dreaming doll / vol. 1
01
You cannot count all of the stars in the night sky.
Try as you might, with a paper and pencil in your hand, you will struggle to keep a proper count. You will tire before long. You will wonder if you counted a star twice over, maybe thrice over, before you simply give up. You might just rest your chin onto your folded arms, gazing up at the uncountable, unknowable lights shining in the vast sea of void.
This, I know, though I still cannot help but gaze up into that night sky. I'll count from one, two, three... until I lose track, sighing when I realize I'm wasting time again.
Tonight, I found myself trying to count them again. I was leaning on the wall of a shop that had already closed an hour ago, engaged in this pointless, difficult task, like a bad habit I couldn't shake off. A few minutes must have passed before a soft, exasperated giggle escaped my lips. I couldn't help it; sometimes, I found myself endearing.
Those white lights shone on, unwavering, as I stepped off the wall to continue my nighttime walk. Though I was alone, with no one in sight, I instinctively began walking with my arms folded neatly behind my backâa habit formed from my repeated training as a servant.
Such a look made me appear polite, refined and amicable. As a maid, I could not strive to be anything but proper. I was headed back to the estate, after all; my etiquette cannot slip, not even here.
Just as I was about to turn the corner, I heard an intriguing, mysterious noise from close by. It was a faint, mechanical whirr, originating from the alleyway I had just passed by. Such a sound wouldn't have normally piqued my interest, but at this late hour, it pierced through the otherwise silent street. At first, I thought it was simply the sound of a building's external appliances. Maybe something had landed on the blades of an air conditioner unit? Before I could accept that as the truth, I heard the noise once moreâaccompanied by the sound of faint sparks settling on the floor.
I gave a cautious glance over my shoulder. Out of a nervous habit, I fidgeted with the zippers on my purse, unsure what to do.
After a pause, I decided to turn around. I was no longer headed toward the direction of my home.
02
Given that I was wearing this intricately designed dress, prone to swishing with each step, along with short platform heels that clicked against the concrete sidewalk, perhaps I should have known how useless it was to try and slow the pace of my steps. I pride myself on the elegance of my attire, though I certainly wish I had a wider selection of clothing.
Peeking around the corner of the alleyway, it took only a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the narrow space. In there, I saw the figure of a feminine construct, leaning against a brick wall, sitting on the cold and damp concrete by herself.
If I were to describe her, I could say she's in that sort of halfway point between 'android' and 'robot.'
When most people think of androids, they picture a machine that attempts to perfect the human bodyâwith the color of human skin and flesh. This girl, however, has a body made out of smooth, light gray metal. She has the figure of a slender woman, but her body is separated is visibly segmented with ball-joints and black lines.
Her hair is the only part of her that could pass off as human. It seems to be made of white, synthetic fibers. It's a straight and short hairstyle with classic bangs, ending around her neck.
Comparing her to a doll might get the picture across.
If I had to pick, I'd call her a robot.
At first glance, she seemed somewhat intact... though this impression was swiftly proven wrong as my eyes attained a better focus.
The upper half of her left arm was still attached to her shoulder. The lower half, including her hand, was missing from her body. It left a sizeable, open socket at the end of her stumpâwhere the rest of her arm should have been.
It didn't take long for me to spot it on the floorâthe other half of her arm, along with her hand. It was severed, separated further into large chunks of metal, bent slightly out of shape.
The rest of her body did not fare well, either. She had no other missing limbs, but I could clearly see scratches and prominent dents across the rest of her body. The polish on her metallic outer layer had long since vanished. Though part of my observation was undeniably because of my curiosity, a growing concern was now on my mind.
If she was in service to someone, she shouldn't look like this. Even assuming she had just been separated from her owner, defending herself from a criminal assailant, her maintenance should have been thorough enough for her to only suffer minor damage and wear from being driven into this corner of the streets.
The thought gave me pause; such an expensive model would be situated far and away from any aspiring vandals or thieves. If anyone had so thoroughly damaged this robot and not allowed her even a brief repair, it would have to beâ
"Ah..."
Like a fool, I'd allowed something to escape my lips.
A sound.
03
Just as the noise from her body had led me to her, a sound from my lips would alert her of my presence. Sure enough, the humanoid construct quickly jerked her head in my directionâbefore locking her eyes onto mine.
My speech caught her off guard? It wasn't the click of my heels, or the swish of my dress... ah, I understand. She's accustomed to the sounds of the street.
She must have heard countless people pass by. Of course, my steps must have been nothing more than background noise for her.
If that's the case, then she's been hiding for a while.
She must have been stuck here for hours. Maybe a few days?
I should know better than to assumeâI shouldn't have hoped that this robot had only been stranded for an hour or two.
This brief, faint hope is the only reason I couldn't reach such an obvious conclusion sooner than I did.
Well, that doesn't matter now. She's spotted me.
A moment ago, her gaze seemed listless, fixated on nothing in particular. Now, her eyes are very much alert and active. She's scanning my face and body, cataloguing every part of my appearance.
At first, her eyes seemed to trail down the length of my blue, curly hairâso long that it reached down to my thighsâbefore fixating on my crimson eyes, my black hairband, my dark blue dress and matching elbow gloves, my frilled stockings, and my... ah, just what is this?
What is this feeling? How to put it to words, it's just... having her eyes all over me, there's an emotion I can't describe.
I blink once, then twice, before focusing again on the present moment.
"Well..." I whispered, taking just a step closer. "My name isâ"
"Don't come near me."
That's what she interrupted me with.
I cannot blame her. Compared to cheaper, rudimentary machines, she is far more flexible and capable. Given how valuable she is as a humanoid, it is only natural to assume she might be targeted by a thief, plotting to steal her for their own gain.
She's entirely defenseless; she has no owner to shield her, and she isn't wearing a single piece of clothing. She's right to be on her guard.
Even knowing this, I still felt some amount of pain. It's ridiculousâI don't know her, yet I'm hurt by the idea that she could already perceive me in a negative light.
"It's okay," I replied, my voice even quieter than before. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"You expect me to believe that?" Her retort was sharp and immediate, delivered in a voice far louder than mine.
For a moment, the night itself seemed to halt. Out of nervous habit, I glanced toward the sky. Those stars seemed especially distant now.
04
What could I say now?
This silence might have gone on forever.
Much to my surprise, however, she began to lower her head. As if a flip was switched, she lost the will to resist. She cast her gaze to the side and lost that tension in her metallic joints.
Then, slowly, she raised her left armâor what remained of it, anywayâand presented the open socket to me. Her long, cyan wires dangled freely from the opening. Inside the socket, I could see the internal components of her arm. I couldn't quite understand her composition, but I think I saw an unbelievably, intricate array of chips, fluid tubes, and steel.
For most humanoid robots, clothes have no meaning.
By default, their bodies don't mimic certain human organs. To be specific, her chest is simply another segment of her body, and there's nothing between her legs.
But for her to show me her internal components, to openly and willingly display the hardware responsible for her basic motion, awareness, and day-to-day life...
At the sight of it, I couldn't help but suddenly become speechless.
Flustered, maybe?
"Please," she spoke, in a soft, pleading whisper.
"I don't want to hide anymore. I can't... can't live like this."
I see. She doesn't really trust me, then. She's desperate.
She has no other way out, even assuming she can stay hidden.
She could keep running, but that wouldn't get her anywhere.
Tired of having to suspect every stranger, she's placing a faint hope onto me.
I take these things for granted, but I remember my owner had once told me about the advancements in technology that were made during her lifetime. I still find it hard to believe plasma cutters were so large and inconvenient back thenâthe one I have fits perfectly in my hand. I still don't know how she lived her life before she met me, but it must have been difficult.
I took out a compact manual, one that my owner had entrusted me with. It was a beginner's guide for several machine repairs, one that had served me well in my budding career as a maid.
As useful as it may have been, it wasn't very helpful when it came to this particular situationâthe manual didn't have many pages dedicated to humanoid robots.
Of those that did, they only taught basic maintenance and surface-level repairs. On top of that, these pages featured a different, cheaper model than the one sitting in front of me.
Well, if I had to get resourceful, I could take a few educated guesses based on what I've learned, but... ah, she's such a complicated model. I'm really not sure...
Well, so be it. I won't turn back now.
05
As gently as possible, moving as slowly as I could, I wrapped my fingers around her broken left arm. Even through my gloves, I could feel the cold, smooth texture of her metal body, along with the faint whirs of her internal fans.
I began working right then and there. Using what limited knowledge I had, I went through a tedious process of trial and error; I did my best to piece together the severed metal chunks on the floor, before lining up her wires to the best of my ability. Even without some proper knowledge, I figured it couldn't be too difficult to find a way to reattach her missing limb, so I was at least confident I'd patch up that very basic, surface-level injury.
I was mostly worried about the internal components. In the worst-case scenario, her arm would appear intact again, but she'd have no way to move the repaired half... it would be better than nothing, I suppose.
At first, the robot kept her gaze averted. Even as I did my best for her, she refused to look me in the eye. She'd occasionally fixate on a part of my dress or hair, but she wouldn't meet my eyes.
That seemed to change as time went on, though. Around ten minutes in, I noticed how she kept sneaking glances toward my faceâshe scanned my cheeks, my bangs, my lips, the shape of my eyes... whenever I caught her gaze, she'd quickly look away, as if to pretend nothing happened. It might have worked the first or second time, but soon enough, I'd already caught her for the tenth time.
At her persistence, I couldn't help but make a quiet comment.
"Cute."
In response, she let out a heavy, annoyed sigh.
What, did I say something wrong?
I was worried, but for a few minutes after the fact, she kept her gaze fixed on a piece of litter on the floor. I couldn't see her face, so I didn't know what to make of it.
I took the opportunity to start properly focusing on my work. For the next few minutes, I didn't glance up at her; I simply kept my focus to her damaged arm, feeling a slight sense of relief every time I'd managed to piece together just a little bit more of her missing forearm. I'd started to get the hang of this, though it still took me a while to figure out how to line up each section of her internal components.
After finishing a repair on a particularly confusing section, I sat back on my heels, wanting to rest my joints. Without thinking, I glanced toward her faceâfeeling a bit of surprise as we finally made genuine eye contact.
She was no longer dodging it. Her eyes met mine without any resistance.
I couldn't get a proper look until now, so I finally noticed how vivid her eyes were. Her 'eyeballs' were an elaborate light display, comprised of countless pixels that simulated the color and dimensions of a human eye. She had bright, cyan irises, with occasional splashes of white to mimic the visual effect of light shining on an eye.
Her pupils were black, as expectedâbut oddly enough, her sclera was also a mesmerizing, pure shade of black. It's a simple detail, but I find myself transfixed by it. I don't have many examples to compare her to, but she's the first robot I've seen to have pupils surrounded by a dark void.
It makes her look unique, and just a touch more nonhuman. I initially thought it was somewhat unsettling, but on second thought, it beautifully complements the rest of her appearance. I have no way of knowing if this is simply the default appearance for her model, or if this was a conscious stylistic choice made on her behalf, but I think it'sâ
"What?"
Her question snapped me out of my daze. I blinked once, then twice, before remembering where I was. Right, I haven't spoken a single word since I began observing her face. Um...
"Heh. I get it," she added, curving her lips into a small, amused smile.
...What does she 'get?'
I force my gaze back down.
06
Right, I need to focus on my work.
After clearing my throat, my hands resumed their swift, graceful movement. There wasn't much left now. I just need to attach her wrist and hand back onto her arm, ensure the internal structures line up, and we'll be good to go.
Though my time with her would turn out to be somewhat briefâmaybe totaling forty five minutes?âI was still grateful for the opportunity to aid someone like her. I do not often myself find drawn to others, though it certainly does help that she isn't human.
Though I owe a great deal to my owner, it'd be a lie to say I harbored only pleasant feelings for her.
In my line of work, it isn't uncommon for me to encounter those who are nonhuman, though... I rarely get to exchange anything more than brief formalities with them. It's only a guess, but I suppose they're bound, like me?
Perhaps those of our ilk are fated to be born into shackles.
It dawned on me, then, that I hadn't been thinking ahead. Right, that would explain part of my open fascination with this girl in front of meâwe'd gotten to talk, beyond our expected roles.
Had I been...? Yes, that explains it.
I've been taking her for granted.
She hadn't been a part of my world until less than an hour ago. It was faint chance that brought us together, but even then, I still hadn't been looking forward.
If I repair her, if I fulfill my role and simply bid farewell to this robotâwhat then?
Would any establishment take her in?
Of course. Barring exceptional circumstances, they would be remiss not to capitalize on potential ownership of this highly sophisticated model.
As part of the process, they would call in specialized workers to conclude the repairs I had begun. Physically speaking, it wouldn't take much time or effort for a skilled set of humans to bring her back to mint condition. Certainly, none of the damage I've witnessed appears to be permanent.
So, then... what is it? If her body isn't the concern, then...
The mind?
Yes.
That's it.
Though it varies from person to person, it is often a hassle to take in a robot that inherits its past memories. For a robot's practical duties, most of the required information can be supplied through any number of cheap, readily available data transfers. Even with fully functional, obedient robots, it's not uncommon for them to have their storage wiped upon transfer of ownership.
If you wipe the slate clean, you'll rid yourself the trouble of facing a latent virus. To put it more bluntlyâa robot's lingering affections, its trauma, its fearsâonly register as burdens for those who need its services.
Right.
That reminds me of the robot in front of me. The robot who can already grasp fear. The robot who has been hiding herself in the shadows of an alleyway for the entirety of this night. The robot who, all on her own, poked fun at me.
I still don't understand, though.
I don't know what she 'gets.'
What did she 'get,' when I gazed into her eyes with such open wonder?
Could she tell me, before I bid farewell?
For some reason, that wouldn't be enough.
Ever since I've found her, I've been the center of her eye.
We are not friends. We are barely even acquainted with one another. Yet, having known the weight of her gaze, the sound of her voice, the color of her eyes...
Selfishly, I find myself wishing that she would stay a part of my life.
How ridiculous.
More than that, it's pointless.
Will I continue to weigh myself down with these naive hopes forever?
07
Someday, I must mature. But just for today...
"...ah? Ah!"
I yelped in a soft and somewhat pathetic voice.
I'd gotten careless.
I wound up pressing my hand against a sensitive cluster of circuitry, sending a flash of sparks across my glove.
I had thought my plastic was a decent enough insulator against the current, but it offered no protection against the searing heat.
Thankfully, I had been wearing gloves, but the smell of singed fabric and the sudden heat told me that they weren't meant for this kind of work.
I jerked my hand away, unable to meet her gaze. Wanting to assess the damage, I began unfurling my glove, peeling it off my hand.
I did so unceremoniously, intending only to take a brief rest. It hurt at first, but it wouldn't amount to any severe harm. As expected, my plastic hadn't retained notable damage.
But the moment the glove fell to the floor, she spoke again.
"You..."
She raised her right hand, pointing it toward my newly exposed arm.
"You're not like them, either."
What, is she trying to tease me again? Is she... oh.
I stared at my bare skin for a few seconds. It was then that I understood the reason she reacted as such.
I've been wearing a long dress, elbow gloves, stockingsâthe standard uniform for someone of my employment. I hadn't realized that in the eyes of a stranger, under the cover of darkness, that my true nature might not be so readily apparent.
Though my skin is made of plastic, it's also smooth and fair. In the absence of shorter clothes or proper lighting, it wouldn't be ridiculous for her to have assumed I was a human woman.
With my glove removed, she could now see my ball-jointed arm, along with the black lines that clearly showed how my body was separated into flexible, plastic segments.
In retrospect, it seems obvious. I would have to be somewhat of a rogue doll to pose any real threat to an unattended robot. Her earlier suspicion, her wary glareâit'd seemed out of place, directed toward someone like me.
That is to say, I truly do not think I could intimidate someone. Even if I tried.
"You're not familiar with my model, are you?" She asked, facing me with a resigned smile. "I thought so, but... now that I know you're a doll, that makes sense."
She's right.
As a maid, and as a doll, I shouldn't ever need to know about the particulars of an advanced, humanoid model like hers. Unless my owner wills it, such information is not particularly useful for the scope of my duties.
"Correct. I am not familiar," I replied, in a quiet voice. "But I wished to try."
"..."
"Even now, I wish to try."
08
Twenty-five more minutes had passed before I was done.
During that time, we hadn't exchanged a single word. Despite this, I felt at peace as I wrapped up the last few minutes of my repair.
I felt as though she'd finally come to understand me. And though I still believe I'm more clueless than not, I like to think I've come to understand her a little bit better than before.
Her arm was now 'fully' repaired, though you would have to attach an asterisk to this statement of mine. As thorough as I was, I had operated purely on guesswork and approximate solutionsâher left arm was seemingly back in place, yes, though it was obviously weaker than before.
In comparison to her intact, fully functioning right arm, her left arm was less reliable. When she tested the movement in her joints and fingers, she'd found that she struggled to coordinate her arm as well as she did beforehand. She could indeed pick up my tools, though she could hardly focus on which particular finger to lift, and there was a kind of lag in her movements. Perhaps it's due to the amateur way I repaired her inner workings, but...
In any case, her arm is now at a better state than it was before I had arrived. This statement requires no asterisk, and I can take pride in at least this much.
I watched as several emotions flickered through her pixel eyes and mechanical mouthârelief, disappointment, joy, and longingâbefore settling on a small, hesitant smile.
She met my eyes again.
"You helped," she spoke softly, sounding both grateful and confused. "You helped a lot. But..."
Her voice trailed off. I waited patiently for her to continue.
"...But why? I don't have anything to give you in return. Isn't it pointless?"
"What?" I spoke without thinking. I suddenly felt my joints tense.
"I'm useless. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have needed your help. I've taken up so much of your time, and I can't even do something useful for you. I can't even be grateful. I want what I had back, but I know that's not something you're responsible for. And even if I had it back, it wouldn't matter. It'd just happen again. I've been given so many chances, it's really not a surprise that I've run out now. Yeah, I deserved this. I think it's because I'm useless that I..."
She froze, as though she was struck with something. After a long, tense silence, she concluded, "... I just don't get it. Why?"
I could not have possibly known the full weight behind those words. I had no idea what would have led this robot to be abandoned in the middle of an alleyway, nor am I aware of why she spoke so unkindly about herself.
Of course, my instinct refuses to believe this robot really is as useless as she says she is, but my words would ring hollow.
I had only met her today. What comfort could I possibly give?
...
Not knowing how else to quell her troubled heart, my hand began to slowly reach for hers. Seeing my intent, the robot tensed up for only a momentâbefore steadying herself, attempting to keep herself still, even in the face of her overwhelming fear.
When my hand made contact with hers, I gently wrapped my plastic fingers around her metal ones, keeping a soft but firm grip on her. I felt each segment of her fingers tremble, and watched as her eyes darted around my face with nervous hope.
"You are beautiful," I whispered.
That was the answer I decided to giveâthat was why I had decided to help her.
In a broken, damaged robot abandoned on the streetsâI'd found beauty.
I struggled to phrase it any better than this.
Her body was in disrepair, but even then, I'd found beauty in her appearance; I'd found her eyes mesmerizing, found her hair style to be pretty, and found her physical composition to be a fascinating cross between elegance and strength.
But I am not so vain as to aid someone simply for aesthetics. No, it was something about her demeanor that captivated me. Perhaps it began when I felt her gaze assessing every part of my figure, or maybe it began when she'd teased me, with that knowing smile...
Maybe it was the perseverance she displayed in hiding for so long. Maybe it was the endurance she possessed in allowing me to intimately repair her body. It could have been everything, but even when I lay it out like this, it feels like something is missing.
A persistent feeling that aches at the core of my being, given form by the beauty I'd found in almost every facet of this robot.
Would she understand this? Would those few words I'd spoken carry enough weight to convey the depths of my emotions and thoughts?
I had no way of knowing for sure.
I simply watched as her fingers tightened around my own, feeling much heavier and stronger than the plastic of my hand.
Her other hand rose to gently trace along the segments of my arm, feeling the smooth and flexible plastic beneath her own cold, firm fingers.
"You're soft," she whispered, awestruck.
"So soft, and nothing like me."
I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling too embarrassed to make eye contact.
She giggled, before continuing to run her fingers over the bare skin of my arm.
I am soft, after all. Soft enough to trust her so soon. I'd always thought this part of myself was a weakness, but in this moment, I felt as though I had wound up exactly where I wanted to be. Like everything was okay, for this fleeting moment.
09
"Can I go with you?"
She voiced her question in a shaky, hesitant murmur. When I opened my eyes, she gave me a pleading, desperate look. If she could tear up, I'm sure she would have.
Selfish as it might be, I've already made up my mind. Having come this far, it would not do me well to act against my wishes.
No doubt I'll be scolded for it later, but I have to make an exception here.
I want her to have a place she can call home.
It might be a long shot, but I must try.
"Of course," I replied eagerly. "You won't have to hide anymore. Not if I can help it."
There was only a moment of hesitation.
A moment of hesitation before she leaned forward.
My eyes widened, and I felt my pulse abruptly spike.
Is she...? I know she trusts me and I trust her, but is she truly...?
A kiss.
...on the cheeks. She'd pressed a soft, chaste kiss to my cheeks. It was entirely appropriate, and nothing at all like I'd anticipated.
Ah... what is this?
Disappointment?
She gave me a wide, mischievous smirk, before laughing at me.
A wide blush spread across the entirety of my cheeks, reaching down to my neck. If there was ever a moment for me to part ways with the living world, perhaps now would have been the best timeâso I thought.
"Don't pout like that. I'm only teasing."
"Hmph..."
She giggled again, raising her right hand to cup my cheek.
"Be patient, little doll. I can't let you get a big head yet."
Ah, well, I suppose...
After a brief pause, we'd agreed to start making our way back to my estate. I helped lift her up to her feet, ensuring my hand was still holding onto hers.
I gave a gentle squeeze, before leading her out of the alleyway and back onto the sidewalk. There was no one around at a time this late, so we weren't worried.
A few minutes into our leisurely stroll, I felt the robot suddenly stop in place, preventing me from continuing forward.
I turned myself around, tilting my head in confusion.
"Your name... what's your name?" she asked.
Right. That entirely slipped my mind.
Well, if I was going to introduce myself, I might as well go the full way.
I stepped back, letting go of her. I lifted the hem of my maid dress with both hands, before lowering my head and giving her an elegant curtsy.
"My name is Aria. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope we get along well."
I heard a delighted, soft little hum escape her lips. When I lifted my head, I caught sight of her impossibly bright eyes, with golden stars flashing across her pupils.
What a cute use of technology.
As I rose back to normal form, she began clasping her hands in front of her, straightening her posture in preparation. With a mechanical, flawless grace, she bowed before me, keeping her eyes closed.
"Lumi, at your humble service."
10
Hand-in-hand, the two of us resumed our journey home.
More accurately, we resumed our journey toward my home.
I had no way of knowing if she would come to call that place her own. Such a concept might be in tatters for her nowâfor the robot who lost sight of her house, her owner, and herself.
Ah, but I don't have to call her 'the robot' anymore.
That's right.
Lumi... what a pretty name.
For a girl as brilliant as herâfor a robot with eyes that seemed to shine brighter than the sunâit was a fitting name.
I was suddenly reminded of the stars.
The countless stars that came out at night. The stars I couldn't hope to count. The stars I'd always try to count.
I gazed up at the night sky once more.
Always in sight, yet still out of reach.
A dazzling light I could never hope to grasp.
Just then, I felt Lumi squeeze my hand.
When I met her gaze once more, I felt as though something had finally clicked into place.
Perhaps catching sight of the melancholy in my eyes, or sensing the slower pace of my steps, she'd deliberately caught my attentionâshe brought me back to the present moment, refusing to let me fall behind.
I see.
I didn't need to count the stars of the night sky.
There was one by my side, grasping my hand.
Still in sight, right within my reach.