would you call a group of twenty-three miniature, sentient, machines that could transform?

Yeah. That was a heart attack of its very own. Turned out, Ratchet wasn’t just fixing up his friends, but he was fixing up his friends. In so many words – gestures – they had parts inside them that needed fixing and tuned up. Evidently, Rodimus went this entire time with a locking gear – if your interpretation of the little frowny guy was correct. This abandoned laboratory had what he needed, and judging by the weight of your backpack, Ratchet still had a need.

Now, you had little robots flying around your head and driving between your feet. Joy.

You felt you were getting good at guessing what these bitty-bots were trying to convey. You could probably fall back on making a career out of judging interpretive dance if this farming thing didn’t pan out. But you weren’t good at guessing names.

Thankfully, one big one had the programming to write in a language you understood. Like one of those ‘Hello, My Name Is _____’ stickers, each bot had their name written on their chestplate in the thick grease Ratchet used to loosen their joints. Some of the bots had to be held down for this, be it because they didn’t want to get any dirtier or that they were just being unruly, it wasn’t much of a challenge for Ultra Magnus.

Your steps were driven by both urgency and anxiety as you traveled along the shore of the pond. Twenty-three mini-robots. What the hell were you going to do with twenty-three little mechs? One of them turned into a god-damn tank! He seemed nice, though. Quiet. Frowned a lot and a little wary – actually, most of them were wary of you.

You couldn’t find anything within the laboratory that could tell you what happened: why these little things were here, or if they were built or found and repaired, or if they were willingly kept in that shack, and what did the dog have to do with anything? There were no clues. Book pages crumbled under your fingers, papers decayed, equipment rusted and became condos for squatting critters – and let’s be honest, you didn’t know half the stuff you were looking at. 

Fuck it. Right now, you had plants to water and twenty-three homeless bots that needed a place to stay. Sure, solving mysteries was fun, but did you honestly have time for that, between repairing a dilapidated farm and trying to make a living?

You chose to give up on combing through that mystifying, secret laboratory and diverted half of your attention to combing through the foliage along the paths. You needed to recoup some expenses.

You spotted a horseradish nestled between some weeds and went for it like gold, kneeling and shoving your fingers down in the dirt. You heard the miniature mechanical shifting of several transformations as many came to curiously observe.

Rodimus clamored up your arm, using your shoulder as a platform to address your new audience. He chattered and warbled, vocalizing conversationally as if he was clarifying what you were doing.

“By the root, not the leaves,” You muttered, and he intonated similarly, almost mockingly like a moody pre-teen repeating your words.

You pulled the root up, holding it out for the inquisitive ones to see. A few of the bots ooo-ed. There were still so many that watched from the cover of the undergrowth. You didn’t expect to make friends right away, but damn, what was it that made them so skittish? Ratchet came strolling up, motioning a few more to gather round for this little lesson.

“This is a horseradish. You gotta dig down a bit to get a good grip, then wriggle it and pull because it’s a root plant. Like a carrot or parsnip,” You explained. The word parsnip had Rodimus babbling an explanation before you continued on. “But you don’t eat it like either of those. It’s spicy, and you can add it to other foods.”

A few brave ones came close enough and touched it. You squinted to see their names: Rewind, Perceptor, and Nightbeat. You smiled at them. “Cool, huh?”

You doubted a vegetable in the Brassicaceae family was cool to a sentient machine, but Rewind chirped positively at you and Nightbeat nodded in agreement, running his hands curiously over the leaves. Perceptor set a studious hand on his wee-chin, looking it over the same way you read seed packets. God, these things were cute! You gave them a few more moments before shoving it in your bag.

You continued to lead them around the pond. Starlet was doing her usual disappearing and reappearing act, seeming more concerned with finding her breakfast than playing with all these new friends. You had to scold her out of jumping into the water after a bot that turned into a boat. He got stuck in the mud trying to climb back to shore and you had to pull him out.

“Careful there...” You checked his chestpiece for a name. “...Riptide. This pond is filled with god-knows-what. With all the pop-cans in there, I would have a hard time finding you if you sunk.”

He tweedled a series of noises, nodding. You set him down and a few of his comrades came to check on him. You paused to watch the exchange. One of them – colored the same as Ratchet but not as tall – seemed to be gently cautioning him.

Before rising to your feet, you chanced a glance westward. Through the fog, you could make out the shape of the spooky tower Abigail warned you about. In the distance, you spotted movement. Someone was outside. They were far enough away, but you weren’t about to take any chances.

You hissed, “Keep low. Someone’s over there.”

It was like someone hit the wartime switch. They all went into covert mode, staying low in the grass, tumbling from shrub to shrub like soldiers skirting past enemy lines. You wanted to laugh. It was strangely adorable but disturbing at the same time. Was it common sense, or something learned?

You continued to lead the way, Starlet took to striding alongside you, whining the way huskies do and nosing your pockets and backpack. You skritched her ears and promised her breakfast as soon as you got home. Your stomach grumbled, too. You picked up the pace as you reached the path to your farm.

The fog thinned as you made it to the expanse of your property. You drew closer to your cabin and peered at a few dark shapes in your garden. Your heart sank. Crows.

“Hey!” You called out to these brazen birds, jogging their way. They didn’t even flinch as you scolded them like people. “Do you mind? I’m not growing them for you! Go on – get!””

Rodimus rallied out a battle cry that had you flinching. Overhead, a helicopter and a jet zipped by, enemy bound. Starlet joined – either to chase or get a snack, but she flushed the birds up and right into the aerial unit.

Your jaw dropped. The helicopter started firing from the guns you thought were for show. They had ammunition?! LIVE ROUNDS?! In a flurry of feathers, the crows shrieked and took off in one piece – thank god. As much as you hated the pests that cost you money, you didn’t want them to die.

You surveyed the damages. The birds had scratched up most of your cauliflower and potato seeds. Some parsnips were partially dug up, pecked to ruin. You knelt, letting out a long sigh. You had to look into a way to keep these things from your garden.

The little fliers transformed mid-air and landed, joining you in scanning the casualties. Many bots edged in, looking at both you and the battlefield. You tried your best to not let your frustration show as you started planting back the seeds you could. It’s alright. It’s not the end of the world.

Something patted your leg.

Rodimus stood beside you, peeping some message paired with a sympathetic smile. He stepped up to take a seed from your hand and planted it in the next spot. It made you smile. “Thank you.”

He waved others in, barking commands. Soon, your garden plot was filled with little mechs searching for the seeds that survived and replanted them. You looked to the fliers, noting their names written on different spots on their chestplates.

“Whirl, Cyclonus. Thank you for chasing them off, but they’ll be back. Can I rely on you to keep an eye out for any more? At least till I find a way to scare them off.”

Little purple Cyclonus drummed his fist on his chest in a salute while Whirl eagerly clicked his claws. You felt you could safely assume your garden was aptly guarded.  

You stood and clapped your hands at your new little helpers. They all turned their bright eyes to you as you announced, “Thank you all so much for helping. I’m going to make Starlet and I some food. Please, don’t be afraid to have a look about...” You were sounding more like a tour guide than a host. “Uh... try not to break anything. The cabin is old. Make yourselves at home.”

The noises that followed were not unlike a room of Atari gameplay and notification alerts.

“Rodimus?” You called. “Help me make a fire?”

The speedster came trotting up and you boosted him up on your shoulder. He almost seemed proud, looking down at the others and waving from this height, grinning widely. You ferried him the rest of the way to your cabin, finally shrugging off your backpack and leaving it on the porch. As you opened your cabin door, you noticed Ratchet and a few others were helping themselves to some of its contents. You left your door open, letting whoever come and go, unhindered, and tossed a few old, stale biscuits to tide Starlet over till you made her something more substantial.

A few that let themselves into your cabin observed you building a fire with Rodimus, then you began filling your pot with rice and water. You let the firestarter cut one of the parsnips that wouldn’t make it to market, and he made a show of it while addressing your curious audience of three. You noted their names, still greased on their plating.

“This is rice.” You held out a few grains for them to see. Tailgate was the first to approach, taking one in his little hands. Velocity and Nautica peeked in over his shoulder. You continued to explain. “I add it to boiling water, and it cooks it.”

You let Tailgate hold onto the little white grain as you dumped what was in your hand into the pot. “Rice is easy to buy in bulk and it’s cheap, so I eat it a lot. Sometimes I get fancy and buy a bag of flour. It all depends on how much money I have to spend.”

You held down your hands, palm up. They took the invite and stepped up, the two taller bots held onto each arm while you lifted the little white one, showing them the bubbling contents inside the pot. They cheeped softly to one another, conversing amongst themselves. You wondered if they had a sense of smell, and if they enjoyed the woody, aromatic scent of cooked parsnips.

Tailgate chucked his little grain of rice into the pot and you huffed out a giggle. He looked up at you, and even without a mouth, you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

You set everyone down and left the pot over the fire to move on to your next task. More tappy-taps of wee-feet followed while you fetched your watering can and went to fill it. Riptide was already exploring your hole-in-the-ground well. He sailed along the bank as you filled your water, and you reminded, “Be careful, now. There’s a lot of trash along the bottom. I wouldn’t want you getting tangled up in something.”

He toned back in an okay and continued to skim along. He just seemed happy to be a boat on the water.

You moved on to the garden, now patched up and replanted with those responsible scattering to look at all the new things this rough terrain had to offer. You began watering your cauliflower patch, finding a weed getting a little close. You pulled it up without remorse. Of the mini-mechs that observed you, one came forward to mimic you, yanking up a smaller weed and bringing it to you in an offering.

You smiled with a laugh. “Thank you, Drift, but these plants are bad plants. Well, they’re not bad, but they are weeds. Weeds like to choke out my plants.”

His little eyes sharpened as he turned to a cluster of weeds, peeping out a few notes. The Offender. He whipped out two sharp swords and made quick work of this newfound enemy.

You stood there, blinking. Swords. You had questions.

He looked up at you, smiling, waiting for your judgment. You smiled back with more teeth than needed. “Ah... that’s a neat trick. Where... why do you have those?”

Drift gave a few swipes and performed a fancy flourish or two, all the while vocalizing in all sorts of tones of what could have been some long, epic story of why he had swords and was incredibly proficient in using them.

You withered some, unable to understand. Still, you nodded politely. “I see. Well, thank you for using them to help me.”

He beamed for a moment at your praise, then turned to breedle at Cyclonus and Whirl. They joined him as he led the charge around the perimeter of your garden, waylaying this encroaching foe. This was going to save you so much time in the garden. Looks like having these new roommates wasn’t such a bad thing.

Pitched squealing called your attention, and you found your fuzzy roommate had pinned down a mini-mech, slobbering all over the poor fella. You snapped your fingers. “Star! No. Starlet, drop him!”

She responded with popping her rump in the air, her floofy tail sweeping from side to side like a Vegas feather dancer, and a mischievous look in her sky eyes that would give Loki pause. You took a step and she picked him up in her mouth. He lamented a whine.

You picked up a stick and threw it. Like a T-rex, she dashed for the movement, then realized she fell for such an awful trick and raced back for her catch. You beat her to the little red bot and scooped him up. Starlet circled you, urging you to put him down with her buurrs and berks.  

You wiped him down, noting his name as you smudged over it. “Aww, are you okay, Swerve?”

He grumbled out a miserable churr. You cleaned him up and went to set him down, but like a shark, Starlet honed in on her prey. You swept him back up and set him on your shoulder. “Looks like you might be stranded here until she finds something better to do.”

Swerve chattered back, settling in for the ride. He didn’t seem to mind so much, blabbing away as you watered your potato patch. You let him go on. He seemed to like talking. You didn’t mind, but you wished you could understand. Soon, Starlet wandered away and he crawled down your leg to look around your garden.

You jumped when you noticed what he was doing. “Swerve, don’t eat the dirt.”

He bleated at you, waving his hands frantically over the soil. You sighed, trying your best to guess what he was saying. “Yes, that is dirt. All of that is dirt.”

Swerve frowned at you. He repeated what he said, slower this time, as if that would help.

“Okay, fine. Enjoy the dirt.” You knelt down to give him a pat. He smiled for a moment, then beeped at you, fussing. You didn’t know what had him so worked up so you gave him another pat. “It’s okay. I’m moving on to the next job. You do what makes you happy.”

You left him, carrying your watering can back to the porch. Swerve drove on after you, seeming intent on talking to a few other bots at whatever he discovered from eating dirt. You let it go, sitting down on your steps to wash and bundle your foraged plants.

Several more of the mini-robots came to casually observe you. You voiced what you were doing, as you had many times before. You went over the process of foraging, picking, cleaning, tying up, writing down, and placing in the market bin for pick up. Once you were finished, you took a moment to just sit and absorb.

You watched the bots come and go, skitter and drive – or fly – around. You read the names written and smudged on their little bodies, trying to memorize each one. Every twenty-three names. It was a little overwhelming. You struggled to remember the names of the community you were part of. Maybe you could convince the townsfolk to wear nametags when you talked to them.

Then all that anxiety melted away as you spotted Starlet rolling on her back, letting one of the larger, nearly knee-height, mechs give her belly rubs. You smiled and called out, “She likes you, doesn’t she, Fortress Maximus?”

He was among those who didn’t seem charmed or enthused by you, but he acknowledged you and nodded all the same. You would expect such an attitude from someone with a name like that.

The longer you sat still, the closer some bots meandered. You squinted at their names, holding out your hand to a few. “Hello, First Aid. You seem nice. You have the same colors as Ratchet. Are you a little doctor, too? Yes? Very cool. Hi there, Rewind. Who are you holding hands with? Chromedome? Aww. Are you two friends? Ooh, you’re together, together? That’s cute. Hello, Wrung – no? Oh, the W isn’t supposed to be there? I’ll remember that if I ever have to write your name.”

You bean to enjoy all this new hustle and bustle, even when surrounded by a constant reminder of your struggling farm. Your porch and open cabin became a hotbed of activity as so many little feet tapped about, and mini-engines went burr as they drove by. Movement in your periphery caught your attention and you twisted in your seat to look behind you.

“Who’s climbing up the window? What’s that name say... Skids? Be careful, Skids. Don’t fall. Oh, hello little guy peeking around the doorframe. Red Alert? Hello. You come out when you feel comfortable, okay? Take your time. Hey! You! The one getting into the jar of oil. Don’t drink that! Yeah, you – I see you, Trailbreaker. That stuff’s not easy to come by.”

You stood, and some of the bots skittered out of your way like you were Godzilla looking to level the place. You noted a little blue flier-type trying to break into your tool chest. You stepped over to open it, nearly startling him. You gestured for him to help himself. “There you go, Brainstorm. Just some junk. Nothing special.”

You went inside to check on the rice, finding it ready, and swung it off the fire. The creaking of the metal was akin to a dinner bell and Starlet came tromping into your home. She stuck her head under your bed where it seemed many of the mechs were congregating.

You eyed the space curiously, kneeling to peek under as you set down her bowl to cool. You spotted Ratchet with Perceptor and Ultra Magnus fashioning together what looked like a little storage space for themselves. They paused to look at you. It was almost creepy, all the little lights peering back at you from the dimness of the underbase. You chose to leave it alone and returned to serving yourself a late breakfast.

You planted yourself at your table. The last remaining mech was sitting on his own, flipping through the pages of your ledger. He barely noted you. You leaned in some to read the name written on his chest.

“Anything interesting?”

He glanced your way, and for a moment you thought he would ignore you as he flipped through the pages. With a name like Megatron, you wouldn’t be shocked, but then his little red eyes met yours as he pointed to one of your entries. You angled your head to read the upside-down word to the best of your ability.

‘Library’, is what he pointed to.

“There’s a museum here that has a library. A library is filled with books of all kinds. Do... do you know what a book is?”

Megatron toned deeply with a patient nod, patting your ledger. You’d curb your unnecessary description of these mundane things in favor of trying to interpret his gestures. Megatron pointed again at the word ‘library’ and swept his hand towards your door.

“You want to...see the library?”

He nodded again and ran his hands over the words written on the pages.

“You want to read?” You asked, almost covering your mouth in disbelief when Megatron buzzed a positive note in response.

These were intelligent things – creatures? Constructs? Whatever the technical term for what they were, they weren’t just mindless machines. They each had personalities you witnessed, saw how they grouped together in and carried on like friends, and how they were built so differently from one another. They were like people, and some people craved knowledge and growth.

You took a deep breath in thought, turning your gaze out your open cabin door, watching your new mini-housemates.

Whirl tried to fly into your cabin, but attempted to go the way of your window, which was closed. Brainstorm dragged in a few pieces of junk from your tool-box, which Ultra Magnus was quick to put a stop to. Riptide was whining while First Aid was pulling algae off of him. Skids was trying to find a way inside your old television. Nightbeat was investigating some suspicious-looking holes in your baseboards. Ratchet sounded off his sirens to deter the dog from trying to play with him, but it only made Starlet howl along.

Chaos wouldn’t be the right word, but neither was order.

“Yeah. I think I could sneak you into the library. How hard could it be?”

Chapter Text

“Do you have any idea what this is?”

“...A spoon?”

The museum curator, Gunther, gave you a hard look from under the edge of his wide-brimmed cowboy hat. You gave an honest answer, but it was heavily seasoned with smartassery. The man did not like the flavor. “It’s an ancient spoon from those who inhabited the Valley before.”

“It’s something my dog dug up.”

“Your dog dug up an artifact.”

Starlet dug up a problem. You had what you believed was trash in the form of a rusty gear-cog of some sort, a petrified stick that looked gnawed on, a sharp stone that was in the shape of an arrowhead, some twisted metal that rained rust every time you touched it, and a broken jar – or an amphora, as you were so fancily corrected.

You kept all these weird things in your tool chest because that was a few steps closer than the trash can beside your market bin. That was your mistake, as Brainstorm fished them all out for whatever diabolical plan that brought on the euthanasia of your old television. The sun wasn’t even up when you violently woke to the sound of your T.V. broadcasting an announcer reporting the news in a different language, accompanied by a spark or three from the internal mechanisms.

Going back to sleep wasn’t an option, as your cabin now reeked of burning plastic. As you were getting a grudgingly early start to your morning, Mayor Lewis stopped by to pick up your market items and remove your trash, noticing these strange things you were throwing away. Instead of minding his own damn business and doing what your taxes pay for, he suggested you take these bits and bobs to the museum.

Why the hell not. That dusty old building on the far side of town doubled as the library you visited once since you’ve moved here. The library a few of your smaller roomies wanted to visit. So you made the trek with a backpack full of bots of varying dispositions.

Gunther was so enthralled with your collection, he didn’t even notice the mini-mechs clamoring out of your bag as you laid it by your feet. Other ones came crawling out of your pockets, and that was hard not to get the cringy-shivers from the sensation of little things spidering down your pants. You maintained a decent poker-face.

You were so good at it, that you didn’t realize you were just standing there in silence while the curator looked between you and your bounty.

“So... what’s your plan for all this?”

You didn’t quite have one. You were told to bring it here instead of throw it away. You shrugged. “Is it worth anything?”

Gunther made a face. “It is, actually. Collectors would be very interested in these.”

Money. You had no idea how much you needed to repair your cabin in its entirety, but you knew you needed a lot. You would be able to replace your now firework-prone television that’s one spark away from starting the biggest bonfire in the Valley. You nodded eagerly. “Sounds great. You’re a collector, right? Can I sell these to you?”

He looked down on the table, surveying your stuff again. “I am, but I don’t have the funds. The owner before me took the entire collection to open a gallery in the city.”

And your greed deflated. Shit. “That’s pretty awful.”

“Very. The only revenue I make is from the local taxes, but that’s stretched thin as it is, and used to maintain the books in the library. Who wants to visit and donate to a museum that has nothing to show?” Gunther shook his head. “In short, I cannot pay you for this. I can help you find a collector in the city, if you’re looking to make a profit. Or, since you’re now part of the community...”

He ventured carefully, but quickly trailed off the guilt-trip he was about to lay as you stared at him. He had no idea what you went through in the last months of moving here: struggling to learn everything from scratch, finding tiny robots that were both helpful and destructive, and maintaining a sense of normal off the farm to people who always tried to get you to hang out like you weren't having nightly meltdowns.

Money was the source of all your frustration.

A noise called Gunther’s attention from one of the bookshelves – like something fell. He grimaced, leaning over the counter to give a half-hearted look-see. “Hope the rats aren’t at it again.”

“Must be,” You were quick to confirm his suspicion to anything else but your tiny friends that ran freely through the library.

“I hope not. I didn’t have the heart to set out poisons. Especially since I don’t want any of the kids to get into it. The traps worked, but those rats are so smart. I had to buy the really good bait.”

Money was the source of everyone’s frustrations.

Your gaze drifted from him as you struggled with yourself, idly finding the signs posted for the library and museum. It was a standard list of not touching the artifacts on display, no damaging the books, keep to a quiet voice, only three books can be rented out for three weeks at a time, and no drawing on the tables – all the usual rules.

And it hit you.

“If you make me the exception and let me rent out as many books as I want, I’ll give these to you.”

You may as well have slapped that hat right off Gunther. “You serious? Books?”

If he got a little personal with his tales of woe, so would you. “My TV broke this morning. I don’t know how to fix it, let alone have the money to replace it. All my money goes to replacing the seeds the crows dig up. I could sell this, but how soon will I burn through those funds? The solutions I have aren’t working, so I need to find a different way. I need to learn, and to learn, I need books. Lots of books.”

You left out that your roommates will be the ones reading all your books.

“You’ll find what you’re looking for in aisle five-G: Instructional Lit.” A big smile split from under his moustache. “Thank you. Please, enjoy the library, and take out as much as you can carry.”

The deal was struck. He collected what you brought and you made your way into the maze of bookshelves. The main area had a few people: a woman and some children who were distracted with their lessons. You relied on the little robots to remain completely stealthy.

Something cheeped above you. Your keen eyes scanned about, finding Rewind peeking out from the top shelf. You pulled over a step-stool and got up on his level, whispering, “You find something?”

The mini-mini-bot pointed to a pretty chunky book. You tilted your head to the side and muttered the title, “‘The complete compendium of local fauna, flora, and wildlife’. Huh. I guess that would be helpful.” You took the book from its shelf and tucked it under your arm. “Keep looking if you want more. I can take as many as I can carry.”

Rewind nodded and skittered back behind the books, off to search for more.

You continued to mosey down the aisles, also searching for books here and there. It was a little overwhelming to think of what all you needed to know, and where to begin when it came to teaching yourself. The next mech to come along and grab your attention was Megatron. He appeared at your feet, toning low. You followed him to what he wanted, kneeling to pull out the book.

“Ohh,” You breathed out. Thank god someone is thinking of a solution to one of your issues. On the cover was a scarecrow. “‘Basic Builds for the Frugal Farmer: Volume One’. This will come in handy.”

When you turned to thank him, Megatron was already gone. What was up with that guy? You huffed out a long sigh before getting up and returning to your meandering. You found Nautica and her desire to have a book on technology and general engineering work; Perceptor wanted to have some thick science texts that shouldn’t even be here; and between Megatron and Rewind grabbing all kinds of books on farming and finances, your arms were getting full.

You had yet to see First Aid.

You had told the others you couldn’t carry any more, but you sought out the little medi-bot to give him the last spot on the stack. He didn’t seem to be in the non-fiction aisles, so you expanded your search. In one aisle, you were met with an eager chitter and found him up on the top shelf.

“Hey,” you said with a smile. “I was looking for you. We’re about done, but I never got a book from you. I can only carry one more.”

First Aid droned out a droopy hum of disappointment.

“Hey, don’t give me that. I only have two arms. Now, do you have something, or not?”

He tapped his little feet as he ran along the shelf, and you let yourself be led deep in this labyrinth of not-informational reading. You squinted at the small novella he pointed to, pulling it halfway from between two equally strangely titled books.

You read out loud as the title came into the light: ‘Cream of the Crop’.

Heat washed over your face. This was a farming book alright, if the scantily clad cowboy nuzzling up to the fair milkmaid on the cover was anything to judge by.

“Ah, a fan of romantic literature.”

You gasped in a scream, dropped all your books, and staggered back from the novel that would have labeled you a farming enthusiast of a different kind.

The brunette man fretted, looking at you with utmost apologetic humiliation. “I am so very sorry for startling you.”

You stood there for a moment, searching the shelves for the second reason for freaking out. First Aid was gone, vanished within the many caverns made by leaning books. You fell to your knees and started picking everything back up. “It... It’s okay. I’m sorry for almost screaming in your face.”

He knelt with you and assisted. “It doesn’t help that I’m very quiet. Are you alright, truly?”

You looked up at his face, taking in his long hair and dark eyes. Have you met him? Wasn’t he the guy who lived on the beach? You nodded while going over all the names you could remember.

“I’m relieved. I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself. My name is Elliott. I’ve seen you about and heard there was a new farmer who bought the property in the west.”

You spotted movement above him. First Aid was trying to wriggle the book out of its place. He really wanted that novella. You blurted, “Yep. I’m the new farmer. That’s right. And you live on the beach. You a fisherman?”

“Writer,” He corrected with a chuckle. 

“Oh...cool. That’s cool.” You glanced nervously as the romance novel toppled out and behind him. First Aid ducked out of the way as Elliott went to turn, and you barked obnoxiously loud, “Books? You write books?”

He blinked at you. “You mean, have I published anything?”

“...Yes. That’s exactly what I meant.”

He seemed a little sheepish in his response. “Not yet. I’m here to chase a dream. However, it escapes me. I left everything behind in hopes to find inspiration in the Valley. Someday, I will find it.”

You scooted around him to quickly collect First Aid’s scandalous request, slipping it into your pile that was in no means subtle. Elliott caught on and smiled at you, and you babbled to cover up this embarrassment you couldn’t shake.

“I hope you do. I know what it’s like, leaving everything you knew for something else.”

 “Do I find myself before a kindred spirit?”

Your brows went askew. “Excuse me?”

He laughed shyly. “Apologies. What I mean is, it’s good to meet someone who understands. Did you also move out here for the quiet?”

“The farm’s not really that quiet, anymore.”

“Ah yes, the joys of spring and all that it brings.”

Your home was filled with the sounds of mini-robots and a dog singing to the tune of chaos, but sure, you’ll call it Spring. You announced out loud, “Well, I better get going. I think I have all the books I can carry. Time to go.”

“Let me help you.” Elliott halved your load and started his way through the aisle. “I have a question for you, anyways. I find myself in need for a stranger’s input.”

Hesitantly, you followed behind him, checking up on the shelves for any movement. You caught First Aid peeking from between the books, then moving ahead, then peeking again, seeming giddy to watch you interact with another.

Elliott continued without your go-ahead. “Seeing that you are an avid reader, perchance you could offer an opinion on what I’m struggling to write about. What do you find yourself drawn to?  Adventure, Horror, Mystery, Romance?”

“Are... are you basing what you do from what I say?” You blinked. “That’s a pretty serious decision to just be asking someone you’ve just met.”

“I know, but I’ve been getting desperate. Writer’s block.” He said. “I’ve asked around, but it’s all the same. You’re new. Unbiased. And a fan of romance novels, it seems.”

You faked a smile. First Aid was a menace.

Movement caught your eye as another book was shoved from the shelves and landed right on the man’s head. He let out a dainty cry, wincing with the torment of having to hold your books over nursing his injury. The book landed at his feet, cover bare for all to witness.

It was another fucking romance novel: His Dark Inspiration. The cover was a lady dressed in what could have been a god damn curtain, and there was some dude behind his typewriter and damn it, First Aid! What the hell was that medibot trying to pull? If he’s trying to play matchmaker, then he’s going straight under the crate with Brainstorm.

You promptly kicked the book aside. “So weird!” You tried to cover it up with misplaced enthusiasm. “That fell right from the shelf.”

“Strange things live here in the Valley. I wouldn’t be surprised if a spirit or two lurked among these halls.” He searched about once his eyes stopped watering. “Where did the book go?”

And that was your cue. “I should really get going. If you’d just...” You set your stack of books on top of his, then hoisted it all up from his arms. “...yep, like that. Thank you very much. Nice meeting you, and good luck. Buh-bye.”

 You left him confused and speechless, torn between figuring out where that felonious book had been punted off to, to processing how fast you toddered to the front desk without dropping a single thing.

You set the books down with an unapologetic thud, and Gunther tipped up his hat to take in this tower of knowledge you had built. “All this?”

“For now,” you said in breathless humor. “Yep! All those. I’m going to take all those books home – because it’s time to go home.”

The curator blinked at your declarative statement. “Okay... just a moment, and you can be on your merry way...home.”

Gunther pulled out his ledger and started cataloging the rented books. You subtly set down your bag, trying your best not to look down and count the mini-bots that skittered across the floor and along the baseboards. They dove into your bag like soldiers into foxholes. You heard soft beeps and whirrs of protest as they all tried to fit in one space. You coughed and patted the desk to try and cover up the noise.

“Getting impatient?” Gunther didn’t look up at you.

“A little. Just hungry.” It wasn’t a complete lie.  

You felt Rewind climb up your pant leg and slip into one pocket. First Aid sought to claim the other, being the last to arrive. You definitely risked a scolding glance his way as he was up to your knee. He tilted his head at you – not in a way that was sheepish, oh no. He was unapologetic. It was more of a challenging ‘what?’ tilt. Cheeky bastard.

You heard a gasp. Your blood went cold.

There was a little redhead boy standing across the way, having just walked in the lobby from the library. You grabbed at First Aid, who reached for you in equal measure of panic, but it was too late. The child’s eyes were wide, mouth gaped in wonder.

You shoved the mech in your pocket and your hand lingered over it protectively. That’s all you needed, a kid squalling about how he wanted cool toys that moved on their own...

But who would believe him? You smiled and brought your finger to your lips, shaping them in the universal shh. He just blinked, not sure what to do.

“All set.” Gunther pushed your books towards you, slapping something extra on top of your stack. “And here. Seeds for a new farmer. You bring me more of whatever you find on your land, and I’ll scare up something of interest for you.”

You got yourself a bonafide partnership. Congratulations! You grunted as you picked up your stack of books. “Sounds perfect. Thanks!”

You hurried out, managing to get the door open and slipping outside. The spring air was warm with sunlight, but crisp with a breeze. You took a deep breath and began the long journey home, traveling down the road on the outskirts of town. Thankfully, people had something to do in the middle of the weekday and there was no one around to slow you down with friendly chit-chat.

You shifted the books in your hold, letting out a displeased sigh. You tried to distract yourself from the ache in your arms by taking in the babbling of the river you walked along, and squinting to see the farm fields beyond. When you made it past the cobblestone road and onto dirt, you eagerly veered to the side where you knew a fence would turn up. You rested your stack of books on the wooden posts, taking a breather and watching Marnie’s cows.

You felt movement in your backpack and pockets as the mini-bots stirred. One by one, they crawled out to watch the cows chew and chew with nary a thought between those beautiful brown eyes.

First Aid bewooed at them, and one mooed back. Your little friends chattered excitedly – save for Megatron, of course. He remained a quiet spectator for a moment before busying himself with reading your cauliflower seed packet. They all took turns warbling at the cows, so adorably elated when the animals would respond.

Break time was over. The few who could lighten your load drove alongside your feet while the others sat on your shoulders, breedling sounds of encouragement whenever you would huff or groan, because carrying a load of books both in your arms and on your back sucked. They patted you and cheered when your cabin – still in one piece – came into view.

You dropped the books on your porch, and it was like the reverse of turning on the lights and watching roaches scatter. From all different hiding places, your mini-roomies came out and warbled at you and everyone else. You plopped down on the porch, rubbing your arms and watching everyone interact with one another.

Nautica and Perceptor must have regaled Skids and Nightbeat with one hell of a wondrous tale, because now both of them bleated at you and tugged at your clothes, pointing in the direction you came.

Chromedome helped Rewind pull aside his giant book of everything that ever lived ever, and opened it for the little bot to eagerly read. It was pretty adorable how the taller mech held Rewind’s hand as the little guy toned at him conversationally.

Ratchet just stared at the book First Aid picked.

From inside, you heard a baleful whine. You rose to your feet and opened your cabin, expecting to find the dog, but she wasn’t inside. You turned around, scanning the field. There, along with Rodimus, Drift, and Cyclonus taking care of the weeds, Starlet was sitting sentry in your garden with Whirl atop her head. Her eyes were skyward as she was honed in on the treetops. You peered, finding black forms among the branches.

You smirked to yourself. You had a feeling crows wouldn’t be much of a problem, now that you had some help around the farm, but the feeling of accomplishment was short lived. You couldn’t rely on them to act the scarecrow all the time.

The on-death’s-door whimper came again, and you turned back to the interior of your single-room cabin. There, in the corner away from everything, was the makeshift brig Ultra Magnus appropriated: a crate with a rock on top.

Within, Brainstorm tweedled for mercy. His little fingers wrapped around the slits of his jail.

You stepped up and knelt down to his level. “You know why you’re in there, right?”

He inotated a mournful ‘uh-huh’.

“No more mad experiments with my stuff.”

He warbled out a lamenting cry, as if you’d wounded him.

“Don’t you even! You broke my TV. How am I supposed to know the weather, now?”

Brainstorm pointed out the window from between his wooden bars. You warned, “I swear, if you’re telling me to look outside –"

Something was patting your side and beeping, cutting you off. It was Nautica. She smiled at you with that sweet, lovely smile, directing your attention behind her. Nightbeat, Perceptor, and Skids were dragging in one of her electrician texts. She warbled at you persuasively, gesturing to Brainstorm, then to your television. The jet scientist nodded along.

Aww. She was being such a good friend.

“You fix what you broke,” You said to Brainstorm, compromising, “and if you want to work on something else, ask first.”

He nodded, giving the saddest tone of ‘okay’.

You lifted the rock and picked up the crate. Almost immediately, he skittered to Nautica. She took his hand and together they tippy-tapped to the group and they started going through the book.

You slumped back against the wall, watching the bots work together to bring in your books, looking too similarly to ants carrying slabs of bread five times their size. No one helped Megatron as he balanced that massive builder’s text up over his head. You pushed yourself to your feet and lifted it off of him. He droned in both a growl and grunt, as you surprised him. You sat at the table with the book laid out, holding out your hand to him.

“Can I look at this with you?”

Awkwardly, he gripped onto your wrist as you wrapped your fingers around his boxy body. He was still pretty hefty, but you lifted him like a boss and brought him to the table.

You spent the rest of your night looking through the book and taking notes searching for what should you try and build first.

A scarecrow seemed a good first choice for a group project.

Chapter Text

“Ah damn-it!” Was the beginning of your string of curses.

Tailgate’s panicked shriek pierced the air, making you cringe for more than one reason. Cyclonus was first, but everyone came speeding up as the little marshmallow mech babbled and fretted.

You held your bleeding finger with a frustrated growl. You were angry at how careless you were, and then you were mildly alarmed because that dull scythe was a bit rusty. You tried to sharpen the blade with a stone, per the instructions on how to care for your tools, but those instructions must have assumed you would give the task one-hundred percent of your attention. Which you didn’t.

What did have your attention was the wild squeals of your robot roomies trying to coexist with their dog-friend. Starlet was rolling in the piles of grass and weeds that were collected and effectively uncollected by scattering their hard work.

“I’m fine.” You stood and went for your cabin, carefully stepping around the few that had gathered. “I’m going to take care of this. Keep cutting weeds – we need a lot.”

As you stepped, a few bots latched onto your pant legs like kittens, climbing up and breedling their concern at you. Swerve was the loudest. Trailbreaker was the heaviest.

On your porch, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Fortress Maximus had already collected a few sturdy branches. They watched you curiously, at first, till Magnus saw your bleeding finger and bellowed out a few tones.

As you entered the cabin, the medic team was already rushing towards you with their little sirens on.

“Christ alive, I’m fine! Stop freaking out,” You repeated, coming up to your kitchen sink and turning on the water. You let it run a bit. The water was a murky, rust-color from the old pipes, and the black sediment was due to your lack of filtration. You waited with a frown. Just another thing to fix. Once the water cleared, you held your finger under the stream.

You ignored the bleating babble of everyone, feeling even more bots climb up your pant-legs. Ratchet hauled himself up. Rung climbed up to your shoulder, vying for space beside Swerve. The spindly little mech crooned soothing tones, patting the side of your cheek.

“You guys are acting like I’m going to bleed out.” You pulled your finger away to inspect how deep the cut was. Ratchet’s insistent warbles bade you to show him. He barked out some orders, and you found First Aid and Velocity dragging out your first aid kit from one of the cabinets under the counter.

You went to pull your hand away, but Ratchet wasn’t about to let go. You raised a brow at him, thinking “Really?” Ratchet didn’t have the strength to keep you in place. Grumbling out a resigned sigh, you scooped him up – to which Ratchet churred out an offended sound – bent down to retrieve your kit which was also attached to a few bots, and retreated to the table.

You sat down, holding out your hand, answering the question how many bitty-bots does it take to treat a cut and put on a bandaid. So far, it took Ratchet, First Aid, and Velocity to administer treatment; Rung to try and keep you calm; Swerve to chatter in your ear; Trailbreaker to start sampling the iodine and rubbing alcohol; Ultra Magnus to stand at the door to keep the spectators at bay, who were so worried and praying for your swift recovery.

You let your head hit the table. You, a conquered giant, let out a long sigh.

Ratchet tapped your hand when the team was finished. Your finger looked properly bandaged with sterile white gauze and medical tape. You would have settled for a neon paw-printed bandaid. Ratchet warbled out a few instructions you had interpreted as probably a follow-up appointment, and his two fellow medical bots nodded along.

“Thank you so much for saving my life,” You said, gesturing to yourself like the patron saint of sarcasm. “I would have died from such a wound.”

You heard the gasps from many and my god they believed you.

Except one. Ratchet pointed his little finger at you and scolded sharply. You felt bad and ashamed, making a personal note to not make that a habit. You held up your hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

The medic waved you off before turning to his coworkers. Now that you were free, you assured Rung you were absolutely fine and not traumatized by the incident, encouraged a still blabbering Swerve to disembark from your shoulder, and plucked the bottle of rubbing alcohol from Trailbreaker.

You weaved your way around the scattering mini-mechs clustering at your doorway, and returned outside. On the porch, Megatron and Rodimus were standing by one of the many books rented from the library, and you crossed the way to sit beside them. You leaned over, refreshing yourself on the diagram on how to build a scarecrow.

Rodimus paused his conversation with Megatron to turn his attention on you. He patted your leg, looking up at you with a questioning beep. You responded by holding up your bandaged finger.

“Just a little cut. I think I’ll live.”

Rodimus smiled at your joke, nodding with a chirp.

“I’m ready to get back to work. How are we doing?”

Rodimus gave a few vague points. The mounds of grass and weeds were piling up nicely, thanks to Drift and Cyclonus. Nautica and Nightbeat found some old and moldy clothes from somewhere. Chromedome and Skids seemed to be struggling with collecting branches, even though Fortress Maximus and Red Alert were assisting.

You glanced over the book, again. You asked out loud, “How many more sticks do we need?”

Megatron was the one to answer by holding up one finger, not even sparing a glance your way as he was reading.

Starlet came trotting up from around the house. Her determination to turn all the white parts of her grass-green had paid off, and now she had her sights set on a different task. She ignored all the protesting bots and picked up a stick from the pile. Skids jumped in his attempt to wrest it from her, but he couldn’t match the strength of a boofy Husky. Skids hung on, squealing all the way as he was taken along for the ride. Starlet trotted back from where she came.

Megatron held up two fingers.

You pushed yourself to your feet and inspected the branches. They must have been collected from the ground because they were spongy, muddy, and flimsy. You huffed out your frustration. “I don’t think these will hold for very long.”

Megatron agreed by shaking his head.

Rodimus disagreed by giving a shrug-nod and a ‘it might’ warble.

You took a moment to survey the pile of sticks, again. Many of them wouldn’t be strong enough to hold up to their own weight, let alone hold up a bag of grass. Not only that, the dog was chewing on them faster than the mini-mechs could find.

You stepped back over to the book, looking over the finished picture with a bit of resentment. This better not have been the ancient form of clickbait, where if you follow these five easy steps, you could have the bestest scarecrow in town. You turned your attention back to your scraggily farm. There were a few trees that could be used...

“Would you say that tree there would give us what we need?”

Megatron toned deep, but no answer was given. Instead, he turned towards your open cabin and called out. Perceptor and Rewind came out from your cabin to join Rodimus and Megatron, and you watched these little bots hold a meeting. Your gaze rolled skyward, asking yourself why you were stopping yourself from cutting down a tree, but the answer would come from your tiniest little roomie.

Rewind motioned you to follow. Tiptoeing carefully around the group, you followed him and the others to a corner of your cabin where most of the library books were scattered about. Perceptor helped him turn a few pages, and Rewind directed your attention to the interior of his book about everything that ever lived ever. You knelt, looking over the page on a tree.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m going to cut down. A tree.”

Rewind tapped at the name of the tree. You corrected yourself with sharp sigh, “Yeah. A pine tree. So? A tree is a tree.”

Perceptor chirped at you disapprovingly. He pointed to a line of text describing the sappy pitch pine trees were known for. Besides making a major mess, you wouldn’t mind using pine branches to make the scarecrow. It was going outside, anyways.

Then, the bots worked together to turn the pages to the mighty oak tree. Rewind pointed to the gob of writing that lauded oak wood for being sturdy, long lasting, and ideal for furniture. Oh. So if you use oak wood, it’ll take much longer to decay than pine.

You smiled at your smart little roomies. “I get it now. We cut down an oak, then.”

Perceptor and Rewind nodded with you. Megatron hummed approvingly. Rodimus agreed like it was his idea all along.

You grabbed your dull and rusty axe on the way out, ready to experience what it felt like to be a lumber-Jo. Rodimus belted out a call that had you jump, and next thing you knew, little vehicles were driving out from different places – some even giving others rides – and they were all following to watch you do your thing.

You were never going to get used to this.

With your spectators in tow, you found a young oak tree. Its trunk was the smallest in your farm-forest, so it should be easy to chop right through. You set your hand on the rough bark because... You don’t know, it just felt like the thing to do before hacking it down.

Rodimus got the crowd cheering, and all your little roommates let out dial-up-fax-machine encouragements.

Maybe you could get used to this.

You rooted your stance, twisted at the waist to wind up the swing, flexed your grip on your splintery axe handle, and your arms charged up with that courage your new friends were pushing into you. You gave it your all, swinging with the power to just slice the tree in half, anime style.

THUNK.

The axe blade stuck in by only half an inch.

The force of it, though, jarred you. Wrists, shoulder, back, and even your cut – it all screamed because the laws of physics deemed to punish your improper form.

“Fuck!” You cursed, both from the pain and from such disappointing results. You left your axe in the tree to press against your lower back. You were definitely going to feel that, later.

A few of the mini-mechs gasped. You turned to see Cyclonus covering the sides of Tailgate’s head. Many others edged closer to see how you were, more sympathetic than the ones reeling from your expletive. Whirl bleeped out a sharp note, and Rodimus laughed. Both cowed at Ultra Magnus’ gaze of disapproval. Ratchet and Megatron came up to you as you sunk to your knees.

The medibot’s small hands touched over your wrists and arms, crooning like a doctor to their patient ‘it’s alright, it’s alright.’ You were not seriously injured, but your pride certainly took a hit.

“Oak, huh?” You threw a surly glance over at Rewind. Rung came up to offer some kind and soothing purls. You sighed. “Should have figured it’ll be tough to cut down, too.”

You jolted at the rapid-fire tat-tat-tat and looked up to see Whirl hovering about, taking shots at the tree. It did absolutely nothing but make you smile. You worked your wrists and shoulder some before getting back to your feet. You yanked the axe out of the tree and searched upwards. “Maybe I’ll just go for the branches.”

You started searching the woods, and your little helpers were quick to find some low limbs for you to chop off. Soon, you had a worthy collection and a pair of sore arms. You lugged it all back to the porch and flopped down to sit on the steps. You stole a few moments to rest as Swerve and Tailgate came dragging the old clothes to you.

Now that you sat down, you didn’t want to get back up. Aches twisted into you insistently. With a grunt, you pushed yourself to sit up, murmuring your thanks to the two. Slowly, you started stuffing the old button-down shirt. Mini-mechs banded together to start bringing you what you needed, skittering back and forth and dropping little clumps of weeds and grass from the pile they amassed.

When the shirt was half full, you worked in the sturdy branches crossways, then searched for a way to bind them together. Riptide provided fishing line he found, presumably from your shallow well. You proceeded to stuff up the body and tied the open ends closed. Next, the head.

You just stuffed an old sack of grass and stuck it on the end of the stick.

“Done.” You went to pick it up, and heard Rodimus chirping at you. When you turned, you found he was covered in soot. He held out two pieces of charcoal. You glanced at your half-assed creation, then back at him. “I don’t think the crows will care if it has eyes or not.”

Rodimus breedled adamantly, pointing back at the book on the porch. You found a droning of agreement as many others sided with their leader. It had to look like the picture or it won’t work.

“Fine,” You grumbled. You took the pieces from him and worked the burlap fibers wider to fit in the chunks of charcoal. Your fingers were stained black, as was your bandage. You’ll replace it with the paw-print bandaid, later.

You dragged the scarecrow to the middle of your three plots and drove it into the soil. Cyclonus and Whirl came hovering in. A scrungily hat, that you were sure they found somewhere on the property, was suspended between them. They dropped it on top of the scarecrow’s head.

Well, you’ve got yourself a bonafide scarecrow. It wasn’t pretty, but it should do the job.

Your friends gave a cheer. Some congratulated each other. Rodimus started up with a speech of praise. Nautica came running up, gesturing back at Skids who held up the seed packet Gunther gifted you.

You smiled warmly. “Yeah, let’s plant them.”

You settled down on your knees in the newly tilled soil. Mini-bots gathered around you to take a seed and plant them in the presence of the very first project you’ve accomplished, together.

Chapter Text

You plopped down on the steps of your porch, already out of breath.

You should not be this exhausted after watering three plots of crops. You tried to ignore your grumbling stomach as it told you why you felt this way. You had eaten this morning, and it was like you already burned through it all. You fought with yourself to eat the rest of the rice you were saving for lunch and dinner. Usually, a whole pot would last you through the day, even with feeding Starlet.

You had been having more and more difficulty getting up early in the morning. It was nice to wake to a fire already crackling in your hearth, but when you slept in, your cute little roomies tried to make you the only thing you had for breakfast. Rice. Remnants of their well-intentioned attempts scattered the floor, and served as a reminder of your declining habits.

Even with all twenty-three helpers, you felt like you’ve been working so much harder than before, and your body was suffering. There was a point where you worried that one of the mini-mechs poisoned you with a daffodil in your rice in an attempt to jazz it up. They didn’t. You were just looking for excuses when the reason was punching you in the gut.

You closed your eyes, riding out a wave of dizziness. All you could think of was stuffing your mouth, but you couldn’t afford to eat more. You had to make money to get this farm up and working. You had to go forage, go tend the crops, go clear the land, you had to go, go, go!

And you had gone till you reached the point of not going anywhere at all. Your roommates were taking on more of your tasks, and you felt more guilt than gratitude. You had fallen into a rut of doing the bare minimum, and your income was feeling it. You chose to sell your crops more often than eating them.

And one of those bots gave you so much shit for it.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to recognize the buzz of disappointment. First Aid made it his job to scold you.

You sighed out, “I’m fine. Just resting.”

Something pelted your arm, and you opened your eyes to see that the little jerk threw a pebble at you. First Aid beeped sharply, pointing at a digital display on his chest. You squinted, then rolled your eyes. For how often he showed you the nutritional information on white rice, you practically had it memorized by now.

“I added an onion to it, this morning.”

The estimated daily-intake of your macronutrients didn’t jump very much as he adjusted the numbers. He planted his fists on his hips, head tilted in that ‘really?’ kind of posture.

“Listen, I can’t really afford to hit the store and get a slab of steak. I can’t even afford a sack of beans. Rice is cheap and it’s all I got.” You noticed you were getting a little ramped up, and you took a breath to calm down. It was the hunger pangs that put you in a sour mood. You added on in a calmer tone, “When I get more money, I’ll feed myself properly, but until then, its rice. Rice and whatever I can’t sell to market.”

You expected First Aid to disagree. You expected those chittering noises of arguing, and maybe another pebble thrown at you while he stayed out of arms reach. Instead you jumped some, feeling his little robot hand pat your arms. He hummed with sympathy, toning softly and nodding. It made something in your chest tighten.

You let out another long sigh and looked out towards your farm. It hurt to watch everyone else work without your help. Drift and Rodimus waylaid weeds, keeping score in their very own game. Whirl and Cyclonus stalked through the crops, searching for harmful pests. Megatron moved smaller stones on his own, creating a barrier around the garden beds. Starlet was hunting moles with Fortress Maximus and Red Alert. Swerve and Perceptor seemed really fixated on your soil.

They couldn’t handle the big jobs, but right now, you couldn’t even handle the little ones.

“I know I’m being unhealthy, but it’s just for now. Once I start making more money, I’ll take better care of myself, I promise.”

First Aid didn’t seem happy, as his sympathetic pats turned into patronizing ones. Even you didn’t believe your promise.

A thud behind you had you twisting to look over your shoulder. Ultra Magnus had balanced and carried that massive book of everything that ever lived ever and let it drop on the deck. Chromedome carried the science text that had no business being in your cabin, and Rewind was warbling encouragement at his super strong spouse. Coming up behind everyone, poor spindly Rung was wobbling back and forth, balancing that naughty book First Aid thought was informative reading material – you assumed.

You got up enough to reach over and help Rung, tossing the book on the pile as soon as you touched it. You’d have to wipe your fingerprints from it, later. You sat back down on the dusty floor of your deck. “What’s up? Why are you bringing me these?”

Ultra Magnus pointed at the stack, then out towards the path exiting your farm.

You held up your hands, not even wanting to glance at the salacious novel. “I refuse to be seen carrying that.”

He warbled at you, wagging his finger as he directed your attention back to the path leading out of your farm and into town. He was insistent that you returned these promptly. Post-haste!

You rubbed your face with a groan, then looked to Rewind. “Are you sure you’re done with your book? What if we need it to reference something?”

The wee-little bot pointed to his helm. A red light flickered. Chromedome warbled at you, probably explaining something groundbreakingly impressive. You just had to assume that Rewind read it all and now has it memorized because robot brain.

“Didn’t Perceptor get that other book? We sure he wants to return it or... he probably also memorized it – yeah, of course he did,” You said as they all started nodding. You continued to desperately search for a reason not to return anything to the library, if only to buy yourself some time to avoid an embarrassing encounter. “Maybe next time I go foraging out in that area. I have no other reason to head near that direction, today.”

Ultra Magnus, that organized monster, opened up the massive book cover and pulled out the opened envelope he had stored. He held it out to you. He must have fetched and read your mail this morning while you were sleeping in. You weren’t mad, but you were a little irritated that he thought this would knock down your strongest argument.

You flipped open the letter, reading:

Hello there,
Just got back from a fishing trip and heard someone got the old overgrown farm. You should come down to the beach some time, and get to know the town’s fish shop.
-Willy

You blinked a few times. You didn’t know who this guy was and you hadn’t really explored the beach. You knew the bridge that led to it, but you would pass it while heading to the library. You didn’t know the Valley had a store on the beach.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. Maybe they sold some cheap stuff you could use, or maybe you could find out what they liked buying, and find an extra source of income. You ignored the mental exhaustion that came with that last thought.

“Fine,” You conceded. “I’ll return these books and swing by the beach. It’d be rude to ignore the invitation, I guess.”

Rung beeped encouragingly, pausing to listen to First Aid lean in and warble quietly. Rung had a face of concern, stepping forward and gesturing to you, trilling softly like he was gently explaining something. You peered at First Aid. What the hell did he tell him?

You didn’t quite feel like dealing with this, right now. Honestly, your hunger was making you impatient. You chose to ignore whatever Rung was trying to tell you and got up. You gathered your pack and collected the books, stuffing them in. “Alright. I’ll be back. You guys –"

You paused as Rung came up to your leg, tugging on your pants like a little kid asking for uppies. First Aid didn’t even get permission as he started scaling up. Ultra Magnus warbled deeply, gesturing to himself as he stepped up and pointed to your pack.

They wanted to go with you.

You let out a long sigh, realizing this was going to be an outing.

You knelt back down. “Alright, Mags. You want to pick out a book or something? Yeah? Okay, that’s fair. You too, Rung? First Aid, you get one more chance. Don’t pick out books that have a mature rating on it, okay?”

As you brought your backpack down, you eyeballed the space inside versus the larger mini-mech. He would take up so much real estate, and you knew you couldn’t take as many bots as you had, before. Honestly, you didn’t want to carry as many as you had, before.

You were in the middle of mentally planning what you’d yell to everyone, and the disappointment that would follow that you weren’t taking any more passengers, when a pitiful warble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Riptide crawling out into the path, whining as he was tangled in garbage. First Aid and Rung trilled in tandem in your ears.

You dropped your pack, and Ultra Magnus stumbled in mid-climb. You ignored his grunt-beep scolding, already jumping off the porch and skipping the steps completely. As fast as you could, you were on your knees, hands holding him up to get a better look. Rung and First Aid, who had somehow managed to hang on during that jarring ride, climbed down your arms to assist you untangling their friend.

“Were you in the well, again? I told you to be careful. There’s so much junk at the bottom.” You studied the problem, grinding your teeth at the plastic pop-can rings that looped around him and wedged in his gears. There was what looked like old metal mesh that entangled every limb of this poor guy. “Who the hell treats a well like a goddamn trashcan?”

Riptide toned sadly at you, and you took his little hand between your thumb and index. “I’m not mad at you. Just please don’t play in the well.”

The little boat-bot chirped at you, looking between you and First Aid, shaking his head. You begun untangling the mesh and ripping open the plastic rings, all the while guessing what Riptide was trying to say. “Not the well? Okay, you were in the well, but not playing? What were you doing in there, then? Did you need water? No. Did you need – you were trying to clean it out?”

You smiled sadly, pulling off the last of the mesh that wrapped around this sweet little guy. “That’s a very nice thing to do. I hope from now on, you have someone help, or maybe wait till we can all help.”

Riptide nodded, looking a little glum. You didn’t see him assisting with the garden, often. With Nautica’s help, they were able to fill the watering can, but the little submarine-bot was afraid of getting tangled and didn’t venture deep in the well. Riptide was just looking to do his part on your struggling farm.

“I’m going to the beach after the library. Want to come?”

He lit up and nodded. You fetched your bag and squeezed Riptide beside a surly Ultra Magnus. Now you were ready to go. You started walking, feeling the bots shifting in your pack to look up and out the flap. With a little mech on each shoulder, you were confident they would be fast enough to slide down into your pockets should there be anyone on the path.

You called out to your roommates, “Heading out to turn in some books and visit the beach. Be back, later.” At the sight of some of the mechs transforming and driving your way, you added on, “No, no. No more passengers. I’ll take you next time. I can’t be lugging all of you and books.”

You had to steel yourself against the whines of sadness. You had to find a better way to transport them, because so many were feeling left out. Your routine foraging trips became a rotation of who to take, because they all wanted to go.

There was one who was insistent, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Starlet came bounding alongside you as you walked through your overgrown land. She vanished in the weeds and grass, then popped back up and ran circles around you. She honed in on the bots on your shoulders, burring at them the way huskies do. First Aid burred back.

“Okay, okay. You can come along. I don’t have to hide you.” You patted yourself, inviting her to jump up to lick your face. Her breath smelled of the worms and parsnips she dug up and ate, and you gagged. “I see you’re not happy with a rice diet, either.”

The little medi-bot waved frantically at Starlet, warbling what was probably a ‘the dog is smarter than you’ argument that you promptly ignored. Rung toned softly, maybe attempting to smooth out First Aid’s scathing words. You only continued through the game-trail your frequent trips made in the tall grass of your farmland.

The dirt path south of your land was hardly used by anyone other than those visiting Marnie’s store, and no one bought fresh eggs or animal feed as much. She made her income by selling to the city market, and the morning collection came and went. You were confident the roads were yours to linger on, letting your little roommates look around and enjoy the view. You paused at the cow pasture to let the mini-bots beep amongst one another, amazed at the bright-eyed bovine. First Aid couldn’t help himself as he Bee-wooed at them till one mooed back.

Starlet jumped up on the fence, awoo-ing, and the cows would have none of it. They moved further into the pasture.

Beside one of the bushes between the cobbled road and the river, you spotted a hefty leek. You don’t see those very often. You took a moment to pull it carefully from the stalk, getting the roots. Rung praised you on a job well done. First Aid showed you the nutritional data on the wild vegetable. Riptide and Ultra Magnus guided it in your backpack as you fed it through from over your shoulder like a sword into sheath. 

Onward. You passed the bridge to the beach, and down the way to the library. Rung and First Aid slipped back into the pack and everyone ducked under the flap. You opened the door to let Starlet inside, first. She trotted in like she owned the place.

“Is that the fuzzy archeologist?” Gunther called out, leaning over his counter as Starlet yipped and wagged her fluffy tail. She put both paws up on the table to paint his face in kisses. You cringed and wondered if he smelled the worms on her breath, too.

“That’s her. She wanted to come this time. Hope it’s okay if she’s in here – I should’ve asked, first.”

“It’s absolutely okay so long as she doesn’t make a mess.” The old man couldn’t help but smoosh her face. “Are you a good ratter? I bet you are. Wanna chase down some rats in my museum?”

You realized he wasn’t talking to you, anymore. You stepped towards the library threshold, setting your backpack gently down behind a bookshelf. First Aid was the first to peek out, and then tumbled out. He turned back to help Rung, and the two pattered out, leaving Ultra Magnus to crawl out by himself.

You leaned down to pull your books out, noticing that Riptide lingered within. You turned back to the curator, holding up what you rented out. “Can I exchange some books, today?”

 “Yes, yes. Just set them down over there.” He came out from behind the desk and knelt down, absolutely enamored with giving Starlet belly rubs. “Look at those dirty paws. Are you digging me up more artifacts? Yes you are. Yes you’re a good dog.”

This was perfect. That dog distracted him, sucking in all of his attention like a cuddle vampire. She gave you the opportunity to slip back between the bookshelves where you brought your bag up and helped Riptide out and set him on a shelf.

“You don’t want a book?”

He shrugged and shook his head.

“That’s okay.” You held your hands back out, and he readily let himself fall into your palms. You sat him up on your shoulder, and he held onto the collar of your shirt for stability. You smiled at him. “You can help me find the others – starting with First Aid. We don’t want him picking out another dirty book.”

Riptide smiled back, a little confused. He peeped out a question, and you weren't about to guess, or answer.

“Do you know where he is?” You asked, instead.

The little bot tapped the side of his helm, warbled a few soft words, then pointed. Either Riptide was a bad navigator, or First Aid gave bad directions, but you finally made it to the cooking section – which you originally thought you were misled until you spotted the medibot waving to you from one of the bottom shelves.

You knelt, curious to see what book First Aid had chosen. He pushed out a short, but thick, worn book with faded letters. You could barely make out the title. “The Bushcrafter’s Cookbook...? Aid, that sounds incredibly handy.”

He nodded proudly, fists on his hips. You tucked the book under your arm and helped him up on your other shoulder. First Aid and Riptide warbled and cheeped at one another, all the while giving you directions to the next mini-mech. You checked corners before rounding them, peeked between books to see if there was anyone on the other side. You were covert as a farmer could be.

You found Rung, who had led you to a fancy gold-lettered book titled ‘Finding Peace’ and you didn’t comment. You left everything behind to find peace. You only found new frustrations. Still, you gathered it up, because maybe Rung had struggles himself. Or maybe he wanted to use it to help someone else. Certainly not you.

You found Ultra Magnus – or more like the stack of books he collected in the middle of the aisle way. He was in the middle of plopping on one more when you arrived. You let out a grumbling sigh, kneeling down to see what all you had to carry. These books shouldn’t be classified as books at all. These were texts on local laws, building to code, tax rulings – incredibly boring stuff you did not want to study. You got to the last book, and squinted.

‘A Compendium of Poetic Classics.’

“Huh,” Was all you said. You stacked the rest of your books and set down your pack. “Okay. Let’s get these and head to the beach.”

They all climbed in, and with weight both on your back and in your arms, you stood – a little too fast. You swayed, leaning on the shelf. First Aid popped out of the flap, chattering at you in a way that gave you the impression he was panicked or afraid.

“I’m okay. Head-rush. I’m okay.” You righted yourself. Once you were done at the beach, you planned on heading home and having something to eat. The thought of food made your stomach grumble, but you told yourself that you could wait.

You weaved your way out of the labyrinth of books out into the lobby, where Gunther had sat down on the floor with Starlet sprawled across his lap, getting her belly rubbed.

“These are the books I’d like to take out.” You set them down on his counter.

“Could you just write them down in my ledger? Title and author, please. I can sort out the rest.” He scratched behind Starlet’s arms, making her stretch and hind leg kick.

You stared at him, blinking.

Gunther jerked his head down to indicate what had him trapped. “I can’t just move her.”

Something told you that you possessed a powerful weapon, and it wasn’t the little bots that could turn into tanks and fire actual ammunition. You had yet to learn how to wield such a thing. You did as Gunther asked, marking the books you were renting out in his ledger. You didn’t have to call for Starlet as you made it towards the exit. She was right at your side, completely ignoring the man she entranced.

You opened the door, letting her out, first. “I’m off. Thanks for the books.”

“Till next time, and bring her again!” He called out as you shut the door behind you.

You definitely would. It was a lot more relaxed this time around, where you weren’t worried he would pop out of nowhere to help you find a book – Gunther was stealthy, despite that massive cowboy hat. You hugged the books up against your chest, readjusting them, despite it doing nothing to help your arms. Rung peeked out to gently tone notes of encouragement.

You backtracked down the road to the bridge and made a turn southward. The path ahead turned to dirt, winding through a woodsy area. You followed the signs, hearing the ocean before you laid eyes on its sandy shore.  Disappointing wasn’t the right word, but breathtaking wasn’t, either.

The beach was just that: a beach. There were no magical feelings that swelled within your heart, no musical crashing of waves, or caressing salty breeze to tousle your hair. It was just a sandy beach with a cabin off to the side, and a dock with a larger building that was the shop. Packed up along the treeline were fallen logs, broken boats, and planks of wood. It was kind of a mess.

Maybe you weren’t giving it a chance, because your first thought was how much time you were wasting being here. Alternatively, the little mechs – save Ultra Magnus – oooed in admiration. Starlet seemed perturbed at the feeling of sand under her paws, continuously checking the ground, as if it was moving under her.

You glanced at the cabin, noting that it looked residential. You recalled running into someone who said they lived here. Whoever it was, you hoped they wouldn’t come out and try to be social. To be honest, you just wanted to scout the shop, go home to rid yourself of this pack mule feeling, and get back to work.

The bots ducked back into your bag as you walked on the docks, rounding the corner to the entrance of the store. You managed to balance your books and open the door – and nearly dropped them when a strong aroma twisted your stomach. A light fishy smell with cream and vegetables hit you like an anvil to the soul. You couldn’t tell if you felt hunger or nausea.

Starlet entered first, ignoring everything as she snuffled around, hunting down the source. A weathered, shaggy man from behind the counter greeted you with a mildly yellowed smile. “New face. I’m Willy. I’d bet you’re the new farmer I’ve heard about.”

 “What... what am I smelling?” Your mind was elsewhere. Your mouth watered as much as Starlet drooled. She rudely jumped to put her front paws on the counter, nose to the air.

Willy gave a grizzled laugh, reaching out to ruffle her fur. She didn’t care at all about the attention, but tracked the man as he stepped aside to a simmering pot over a pot-bellied stove. “That is my trout soup. Just finished cookin’ a new batch. Want some?”

In the moment, there was no such thing as savings. You were hungry. You slipped off your backpack and set it on the ground, mentally counting the coins in one of the pouches. “How much?”

He pulled down two mugs, looking more for coffee than soup, but he ladled them full all the same. “First timers get one free. Both of ya.”

You set down your books and took them, wincing at how hot the cups already were. You set hers aside, keeping it hostage, as you juggled the scalding mug to steal the tiniest of sips – burning your tongue. You whimpered and blew impatiently on both mugs. You froze in mid breath, spotting First Aid creeping up on the shelves to get a look at the pot of soup.

“Ah-ah is this a home – homemade recipe? You make this at home?”

Willy gave you a long look. “Yes. Usually homemade recipes are made at home. Every batch I make and sell is different than the last. When I bring in my fishin’ haul, I never get the same ingredients.”

Your heart nearly leaped from your chest as you spotted Riptide inches from the man’s leg. The little bot had climbed up to peek in the display case, looking at all the squiggling worms that were sold as bait.

“Fish! There’s fish in this? Fish is one of the in – ingredients you use?”

That long look turned into a confused one. He blinked, glancing aside like he was mentally checking what he just said to you. “Uh, yes. Fish is one of the things I get from my... my fishin’ hauls...”

“Oh. It, um...” You took a sip. It was hot, but not as hot to scald your mouth. “It’s pretty good.”

“Y’know you can wait to eat that, right? There ain’t no rush.”

“I have a lot to do, today. I still need to forage for things to sell. My farm won’t fix itself.” You felt a smidge of relief as First Aid and Riptide started sneaking back, hopefully, towards the backpack. You took another long sip of burning soup, your tastebuds properly scorched off at this point. “And I was pretty hungry.”

“Light breakfast?”

“You could say that.”

Willy nodded slowly, and it seemed sagely. He turned away and started looking through his things. You took the opportunity to turn back to your bag, seeing Ultra Magnus silently scolding First Aid and Riptide as they crawled back in and pulled the flap closed.

You sighed out your anxiety and downed the rest of your mug of soup. Feeling that Starlet’s was cooled to a safer temperature, you set it down. She was in it before it hit the floor, lapping it up as noisily as she could. When you stood back up, there was a fishing rod set on the counter before you.

“You sound like you’re workin’ hard. I could stand here and go on and on about how you’re young, and try to give you some of my pap’s old wisdom, but I think I’ll just give you this.” Willy gestured to the bamboo fishing rod.

“Appreciate it,” You muttered, and it was more for not getting a lecture. “But I don’t know how to fish.”

“Put the hook in the water. Pull when you feel something pullin’ back. It ain’t hard.” He laughed like a wheezing walrus when you rolled your eyes. “Listen kid, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you another mug of soup if you promise me to find a nice place to sit and practice. Practice until you catch a fish.”

You didn’t want to argue but that sounded silly. Foraging was a sure thing and you didn’t want to waste the day trying to figure out how to catch fish. Technically, you didn’t have to try all day. Technically, he didn’t say when to give it a try.

“You got a deal. Thanks.” You gave him the mugs, keeping an eye on which was yours and which was Starlet’s.

As promised, Willy refilled them. “I don’t mind if you hold onto the cups. They keep tea warm on stormy nights.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I got a bunch of ‘em.” He said with a grandfatherly smile. “Just give that old fishin’ rod a try. Also, keep me in mind when you catch more fish than you can eat. Sure, you can sell to market, but it’ll help out your local fishery if you sell to me, instead.”

You idly wondered if he invited you here just for that little sales pitch, but you did get a fishing rod out of it – and food. You couldn’t tell if you liked it or not, but it was still something to eat. You’ve eaten raw dandelions. You wouldn’t be picky. “What stuff do you buy?”

“Anything from the sea you can eat! Just remember my motto: If it smells, it sells!”

Somehow, you managed to cringe and smile at the same time. “Catchy... uh... well I’m going to go give this a try. Wish me luck.”

You saw yourself out. By the balancing grace of years worth of experience at school, work, and shopping, you managed to balance two mugs of ripping hot soup, a stack of books, a fishing pole, all while wearing a backpack full of bots, plants, and making sure you didn’t trip over a dog that was more focused on her soup than where she was going.

You made your way carefully back to the beach, going in the direction of the worn trails. The pack shifted as a few of your passengers pushed open the flap to look around. You flinched at a series of chirps directly in your ear.

Riptide, First Aid, and even Rung were vocalizing at you to stop. Riptide pointed at a more secluded end of the beach, while First Aid waved over your fishing pole. Rung swept his arm wide to indicate the sky and fair weather. Ultra Magnus just sat heavily in your pack, and you wanted so much to set him down with his massive textbooks.

“No. We’re going home. Hey, hey!” You called helplessly as First Aid started crawling out of your pack and down your leg. Then Riptide followed suit. “Get back here! I’ll leave you two here, I swear.”

Rung crawled up on your shoulder, giving you a ‘there, there’ pat to your head. You huffed, glancing back at a quiet Ultra Magnus, who didn’t stir once to rein in the troublemakers. The two ran ahead, waving for you to follow. Starlet, unsurprisingly, was loyal to the food you carried. 

You grumbled and followed, earning a trilling praise from Rung. The others warbled with a cheer, leading you to the far side of the beach where the treeline was close to the shore. The mess of driftwood and busted boat planks made for good hiding spots, should anyone ever walk your way. You minded the rusty nails and sat on a large log, setting down your books, backpack, pole, and Starlet’s soup. She was nose-deep, immediately.

You fussed with the fishing rod longer than you wanted. Ultra Magnus busied himself with reading his texts. Riptide and First Aid went off somewhere. Rung remained near, giving you space as you casted over and over and over till you managed to get the hook out far into the water. You let out a huff, sitting down, and resigned yourself to wait.

Your soup was lukewarm, but not inedible. You held the rod with one hand, drinking with the other, and stared out into the wide, open ocean. It was endless, like the amount of things you had to do, and the problems that piled up like an insurmountable mountain. Anxiety rippled over you. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be wasting time, admiring the scenery. You had plants to forage and sell. You had land to clear, crops to plant, money to make.

At the feeling of a bot climbing up your leg, you saw Rung making the journey. You boosted him up on your shoulder. “You bored, yet?”

He shook his head and toned like a digital music box. He gestured out to the ocean, to the sky, to the waves, and then to himself. The light in the center of his chest dimmed and glowed hypnotically with the rise and fall of his little hand.

Breathe.

At Rung’s indication, you closed your eyes and listened to the waves. You listened to the birds and the whispering wind rustling the young spring leaves. You smelled the ocean air, the soup in your lap, and the earthy decay of salted driftwood. You slipped off your shoes to feel the sand under your feet, hoping a rusty nail wouldn’t ruin the moment.

You wanted to cry. This was what you wanted. This is why you left everything behind for the countryside. Why did it feel like you traded all your problems for others? For more? Why can’t you just relax and feel accomplished for what you’ve already done? Why does it always feel like you came second, when everything else came first?

Something beeped at you, and you opened your eyes to find First Aid holding up a rock of some kind. You leaned down and gasped. It was a clam! You found that Starlet had long cleaned her mug and went along the shore with Riptide. She dug up clams with him, and already found three!  

You squealed, “AH! Yes! Awesome! I’m going to go sell these right now!”

First Aid yanked it away, chirping harshly.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to argue, but cut yourself off as he directed your gaze. Your stack of books was reduced, as Ultra Magnus had a few of them open, as if cross-referencing. Set aside were the ones that he didn’t use. Among them was the book First Aid chose: BushCrafter’s Cookbook.

“You want me to eat them?”

Rung chirped approvingly as First Aid displayed the nutritional information on clams. They were definitely more superior to rice. You knew that. You knew you should eat better, but the nagging guilt of eating something that could bring in money was overwhelming.

“Aid, what I would make selling these –"

Ultra Magnus was the one to interrupt you. He lectured you with deep, warbling tones, taking up a stick and writing in the sand. They were all numbers, but they were familiar numbers. It was how much you made a day, in a week. Your heart sank. Every day, you were seeing a decline. You were losing money. You were taking more days off, your crops were experiencing poorer yields, and you were bringing in less forage to sell – all because you weren’t taking care of yourself.

You stared at the fishing rod you held in your hand. It forced you to sit, to be still and wait, to be among the nature you wanted to experience. How long has it been since you just admired your surroundings? You didn’t come here to make money. You came here to live.

And to live was to feed your body what it needed.

Like the cosmos rewarded your epiphany, you felt a tug on your line. You jumped to your feet, and Rung clung to your shoulder with a startled eep! Riptide and Starlet came running back, and you had a cadence of digital cries encourage you as you fought to reel in one hell of a fish. It flopped in the shallows, and with one last tug of your rod up over your shoulder, you beached it on the sand.

You winced when Starlet pinned it with her paws, and it flapped feebly, but you caught a fish! You covered your mouth to muffle your squeal of joy. It was a good size, like what you’d seen sold in stores. You went to nudge Starlet off, holding the fish up to get a better look.

“I have no idea what type this is, but it has to sell for –" You stopped yourself, looking down at your spectators. First Aid planted his fists on his hips, while Rung patted himself. His chest light dimmed and glowed, reminding you of your earlier exchange. Ultra Magnus simply watched you with a frown and crossed arms, and Riptide trotted to the books and stood on one, waving his hands for your attention.

That book he stood on was the ‘Bushcrafter’s Cookbook.’ There was little doubt that there would be instructions within on how to scale, gut, and process a fish – a fish you caught, and could probably do, again.

It was time to prioritize your own well-being. “No. I think this one is for me. Let’s go home and learn how to turn this into something to eat.”

Chapter Text

It was a great morning. Seriously.

It was the kind of morning that breathed life into your body. A breakfast of smoked fish, grilled leeks, and hearty rice made you feel like you could clear out your entire farm lot, today. You felt energized. You felt satiated and ready to conquer the day.

Success felt tangible the moment your little tech team of Brainstorm, Nautica, and Chromedome got the audio working on your still-broken television. It didn’t spark and smell like a fire hazard, so that was already a major check on the positive side of today, but it was the local news announcement that had you eager to get out there.

It was salmonberry season. Bushes would be heavy with them.

With a pep in your step and your roommates at your side, you breezed through your morning routine of watering, harvesting, and seeding. You tackled any encroaching weeds your garden protectors couldn’t handle. The next part of your schedule was the hardest, and no matter how much you tried to toughen up, you always bowed just a smidge.

“Who’s coming foraging with me?”

An eager throng emerged from all around. So many of your new little friends came driving and pattering up. Some were stoic, like Megatron, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, and Fortress Maximus, but they still stepped forward. Most were waving wildly and jumping in their little ‘pick me’ dance. It made you wither.

“Every time... Can’t you organize amongst yourselves? Why are you making me be the bad guy and pick? You know I can’t take you all.”

So many pouted. Several others just simply turned away, and you couldn’t explain why but that stung a little more than a frowny face. You groaned out a sigh, falling to your knees and sitting in the dirt. Swerve, Riptide, and Tailgate took advantage to start climbing up on you, pleading.

“Ugghh. What if I – I dunno – take you guys deeper in the woods, or something?”

Of course they would agree – anything to get them out in the world, with you specifically. It wasn’t lost on you that they were always there when you woke in the mornings, trilling at you to wake and open the cabin door, eager to get on with their little tasks. You felt that this would be a safe enough outing, where there was an abundance of places to hide. You doubt you would run into anyone where you were planning on going.

“Alright, but I can’t carry you all.” You grunted as you pushed yourself up, plucking off your passengers and setting them down. “Let me grab some bags. Everyone, get ready to go. We’ll take off, soon.”

You were met with several beeps of agreement. Rodimus held up a thumbs-up. Megatron nodded like an approving father. After packing your repurposed burlap sacks that once held rice, you sorted who you could carry, and who would have to fend for themselves.

Many of the smaller mini-bots donned your shoulders like a pauldron of figurines, and a few sat on your stuffed backpack. Others had to drive as you made your way south through your overgrown farmland. A couple clung onto Starlet as she trotted along, occasionally bounding after something skittering in the foliage with them screaming helplessly.

It was a funny kind of parade.

You hugged your way west as soon as you could, steering clear of getting close to Marnie’s home and store. You avoided your usual stomping grounds, figuring that if you heard the news on salmonberries, then that meant the entire Valley did, too. You’d have more of a chance of evading others, while getting to the bushes no one had stripped, yet.

You rounded the pond, passing the dock and making a mental note to try fishing there. You were greeted by the first thicket of salmonberry bushes, and you passed out the burlap sacks to your eager little collectors. They scattered, leaving you to pluck berries with a few helpers.

“Did I miss those?” You held out your bag as Rewind balanced on a branch. He tossed in a few berries.

Chromedome joined you, warbling at his partner and pointing to another cluster. You knelt, picking a branch clean as Rewind tossed berries down for Chromedome to collect and dump in your bag. When the bush was stripped, you boosted the bots back on your shoulder and searched for the next thicket.

You paused to watch Fortress Maximus shake the hell out of a bush. Trailbreaker and Red Alert scurried about to pick up the fallen. Cyclonus hovered from branch to branch, ferrying Tailgate to pick and stuff the jet’s cockpit with berries. Whirl unhelpfully shot them off the branches. Rodimus and Drift climbed through the brush, plucking and dropping down to those who collected and placed in their bags. Rodimus was deliberately pelting Megatron, and Ultra Magnus scolded loudly. You didn’t know if it was because it was rude, or that he was bruising the merchandise.

The area was pretty picked through. You felt like you commanded a hoard of locusts as you pressed on, venturing deeper to the west. You skirted along the plateau that vaulted up that strange tower. You slowed your pace, aiming a long and thoughtful glare its way. You scowled, finding how it pretentiously loomed more irritating than eerie.

It looked like the perfect place to have a basement that would end up on some distasteful docu-series on serial killers. You glanced at Rewind on your shoulder and snorted. “Fuck that place. Am I right?”

Rewind droned out an ‘uh-huh’ as he nodded.

You continued down a narrow trail that was more than likely made by the local wildlife. Starlet snuffled through the grass, presumably hunting down the remnants of a rabbit’s scent. You were a little nervous when the mini-bots spread out to cover more ground, but at Rewind’s cheeping and pointing, you figured there was some sort of communication being received.

This part of the forest was abundant. You hardly had any time to forage anything on your own. Rewind was directing you from place to place to help others. Skids came across a bountiful onion patch. Brainstorm found a collection of daffodils. Velocity discovered a giant leek. Swerve found mushrooms. 

“Is it edible?” You asked your little almanac buddy, and Rewind nodded his answer.

You knelt, and the loamy earth gave under your knees. Swerve and Rewind stopped you from sticking them in your sack of goodies, and the little red mini-bot held out his hand and gave it a shake. You glanced at Rewind for any clue.

“What?”

Rewind did the same gesture. Swerve beeped at you, still holding out his arm. You mimicked them, then followed the motions of shaking the mushroom.

“... Okay? Is this to get any bugs off – no?” You proceeded to jostle the next one you picked. “Just... shake them, then?”

Swerve toddered up to a particularly old mushroom – much too black and shriveled to pick. He breedled at you, and gave it a tap. You instinctively held your breath at the dust that rained from it. You’ve seen movies on how spores mutate people into cryptids or zombies. It was a silly concern, but you held your mushrooms further away as you shook them, spreading spores for the next generation of mycelium.

You finished collecting what you were actually more excited about eating than selling. About to move on, Swerve chirruped for your attention. He scooped up two handfuls of rich, dark dirt, holding it for you to see and chattering positively.

You smiled slightly, clueless. “Yes, Swerve. These mushrooms grew in that dirt.”

He let it drop on the ground, frowning. He shook his head disapprovingly. Whatever you guessed, it wasn’t right, but for the life of you, you could not figure out his fixation on dirt. Still, you apologized as gently as you could while trying not to get into it, “I’m sorry. When we get home, we’ll try to figure out what you’re trying to say. Right now, let’s just try to focus on getting everything we can, okay?”

Swerve toned a low note of ‘okay’ and moseyed along. You stood back up, hand on Rewind to keep him steady. You moved on, heading to the next place Rewind was directing you towards, when a flash of white fur caught the corner of your eye. You paused, noticing the sway of Starlet’s fluffy tail, but the rest of her was buried beneath a layer of foliage.

“Star, do you have something?” You started making your way over, supposing you’d save whatever poor animal she had cornered. As you drew closer, you noticed Skids and Nightbeat on her back, warbling at you as they waved you over – and as you approached, you realized Starlet was digging at a door. 

You fell a step back, taking in the breadth of what was a house. Vines and weeds hid much of its geometric shape from the casual eye, and you would have walked right past it. Much of it was lost to the reclamation of nature, appearing just as dilapidated as the secret laboratory-shed where you found all your new roommates.

“What the hell is with this Valley and its spooky, abandoned houses?” You said under your breath. Nightbeat warbled at you, pointing to the door, and you instantly answered, “No. Why? Why do you want to go in there? It’s creepy.”

Skids chirped at you, giving what he probably expected to be a thought-out explanation, but he forgot you couldn’t understand beep-boop. You glanced at Rewind on your shoulder, who shrugged hesitantly and nodded – like he agreed with Skids!

You rolled your eyes, approaching the door and inspecting the rusted doorknob. “It doesn’t look like it’ll even open.”

Starlet had backed up, looking at you expectantly, like she was used to you opening the door for her. Nightbeat flapped his hand, urging you to try it anyway.

You huffed in frustration. Your hand discolored from the rust as you tried to turn it, and it just wouldn’t. “See? I’ll even pull –" and when you did, the catch disintegrated and splintered as the door lurched open. The rusty hinges wailed a death-moan, echoing in the now quiet forest.

A draft hit you, like opening an ancient tomb. The smells were old and earthy, moldy with a hint of wet, unwashed laundry. Shafts of light pierced through the tattered ceiling, illuminating dust and bugs that floated in the rays. You stood at its entrance, watching a sprinkle of dust bless your path from the archway.

“Nope.” You stepped back.

Starlet warily peeked around the corner. Skids and Nightbeat slid off their furry steed and trotted inside, looking all around in wonder.

“Hey! No! Come back.” You reached to grab Starlet as she followed the two. “Seriously! Where is your sense of self-preservation? We have berries to pick. Don’t ignore me!”

But they did. You did not want to go in there. It wasn’t that you weren’t curious, no. You were. You just had things to do! You let out a defeated groan, sighing out, “At least the others are still foraging.” You looked to Rewind helplessly. “Please radio everyone and tell them where we’re at. Just in case I fall through a hole in the floor or something.”

You entered, and it felt strange. You were entering someone’s home, but at the same time, it was taken by another force bigger than anyone. This abandoned home was larger than yours by far. What a waste. Nothing was moved out. There were a few canned goods in the kitchen that were expired. You dared not open the fridge. You couldn’t read the spines of the dusty and disintegrated books.  Mushrooms sprouted from furniture, spiders claimed every nook and cranny of the bookshelves, and the television was swathed in vines.

All around, you saw nature’s conquest, determined to erase any imprint of those who were here, before. It was humbling and harrowing. It almost looked vindictive with how this place was taken over.

You heard Starlet growl. It wasn’t playful.

You’ve never heard that deep, from the chest, guttural rumble from her. It made your beating heart pick up another notch. You darted through the home, searching, and finding her standing in the center of a small, office-like area, nose pointed to the opposite side of the room. You quickly surveyed for any danger, finding nothing among a few familiar machines and boxes of rusted metal atop the counters.

Everything became an afterthought as one of the bottom cabinet doors pushed open just a bit, then fell closed. Starlet stiffened, her hackles rising, her snarls louder. Something was in there.

“Star,” You said firmly. “Leave it. Come. Let’s get out of here.”

Her ear flicked back for a second, acknowledging you, but not moving. You stepped closer, seeing her wrinkled nose and white canines. You’ve never seen her bare her teeth – you’ve never seen her so freaked!

Rewind was chirping rapidly, nearly inaudibly, as he was probably radioing the entire team. He stopped to chirp sharply at you as you stepped closer to Starlet, aiming to grab her and drag her out. “Starlet, come. Leave it. Come he–"

The cabinet door pushed open, and your command died in the back of your throat. At first, your brain registered this thing that slopped out as a jelly, like someone stored it away without the jar and it just rolled out.

It had eyes.

A gelatinous, semi-orb body had eyes and you could not mentally find any reason for this thing to exist, or to move.

Starlet barked up a fury, getting between you and this thing – this thing that she deemed was dangerous and you were not about to question her. Panic clenched your chest as you stumbled back, a sharp scream piercing the air. Your scream. You turned back towards the door and physically gripped the doorframe to stop your ingrained instinct to flee. You forced yourself to turn and yell, “Star! Come! Please!”

The husky maintained distance as the slimeball lurched towards her. She backed up, still staying between you and the creature, snarling and barking warnings that did nothing to frighten or deter the creature. You could only step back, giving Starlet room, and beg your fearless companion to run away.

You forgot you had more than one companion, and you forgot that they were armed.

A little tilt-rotor aircraft zipped by your face. You glanced back at the incoming army of mini-mechs. Bright flares of miniature gunfire burst from their tiny weapons. They drove and flew past you, circling around the monster and letting it have the full force of what you thought were semi-harmless robots.

Run, your frightened senses cried, they got this! You turned for the front door, and the peaceful, safe forest called for you. You froze in place, forcing yourself to stay.

Absolutely fucking not.

You took up the iron fire poker from the mantle and ran back. As the slime-thing was reeling from the barrage of firepower, you brought your weapon down. It squelched and split in half –  halves that were still moving.

You didn’t realize you were screaming as you swung the iron poker again and again and again.

A touch to your face had you flinching, and you realized Rewind was still on your shoulder, clinging. Your surroundings took shape. No one was firing, anymore. The thing wasn’t moving. Was it dead? How could you tell? It looked dead, or at least a slurry of gelatin and ooze.  You dropped the poker with a loud clatter and flinched again.

He toned softly, patting you as you would a spooked animal. You sucked in a gasp, looking at the mess you made. Gobs of slime splattered your clothes, the bots, and even Starlet as you had long turned the monster to a jelly mash.

“What... the fuck was that?!” You shrieked. Your hands couldn’t stop shaking. Rodimus started vocalizing, but you cut him off. “Fuck it. Fuck that. Never mind. Out. Everyone out. We’re going home.”

Pitter-patter of feet chased after you as you stormed out of the abandoned house. You got the impression they were protesting, but you were more concerned with what Starlet had to say as she exited right beside you. She stared out into the dense woods. Despite the late daylight, darkness lingered past all those tree trunks, obscuring the beyond with their long shadows. Her ears were pricked, her hackles raised, and a low growl in her throat.

The fresh air did nothing to soothe you. The rustle of leaves set you on edge. You were in a strange place, having just experienced an even stranger event. Your once-lifted and hopeful spirit now craved the familiar safety of home.

“We’re done here,” You threw over your shoulder. You tried not to jump out of your skin when you felt Rodimus and Drift climb up your pant legs. They squealed as you started walking. “No arguing. We’re leaving.”

They made it to the top, and Rodimus gave your hair a good jerk. You scowled at him, and he pointed insistently at an abandoned burlap sack. A few berries had tumbled out, forgotten in the rush to rescue you.

You let out a shaky sigh. “I just... want to go home...”

Drift squeezed in beside Rewind. The little swordsbot chimed softly, petting your cheek. Rodimus warbled out a few notes, nodding his understanding. Your little roommates scurried, drove, and flew around you, scattering. The bigger bots were able to drag the sacks towards you. The smaller ones like Swerve and Rung couldn’t make theirs budge.

You swallowed, taking a few uneasy steps, to moving quickly from one part of the woods to the next. Starlet flanked your side, keeping up and having no interest in wandering. You gathered a little courage from her company. With all the mini-mechs accounted for, and several hitching a ride to warble and sing at you, you backtracked the way you came.

Your mind couldn’t even register how much success you had today. You just wanted to get the hell out. Any bot that protested, you scooped them up, uncaring of the increasing weight of your load. Adrenaline was a hell of a thing.

The sight of the creepy tower was a mixed bag of emotions. It marked that you were out of the western Cindersap, but creepy towers be creepin’. You felt true relief when you found the pond, and you fell to a knee to both catch your breath and offload your passengers. You had practically ran all the way here.

Rodimus set his hand on your still shaking ones, beeping a question up at you.

“I’m... still processing what the hell I just saw. What the hell did I just see?”

Brainstorm was the one to drone out a series of vocalizations not unlike an annoying ringtone. It reminded you of that wonderful thing called the internet and how much you wished you had access to it, right now.

Your gaze fell on Starlet, who looked ahead with her ears pricked. You cringed at how the goop on her coat collected every leaf and twig in the forest. You hoped it wasn’t impossible to remove.

You caught on to the faint sound of laughter.

Just ahead was the beautiful dirt path leading to your farm, but also Marnie’s farm. That sounded like her. You felt a mix between alarm and relief. It sounded like she was talking to someone.

You murmured to everyone around you, “Keep hidden. I’ll distract them so you guys can get past.”

You stood and started walking while your covert roommates dove into the undergrowth, sleuthing their way home without you. You tried to stroll as casually as possible, but your feet dragged. Starlet was torn between staying with you and following the pack of metal friends. She chose them and ambled along the grassline, head hung and tongue lolling as she panted. She looked about as tired as you felt.

As you exited out into the open, you found Marnie outside, chatting up another woman. Your presence was immediately noticed, and your neighbor went from a friendly wave to a disbelieving gape. “What happened to you?!”

Yeah, you looked like shit.

“Hun, what is all over you? Are you okay?” The other woman asked. You had seen her a few times at Pierre’s, and she always complained about the high prices of produce. Jodi, you think you’ve heard her called.

“I was... I was foraging and I was attacked.” The words left your lips before you considered if you wanted to have a conversation about it. “By, uh... something. I don’t know.”

“There are things in the Valley that can’t be explained,” Jodie said, matter-of-factly. “It’s why I don’t let Vincent play near the woods.”

“What do you mean things in the Valley?” You grabbed your goop-splattered shirt. “Things like a jelly-ball?”

“A slime?” Marnie made a face. “How deep in the woods were you? There are monsters in there. You need to be careful.”

“Monsters?” You yelped. “Like real monsters? We’re using that word like it’s an actual fucking thing?”

Jodi jolted at your curse, but Marnie chuckled and waved for you to calm down. “They never come out of the forest or mines. You didn’t know? They’re everywhere –"

“No they are not. Not where I’m from! This is normal?!” You rubbed your face with a sigh. Somewhere, in the tall grasses and brush behind you, were sentient little robots skirting by, unnoticed. “Nevermind. Anything else I should know?”

Jodi offered with a bit of uncertainty, “Maybe you should talk to Marlon. He’ll know more about monsters than we do. He heads the Adventurer’s Guild, and I think he’s looking for new recruits to fight.”

“No thanks. I’m much too busy with the farm and trying to earn a living, and I don’t want to test the living part by looking for monsters. I’m trying to learn about pest control – and not the kind of pests that need a bullet.”

“Speaking of farms.” Marnie just suddenly redirected the conversation to a more comfortably mundane topic. “Jodi here is looking for cauliflower. Are you growing any?”

You just killed what you were told was a slime and ran the entire way out, carrying what felt like your body weight three times over. You had bots to see to, clothes, and a dog to wash. You had to mentally process that you moved to what you believed was a peaceful place, but no, there were fucking monsters and you were the weird one.

You forced a smile. “Yeah. I am.”

“Can I buy some off of you?” Jodi asked. “Pierre doesn’t have any, and Jojomart marked up their prices. Ever since that new recipe came out, everyone has been buying it up.”

“Oh, you have got to tell me how it turns out. I can never get Jas to eat any vegetables,” Marnie said.

“I absolutely will.” Jodie looked back at you, waiting for your answer.

The women went back and forth like a fifties TV sitcom that left you feeling like you were in a fever dream. You hoped the slime mess that was on you wasn’t toxic.

“Sure, uh...” You were struggling to transition into normal and talk about cauliflower. “When – when do you need it?”

“I’ll pay extra if you bring it to me before dinner, tomorrow. It would still be cheaper than the store.”

Money was money. You sighed again, closing your eyes and nodding. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Jodi exchanged glances with Marnie, seeming a little concerned. “Only if you’re feeling well enough, Hun.”

“I should be. See you tomorrow.” You chose now as your exit and started back up the path towards your farm.

Your steps were confident and quick, at first. They died down to dragging once you felt you were far enough away. You were crashing, both physically and mentally. You rubbed your brow and peeled off a glob of slime. At least it wasn’t adhesive.

Trudging through the overgrown land of your property, you found a lone bot standing in the center of the path. Rodimus waved at you.

“Were you waiting for me?” A weary smile split your face as you knelt to help him up to your shoulder. He nodded, and while you didn’t feel particularly jilted over being left behind, you appreciated it. “Thanks.”

He warbled at you, concern bending his smile. He patted your shoulder, asking a question in a chirping incline while gesturing up and down over you.

“No. I’m not okay.” You started walking. “Today was... rough. I don’t know which was worse: finding that thing, or finding out it's normal here. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s you...”

You trailed off, glancing over at him. Rodimus peeped another question, opening his arms. You swallowed a lump in your throat as your eyes started to sting.

“Are you... asking if I want a hug?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, I think I do.” You pulled him in your arms, tucking the little robot against your neck as you sniffled. Today was overwhelming, but feeling his little arms trying their damnedest to wrap around whatever they could made you feel better. This was just all another thing you had to learn about and adapt to.

Good thing you had friends to help you.

Chapter Text

The weather wasn’t terrible. The morning greeted you with heavy overcast skies with periods of light drizzle and a chilly wind. The rain wasn’t getting to you as much as the gloomy veil over your farm, coloring your mood.

You tried to focus on the positive. Rain meant watered crops. A minor inconvenience with a generous payoff. Also, your little roomies considerately set out pots and buckets to catch the water dripping from your ceiling. It was nice to not wake to puddles on the floor.

You tried to brighten your mood with a good breakfast while flipping through the wildlife recipe book with First Aid, searching for what else you could do with wild mushrooms. 

You reclined back with a wistful sigh. “The day will come where I can just walk out to my gardens and pick out my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” You turned your gaze on Starlet, who had long finished her food and begged for yours. You gave her your plate to lick clean. “And you’ll get nice and fat with me.”

Feeling like you sat around long enough, you slipped into your cheap parka and headed out. Perceptor, Nautica, and Skids were already out in the garden, having some in-depth discussion among the potatoes. Trailbreaker and Red Alert seemed more relaxed as they checked the perimeter, and Drift and Rodimus were less inclined to tackle any weeds.

Rainy days were usually lazy ones.

You walked through your garden, searching for any crop ripe for harvest. Velocity and Chromedome seemed interested in helping, warbling at you for attention whenever they found potatoes worth digging up, parsnips ready for pulling out, or cauliflower that merited being twisted off the stem. You brought everything inside and set it on the table for Ultra Magnus to tally in your ledger. You made sure to set aside one head of cauliflower for delivery, today.

It was all pretty routine up to this point, including the amount of bots that wanted to come with you on your errands. What wasn’t routine was how they looked more armed than usual.

“Uhh...” You scanned all your little roommates. Some were checking their miniature guns – both attached and not attached, where the hell are they keeping all of these? “I’m just heading into town. I don’t need you all to come with me.”

Megatron, who stood at the front, gestured to himself and stepped forward. Rodimus tried to elbow the larger mini-mech aside, announcing in dial-up tones while waving over himself. Drift warbled for your attention, brandishing his swords. Fortress Maximus clunked a fist to his chest, and hatches all over his body opened to show off several gun barrels. Whirl had transformed to his tilt-rotor helicopter self and flown to your shoulder, changing back and perching. His single eye squinted at you, as if daring you to swat him off.

You could only assume they wanted to protect you. It was sweet, but also inconvenient.

“Yesterday was... crazy. I... kinda need a little time before I go back in the woods. Today, I’m just staying to paths I’m familiar with and I’m running a few errands.” You knelt to try and level with the tiny warriors. I really do appreciate everyone wanting to come with me, but today will be different. I won’t need an arsenal, okay?”

Few bots droned in disappointment. Mainly Rodimus, that little thrill seeker.

“I’m going to scour the beach. Riptide? Could you help me find some clams?”

The boat-bot gave a little cheer from within the crowd, and the rapid patter of feet brought him out and to you. Riptide reached out with his uppies grabby-hands, and you picked him up and set him on your knee. He was just positively beaming to have been chosen.

“I’m also dropping by the library. With everyone so goddamn chill about monsters, I figure there might be a book about it.” You said that last part with a growl of annoyance. You huffed it all out. “I’ll take a helper.”

You waited as the crowd huddled up. Brainstorm was obviously volunteering himself and Perceptor. Nautica offered herself, and Skids seemed interested in tagging along. Ultra Magnus and Rodimus argued on who they felt was the better candidate. Megatron silenced them all with his vote. They all must have came to an agreement as they parted to allow one of their own to step out.

The little detective-bot, your biggest problem solver, Nightbeat came forward.

“Perfect. Three is enough –"

Cyclonus came up beside him, stabbing his letter-opener sized sword in your splintery wood floor. He posed like a knight, standing guard. He looked intent on joining.

You let out a long sigh, choosing not to argue. “Four. Four is enough.”

You opened your cabin’s door, and even though she wasn’t counted, Starlet was right behind you like she didn’t need to be. You didn’t fight it as she walked beside you, weaving between puddles as you headed north up the mountain path, taking the long way around into town. You’d pass by Robin’s carpenter shop and house, but had no plans on stopping by.

You found a few healthy daffodils and several dandelions that thrived in this wet weather. Nightbeat relaxed on your shoulder as Riptide was content in your arms. Whirl and Cyclonus flew up ahead, scouting. They hovered and buzzed around every bush, up every tree. Starlet shook off the light rain periodically, but it didn’t slow her as she orbited you, yipping for you to put Riptide down. It didn’t help that the bot playfully breedled back.

Confident that no one was outside, you continued to give your travel companions the freedom from your backpack. Taking the path past Robin’s home, you came to the north part of the charming town that was a little less charming.

This area was neglected and overgrown. You spotted the dilapidated community center much easier than you had the other abandoned buildings you’ve come across. Unease fluttered in your chest at how close a children’s playground was to a potential home to things unknown and unsafe. You wrestled with yourself to dig up a horseradish so close to the place.

Nightbeat started climbing down your arm, and you scooped him up as soon as he stepped towards the second spooky place he wanted to explore. He bleated in irritated protest, but you would have none of it.

“No. We’re not having a repeat of last time,” You said firmly. You pulled your backpack off your back and set it down, waving the mini-mechs in. “I’m hitting the store, next. If you all would please climb in.”

They filed in, squeezing beside one another to fit with all the foraged plants you gathered. Starlet nosed your pack, and when someone pushed back, she bapped it with her paw, causing a squeal. She followed, more fixated on your bag than you, as you descended the stone steps down alongside Pierre’s shop. You rounded the way and entered with Starlet, and stood mildly mortified as she shook the rain from her coat.

From behind the counter, Pierre greeted you with a brief frown. “I take it’s still raining?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You gave an apologetic smile. “She wanted to come with me, today.”

“That’s because you were coming here. She knows a good quality shop when she sees one. Isn’t that right? You’d bite that mean JojaMart manager, wouldn’t you? Yes you would.” He definitely stopped talking to you in the end. It seemed like he couldn’t stay mad as he rounded the counter, making noises at Starlet as she did her husky-burrs for his attention. He gave it gladly in the payment of skritches.

You left them to it, only taking a glance at the wall of the cheaper seeds before choosing another packet of parsnips. You were more distracted with the shelves across the store, seeing the pantry selection that was outside of your price range. To think of all the things you could cook with oil, spices, breading, and more.

You stepped up to the register, carefully setting your backpack on the counter to pull out and count your money. A stack of booklets set aside caught your eye. They were catalogues.

“These books for free?” You called back over your shoulder.

“Yeah, take one. I’ve just updated them with the stock I’ll be getting for summer.” You heard Pierre say while still petting your dog.

You took up a booklet and started flipping through, whispering, “This’ll be incredibly handy to plan what to do. Magnus would love this.” As you opened the flap and shoved it inside, Nightbeat nodded in agreement to your quiet statement.

“Is that a horseradish?”

You jumped, flipping the pack closed. Pierre just appeared behind you, and he fell a step back at your wide-eyed surprise. That’s all you needed, rumors that you talked to robot-toys that you carried around.

“Did I scare you? Sorry.” He took his place back behind the register, opening it and dropping your payment inside. He didn’t act like he heard anything as he went on to undo his apology. “You don’t need to be so jumpy. Is it because you’ve been mugged or pick-pocketed before? I’ve heard the city is known for that kind of danger.”

Says the inhabitant that thinks monsters were normal. You faked a patient smile. “Yep. You heard right.”

“What I was going to say is that I can give you money right here for that horseradish. And dandelion – people love that in their salads.”

That didn’t sound like a bad deal. You could offload and get a little extra cash. You nodded, most of your bounty out of your pack, careful to maneuver around the bots and keep them out of sight. Your cauliflower tumbled out, and you would have thought it was made out of gold with how the shopkeeper gasped.

“I would love to buy that, too! Have you heard about –?"

“The shortage and price hike? Yeah,” You finished for him. You went to stuff it back in your bag. “I’m delivering it to someone.”

“How much are they paying you?” Pierre bargained. “I’ll pay you more.”

You paused, staring at the vegetable in your hand, and then to the bots that hid in your pack. They looked to you curiously, like they were seeing what you’d do. You could just tell Jodi the truth that you were offered more, or maybe you could lie and say something happened where you lost the delivery.

Money was money, but you didn’t want to get paid extra to be burdened with this icky feeling. “No. I should keep to the deal I made. Maybe next harvest I get, I’ll bring it to you.”

Pierre gave a little huff of disappointment and counted out what he owed you. You said your thanks from being paid, and made for the exit. As you hit the door, he called out to you.

“You know, things are different in the Valley. You should learn to relax and enjoy the peace. The only crime is someone going through your trash at night.”

While you didn’t appreciate the unsolicited advice, he wasn’t wrong. Things were different, here. The sentient robot roommates that ran about your struggling farm were a testament to that. You patted your hip, calling Starlet to your side, and waving genially. “Thanks. Have a good day.”

As soon as drizzle hit your face, you grumbled. You walked down the cobblestone path through the center of town, passing the tavern. The place was empty with the weather keeping everyone inside. You found yourself echoing in a mocking pitch, “The Valley’s different. There’s no crime. Just monsters. Doncha know?”

Cyclonus crawled out of your pack and up on your shoulder. You spared him a brief glance. “But no one seems to know about you guys. How would everyone like it if I was all patronizing like, ‘yeah there are little robots, didn’t you know?’ Whatever.”

He warbled back, and with a wave of his hand, motioned towards your pack. You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “Eh? What is it?”

Cyclonus gestured back towards the shop, then pointed in your bag. You guessed, “The things I sold? No? Didn’t sell? The cauliflower?”

He nodded. You blinked, feeling a little confused. “Do you think I should have sold it? No? So... you approve of me not selling it? Of course I didn’t. I mean, I thought about it, but it wouldn’t be right. I told Jodi I would deliver it to her.”

He tapped a fist on his chest and gave you a strong nod of respect. The little purple bot slid back into your backpack without any further engagement. You stood there for a moment. Cyclonus was one of the quiet ones, the dutiful ones who got things done without needing any praise. Him noticing your good deed, of praising you, made the sky a little brighter.

You found your feet and continued on, turning down the path to the library. When you arrived, you let in Starlet first, and marched right up to the counter and set your bag down on the floor. To cover the rapid patter of little feet, you spoke loudly.  

“You have any books on monsters, because I guess they live here.”

Gunther looked up from some old looking book and adjusted the brim of his hat. “You didn’t know?”

“Why does everyone ask that?” You huffed. “No, I didn’t. Went foraging in the woods – and yes, now I know they’re deep in the forest. How are these things here and not anywhere else in the world?”

“The Valley’s dif –"

“Different,” You finished for him. “The Valley’s different. People say that, too. Why is everyone so okay with the fact you’ve got monsters in the forest?”

“That ain’t all we got.” Gunther's chuckle resonated in the library's hushed space. “Since you like traversing the wilds, have you thought about arming yourself?”

You felt yourself blanch. You came here for peace, not for a fight. “Like carry a gun?”

“Heaven’s no. Get yerself a sword, or a dagger. Maybe a mace, or a great hammer. The Adventurer’s Guild sells all kinds of weaponry.”

 Somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better. A sword? Suddenly the thought of carrying a firearm seemed much more comfortable than brandishing a dagger, because at least you could keep your distance. Imagine how much quicker you would have disposed of that slime if you had one of those old western ‘defend-mah-daughter’s-honor’ shotguns.

You also had living weapons skittering about the library. You recalled how quickly they put that jiggly threat down.

“I think I would much rather have a gun,” You admitted. “Maybe I’m weird, but why not have a little firepower?”

“You sound like that old inventor that was here several years back.” Gunther reached to pet Starlet as she jumped up on the counter, sniffing at what he was working on. “We’re just not that kind of people.”

“Your lack of cell service backs that up.” You rubbed your face with a sigh, accepting that you’d get nowhere in this conversation. “So... monsters. What aisle?”

“You’ll find what you’re looking for in the section labeled Local Archive.” He started feeding Starlet jerky from his lunchbox. She made little berks for more, and by golly was he charmed by the bossy dog.

Your pack was much lighter when you picked it up and made your way through the labyrinth of bookshelves. As before, Riptide hung out in your backpack, warbling for you to carry him and directing you where everyone assembled. You found Cyclonus looking over an illustrated book on ancient weaponry while Whirl was rearranging the books he could carry, taking them from one section to the next. Nightbeat made a stack in the middle of the floor.

You started with him, kneeling to look over the collection. You whispered loud enough for the mini-mechs to hear. “What’s all this? ‘Facts and Fallacies.’ ‘Conspiracies: Truth Warriors.’ ‘Who Really Built the Pyramids.’ Nightbeat, no.”

The little detective warbled insistently, pointing at the spaceship on the cover of the last book you referenced.

“I don’t care who built them. What I care about is what the hell I ran into, yesterday, and will I run into more?” You hunkered down more to Nightbeat’s level. “I know it’s a big world out there, but right now, all I want to handle is what’s around me. Okay? So help me find the right books?”

Nightbeat nodded solemnly and turned back to the shelves, looking them up and over before climbing up on his own. You took a few minutes to try and fix Whirl’s chaos, but gave up just in time for Nightbeat to call for you. He directed you to an old book with a cracked spine. The title was worn, but you were able to read ‘Endemic Species of Stardew Valley.’ You glanced through the table of contents, not seeing the word monster, but you did find the word slime. Good enough.

“Okay, everyone in.” You held out backpack, letting everyone tumble in. Whirl just jumped in on everyone, causing Nightbeat and Riptide to squeal in protest. You nervously checked around, making sure there was no one in the library to hear the dial-up whining.

You weaved your way out of the maze of bookshelves and back to the lobby, where Gunther was staring at his empty lunchbox as Starlet was licking her chops. She looked at you, her tail swishing back and forth as she panted, satisfied with having conned the man out of a lunch.

You set your book on the counter, smiling knowingly. “Problem?”

“Uh, no. Just... lost track of how much I had.” He unmindfully started filling out the book ledger.

“Yeah. Thanks for feeding her, though.” You stuffed the book in your pack and headed out with Starlet right behind you.

Next stop, the beach. You followed the road and signs, coming to the quiet, vacant area. It looked much different than the time you visited on a sunny day. The gray overcast mixed with the horizon, blending sea and sky. Since it was just you, you let out all the bots.

Riptide was off, running across the sand with Starlet bounding around him and yipping. You strolled along the shore with Whirl and Cyclonus on each shoulder, and Nightbeat sitting in your arms. Riptide found clams under the sand, and Starlet dug them out. You watched as the little boat bot ran from the ocean waves like those cute sanderling birds.

You didn’t stay long. With a sack full of clams, you ferried your little passengers back into the backpack and headed for your last stop. Jodi’s house wasn’t far, and how you planned your route, it was near the river on the way back home.

Cauliflower in hand, you knocked on the door and waited. Jodi took her time answering, and when she did, she looked surprised. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d actually come, today. It’s raining.”

“Its light enough,” You said dismissively, holding out the crop for her. “You still wanted this, right? If not, I know Pierre will buy it. He already gave me an offer.”

“So he can triple the price? I think not.” She stepped aside to rummage through her purse hanging by the door, and then returned with cash in hand. The exchange was simple. “A little extra for your trouble. Thank you. Would you like to come in and out of the rain?”

Extra? You resisted counting it in front of her. Jutting a thumb back over your shoulder, you said, “I’m alright, thanks. I’ve only got so much daylight left, so I need to hit the river and catch dinner.”

Jodi made a face, and it was difficult to pin down. She seemed lost, confused, but mostly she couldn’t seem to fathom that there was food outside. “Oh... alright. Good luck?”

“Thanks. Have a good day.” You gave a polite wave and sought your social exit.

You headed up the road several paces before you found a comfortable spot along the bank. It seemed secluded enough, but not so much where no one would hear your screams. You sat down in the wet grass, making sure your cellophane-thin parka was protecting your backside, cast out your fishing line, and let out the bots.

With the rain taking a break, you pulled out the library book for Nightbeat to peruse. Riptide climbed down the bank and turned into a boat, buzzing across the gently flowing water and probably scaring all the fish. Starlet ran up and down, keeping track of the boat, and also scaring the fish. Cyclonus took his place somewhere behind you, standing sentry, and easing your nerves. Whirl, alternatively, tested yours by hovering around – sometimes near your head.

It was meant to be relaxing, but you only found yourself anxious. The lightly babbling river didn’t soothe. The soft rustle of leaves, the gentle patter of droplets, and the rolling of rainclouds didn’t captivate you as they would. You thought of what Gunther told you, of carrying a weapon.

It was a horrible cycle: of you feeling so strongly about carrying a weapon, and then feeling silly that you felt this way, then feeling worse that you couldn’t stop. You moved here for peace. You wanted to have a farm, to live the homestead life. It felt weird that it would include carrying a sword.

“Should I get a weapon?” You asked after a long spell of silence. Nightbeat doesn’t stir from his spot, deep in his study. Sightings of Riptide were few as he zipped up and down the river. You checked over your shoulder, finding Cyclonus and Whirl in soft tones of discussion. They stopped to look at you, and Whirl beeped harshly, patting himself.

He wasn’t wrong. You already had weapons.

“Yeah, I could rely on you guys, but what if it’s something you need help with? What if you can’t get to me?” You let out a long sigh and stared at your motionless hook in the river. “I’m supposed to be a responsible adult and take care of myself. Even though I don’t feel like I’m doing a very good job at being one. It’s just... I wanted to grow a farm. Not carry a goddamn knife to shank a jello-blob.”

Cyclonus warbled low, and you heard the rustle of the brush beside you. Nightbeat huddled beside your backpack, and Riptide froze, floating on the river’s surface. You turned, finding Whirl just collapsed on the ground, motionless. Not but a few paces away, Jodi was walking up.

“So, I realize you’re fishing for your dinner and all,” She called out to you as she approached. “And I – oh? Ugh, did my son leave out his toys, again?”

Shit. She reached down to pick up Whirl, but you were faster. You prayed your panic came off as embarrassment. “No... they’re mine.”

“Yours? You’re a collector, or...?”  

“Something like that.” You reached down in the river to pick up Riptide’s boat-mode as he drifted by. You set them close beside you. “I know it’s weird, being my age with these, but –"

“Not at all.” She cut you off with an eager smile. Something made her eyes sparkle, and she searched for a drier place to sit in the grass. Resigning herself to damp legs, Jodi sat down near you. “If it’s something you enjoy – then enjoy it. Age has nothing to do with maturity. Growing up doesn’t mean you should give up on the things that made you happy as a child.”

Her words weighed a little more than you expected them to. You felt bad. You wanted to stop Jodi, because you didn’t have these bots for the reasons she assumed. You felt even worse when Starlet finally noticed her and tried to lay on her lap to get her damp belly rubbed. You let out a sigh, being trapped in another lie.

Jodi reached for a motionless Whirl, brows raised in her silent question. You handed him to her, and she looked over the spindily mech as she shared her story. “I got married young, you know. Had a family as soon as I could. I grew up so fast, and now I look back to see everything I gave up to be what I thought was an adult.”

She set Whirl down between you and returned her attention to Starlet. She gave you a kind, motherly smile. “Don’t give up the things you like. If it’s not hurting anyone, keep what makes you happy. I wish someone told me not to rush to grow up, so I’m telling you, take it slow. Enjoy your youth.”

Oh this woman was so nice. It made you feel awkward and on the verge of crying. “Hard to enjoy it when I have a leaky roof to fix and rusty plumbing to replace.”

“You did take on quite the project,” She said with a laugh. “But if you enjoy the challenge, enjoy working with your hands and fixing something everyone else felt was a lost cause, then enjoy it. You do what makes you happy.”

“Thanks, I –" Your gratitude hitched. “Wait. Lost cause?”

“Mama, who is –?" A question caused you to twist and see who came from around the brush.

It was the little boy from the library. He ran up to hug Jodi and pet the dog, but froze to stare at you, recognizing you. It was obvious that he didn’t forget spotting one of your smaller friends moving on their own. You had formulated an exit plan, to just abandon your fishing attempt and excuse yourself here and now.

But of course this would be the moment a fish would bite. You rose to your feet, reeling in the line and yanking the rod back. Jodi cheered for you, trying to get her son to hype you up, but you felt his unsure gaze. You didn’t blame him. You did plan to deny whatever he said about your moving robots to the grave.

The rod bowed under the weight of the darkly scaled fish. Your head tilted at its long whiskers. “Uhh...”

“A catfish! Those are pretty tasty.”

“You fish?” You asked, bringing it ashore to unhook and bag. Starlet was with beside you, nose against the fish as she sniffed and watched it, ready to chase it down should it try to run. You turned in time to see the little redheaded boy booking it for the house.

“I cook,” Jodi said with an exasperated huff. “Sorry. Vincent isn’t usually rude like that.”

“Probably just shy,” You offered an excuse for him. “He doesn’t know me. It’s okay.”

“I suppose,” She accepted your reasoning. “Well, originally I came out here to invite you in for dinner. If you want, we can store that in the fridge.”

You were in the middle of packing up. You gathered the book, your fishing rod, and your fresh-from-the-river meal and set them in your pack. Whatever bot didn’t make it to the secret interiors of your bag, you found and placed them in, all the while saying, “I appreciate it, but I should really get to processing this and bundling stuff for market. Maybe... next... One, two, three...?”

You search around. Riptide, Nightbeat, Cyclonus... where’s Whirl?

Jodi mirrored your concern. “Missing one?”

Missing two. Starlet’s bark alerted you. She was at Jodi’s front door, clawing at the wood.

Jodi gasped. “Ohhh dear. She’s scratching my paint...”

Alarm propelled you into motion. Like a track-star, you ran for the house, the pit in your stomach bottoming out into nothing. “Sorry! But uh, I think your kid took something –"

A wail pierced the air, and you got to experience the impressive reaction time and speed of a mother as Jodi rushed by you and threw her door open. It bounced off of the wall, and something fell and shattered. You and Starlet were right behind her as she busted into her son’s room. Vincent was sitting on the floor, holding his finger and crying. Whirl lay motionless before him.

Jodi knelt by her son while you came in and swiped up Whirl, checking him over.

“It – it pinched me! Look!” Vincent held out his finger. For several reasons, you were thankful that there wasn’t any blood.

“This one is a little sharp. I’m sorry.” You glanced down at Starlet, who looked up at you, not interested in the least of a sobbing child.

“You shouldn’t apologize.” Jodi turned her glare on her boy. “That wasn’t yours to take, Vincent. Those don’t belong to you.”

“But –"

“No buts!”

You winced along with him. Jodi’s reprimanding tone gave you flashbacks of your own scoldings. “Jo-Jodi, it’s okay. I, uh, I’m just going to see myself out. Good night”

You ignored her flustering between trying to soothe and lecture her child while keeping you a guest within her home. You refused to be made part of the lesson, because you knew it was the kid’s word against yours, and you didn’t want either of you two in that situation.

You took one step outside and nearly ran into a familiar blond guy. Starlet just trotted around him and started off down the road, looking back like ‘you coming?’ You had seen this guy around, but hardly paid attention when he was over at Robin’s house hanging out with her basement-dwelling son. You stepped around him with a quick mutter of “excuse me,” but he stopped you by pointing at the bot in your hands.

“Whoa! Cool robot. Is that a Cyber Knight?” He went to poke it, and Whirl’s claw snapped closed, making him flinch. “It has batteries? Neat! I think Abigail mentioned you – that you found this in the forest. Lucky.”

Great. You were a topic of discussion. You died a little inside while trying to shove Whirl in your pocket. “Yeeeaahh. Uh... excuse me. I need to get home. Got a fish in my bag.”

He chuckled a little awkwardly. “Uh, cool? Yeah, nice meeting you. See ya.” He heard Vincent sniffle and leaned to look inside his house.

It wasn’t really a meeting, as you didn’t get his name, but you weren’t about to linger any longer to explain how your moving robot-toy pinched who you guessed was his little brother. You skirted by him and jogged with Starlet down the darkening path of the evening light. When you were far enough away, your bag shifted as bots poked out of your bag, breedling and warbling at a now squirmy Whirl.

You hissed, “What did you do to that kid?”

Whirl buzzed, clinking his claws together.

“You don’t move, okay? You never move! Forget that I don’t like making the kid look like a liar, but what if someone believes him?” You doled out your own lecture. “What if people find out you guys are here, running around? Yeah, nobody seems to care about monsters, but that’s because they’re not in town or on farms. You guys are. I don’t want anyone trying to run you out, or worse, take you away.”

Whirl stayed motionless in your hands, staring up at you with a single light. You felt a soft pat on your cheek as Nightbeat offered a bit of sympathy. You let out a long sigh.

“You’re my friends, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to any of you. So please, be a bit more careful.” You started walking again, and let Whirl sit up on your shoulder. He tangled his claw in your hair, hanging on. You let your words echo in your head, and a struggle you had seemed to solve itself.

“And because we’re friends, I think I need to do my part. I need to learn how to protect us.”

Chapter Text

“It looks like another spring storm is moving in, and it’s a big one!”

You glanced up at the flicker of light. Your TV-turned-radio cracked, fuzzed, and the screen finally blipped on for the first time since Brainstorm tried to upgrade it to a super-computer.

You let out a cheer with a full mouth. “Finally! Oh, thank you guys so much!”

Nautica and Chromedome gave a wave. Brainstorm’s was a little sheepish.

“And thank you, Brainstorm, for fixing what you broke. From now on, please ask before you run experiments in my house.” You pointed out towards your open cabin door with your spoon. “You can now go in my tool chest. I’ve been setting aside the things I dig up in the yard for you.”

The little jet-scientist let out a squee and transformed, zipping outside.  

You settled back in your splintery chair to finish your hearty breakfast, all the while watching the static-fuzzed picture of your old television. The forecaster wasn’t exaggerating. On the radar map looked like one hell of a storm cell creeping in, and it would rain for several days, starting tonight.

You glanced back out your open cabin door – being one of the first things you did when you woke was open the door to let Starlet out, and allow the bots to come and go as they pleased. It was sunny, outside. Windy, but pleasant, for now. You imagined the winds would pick up, soon.

“Gotta get a bunch of stuff done before that hits,” You muttered to yourself.

You stuffed your mouth with the last of your breakfast and got up from your rickety table. Carefully, you stepped over whatever open-book conference Ultra Magnus was having with Ratchet, First Aid, Velocity, and Rung on your way out to your porch.

You were greeted by the morning's gentle glow, much like a warm hug. It felt like an apology, like ‘sorry we’re going to be mean, later.’ You scanned the rugged farmland, taking in all that was in your name, your responsibility.

The overgrowth of your land seemed endless. The weeds and grass stretched out. Pines, maples, and oaks of varying ages dotted your landscape, obscuring the horizon. Rocks nearly cobbled the dirt you could see, and all you had were three measly garden plots.

It was a lot to get done, and all you wanted to do was go crawl in bed. You didn’t know what to do, once you completed your usual chores. A storm would keep you indoors, and you didn’t even want to start tallying up all you could work on, inside.

Water. You had to water your plants for the morning. You could start there. You collected your watering-can and headed for your well. Riptide and Tailgate were on the edge, having what seemed to be a riveting conversation about a lump of algae-coated pair of broken glasses they fetched from the well.

Just another thing to add on the list: your nasty-ass well. You wonder what was lurking in the bottom, leaching whatever chemicals in the water that you were sprinkling on the crops you’d eat. You knelt to fill your can, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Who treated this as a dumpster? Seriously.”

The two beeped in agreement. Tailgate started explaining something to you in wide gestures, beeping out this grandiose plan.

You smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I don’t know what you mean. If you want to keep them, that’s up to you, but I’m sure Magnus would have something to say about it.”

Tailgate looked like he pouted, and Riptide gave him a little pat of reassurance. It pulled at your heartstrings and made you briefly forget this looming cloud of dread – and it wasn’t the weather. “If it means that much to you, I’ll talk to him and make sure you can keep it.”

Your miniature roomie stared at you with his head tilted, and you got the impression you completely misread the situation. He gave you a wave and started walking towards the cabin. Riptide shrugged and chased after him. Maybe later, you could figure out what Tailgate was trying to convey. For now, you had plants to water.

You got up and made your way to the garden beds. You spotted Cyclonus and Drift patrolling the stone borders and inspecting any suspicious mole-mound. Whirl flew by with Starlet jumping after him, and a flock of crows that lurked along your rotted fence took to the air. Swerve and Perceptor were among the crops, paying special attention to a potato plant.

You watered the younger plants, coming to them to see what they were seeing. You spotted the potatoes pushing up the dirt, ready to be harvested. You squatted down, and the two mini-bots chirruped at you as you dug in the soft soil. You were rewarded with a sad amount of medium sized potatoes.

Disappointing. Should you eat them for a meager meal, sell them for a few pennies, or plant them right back in the ground? You wouldn’t get a better yield than you would with seed-potatoes. You let out a long sigh, looking to the two and holding them out.

“Do I just have bad luck? What am I doing wrong?”

Swerve warbled at you, taking the soil and putting it near his mouth. He shook his head and threw it on the ground like it offended him.

“Of course it tastes bad. It’s dirt. You don’t eat dirt.”

Swerve looked helplessly at Perceptor. The little scientist beeped at his shorter comrade, and he excused themselves with a brief wave, running for the porch. Either you were wrong, again, or Perceptor was taking Swerve to educate him how eating dirt wasn’t very smart.

You went back to your gardening, planting a seed-potato in the empty spot. There were a few parsnips to be pulled up, and some cauliflower that would sell pretty high, but they would be more if they got bigger, like you knew they could. Everything was average. You’ve seen better yields on Pierre’s shelves.

Other farmers and gardeners were doing better than you, and it was more than discouraging. You were starting to feel like you were running out of time in more ways than one. You had so much to do, and you couldn’t even grow good potatoes. How were you supposed to get the funds to make this homestead work?

You pushed your doubt aside. You had to focus and continue to get things done before the storm. You carried everything to your porch to tally up your veggies before setting them into your market bin for pickup.

As you approached, you found Perceptor had laid out the map Marnie gave you. He mounded several pinches of dirt on your only map, and you scolded, “Percy, no. What are you doing? They don’t sell those, you know. If you ruin it, I can’t get another.”

Swerve came trotting out of your cabin, and it turned out he was the dirt-culprit! He carried a dirt clod that he stored in your cabin and dropped it on the map. You knelt, about to swipe it all away. “I don’t understand this fixation –" Your words hitched. There was a pattern.

The little red mini-mech skittered from one soil mount to the next, pointing and warbling an explanation. The one over the forest part of your map was rich and dark, perfect for mushrooms. Grainy sand mounded over the beach. Lighter, rocky dirt was placed over the mountain path where you foraged. Lastly, the lighter, chalky-clay clod – your garden soil – was on your part of the map.

Swerve pointed to his forest sample and held up a thumb, then gave a negative rating to yours. He grimaced like he ate a rotten lemon. Your jaw hit the deck.

“Oh my god, you’ve been telling me my soil is crap?” This entire time, that’s what he was saying. He was tasting the quality and trying to tell you. That’s why your crops were subpar. You lit up. “You can test my soil?! This entire time?”

Swerve held up his arms in that finally moment. Perceptor gave you a light applause.

One more thing to do. Your excitement died down to feeling small, too small for a place this big. You didn’t mean to sound as quiet as you did. “What do I do about it?”

Perceptor and Swerve exchanged glances, and the taller scientist turned to go inside. Swerve came up to you, patting your knee and droning softly. You let out a long breath, looking back out towards your garden plots. You’ve done all you could for them, today. You didn’t know what to do, next – or more like, couldn’t choose what to do.

It seemed Perceptor had retrieved Ultra Magnus. The bigger mini-mech stepped out with his medic-council trailing behind, looking on curiously at what interrupted their meeting. Perceptor must have been giving an explanation as he gestured to the map with dirt indicators. Ultra Magnus simply looked on, a thoughtful hand on his chin, nodding along. When Perceptor was finished, the larger mech tapped the side of his helm and murmured something.

You looked over your shoulder as the sounds of little engines. He radioed everyone. Your roommates convened on the porch around you. Rodimus tilted his head at you, breedling a question.

You shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Rodimus shrugged with you and started climbing up your arm to your shoulder. Tailgate and Riptide came from the well, carrying the broken glasses they fished out. Whirl came flying up, transforming in mid-air and landing beside a stoic Cyclonus. Starlet trotted up, and you bade her to sit and submit to pets to keep her from the gathering bots. Fortress Maximus stood on the other side, patting her side like a rowdy horse.

This was a conference. Ultra Magnus was speaking to everyone, gesturing to your map, and waving his hand in your direction. You tilted your head towards Rodimus, whispering, “What is he talking about?”

He pointed down at the map, and you withered. Not helpful.

Other bots spoke up: Ratchet and his medic team, Red Alert, Chromedome, and Drift. Discussions rose over one another like a malfunctioning arcade. Megatron went inside for a moment, then returned with both the farmer’s builders book, your ledger, and the catalogue from Pierre’s. Ultra Magnus blared for order amongst the beeping chaos that was on par to an annoying neighbor’s car alarm. The noise made you flinch.

Rodimus climbed down your shoulder to join in as others huddled in to look at the books. You were left alone, clueless, and anxious. Your eyes search the skies along the horizon. You only had so much time in the day to get everything done, and felt so helpless to do any of it.

Starlet ignored the trilling warbles of arguments, content with you rubbing her belly. It must have been nice, to just lay back and get petted. You felt silly, being envious of a dog.

Insistent tapping on your knee called your attention. Ultra Magnus and Megatron had the builder’s book opened to instructions on how to build a simple compost bin, and the shop’s catalogue opened to the price of different fertilizers.   

You could either make it, or buy it.

“It would take too long for compost to turn, and I can't be buying fertilizer.”

Ultra Magnus gestured to your ledger. There were numbers. Lots of numbers. It was dizzying to look at, but his little finger guided your eyes as he droned on. You realized, he calculated the amount you’d have to spend to cover the three of your garden beds, and the estimated return. The potential earnings would cover the cheapest fertilizer three times over! If he felt it was worth it, then you’d give it a chance.

But to build a compost bin now so you wouldn’t have to keep paying for it, was the kind of clear foresight you needed.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “Should I run and get some, now?”

Swerve beeped, holding up his hand to stay your action. He pointed up at the sky. Instinctively, you glanced up, then looked to him for more clarification. Tailgate tapped on the builder’s book, drawing your eye to one of those side articles most people ignore while following picture-instructions. It was a little fun-fact about chemical fertilizers, and rain-runoff.

You skimmed the text. “I have to spread it after a rain. It’ll get swept away, otherwise. Okay, okay. That makes sense.”

You pulled the builder’s book closer to you to scan it more thoroughly. The instructions were pretty straightforward. “I’ll need a lot of logs, and we could use the rotted ones – it says it’ll attract more beneficial insects. Beneficial? There are good bugs? Eugh.”

You turn your head up to your roommates. “I should also cut down a few saplings for posts. Who wants to help hunt down soggy logs while I do that?”

Most of them were already hopping down your porch steps, heading out into the vast wilderness that was your farmland. Starlet jumped to her feet to chase down a few. The wail of a mini-mech announced one did not make it to the safety of the underbrush.

Swerve came up and tugged on your sleeve.

“You want on my shoulder? Think you can be my advisor on how to build a good compost bin?”

He nodded excitedly, and you boosted him up as you rose to your feet. You towered over everyone, and they waved you off like the friendliest kaiju monster they’ve ever met. Swerve hung on as you stopped to pick up your axe at your tool chest, and ventured into the woodsier part of your farm. It felt nice to have a friend with you, pointing at perfectly straight saplings with an enthusiasm you wish you had.

You weren’t picky with these kinds of trees. You cut down mostly pine, as they were softer and easier. Swerve hung on, yelping with each swing. You went to cut off all the branches and needles, but your little soil expert stopped you, gesturing you to take it all back to where you’d be building it.

“You’re not carrying it,” You grumbled, but followed his instruction. Hiking the long, but narrow, trunk up on your other shoulder, you dragged it all the way back. It kind of made you feel a little buff and accomplished, dropping the felled sapling in the open part of your yard. A few bots cheered at your conquest.

You continued chopping down enough young trees to turn into posts, and your roommates collected quite a pile of old and dirty logs. This time around, they learned to pay homage to Starlet by sacrificing a stick to save the rest.

You took another glance at the instructions, not that you needed to. Swerve told you what and where to cut. You chopped away with your axe, and used the flat end to drive in the posts up against your old, rotted fence. You laughed some as Chromedome and Skids worked together to bring you a log, but Starlet tried to steal it away. They tried running with it, but when that failed, they squealed as they were locked in an impossible tug-of-war.

The posts held the logs in place as they were stacked on one another like a log cabin. You had to cut a few to fit, but in the end, you had a box made of logs. Now you had a place where to dump your grass, weeds, and inedible food scraps.

Swerve beeped in your ear, pointing to the mess of branches and chips.

Your shoulders fell from their broad posture of pride. “Yeah... I should clean that up.”

He bleated loudly, and you flinched. Several bots came running and started picking up what they could. Like ants, they worked together to carry fluffy boughs to your new compost bin, and left them there for you to pick up and put inside.

“Oohhh!” You sighed out, nodding as you found understanding. You smiled at Swerve. “I’ll have to look up what I can compost. Thank you.”

It was fast work, and everything was picked up before you knew it. You checked the sky, and the day was still relatively young. The high of your recent accomplishment died down and left you feeling as anxious as before. What now? What could you hurry up and do before you couldn’t do anything, anymore?

You dropped off your passenger and went to sit down at the porch. You put your face in your dirty hands, letting out a long sigh. There was just so much. It felt like, if you couldn’t get it all done, today, you’d never get it done.

The deep warble of Ultra Magnus called to you. You twisted to look, finding he was back up on your table with all his books. You got up and went down to sit, to see why he called for your attention.

On your ledger was a checklist in the most pristine print you had ever seen. It was extensive and, to say the least, overwhelming. He toned lowly at you, pointing to a few key tasks and underlined them.

• Fertilize Spring garden beds. [see section 4c for details]
• Stock household [see section 3b for list]
• Clear land for three additional garden beds. [see section 7a for diagrams]

“Three? So six total?” You nearly pealed in panic. “I’m having a hard time keeping up with three and you want to have six garden beds? And stock household? What do you mean, stock?”

You flipped the page for the list, and it was a grocery list. It was all pantry items, the things you couldn’t afford. Before you could begin to argue over the thing that made your life so difficult, Ultra Magnus pointed at the following page.

It was a complete budgeting spreadsheet. He had completely rethought your plans and made his own, creating different blocks of needs that require money, and the hierarchy of those needs. The farm did not come first. You did. He prioritized the staples you should have in your house.

Then income would go to your crops. Purchasing fertilizers would bring in more money in the long run. Ultra Magnus predicted the amount of seeds you’d buy for the season, and allocated a percentage towards that.

Whatever was left over went to a pool of savings that would be used to tackle non-essential, such as tool upgrades, home repair, and farming equipment that you could live without, but it would make your life so much easier.

All this, on the crops you’d sell. Anything you’d fish or forage would be extra.

You turned your wide and impressed gaze at Ultra Magnus.  

Yeah. You could manage six garden beds if it meant having a clear plan before you. All the impossible tasks and projects were like lost little ducklings – scrambling and unorganized, quacking for direction when you had none to give. Ultra Magnus just helped you put them all in a neat, militant row.

“Thank you for narrowing this down,” You said softly. Something caught in the back of your throat, and you swallowed it down. “Do... do you know what we’ll be growing for summer?”

Ultra Magnus stepped over to Pierre’s catalogue. He pointed at the six crops you’d have: Hot peppers, blueberries, melon, corn, sunflower, and tomato. The corn and sunflower were a bit pricey, but reading that your corn would last into and through fall, and you could replant sunflower from one of the hundreds of seeds it would drop, seemed to be a good investment.

It was still a ways away, but you felt you’d be ready for the change of season.

“Thank you,” You said, again, and Ultra Magnus nodded in acknowledgement. He directed your attention to the next page of your ledger and of course he would have laid out garden plans. “Does anyone else know this?”

He shook his head, toning a simple sound that was ‘No.’

“Then let’s tell everyone what the plan is. We’re all in this, together.”

You worked well through the rest of the day clearing out much for the three new garden beds, but you didn’t feel dread when you saw the darkened horizon of the incoming thunderstorm. There will be other days, and you were confident you’d get it done.

One step at a time.

Chapter Text

You flinched at a sharp squeal.

Today started off as a good day. You were determined for it to be. You woke nice and early, watering your gardens and greeted the morning sun. You spread fertilizer carefully over the soil, careful not to add too much – and they looked really close to chicken pellets. You suspected Marnie probably made a killing off of selling bird shit to Pierre, who doubled the price. You made a mental note to talk to her, maybe purchase directly from the source.

Ah, but the morning was cool and misty, the air smelled fresh and clean, and it was moments like these that validated your decision to uproot and move to the Valley.

And you hoped no one saw the letter you tossed in the compost bin.

Evidently, hope was not enough.

Rodimus was perched on the edge of your compost bin, holding up a dirty and flimsy sheet of paper. He unraveled it from its ball and shook it about, like he was trying to unfurl a parachute. He trilled at you in a series of beeps and chirrs, like he was confused on how the invitation to the Spring Egg Festival was in the compost bin of all places.

You had no plans to even entertain the idea for multiple reasons. “I’m not going.”

The little hot rod held out his arms in disbelief, like that health-conscious coworker who judged you for never trying authentic natto and ‘what do you mean you don’t drink a gallon of water a day?’

“We are not going,” You repeated a little more firmly.

That spurned him on. He warbled in protest, gesturing widely, and even looking down upon the gathering bots and fucking tattling on you. Rodimus tossed down the invitation for several others to read. Now, more little eyes were on you. 

“Absolutely not.” You had no plans on budging. “Who the hell sends an invite the day before a festival? I’m not wasting a day to hunt for eggs when I could be picking the last of the salmonberries. It’s not like I can take the eggs home… right? Can I? Did the letter say… never mind. Probably not.”

Rodimus jumped down, grabbing the wrinkly paper from the others and stormed up to you. He shook the paper at you like an angry old man, breedling at you insistently. You snatched the letter from his hand, nearly taking him with it.

“In case you forgot, we’re keeping everyone a secret. You’re supposed to stay hidden – and going to a populated festival is the opposite of trying to keep hidden.” You balled the letter in your palm, and tossed it back into the compost bin. “We’re not risking it. You’re not going, and neither am I.”

Rodimus didn’t pout, but he sure looked disappointed as he crossed his arms and shook his head, turning away because he just couldn’t even look at you, right now. Several others pouted. Most sauntered away.

Okay. You were a little harsh. You were determined for today to be a good day, and you knew your roommates would kick up a fuss about this festival you just did not want to go to. You sighed and knelt down, holding out your hand to him. “I’m sorry. I just… really don’t want to go. There is so much to do, and I don’t think I would enjoy myself.”

You paused for a moment as he turned back towards you, and you added, “I would rather spend time with you guys. Everyone’s going to be at the festival, which means we won’t have to worry about anyone in the forest. Everyone can come and do a little exploring.”

Rodimus conceded with a little huff. He was about to reach out and set his hand on your finger, but he stopped, turning his head and tapping his fingers to his earpiece. You watched everyone else stiffen up. Then, they scattered like mice.

You didn’t have time to ask what was going on as Starlet started barking. It wasn’t an aggressive kind of bark, but rather an alerting one. You got up to your feet, rounding the corner of your shabby, overgrown fence. Somewhere in that foliage was Red Alert, acting as farm security and sending the message to hide should anyone walk up the path. Starlet wasn’t the most reliable of alarms.

You spotted Starlet standing her ground and wagging her tail, barking. She looked back as you approached, tongue lolling off to the side, looking proud of herself. You patted her to be quiet and spotted Vincent standing stark still, eyes bleary. He clutched a paper in his trembling hands. 

What was that kid doing here? Sneaking around? Hunting for evidence? Looking to steal one of your little bot friends? You gave Starlet a few pets as you murmured, “Good girl.”

You made your way towards Vincent, hearing your dog pad along behind you. You took a moment to wonder if she felt the same as you, wary of this visitor. You asked as you closed the distance, “What are you doing all the way out here? Does your mom know you’re here?”

The little redheaded boy whimpered, glancing back over his shoulder. Your eye line followed his, and you spotted Jodi standing by a bush. She gave a friendly wave to you, and then gave the mom glare to her son. Vincent turned back to you, his gaze dropping down to the paper in his hand. He asked in a low, sniffling murmur, “Does your dog bite?”

Your gaze lingered a little longer on Jodi, trying to figure out what was going on. You answered absently, “No. She just barked at you to let me know someone was here.”

“She’s loud,” He almost stuttered.

“Yeah. She likes making noise.” You turned your attention back to Vincent, and saw how he clutched the paper in his hand. It was all wrinkled, looking a little damp from the sweat of his palms. You knelt to his level and encouraged Starlet to come up beside you. She readily leaned against you as you scratched her back. “Do you want to pet her?”

Vincent didn’t answer, but awkwardly held out his hand to try and pat her head. Starlet’s tongue was quicker, and she lapped at his sweaty palms. The boy cringed and wiped his hand on his shirt. You chuckled. That kid wouldn’t last five minutes on the farm if he was that easily icked out.

“So, what do you need?” You nodded to the paper in his hand. “What do you have there?”

His face turned bright red before murmuring, “A… rry…ter…”

“Huh?” You leaned a little closer, tilting your ear towards him.

“Uh…ry…rr…”

“Is it just me or are you getting quieter? One more time.”

Then Jodi shrieked from her spot, coaching her son, “Vincent, big boy voice!”

He jolted and blurted, “A sorry letter… for… for taking your stuff…”

Oh. Aww. You sat back on your legs as he continued, reading from the paper, “I am sorry for taking your things. It was not mine. I should not have taken it without per-per-mish – permission. I promise I will not do it again. I am very sorry.”

You sighed through your nose, a sad smile curving your lips. Poor kid. It wasn’t lost on you that he literally spotted one of the bots move when you first took them to the library. Maybe he wanted to play with them, or maybe he squealed and wanted to prove that he was right – but either way you felt pretty bad that this kid was probably going crazy doubting himself. 

“I accept your apology,” You said, keeping your voice low and soft. “And I’m sorry that one pinched you.”

He wiped his nose with his sleeve, looking at you with wide eyes. “Mama doesn’t believe me when I said it moved, but it did. I saw it.”

You didn’t want to lie or gaslight the kid, and you especially didn’t want to tell him to keep a secret, but you didn’t want him going all over town blabbing about the living bots you had. The thought of government choppers hovering over your farm, SWAT kicking down your splintery door, all to gather your little friends in a black sack.

“Maybe he did,” You said, not confirming or denying. Instead, you redirected him, “Everyone keeps telling me there are strange things in the Valley. I just recently learned there were monsters.”

Vincent gasped, aptly distracted, “You didn’t know? Did you see one?”

“Oh yeah. While I was deep in the forest” You encouraged the subject change. You patted your chest for good effect. “I was so scared, my heart was going to pop. I hit it with a stick and ran screaming.”

“I’d be scared, too!” His voice cracked. It was cute how he didn’t make fun of you, but instead sympathized. “Sometimes Marlon brings one in a cage on Spirit’s Eve, but Mama won’t let me get close. She doesn’t let me play in the woods.”

You had questions, one of which included why the hell someone would bring a monster to what sounds like a festival. You gave a patient smile, instead. “Well, I’m going to listen to your mom from now on.”

You spotted Jodi on the approach and pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dirt off your knees. She mouthed ‘thank you´ to you and set her hand on Vincent’s head. “See? That wasn’t so bad. Now, let’s get you home and paint eggs for the festival.”

“But I don’t want to go, tomorrow,” He pouted, whining softly.

A kid who doesn’t want to go looking for pretty eggs? You tilted your head, brow cocked in Jodi’s direction. She sighed at your wordless question, shaking her head with mild annoyance. “He’s upset because he hasn’t won since he started joining in the egg hunt.”

“Abigail does!” He wailed, and quieted when he was hushed. “She wins all the time and takes all the prizes.”

“Abigail? The purple-haired girl?” You asked, trying to put a face to the name. “Caroline and Pierre’s daughter? Isn’t she close to my age?”

Your last question came off as a little judgey, but Jodi agreed with that motherly disapproval. She crossed her arms and gave that slow nod. Jodi was one ‘giirrrllll’ away from a hot gossip session.

“Marnie and I spoke with Caroline about her. We have nothing against you older kids playing, but let the little ones win, y’know? But Caroline got all offended, saying we were trying to oppress Abby and make her grow up too fast – but I would never!” Jodi was on a roll, and you were on this ride whether you liked it, or not. “She’s always making excuses for that girl, letting her do all these strange things. Did you know that Caroline and Pierre had a big argument? Evidently, Abigail likes to visit the graveyard, and Pierre tried to put a curfew on her, but Caroline took her daughter’s side and lets her go out all hours of the night.”

You didn’t care about any of that. You glanced down at Vincent who had long tuned out his mother to look past you to try and see your farm. It was kind of shitty that a kid like him didn’t want to go play a kids game because someone with longer legs decided to obliterate the competition – which was probably more kids – every year.

“Did you know there is a rumor that Abigail isn’t really Pierre’s –“

“What’s the prize?” You suddenly asked, looking to derail this conversation and put it on a better route.

“Huh? Prize?”

“The prize for finding the most eggs. What is it?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh… it’s a straw hat. Every year it’s a straw hat.” Jodi rolled her eyes. “You would think with all the taxes we pay, the mayor could afford something better.”

You didn’t empathize with her on the misallocation of taxpayer funds, but wondered how many straw hats Abigail owned. You weren’t the authority on fashion, but you didn’t see her as the type to sport a flimsy farmer hat.

You glanced back down at Vincent, who had long started twisting his shoe in the dirt, making a nice hole he probably wanted to tunnel through and get out. You stole a glance back at your farm, spotting Starlet lying in the shade of the overgrown fence. Within those plants, your little roommates were probably spectating this whole exchange. The same roommates that wanted to go to this festival.

You looked back at Jodi and asked, “Weird question, but do you get to keep the eggs you find?”

“Stay low and stay hidden above all else. You staying unseen is more important than a couple of eggs. Got it?” You whispered firmly. You were kneeling, setting your backpack tucked under a bush. Several bots were crawling out, and a few more were leaving your pockets. Rewind stayed in your shirt pocket, giving you a thumbs up.

Maybe this was foolish. Maybe you were being stupid. But your smaller roommates were all for it. Thank goodness they were able to sort out the stealthier ones from amongst one another. The larger of the bots stayed on the farm, mostly to keep Starlet distracted, but to keep up with the farm work you had to skip.

Now you had to play it cool.

You got up and walked down the main way into the town square. Dirt road turned into the charming cobble pathway, and you smelled the burnt popcorn before you heard the chatter of festival goers. You stepped out into the open, taking in the town square.

There were a lot of people, most of who you didn’t recognize. You took a deep breath and forged on.

The carnival games were geared more towards children. There was a little pool with goldfish that you had to catch with a paddle; there were the usual empty bottles you had to throw a ball at; and there were pony rides. You spotted Pierre at his booth, selling what looked like seasonal decorations, houseplants, stuffed toys, seeds and – seeds?!

You meandered amongst the crowd and came closer, wanting to check his inventory without getting his attention. He was selling strawberry seeds, and you felt your heart sink. They were much too expensive.

You grumbled and left it to wander deeper into the town square. You passed by the guy who ran the tavern. He barely acknowledged you as he tended the spread of food on the table. There were cheeses, breads, salads, deviled eggs, ham, and so many other drinks. Off to the side was a table where you could purchase a bottle of wine or a rind of cheese for more money than you’ve made in the last month.

Whatever. Cheese stunk, anyways.

You started searching the crowd for Vincent or Jodi. You wandered by more tables selling random things, such as clothing accessories, painted ceramics, but what made you pause was the booth selling crystals turned into jewelry.

You couldn’t afford shit – but shiny.

Rewind gave you a harsh beep from your pocket as you leaned in to look at a stone that was looking back.

“That is a Tiger’s Eye,” A voice came from the tent behind the table. You looked up at a shadowed figure sitting within. They continued, “It means courage, and you, young farmer, have much of it.”

You raised a brow, blinking as they leaned forward to caress a crystal ball on the table before them. “Tis a dark secret you bear.”

You glanced around. You did not need this person trying to guess your life. You snapped back in a hiss, “The only secret I have is an egg heist to win a little boy a stupid straw hat.”

From beneath the shroud of their cloak, she gestured to the sign that offered fortunes for a few coins. “I can see many things in my crystal ball. You… are troubled. Questions upon questions, but only one answer. For a small fee, I can find what you seek.”

Unmindfully, your hand came up to shield your breast pocket. There was no way she knew. You kept a poker-face, because this mystic was probably more a con-man than all-seeing.

“Unless you can tell me where the eggs are, I’m not interested.” You glanced aside, spotting Vincent with Marnie’s daughter – or niece. You weren’t sure.

“Check by the mayor’s truck,” The mystic responded, “but you won’t need my help.”

You didn’t think much of it other than to give her a dismissive nod and cross the way to Vincent. He spotted you and quickly left Jas to meet with you by a bush. You knelt and whispered, “Okay, here’s the plan: you look for eggs, but don’t stray too far from the bush over there. That’s where we’ll meet and I’ll give you all the eggs I find. Got it?”

He nodded but still appeared apprehensive. “What if we get caught? We’ll get in trouble.”

“The only people getting in trouble are the ones calling me out for helping a kid win a hat. Don’t worry. I got your back.” You glanced up as Mayor Lewis used an old timey bullhorn to make an announcement. It was getting to be the time of the egg hunt game.

You gestured for Vincent to run ahead and you lingered back behind the crowd. You weren’t thinking of throwing hands over cheating, but at the same time, there were bonifide actual adults playing and you were determined to get that kid his silly hat.

You vaguely listened to Mayor Lewis go over the usual rules of any egg hunt, you whispered down to your breast pocket, “Have they located any eggs?”

Rewind nodded and pointed in the first direction you should go.

The whistle sounded, and you booked it towards the east. You followed Rewind’s directions to a bush on the corner of the fenced in graveyard. Within, Velocity, Perceptor, and Swerve had collected six eggs.

You found yourself grinning like a villain. They were collecting them in caches.

Rewind beeped at you insistently, and you hurriedly scooped the eggs into your basket and moved towards the next spot. 

You immediately bumped into someone. Your first thought was of poor Rewind in your pocket, then of the eggs. You gasped and checked both your shirt and the crunchy basket. One tumbled out, lying cracked on the dirt path. You inadvertently growled, “Shit.”

“I’m so sorry!”

Looking up, you recognized the purple hair of Abigail. Nemesis. Okay, she really wasn’t your enemy, but she was your biggest competitor, and judging by the eggs in her basket, she had more.

“Oh, you got quite a few. Sorry one of them broke,” She said, and while her tone was apologetic, you didn’t feel like it was an apology. Granted, you didn’t know if you ran into her, or if she ran into you, but she could have at least offered one of her eggs to replace yours – it wasn’t like it would hit her collection hard. How did she have so many, already?

Maybe that’s why you were so bitter. You were cheating – for a good reason – and she was still winning.

You picked up the cracked egg, and the slimy goop slicked your fingers. Who the fuck paints raw eggs? Screw it. “Should still count.”

You were still being timed. Abigail opened her mouth to say more, but you were already hurrying past her. When you were far enough away, you checked down in your pocket. Rewind looked up at you with a flickering optic.

“You okay?”

He buzzed low at you and crossed his little arms, looking away all surly like. You couldn’t tell if he was hurt, or pissed. Both. Probably both. But he was lit up and working, so you’d baby him later. You darted back into the mayor’s backyard, recalling that con-artist mystic saying there were eggs by his truck, and that’s where you found the second cache.

Rodimus looked proud of himself while Drift was ready for your praise. Five eggs between the two of them. Impressive. You murmured as you scooped them in your basket, “Good job, good job.”

You checked Rewind, following his indication on where to go, next. He pointed north, and that’s where you booked it. He beeped at you, keeping you in the right direction, even though you were mildly distracted by a fenced-in run with a big brown dog within. He was checking curiously towards a trash can across the dirt road.

That’s where you looked, finding Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Whirl with seven eggs. That left you with eighteen eggs, including the cracked one. Eighteen should be enough.

This was personal, but not in the way people might think. You probably should feel guilty for cheating, but it was for a silly hat and getting eggs to eat for days. Yeah, you were going to get as many as you possibly could.

“Any more?” You looked to your little compass-buddy.

He hesitated a moment, then pointed back towards the square, but he tapped the glass on his chest. Numbers counting down – it was a timer. You only had a few minutes.

“Hang on.” You hugged the egg basket close and tried to run. It was funny, like carrying a scalding plate of food and trying to get to the table as fast as possible without spilling anything. The eggs bounced some. The cracked one was leaking through your basket and getting on your shirt. You’d glance down at the little bot in your pocket as he held onto the fold, trying to direct you without bouncing out.

You heard Robin and Marnie laugh, and Caroline exclaimed, “Look at her go!”

You were probably a spectacle as you ran weirdly back through the main square, but fuck it. Eyes on the prize: eggs, straw hat. Eggs, straw hat.

Following Rewind’s subtle directions, you made it to a fenced in yard and ducked in behind a row of bushes surrounding a tree. You didn’t hesitate to dive in, and found Riptide and First Aid with just three. Three more than you already had. You made sure to say, “Good job. Thank you,” before tearing off and running towards the agreed rendezvous.

Standing by the bush in his back yard, Vincent looked like he was about to start bawling. You probably should’ve tried to calm him down, or say something encouraging, but you only grabbed his basket of two eggs and exchanged it with yours. His eyes widened as you asked, “Twenty one enough?”

He started stuttering, and you simply added the two eggs he found to the collection and gently pushed him towards the square, just in time for the whistle to blow. You muttered under your breath, “It better be, or I swear…”

Vincent had to carry the basket with two hands and do that little kid waddle. You dawdled for several moments, whispering down to Rewind, “Message the others to return back to the bag. We’re going home after this.”

You stepped out of the yard and into the square with your empty basket. Mayor Lewis was in the middle of counting eggs within the baskets of a few contestants. You lingered back, watching Jodi stand by Vincent as his eyes watered when Lewis held up the shell of a cracked egg.

Jodi was quick to say, “It should still count.”

“Okay, okay,” The old mayor grumbled as he continued tallying up everyone’s baskets.

Abigail looked curiously at Vincent’s basket. She squinted some, recognizing the cracked egg. Her eyes snapped over at you.

You don’t know what got into you. You held eye contact, daring her to say something. You didn’t care about getting called out, because you would do the same. Let the damn kids win, you were ready to say. Then, you realized, that attention might shine a light on how you found the eggs. Would someone notice how you found almost two dozen eggs in the span of five minutes?

You averted your gaze. Best not antagonize and encourage a scene.

“The winner of this Egg Hunt Festival is Vincent!” Mayor Lewis declared. People around clapped and cheered, and that little boy looked so happy to get his straw hat. You clapped along with the crowd. It felt good to see him so pleased with such a simple thing.

Vincent then took his basket of eggs and waddled up to you, keeping his end of the bargain and handing in his payment of eggs. He exclaimed with the biggest smile, “Look! I’m a farmer just like you!”

You watched him run off back to his friends. That was… sweet. You didn’t really consider yourself a successful farmer, but you were enough for that little kid to look up to. You didn’t feel like the best example, because cheating, but at the same time, you hope he learned to stand up for himself a little bit more, to call out bullshit when he felt things weren’t fair.

Hopefully that wouldn’t turn back on you when he’d accuse you of harboring living robots the size of action figures.

You gave Jodi your attention as you noticed her closing the distance. She slung her oversized mom-tote bag from her shoulder and started rummaging through it. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate you helping and being a friend to my little boy. Ever since his father left… Well, here,” she changed the subject by handing you a pot of some sort filled with jars. “This is my old preserves kit from when I used to make jelly and jams. I don’t have time anymore, but I thought it might help you with all the berries you’ve been collecting.”

You didn’t pry into her personal life with questions. Instead, you took the preserves jar gratefully, slowly realizing what this could mean. “Uhh… thank you.” You hugged onto it. You could make jam, jellies, and pickled veggies. What things you could make and sell – and eat – broadened. You said again, this time with more sincerity to your tone, “Thank you so much.”

“Enjoy your eggs. Let me know if you need any recipes.” Her smile was warm before she returned back to Vincent and her other friends from the Valley.

Did you just make a friend? You just had to make sure to never let her see your roommates, and find time in-between you trying to restore a struggling farm, but you may have just made a friend. You made your way through the festival square where everyone was taking pictures of the animal cutouts where you could stick your face in where the head was. Vincent looked so happy in that silly hat. He even put a blade of grass in his mouth to look the part. You continued to the path that led to your farmhouse, and fished your now heavy pack out of the brush.

“Hey.”

You jumped. Nearly cussed, too. You turned quickly, shouldering your bot-filled backpack and held the strap tightly. You came face to face with Abigail who was flanked by two others. One you knew was Robin’s dark-haired and introverted son, and the other was a blonde who was Vincent’s brother. What were their names, again?

“I know what you did,” Abigail said, like she knew everything in the world.

You shifted your stance and raised your brows. You dared her to accuse you of using little robots to collect eggs to win a little boy a straw hat. You dared her, because you’d lie – you’d lie like a goddamn rug and tell her to prove it.

She smiled, and it was so genuine it threw you. “And I think it was really nice of you to help out Sam’s little brother like that.”

Wait, what?

“Yeah, he’s pretty happy,” The blonde you presumed was Sam added. “All week, he’s been crying saying he didn’t want to come. Then yesterday, he suddenly changed his mind. Now I know why. Cool heist.”

“Sometimes Abby gets too competitive and forgets how much it sucks losing when we were kids,” The dark haired guy said.

“Shut up, Seb. Don’t call me out like that.” Abigail turned to swat at him, and then said to you, “Anyways, just wanted to say you’re pretty cool. I know you’re busy and all, but if you ever end up with a free Friday, you should come hang out with us at the tavern.”

You were taken aback. Since when were you cool? You gave a smile, and it felt shy. “Oh, uh, I’ll try.”

“See ya!” She giggled and waved you off, turning away with her entourage following behind. There were some lingering looks, but you didn’t stick around to make eyes at anyone. You just turned back down the path and started walking fast enough to feel a breeze on your hot face.

When you were far enough down the path, you felt the shifting of bots in your pack. They crawled out and up on your shoulder, all vying for a place beside your face. Whirl and Cyclonus shifted to their flying forms and jetted around you.

Rodimus warbled and a few others cheered with him. They patted you, sounding like they were either congratulating or encouraging you. It felt good to do nice things, and it was even better to have it recognized.

“Okay, okay, calm down. That was a good heist, everyone. But don’t get used to it. That was too risky.” Despite saying that, you were still smiling. You laughed when there was a discordant hum amongst your roomies.

“Stop pouting. There’s plenty to do on the farm to keep you all busy.” You continued walking, and wondered what Abigail thought when she realized you gave Vincent all those eggs. Twenty three eggs. There was no way in hell you could’ve found all those eggs on your own.

It was all because of your friends. Your little friends and helpers.

“Hey, let’s take it easy today, okay?” You said, deciding how to spend the rest of the day with those who helped make this possible. “You guys want to play Hide-and-go-Seek when we get home?”

Chapter Text

For the past several days, you had been leading a relentless assault across the Cindersap Forest with your army of mechanical locusts. You'd leave no salmonberry untouched.

Yesterday, you had hit the pond up on the mountain near Robin's house. Burlap bags of berries lined up along your porch, waiting to be washed and cooked down to jam. You were on a mission, and all your little roommates seemed to enjoy it. It wasn't about the berries – they just thrived on productivity. Little gears in a well-oiled machine.

Today's mission was to scour and conquer the berry bushes in the park, north of town.

At the rate you were going, you were going to pick every single damn berry in the valley. The jars you got from Jodi didn't last long, but when filled with jam, they sold for so much more than you anticipated. The profit well covered a new set of jars, pectin, and sugar. You haven't had sugar in your rickety farmhouse since… never.

Ultra Magnus reined you in hard, and you thanked him for it. You had a food budget, and you nearly went a little crazy spending on indulgent things. You stuck with the basics: flour, oil, salt, rice. First Aid was eager to try and teach you about sourdough breads.

You set out early in the morning, leaving the watering to a few of the larger mini-mechs, and the washing of some berries to others. By the time you'd get back, they'd probably have nearly a whole bag finished. You took the path into town, veering over near the road by the broken-down bus, forever parked. After giving a cursory scan of the area, you set your backpack down and let it slump over. Little bots crawled and scuttled out like clowns from a tiny car.

"Same as before," You said while crossing the way towards a bush. You weren't going to stand idle while they did all of the work. You'd be a shitty friend if you did. You repeated, as you had the last several days, "Pick all the ripe ones. Leave the others for the birds. We're not looking to wipe out the ecosystem, here."

It was a mantra born from the silent judgment of the birds, who often perched in the trees, watching with disapproval. Or maybe they were pissed that you were responsible for the husky that orbited you wherever you went, chasing anything that moved or could move. Sticks were no fun.

Once the area was sufficiently picked through, the bots all returned to the bag with Starlet chasing down a few stragglers, and you returned to the path with dog in tow. You entered into town, feet hitting cobblestone, and the place was quiet. The town wasn't quite awake, yet. Perfect. You veered up the steps into the park, and you froze when you reached the top.

Standing by the fountain with his back to you was Mayor Lewis. He was facing the old, dilapidated community center. He hadn't noticed you. Yet.

You wrestled with yourself. You could just turn around and try again another day. You could come earlier tomorrow and hopefully have the whole park to yourself.

Then, you spotted them. Bushes fat with salmonberries in the shape of glinting dollar signs.

You gripped the strap of your pack and forged on. You came up with every reason not to delay this any further. What if someone else came and picked them all? What if the birds got to them first to spite you? What if there was a storm that knocked them all off? What if there was some unforeseen, unfortunate event that prevented you from doing something that could probably be postponed till tomorrow? Insert five more reasons here when you think of them, but you bet there were twenty more.

You didn't say anything, but kept your backpack firmly on your shoulders. Rodimus poked his head out, and you gave a little 'keep low' flap of your hand over your shoulder. You felt the shifting of bots against your back and heard a few grumbling breedles of protest and impatience. You knelt behind a bush, trying to make yourself invisible, and started picking carefully. You hoped that Lewis would stop staring so longingly at that gravestone of a building and move on.

He didn't. Mayor Lewis turned, as if knowing you were there all along, and gave you that campaign smile. You gave a weak wave in return and continued stripping berries from the brush. A normal person would get the hint, but no.

"Morning!" He renewed his greeting, this time louder and unavoidable. His voice carried across the park with the ease of one accustomed to being heard. It certainly got Starlet's attention as she trotted up to her new best friend.

"Come on…" You muttered under your breath. All you wanted was to let your roomies roam, collect berries in peace, and earn some extra cash. You fixed your face, plastering on a bright smile. "Good morning, Mayor."

It was almost like he heard an invitation in your lame and tense salutations; like you pled for his company and ever-watchful eye. He did that shimmying jog-walk that most older folks do where their arms move faster than their legs to pantomime running. It made your fuzzy roommate bound around him, both excited and confused on why he was slow but animated. Lewis came and supervised you with fists on his hips. "Pickin' all the berries before the end of the season?"

"Trying," You said with a grin that put an ache in your cheeks.

"Every time I see you, you're always working hard," He seemed to chastise you in a way only a grandfather could. A compliment and a reprimand, added with a finger waggle.

Your fake smile fell, and the snark slipped out, "Someone's got to put food on my table and fix my leaky roof."

"Mmm, right, right," He muttered dismissively, looking through the brush. Lewis absently patted Starlet's head but didn't give her the attention everyone usually did, and you could see the desperation on the dog's face. He was immune to her charms. He picked a berry, shaking the whole branch and making several fall, and popped it in his mouth. He promptly turned to spit it right out. "Ugh. Never liked the taste of salmonberries."

You stared at him. Motherfucker, that's money you're spitting out!

Lewis turned away from you a little more, looking back over his shoulder. You followed his gaze back to the weathered building. It looked more recent compared to the abandoned houses in the forest, even with the vines shrouding most of the wooden siding. This structure was larger, though. The big clock above the double doors was frozen in time. Did someone turn it off? Or did the clock die after the noon hour?

"You know," Lewis began to say, a soft note of nostalgia threading his tone, "If you were here back when this place was in its prime, you wouldn't be alone in this. Everyone would come together to help you."

His words stirred something in you—a fleeting sympathy for the old man, clinging to memories of those golden years. But that sympathy was overshadowed by bitterness: why did there need to be a building for help to happen? Jodi's canning supplies, Willy's fishing rod—that was real help, given without asking. You didn't want to go groveling to people, but at the same time, if there were things they didn't need anymore, you'd happily take them off their hands.

"It's okay," You said, a little sharper than intended, "I'm managing on my own."

It was like he didn't even hear you as he continued on his own road of woes – and you were starting to get a little pissed off that Starlet continued to nudge his arm, dying from neglect and despair. She made a few Oowoos at him, and he just patted her.

"I mean, it is such a shame. Look at the place. It's an eyesore since it fell into disrepair with no one to maintain it. I would use taxpayer money to fix it, but we don't have enough in the coffers to repair the bus," He said at length, like you were his therapist. "I've been considering the idea of getting those in town to volunteer, but no one wants to. All kids want to do is sit in front of the TV and not interact with the community."

Your pack was still on your back, but you could imagine everyone pausing to look at each other, because you and Starlet did. Excuse you? Everyone probably didn't have time to volunteer – you knew you certainly didn't. You were doing so much to scrape by, and you were sure everyone else was in a similarly shaped boat. They probably didn't have a leaky roof and over twenty secret friends.

"Kids?" You barely stifled a scoff. "There's like, two here. There's not even a school."

Lewis chuckled like most grandfathers would, "Ah, but I call all the young people kids."

"Uh-huh." You faked a smile and continued picking the berries. "Of course you do."

Oblivious to your emphatic disinterest in this topic, he continued, "This place was the heart of the Valley, once. It was the school. It was the life of the town. Then… I don't know what happened," Lewis began strong, then his voice quieted. He gazed at the building like it was a casket of an old friend.

Starlet gave up and went searching for whatever it was dogs liked smelling. She jumped slightly as the old Mayor raised his voice, again. "So many people moved for the city, and there was no one left to maintain it. I had to close it down, but so much time slipped from me. Now look at it."

You were looking. You couldn't look any harder. You didn't know what to do or say. You just wanted to pick berries and go home.

Starlet wanted to go inside.

That seemed to have prompted Lewis to glance back at you from over his shoulder with a sudden smile on his face. "I haven't been inside for years…"

No.

You felt someone stirring at your back, just waiting for the magic words.

"Want to take a look with me?"

Damnit. You weren't going inside that rotting death trap, no matter how much Lewis rambled on about its former glory. You leaned back like he was contagious. "I should really get back –"

"Just a peek." He was already crossing his way towards the building. He called back, "It won't be long."

Lies. That's what they always say before taking up several hours of your time. And you had an aversion to broken down buildings – why were there so many abandoned places here?

"What about…?" You could hardly say the word 'monster' as you were rising to your feet, hesitating to follow. You didn't care that you sounded like a coward. "You know… what if there's something in there?"

"Don't worry." He waved you off, producing a key from his pocket. Starlet was right at the door, tail wagging and nose pressed at the crack where it would open.

You were worried. You started stepping towards him, your hand outstretched to grab the dog before she rushed inside. You didn't know what was in there – or if it was something that could harm her. "Hold on. Wait –"

Lewis did not. The door unlocked with a grinding squeak, and he pushed the door open. It groaned like every horror movie door sound effect. Starlet slipped inside, and judging by the shrill squeaks and her sharp barks, she was already chasing down a few rats or mice. Lewis stood there, taking in the place from the threshold while you wedged your way inside.

"Star! Be careful!" You scolded the husky who did not care at all. She had her nose tucked in a hole at the baseboard, her tail a waving flag of finding something far more interesting than you.

"I guess now I know where our vermin infestation comes from," Lewis said with a sigh as he stepped in, doing a full turn and looking up at the roof. "Ahh… it looks worse on the inside."

This place wasn't as bad as the strange shed-laboratory in the woods, or the overgrown house in the forest with the squatting slime monster. The floorboards murmured with each step, and the windows had a weathered film of caked dust. Some of the warped, wood floor planks were upturned and plants grew between the cracks. At least the ceiling was still intact, and not threatening to cave in at the slightest sneeze. The air was musty with abandonment and mold.

You straightened at the feel of something tugging at your shirt. Your head whipped over to Lewis – not him. His back was to you, fists on his hips, glaring disapprovingly at the walls like he expected them to defend their sorry state.

The thing rappelled down your side and you realized Rodimus had left the pack.

You lunged for him as he leapt off your pants pocket. You missed, and then tried again, bending down to scoop him up. He was much too quick as he transformed and skidded off. A few other bots took advantage of the height and jumped out, vanishing before you could catch them like scampering kittens.

You hissed a strained whisper-scream, "No! Get back –"

"What's that?" Lewis turned to you. "You say something?"

Of all the times he paid attention to you. You forced a laugh. "What? No. I mean, yes. Just talking to Starlet." You gestured to the husky, who was darting from hole to hole as the mice ran back and forth.

"Ah. You're one of those kinds of people," He mumbled, as if you couldn't hear him, and then he spoke up in a more chipper tone, "Say, you wouldn't have time to come volunteer, would you?"

Your eyes narrowed as you sighed internally. You set your pack down against the wall—lighter now, thanks to your runaway roommates. You hoped they would keep their explorations short and return on their own. You couldn't face Lewis, because you couldn't even fake a smile. "I don't think so. I don't spend my time sitting in front of my TV because I have a farm to restore."

He nodded, mumbling again, "Right, right."

Things fell silent, and you looked over at the broken aquarium. It was large enough to be a coffin, and half of it was cracked and shattered open like something busted out. You stepped closer until glass crunched under your shoe, and then you backed off. You glanced around nervously for Starlet, unable to find her. You really wanted to collect her before she stepped on a rusty nail or got into something that would hurt her.

The sound of skittering had you snap your head towards the sound. Lewis was musing over the old bulletin board that was filled with more cobwebs than legible papers. At his feet, Trailbreaker was trying to get a better look at either him or the posters. Lewis shifted his stance, and Trailbreaker dodged the old man's shoes and ran down the hall.

You yelped as Lewis went to turn towards the noise, "AH! How – how long has this place been vacant?"

Lewis turned to you, startled more at your sudden volume than interest. He smiled, like you activated his trap card of boring history. "Years. Places here, the Valley has a way of swallowing them up if left alone."

That wasn't ominous at all.

You spared a moment to wrestle with yourself on how to phrase this – or if you should even bring it up at all. You didn't want to endanger your roommates, so you asked carefully, "Are there any other places like this? Abandoned and… swallowed?"

Lewis regarded you seriously, "Yes, and you should stay away from them. They're unsafe. Monsters tend to make dens in dirty, dark places."

"Uh-huh," You deadpan. This, coming from the man who wanted to step inside this neglected building. You made your way past him and stepped carefully down the hall, looking for your little friend to see what he was up to. Glancing back, you made sure Lewis was still reading the old papers tacked on the board.

The hall was dimly lit. The aged, yellowed windows were the only source of light. You peeked into room after room. There was what looked like a secretarial area with a large, slightly rusted metal vault tucked in the corner, and then you passed stairs leading down into utter darkness – hell no. Past that, at the end of the hall, the door was partially cracked open. You pushed on, peeking inside.

You spotted Drift, who gave you a nod before ducking behind a kind of machine. You've never been in here, before, but this room seemed familiar. Desks and counters filled with all sorts of machines; books and binders lined the shelves, creating prime real estate for spiders.

This was a laboratory.

"Ahh, I nearly forgot," Lewis's voice came behind you, and you barked out in surprise. He simply laughed and stepped in past you to look around. "There was once an old inventor who moved into town – brilliant fellow! A real grump, but he made all sorts of amazing things in this lab."

You barely registered his words, your heart still racing. You braced yourself on one of the counters, trying to catch your breath. Your heartbeat ramped up again as Tailgate skittered across the floor between Lewis's legs and up to a mini-fridge-shaped machine. His little hands waved frantically, pointing at it, bouncing in a look-at-this performance.

You waved your hand, trying to motion for him to get out of here, to go hide. Lewis turned to you, looking at you curiously. You stepped up to the machine and placed your foot in front of Tailgate, obscuring him, while pretending to show extreme interest in this device.

"What's this?" You brushed dust off the front. It didn't just brush off like sand, but crumbled off like old plaster. Patchworks of rust were under it all, along with a few dead lights and an opening reminiscent of a mail slot. It looked like it was waiting to be fed.

Lewis inspected, and after a spell, the light in his eyes went bright with recognition. "Oh-ho! This was one of his creations. It's a machine that recycles anything. It would turn trash into things like coal or fabric."

You barely felt Tailgate tug at your pant leg. Your eyes were wide. A recycling machine? That turned garbage into useful things?

He grumbled, "Could never get it to work after he disappeared…"

You latched onto that last word, your gaze dropping to both the machine and Tailgate hidden at your feet. He continued to point at it, then out towards the exit of this room. You echoed without thinking, "Disappeared?"

"No one knows what happened to him."

You found yourself thinking of the strange laboratory in the woods where all your roommates were tucked away, and Starlet's tag among the mess. You thought of the abandoned house in the woods, nearly consumed by the forest. You recalled the broken boat tied at the bottom of the cliff, sunk beneath the ocean waves.

"No one really knew him. He wasn't very social. A lot of folks don't even remember him."

Another tug. Tailgate was practically seizing, like he would die if you didn't bring that thing home. You gave him a scolding glare, willing him to calm down. He really wanted that box. You busied yourself with thinking how you would carry it back to the farm, and then how you would ask Lewis if you could have it. Again, you weren't paying attention to what he said as you thought about how you would get your arms around it.

Lewis stroked his mustache in thought, "What was his name? Doctor… Alvi.. Argyle… Arki…"

"Can I have it?" You blurted without thinking, trying to cover up Tailgate's insistent and frustrated breep.

He raised a caterpillar brow at you, looking skeptical. "You think you can fix it?"

That felt a little judgy, but it wouldn't be you fixing it. You shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I got loads of trash in my well and pond."

Lewis contemplated. He contemplated on you taking a possibly defunct machine that no one touched in years out of an abandoned building that he let get neglected. There was a reason you preferred the company of your little roommates to people. You added, "It would help me a lot. That's what this building is for, right? Helping people?"

He gave you a narrowed look. He recognized game when he saw it, and he looked right through yours. "Alright, fine. You can borrow it. And if you get it working, let me know. I'll have Dimitri reverse-engineer it. This place could use a recycling center."

What a shrewd old man. You gave a faux smile, and it fell immediately as he turned and walked away. He wasn't even going to help you! You looked towards the doorway, then down at Tailgate, shaking your head with a huff of air. He set his fists on his hips and shook his head with you.

You squared off against the bulky contraption, bending at the knees and trying to find the best way to bear-hug it. Years of dust and grime rubbed off on your clothes. You hooked your fingers under the unit, and with a grunt, you lifted carefully with your legs, so as to not pull your back.

You heard the little cheers of your friends hiding amongst the old books and boxes.

Your boots scuffled against the floor as you waddled out and down the hall, the machine an awkward dance partner. You made your way out into the main area with Lewis at the front door, looking smug that you got something out of this little adventure you clearly didn't want to go on.

You shuffled your way towards the front door, and at least he held it open for you. You called out, "Star!"

Your words bounced against the neglected walls. A string of dust fell from the rafters. You set the machine down. Something inside of it rattled. You panted, turning to check the space behind you. You called again, "Star! C'mon, time to go home."

You were rewarded with the sound of nothing. Not even a skitter. No barks, no nails scrabbling on wood, just the eerie silence and a faint creak. Last time Starlet got separated from you like this, she had a monster cornered.

Mayor Lewis hovered near the doorway, peering inside and glancing about, like he was making an effort to search. "She's probably cornered some critter," He said dismissively. "Doing what dogs do."

You shot him a glare. He wasn't volunteering to help you search for her in the building he insisted you explore. You stepped back inside, resigning yourself to spending more time in this place than you wanted.

The hinges groaned as he opened the door more. "I'll leave the door unlocked. Might as well come back with some rat traps."

"Yeah, I'll be out as soon as I wrangle my dog." You stepped inside more, turning from one direction to the next. You came from the right wing of the place, so perhaps Starlet was in the left. You glanced back at the door, seeing that Lewis was already gone.

Now that you were alone…

"Not cool, guys! Jumping out and running around near the Mayor of all people," You scolded at nothing you could see, but you hoped the mini-mechs could hear you. "What if he saw any of you? I don't think I have enough money to bribe a political official into silence."

You started walking down the hall, announcing yourself, "Alright. Everyone better rally up to go, now. I got a heavy ass thing to lug back to the farm – and we're not even done berry picking. We're behind schedule people! Let's go!"

You clapped your hands like an over-zealous parent at a kid's game. "Time to go home. All of you. Starlet? Where the hell are…?"

You stopped mid-step at an open doorway. You spotted Starlet first, sitting as pretty as can be, staring off at a corner of broken furniture and planks of wood. Rolls of fabric or carpet were stacked upon one another, tucked along the walls. It looked like this place was storage of some sort – or was turned into storage. Beside her was Rodimus, looking in the same direction.

As you stepped in, they both turned towards you at the same time, creepily synchronized. If they suddenly asked you to play with them, you're out. Like, pack your bags and hitchhike out of the Valley forever, out.

Rodimus trilled, stepping your way while holding out a stone. You knelt to accept it, rolling it in your palm. It was familiar; a sparkling blue stone, cut and polished, looking similar to the kind of rock inside each of these bots.

"Huh. What is this doing here?"

Something shifted behind the crates. You joined the others in checking in that direction. Starlet wagged her tail slightly as Rodimus let out a few beeps that were almost taunting, but in a playful way. In the shadowed recesses was something. Jiggly, but not so amorphous like the one slime-ball snot monsters. More gumdrop-shaped than gooey. Nope.

You've had your fill of monsters for a lifetime.

Without another thought, you snatched up Rodimus and called sharply, "Starlet. Come." You turned on your heel and marched down the hall. Rodimus let out a slew of angry dial-up noises, but it seemed to keep Starlet's attention as she followed you back to the front entrance. You called out harshly, but not meaning a word of it, "I'm leaving, with or without everyone. I mean it."

The skittering of little feet came your way, followed by the panicked beeping of bots not wanting to be left behind. Maybe you shouldn't have threatened that; they probably had abandonment issues. You quickly counted the masses, checked the park for people, and closed the door to the semi-empty community center.

You hugged the machine against your chest like a mini-fridge and started to walk with a few bots driving around your feet and a few sitting on your shoulders. Rodimus pointed at the salmonberry bushes you passed.

"Nope. Those belong to that jelly monster, now." You wanted to get as far from this area as possible.

It was a long walk, and you had to take several breaks. Even Starlet started trailing ahead, familiar with the path home, and looking back at you like you were taking too long. Eventually, with the cheers of bots ringing in your ears, you made it home.

You tried to set the machine down as gently as you could, but your noodle-arms were no longer working. It hit the porch deck a little roughly, and something twanged inside. You cringed and hugged yourself with a tired sigh.

Several of your roommates came to investigate, but Tailgate was the loudest of them all. He was gesturing, trilling excitedly. Brainstorm and Perceptor seemed the most interested, especially since Rodimus presented them with the stone you had tucked into your pocket.

You sat on the porch steps, idly watching a crew take apart the back of the machine and crawl in. You tilted your head, whispering to yourself, "They're fixing it?"

You shouldn't have been surprised. Having Brainstorm around meant high risks, high rewards. Your television still smelled like burning plastic whenever you changed the channel to something that was clearly not local.

You still had things to do and daylight to burn. Getting up, you went back to work washing the berries and stoking the fireplace to begin the process of rendering the fruit to jam. As you were soaking the berries, adding a capful of vinegar to really clean them out, you heard something hum to life.

The machine was up and running on your porch, alight by some source of electricity. Your jaw dropped as Tailgate ran up with a glob of black something from the well and stuffed it in the slot. The lights blinked. The machine made a grinding noise.

Out popped a black lump of coal.

"Are you serious!?" You shrieked, bursting into laughter. "That's amazing!

Excitement bubbled like a geyser. You closed the distance, looking it over like you could figure out how it worked – but in the end, you didn't care. It worked. You not only had a viable way to dispose of the trash on your farm that cost nothing, but it rewarded you with something.

Tailgate offered you a slimy magazine that was fused together – certainly not okay to compost like newspaper – and you slipped it into the slot. The machine rumbled for a long moment before a scrap of fabric rolled out like receipt paper. You had to tug it out, and you wondered if it would keep adding to it if you kept feeding it paper products. It was a small patch of fabric, but it was a patch nonetheless. You could mend the holes in your pants.

You cried out in laughter, the sound mingling with the cheers of your roommates. This new addition was no ordinary find; this was a game-changer, a relic capable of transforming waste into something valuable. You scooped up Tailgate and hugged his tiny body to the side of your face.

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

It was a crisp, spring morning with an evening rain. It smelled of damp earth and cold humidity, belying the sunny start to the day.

You had just finished scanning through your crops, picking what was ripe and replanting seeds in the tilled, fertilized soil. You set everything aside on your porch to take a moment and have a little breakfast. With a biscuit and a hardboiled egg in hand, you stood back and watched the undertaking of the crew of little bots working on clearing out the well.

Watching them work was oddly mesmerizing; a team familiar with their own strengths and weaknesses, who knew their role, and their eagerness to be a part of something. A tiny army with a singular goal. Nearby, the recycling machine whirred and clanked, never idle, continuously spitting out things like stones, wood, fabric – all sorts of building material. You weren't going to hand this over to Mayor Lewis any time soon.

You took another bite of your biscuit, chewing thoughtfully as you mentally ticked off your list for the day. More berries to wash, more jam to make, more jars to fill. It was going to be a long day. A good day.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the flag for your mailbox was up. Shoving the rest of your hardboiled egg in your mouth, you walked over to check. Inside was a letter – a fancy one that could have been an invitation to some grand ball with how the edges were embellished with gold filigree. You opened it, reading the off-white, parchment-style paper:

My sources tell me you've been poking around inside the old community center.
Why don't you pay me a visit?
My chambers are west of the forest lake, in the stone tower. I may have information concerning your... 'rat problem'.
-M. Rasmodius, Wizard

Wizard?

Fucking wizard?

Didn't someone say something about a wizard? Didn't matter. You weren't about to go wandering off into some random tower in the woods on the word of a DND enthusiast who couldn't even bother to sign his full name. You crumpled it up and basketball tossed it into the compost bin.

"Come to my creepy tower," You muttered, imitating a mystical, ethereal voice. "Get scammed. Get murdered." You snorted, shaking your head. "Yeah, no thanks. Fuck that."

Chapter Text

The day started off deceptively ordinary, but it carried something different on the wind.

It was a kind of warmth that reminded you of fire; of dry, cracked earth, and crispy grass. The smell wasn’t humid and earthy, but fresh, like all the leaves in the Valley sighed out a great gush of oxygen. You couldn’t quite tell if you should be looking forward to the change, or dreading your first summer on the farm.

You didn’t have an air conditioner, so possibly the latter.

The weather said it was going to be a scorcher by noon. That meant opening every window, hoping a cross-breeze might keep the house from feeling like an oven. It also meant inviting every buzzing, crawling, or flying creature inside, should they want to join you and your roommates. Drift, Cyclonus, and Whirl did do their best to keep the insect population to a minimum. It was no secret they enjoyed keeping count.

You were determined for today to be like the rest. Boring, but productive. The cash was steadily trickling in, thanks to Ultra Magnus’ miserly budget sheet. You had enough saved to buy summer seeds as soon as they’d hit the shelves, and you were going to have six fertilized garden beds ready for them. You were going to hit your financial stride because of your friends, and the soil you’d sweat over would pay you back.

Today wouldn’t be boring or productive if your roommates knew of the Flower Dance invitation, because of course the end of spring would be marked by another festival. The mere idea of being around people, faking your enthusiasm, and twirling about in a meadow for the sake of trying to fit in made your teeth clench with introverted panic. You shoved the letter in your pocket, this time, where no one could find it. You took a shifty glance about, and thankfully, no one was close enough to catch you trying to ghost the whole thing.

With a quick huff, you stuffed the invite deeper into your pocket, as if you could pretend to ‘forget’ any harder as you went on with your boring and productive day.

The sun was out, the soil was warming, and you went right to work. You'd cleared and fertilized the rest of the new garden beds, which were looking more magazine rustic with the stones you’d lined them with. They would be ready for summer. With the help of Nautica and Skids, you harvested parsnips, cauliflower, and potatoes, but you did not plant anything new. It left you feeling antsy as you watered what growing crops were left.

And then that was it. Your eyes wandered over the farm. Aside from some general upkeep, everything looked like it was in decent shape. The place had this peaceful breeze to it, a rare moment of calm. That left you with plenty of time to do a few more things outside the farm. Instead of flower frolicking, you planned to pick them all and sell them.

Per usual, nearly everyone wanted to come and take a break from the well-cleaning project. Megatron and Ultra Magnus stayed behind for whatever reason involving books and planning. Perceptor and Brainstorm were investigating that unsettling rattling noise coming from your newly refurbished recycling machine. Red Alert and Fortress Maximus liked staying behind more than going on to keep the security of your farm in check.

Still, seventeen mini-bots was plenty of help to scour the forest. You commenced the march down south, passing Marnie’s farm and veering to the right to take the usual path around the lake. The creepy tower came into view, and you gave it the customary sus glare as you passed by to enter deep into the western Cindersap forest. When you knew it was just you and your friends, you passed out the burlap sacks and joined your merry band into the woods. You found a patch of wild onions and mushrooms – that with some rice and fish would make dinner sorted out.

Pairs of bots scattered across the forest, like mismatched duos out on scavenger hunts. The forest was loud with each breeze shaking the trees that had unfurled all of their leaves for the coming season. It did not smell like damp soil as much as it smelled like clean air – and it was wonderful. The air in the city smelled like car exhaust and garbage.

The pickings were slim – another sign of the seasonal transition. You didn’t have a watch, nor did you have that bushman’s sense to know the time by the sun’s position. You measured time by your stomach, and when it started growling, it was time to head back. As they eagerly brought back their hauls, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. Camaraderie, unity, whatever people like to call it—something felt right about this, like your little crew had found their place. You didn’t even care about where they’d come from or how they ended up here, as long as they were happy.

It made you happy to see them happy. Nothing quite compared to Tailgate excitedly holding up the biggest mushroom you had ever seen.

Another productive and beautifully uneventful day.

Upon returning, you sucked in the air of your farm as you entered the property. You offloaded some of your passengers and set the bags on the porch. Ultra Magnus was already organizing a system, naturally. He tallied everything while Chromedome and Skids took inventory, and Velocity and Nautica bundled up the best pieces for market. It was a tight operation, like clockwork.

You dumped out the next bag and recoiled instantly and made a noise close to the spelling of “Eugh!”

What… was that?

A brownish, fuzzy lump?

At first glance, it looked like one of Starlet’s less glamorous surprises, until it twitched.

And cheeped.

Oh shit.

Your mind did the mental gymnastics of finding a name for this creature. "You guys… how did you find a… baby chicken?" You asked, the words coming out slowly, as if the answer might resolve itself if you said it right.

A chicken. A dusty brown baby chicken. A chick. Was in a bag that should have been only filled with marketable plants foraged from the woods. A whole ass baby chicken.

The mini-mechs exchanged glances, but no one was fessing up. Just a bunch of shrugging and i-dunno beeps. Whirl looked suspicious, but he always looked suspicious.

“Please tell me you didn’t steal it,” You groaned, rubbing your forehead. You had passed by Marnie’s farm twice on your trip, but you didn’t linger long enough for a chick heist to take place. Was it in the forest? On the path? You wished someone would confess so you could find out where this bird came from.

There was a collective shift as all eyes turned toward Starlet, who was now eyeing the chick like the nugget it was. Great. Blame the dog. Maybe they’d saved the poor thing from being Starlet’s lunch.

“Crap," You muttered, exasperation setting in. You did not have the means to care for another life form. "What do I do? Write a letter to each farmer in the valley, asking who lost a baby chicken?”

The bots responded with a chorus of disappointed noises that sounded like several eight-bit ‘game over’ melodies all at once. Nautica, Velocity, and Tailgate came up to pet the little chick, comforting it as if you called it a mean name. Swerve begged as if you were going to chuck the thing outside, and Rodimus tried to negotiate with you like this was a hostage situation.

“Guys, guys! It’s not ours. It belongs to someone.” You groaned out a sigh and scrubbed down your face. You stared at the fuzzy interloper, just standing there and cheeping. It wasn’t even the iconic peep-yellow you’d see on those candy marshmallows. It was scruffy, tiny feather tufts sticking out every which way. Like it’d seen some shit. Maybe Starlet was responsible.

“I don’t even know if it’s hungry. What do I even feed it? Rewind, help me out.”

Rewind was already on it. With Chromedome to help, they opened the book of everything that ever lived ever and turned the pages to the common chicken. He pointed to the text, and their diet varied from seeds to insects to literally so many things you didn’t bother reading past insects.

“Bugs… wonderful.” You looked up at your farmhouse, your eyes drawn to the open windows that probably let in several more multi-legged critters. “Maybe you guys can feed it some of the tenants behind the fridge. I’ll figure out what to do.”

At your concession, Fortress Maximus stepped up to the chick and gathered it up in his arms. Bots hurried on inside the house with their new little project, and you closed the door a crack behind them. You’d keep Starlet outside with you for the time being, the stress creeping in at the thought of your dog chomping down someone’s bird.

You busied yourself, washing and bundling the last of your foraged crop, all the while wondering how you were going to get the chick back where it belongs. It had to be Marnie’s, right? She was the only one in the area with livestock. You scowled at the sky, missing modern conveniences like phones. Just one quick call at this dinner-hour, and you could spare yourself the unplanned walk in the morning. Ugh you missed technology.

When you were finished, you settled in for the early evening, frying up a much-needed late meal. Thankfully, Starlet’s attention was on you and not the little chick skittering across your floor to chase down bugs the bots scared up. You couldn’t lie to yourself, it was cute.

At the table, Ultra Magnus sat across from you, going over the numbers and already preparing for the inevitable maintenance costs of raising the bird.

“We’re not keeping it,” You said firmly, but the diligent bookkeeper held up a finger of silence, then pointed to his calculations.

Possible ownership of a chicken, either now or in the future, should be considered either way. You sighed as the deep beep of reason was suddenly present. You grumbled for a moment before saying between bites, “Alright. Pros and cons.”

Megatron looked at you, giving you a brief scowl at whatever you just said.

“We can sell eggs, but the cost of feed, of building a coup, any vet bills, and not to mention the time it takes to maintain them over doing something that would produce fast and easy money.”

Ultra Magnus flipped through one of his meticulously annotated market analysis books, then scribbled in your ledger with his perfect text. He tapped it, indicating you should look, so you turned the book around to read while you ate. He confirmed that, yes, chickens were an investment. Money would have to go into them and then maintain them, but over time, with a flock, they would pay themselves off. And it wasn’t just eggs you could sell, but mayonnaise. Chickens were relatively low maintenance once established.

It definitely gave you something to think about.

And you did. You thought about it for a few minutes before your thoughts were overshadowed by another. “Seriously, guys. Does anyone know who bagged the chicken?”

They shook their heads, shrugging so cluelessly. Your mini roomies were many things, but they weren’t a bunch of snitches.

Instead of spending the day tending to your farm or scavenging the last of spring’s spoils, you found yourself cradling the chick up against your chest and walking the path leading out south of your overgrown farm. The weeds and meadow grass was getting thicker and thicker, fighting to reclaim this path you carved out.

You didn’t have to glance back to know you accumulated a parade. “No, you guys. Stay here,” You said firmly, and it wasn’t aimed at Starlet.

She watched that chick like a conspiracy theorist watches a politician rumored to be a secret lizardman, just waiting for them to change. 

Breedles of lamentation and disappointment came from behind, like the sounds of a sad, collective symphony of defunct fax machines and glitchy routers.

“If it’s not ours, it needs to go home,” You added, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself. You wouldn’t turn around and be swayed. “It probably wandered out of Marnie’s coup or something. We can’t keep it.”

Your words carried no weight at all. Several of the bots continued to follow, beeping mournfully. When the chick would peep, someone would wail a toned cry of awww; when you would shift the bundle of fuzz, you would hear another trill of sorrow. They acted as if you murdered every dog in the valley, then every kitten, and moved onto the baby chicken population, you monster.

Stay strong. Marnie’s farm was in sight.

But just as you raised your hand to knock, you saw it. A note, tacked on the door, and your entire being just slumped.

Closed for today. At Flower Festival.

You groaned. "Fantastic."

Turning back, you found nearly the entire bot brigade had come out of half-hearted attempts at hiding. Soft, sad, and curious little beeps peeped more than the stowaway in your arm. Rodimus made a casual, if futile, gesture toward your house as if suggesting, you know... they could keep it.

“I said no. This just means everyone’s in one place,” You said, fighting the slight smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He was a little charmer – an annoying one. You sighed. “I’ll ask around at the festival. Someone should know something.”

A unified droning groan told you that they were much more attached than you thought. It was almost heartbreaking. Almost. Starlet’s laser focus added to the cons list of owning chickens, and you felt you’d have to give up the chick to save its life. You had to ignore the pleading stares of your roomies.

You started towards the Cindersap, finding a trail of colorful flags stuck in the ground, lazily flapping in the breeze. They led you through the familiar path of woods, down toward the ocean where the scent of salt mingled with green leaves, and along the coastal cliff. You’ve been this way, before, and there was never anything of interest.

Except for now.

Ahead of you was a festival of colors that burst into view, vivid against the green backdrop of the forest. Tents were put up to provide shade for different booths. There were different items being sold such as flowers, jars of honey, wine, and other little trinkets, jewelry, and craft items. There was food, freely given, and you locked onto that pretty quick. Flags were hung up from long garlands, buckets of flowers were arranged everywhere, and everyone was dressed in blindingly white outfits like this was some kind of cult.

It gave you pause. You paused so hard, you almost rewound back to your farm. Even Starlet didn’t bound in with her usual enthusiasm. She was also really fixated on the little nugget.

Taking a deep breath, bracing yourself, you finally moved towards the throng of people. You stuck out, like a crow among white geese, and Mayor Lewis noticed you immediately. He waved at you from Pierre’s booth – a booth selling décor and flowers that you know for a fact the shopkeep didn’t forage, himself. You spotted Willy standing near the shore, looking a little lost without his fishing rod in hand. You recognized Abigail’s purple hair amidst her group of friends on the far side. There were so many other faces you couldn’t put names to.

But one face stood out. He barreled right towards you, a flash of chestnut hair, and Vincent threw his arms around your waist. You tensed up at the physical interaction.

“I need your help again!” He nearly wailed, looking up at you with bleary wide eyes. “I want Jas to dance with me but –“

Ah hell. You did not have time for this. You swallowed down the reflex to groan. “And I need yours!” You replied, thrusting out the chick in your hands. His eyes widened in awe. Derailing the child with the baby animal was a success.

“I found it in the woods,” You said, “And I’m trying to figure out where it belongs.”

The little boy’s eyes lit up with a thought before he turned and just started shouting for Jas and getting everyone’s attention – for god’s sake. Please, someone, take this chick. Within seconds she came running over, but her attention was more drawn to Starlet, who didn’t care in the least as Jas started petting her.

You asked, trying to get her attention, “Where’s your mama?”

Jas glanced at you with a more reserved attitude, the polar opposite of Vincent. She said quietly, “Not here.”

“Marnie’s note on her farm said she’d be here.”

“Marnie’s not my mama.”

Oh. Fuck. Complicated. Awkward. You’re pretty sure you made that mistake, before. You gave an apologetic, yet desperate smile as you presented the chick, hoping the sheer cuteness of its peeps would smooth this over. “My… dog found this in the woods, yesterday. I wanted to see if it belonged to your farm.”

Jas gave a shrug and continued petting Starlet. You wanted to shake the little bird in her face to make her look at it. You held it out a little more. “You sure it’s not yours? Just… look at it… please.”

“What’s goin’ on here, Jas?” A rough voice sounded beside you.

You looked up at a man. You had seen him leaving Marnie’s place sometimes, always dragging his feet, always wearing that Joja uniform, always with a scowl on his face. What was his name, again? Actually, you don’t think he ever introduced himself. Had Marnie mentioned him? You think she’d mentioned a nephew once…

You stood back up, cradling the chick close. “I was just asking her if you guys have any missing chickens. My dog found this one in the woods –“

“That’s a chick. Not a chicken,” He interrupted you before taking a sip of his punch cup. His breath smelled like spicy alcoholic peppers.

You paused, then forced a smile. “Yeah. So… is it yours?”

He gave you a long look before his darker eyes dropped to what was in your hands. He didn’t move closer, or ask any more questions. He just stared, like he’d powered down mid-conversation. Did he zone out and exit the conversation? Was that an option for you to do while talking to people? It couldn’t have been socially acceptable, but this guy gave zero fucks, it seems.

Movement behind him in one of the decorative flower pots called your gaze. You tried to play it cool as Rodimus’ red plating blended in with the red and orange tulips. He looked at you with a disapproving cross to his arms, shaking his head. Was he judging this guy, or you?

“I don’t think so,” He finally answered, “But ask Marnie.”

You scanned the party, letting out a hopeless sigh. He turned some, pointing back at the buffet table. There she was, chatting up a few of the other townsfolk, looking perfectly at ease in the social whirlpool that was slowly making you feel like you’d break out in hives. You gave him a more genuine, grateful smile. “Thanks… uh…?”

You let that last syllable hang, hoping he’d catch on and toss you a name, but he only turned and started walking away. Asshole; that must be his name. Your smile fell as you looked to Rodimus in the flower pot, wanting to join him in his judgment. Instead, you leaned down, as if to admire the flowers, and hissed sharply, “Go home.”

Rodimus glared at you. Unflinching. Unmoving. He was determined to be difficult.

You didn’t have the pockets for him. He was much bigger than that. And you didn’t want to carry him around and look weird with a toy robot. You gritted your teeth and left the difficult little bot. He was being an asshole, too.

You put on your people face and went towards the crowd, trying to catch Marnie’s attention with a friendly smile. She waved at you, and then tilted her head as you held out the chick like a suffering wretch begging at a renaissance church.

“Is this yours?” You asked, presenting the fluffy stowaway.

Marnie carefully plucked it from your hands and cooed at it. She looked it over; what for, you didn’t know. “I haven’t hatched any eggs this spring. Where did you find this healthy baby hen?”

“My dog found it – her in the woods,” You said, and that prompted you to check where Starlet was.

There were more kids surrounding the husky, and she seemed to command them. They were running back and forth from the buffet table, sneaking little meat treats and breads off to their pack leader. The kids giggled and squealed as Starlet practically inhaled everything she was given and cleaned their little hands with a gentleness you were grateful for.

“Really?” Robin cut in, stepping up and inserting herself in the conversation. She leaned in by Marnie to look the bird over. “And your stray didn’t eat it? Wow. I’m impressed how well you trained her. I haven’t heard of anyone hatching any new chickies this season.”

“Uh... You sure…?” You glanced around, trying to subtly spot if you had any little eyes on you. When you didn’t see anyone, you continued to question Marnie as she handed the chick back to you, “What about your neighbor? The one by the river?”

Marnie shook her head, chuckling. “Leah? Oh no, she wouldn’t have any chickens. Art supplies and garden veggies, sure, but not chickens.”

“Could we ask?” You cheeks were starting to hurt. You long stopped smiling, but still bared your teeth in mounting frustration.

Marnie waved across the way, calling out, “Hey, Leah! You missing a chick?”

A woman with red braids and an artsy vibe turned from a flower arrangement. She reminded you of the good parts of living in the city. She had a pretty face and an even prettier smile. “No, why?”

“She found a little chick in the woods!”

That one sentence was all it took to catch the crowd’s attention.  You could feel the eyes of half the festival land squarely on you. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to shrink down to the size of your roommates. You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Aww and you just found her?”

“Looks like you got yourself a chicken.”

“Animals are a big responsibility, you know.”

“Your dog will be nice to her, right?”

“I can come by tomorrow and give you an estimate for a coop!”

You wanted to crawl under the table. The more they talked, the more claustrophobic it felt. The chick squirmed a little in your hands, and you wanted to just shove her in someone’s hands and run away.

Then you caught onto movement. Among the garland, the décor, anywhere they could hide, the little bots stalked and crept, looking at you like you were giving away one of their own. Ow your heart strings.

You sighed, the voices of everyone’s well-meaning babbling around you drowning out into noise. Well, if this little hen didn’t belong to anyone, you supposed you could try and make it work. Your roommates would help – they seemed desperate to. And, let’s be real, the fluffy chick was cute.

You looked down at the bird in your hands, then up. People were still talking to you, but in a way that didn’t require your participation as they also discussed with everyone else on what you should do like it was a grand town debate. You noticed Starlet’s pack of kids were broken up as a big guy with a bigger moustache waved them away from the buffet table, wising up to the dog’s scheming.

“If you really don’t want it, I can take the chick,” Caroline’s offer rose above everyone else’s. “I think I could make room in the garden for a few hens. Maybe even start selling our own eggs.”

Marnie had a strained smile. “Aww, then your store will stop buying mine, and then I’ll have to sell to Joja mart.”

“I figured you already sold your excess eggs to our competitor, seeing that Shane works for them and all.”

You blinked. That seemed a little catty.

“It’s a job, Caroline.” Jodi jumped to Marnie’s defense, and possibly her own son’s, since you vaguely remember Sam wearing the blue work jacket of the local supermarket. “Lord knows this town needs more ways to earn an income.”

“I suppose raising two kids alone on a military stipend does make it challenging to care for quality and loyalty,” Caroline sniped in and what the fuck was happening right now?

Upon you searching for a way to escape this soap opera, you spotted Whirl perched in the branches. Your heart skipped a beat when he decided to make his entrance, swooping down and landing—of all places—on the buffet table. Everyone’s attention was elsewhere, either on you, or on the kids getting scolded for feeding your dog the food meant for the festival goers.

Whirl, hero and villain in equal measure, pushed a whole ass ham hock towards the edge of the table. Starlet tracked that like a guided missile, but she checked herself, waiting for the trigger to be pulled. You sucked in a breath, like watching a car slowly back into another but powerless to stop it, and you just waited for the crash to be over.

As the ham began to tip, Starlet bolted, weaving through the crowd, and caught it before it even hit the ground. Whirl was gone – just gone. Either hiding amongst the food, or in the trees, or under the table, he was out like his hand wasn’t even in the cookie jar – because he took the jar with him.

The whole crowd was in an uproar. Gus – you heard his name get hollered several times – tried to chase down your dog and get that ham from her, like it was still okay for human consumption. You swore Starlet made a game of keep-away before jumping into the woods with her ill-gotten prize.

“I am SO sorry,” You nearly cried, already feeling the mortification settle in, but at the same time relief. The weird, barbed argument had settled. “She’s still kind of a stray.”

Gus chuckled, though it was strained. “It’s just ham,” He said, panting, then grumbled under his breath, “An expensive one.”

You rubbed your forehead, turning back to Marnie and the rest. “I’ll… think about my options. I’m going to head back and uh… find my dog…” You knew Starlet was probably on her way back to the farm with her dinner. You started to walk out when Marnie stopped you.

“Just a second.” She set a gentle hand on your shoulder, and leaned in, lowering her voice. “If it’s too much, I can take the chick off your hands. Find her a good home at least. Just… don’t give her to Caroline.”

You were not getting into the middle of whatever small-town drama was going on. You nodded to indicate that you heard her, and she let you go. You started out back the way you came, hearing Mayor Lewis address the crowd that it was past time for the dancing to begin. You quickened your steps.

The walk back was quieter, save for the soft buzz of mini-motors as the bots kept up, still thinking they were so sneaky. The chick, nestled against your palm, started cheeping. She was probably hungry. You could only guess – you weren’t experienced in this at all. You worried about caring for another creature. Starlet was at least resilient. She had practically taken care of herself before you’d come along.

Sure enough, when you reached home, Starlet was already there, stretched out on the porch, happily gnawing away at the ham. You stepped over her, the chick still in your arms, and went inside your little farm house. You set the little hen on the floor and looked back at the doorway.

As you expected, everyone gathered at the threshold. They stared at you, waiting – hopeful – for the moment of truth.

What were you going to do with their new charge?

“All right, guys,” You said, resignation in your voice. “What are we naming her?”

Cheers erupted around you, a cacophony of beeps and whistles as they piled in, running up to hug your legs and climb up your arms, each one desperate to cast their vote. You knelt down, letting them tug at your sleeves and climb onto your lap, jostling for the best position to catch your attention. You couldn’t help but smile with them.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Meanwhile, the chick bumbled her way across the floor, stopping here and there to peck at any interesting bit of dust or bug. Then, her attention zeroed in on a spider that tried to scurry to safety under your bed. It skittered among the strange things the bots had collected and cobbled together, and the little bird stalked around, searching.

She nudged aside a crumpled letter, finding the spider and gobbling it up. She pecked curiously at the fancy paper you had once tossed in the compost bin. The letter from the Wizard, tucked away and out of your sight.

Unknown to all but the ones who hid it there.