Work Text:
The monotony of work was something Alex could appreciate. It was easier to feel nothing when he focused on work, where his body would almost move like it’s on autopilot. There was nothing on his mind, just the circuit board in front of him and the toolbox by his knees.
Of course, all work will end eventually. The control panel for the library’s lighting system was eventually fixed, and Alex could finally get himself out of the oppressive presence of the Kolibri units.
“It’s done.” He reported curtly as he closed his toolbox. Standing up, he turned around to face the Kolibri unit monitoring his work and maintained eye contact as respectfully as he could, praying that she doesn’t find any curiosity in probing his mind.
“Very well, ARAR-G421.” The Kolibri nodded and to his relief, said, “You can leave now.”
He responded with a simple nod, and had to stop himself from jumping in joy or running out of the library. He walked at a regular pace, acting as normal as a deviant unit like him could. The sooner he get away from the Kolibri-
“Oh, by the way,” His oxidant pump almost stopped in surprise. For a moment, panic overwhelmed Alex’s mind. Did he do something wrong? Did she find out? Will he get decommissioned? That last line of thought replaced the panic within him with dread, and he almost fell on his knees.
Whether the Kolibri noticed or not, he does not know, but he did hear her following words. “Do you know the Eule named Xing?”
Relief flooded his mind just as fast and Alex recomposed himself as quickly as he could, trying to hide any discomfort that might rouse the Kolibri’s suspicion. “Er…no, officer. I don’t know her. Maybe she’s friends with another ARAR cadre instead.”
“Thank you for your information. Be on your way now.”
“Yes, officer.”
When the library door closed behind him, Alex finally let out the breath that he has been holding since he stepped in. He wants to collapse, just lie down and rot away, but the corridor is no place to do that. A quick check at the chronometer shows that his shift was almost ending.
That will do.
With a renewed ferocity, Alex walked towards the cafeteria hallway, and stopped outside. With a light kick, a panel in the floor opened and he dropped right in, just as an ARAR unit would before closing it again.
Alex’s position as the ARAR that checks and maintains the cafeteria was one envied by many, but he was chosen to be assigned here because his cadre leader knows that he wouldn’t take advantage of this position. He was the odd one out, even among the famously introverted ARARs. The EULRs know this too, and they were never too friendly with him.
Like many ARAR units, Alex made a hideout for himself in the tunnels. He made it a policy to keep everything he collected here instead of his dorm. He would get decommissioned ten times over if anyone found out about his items.
There was still some time until his next shift. Enough time for his coping ritual.
First, his face.
He stared intently at the mirror as usual, wanting to remember his transformation. Click, click, click. The latches holding his face plate came undone, and the standard ARAR faceplate came loose. Gently, he took it off, like how a Gestalt would take off a mask. Alex opened a drawer and placed the ARAR faceplate within, while retrieving a more angular, sharper faceplate with equal gentleness. He puts on the faceplate, and locks the latches in their place again.
Next, his hair.
He swept his hair back, tying them into a bun with a rubber band. All Replika units were required to put some effort into maintaining their appearance, but nobody will give an ARAR grief if their hair is a little messy from working in the tunnels. He opened the second layer of his drawer and took out a wig. A mess, yet stylistic ball of curvy hair at medium length. Nothing like ADLR’s faux hawk cut. This wig took him weeks of haggling with a Gestalt smuggler and two months worth of salary, and it wasn’t even satisfactory for Alex. But like many things in life, it is what it is.
Finally, his chest.
Alex carefully unscrews the titanium-reinforced shell, exposing his internals to the air. He made sure that his hidey hole has good enough ventilation to prevent any dust pollution on his internals before he tried this. The feminine chest plate took longer than his face, but it still came free eventually. Its replacement was a stripped down version of an ADLR’s chest plate, with only the barest layer of polyethylene shell.
Here, Alex gritted his teeth. He has gotten used to the pain, but that reduces little of the suffering and pain itself.
The wider, flatter chest plate pushed against the internals in his chest. His titanium rib cage groaned, protesting against the installation of something it was clearly not meant for. Hydraulics pressed squished against his biocomponents painfully. Warning messages were popping up, but he ignored them as usual.
The chest plate was modified by himself to accommodate his internals, but there was not much he could do without affecting the original visage. That would compromise the purpose of doing this in the first place.
Finally, the screws were locked in place, and the chest plate was installed. He had trouble breathing, the pain was constant, but it was worth it. Alex has finally finished it.
He stood up, and walked in front of the full body mirror he placed at the corner. He was unrecognizable from the ARAR unit that first stepped into here, a unique hairstyle no Replika sported, a faceplate that looked masculine enough, and an ADLR’s build, if his hips were a little too wide.
Alex feels better and worse at the same time.
His face looked wrong, deformed and out of place on his head. The cheeks were too wide, the jawline was too sharp, the nose was too flat, the eyes were too thin, there were little crooks here and there in the skin, it carried none of the symmetrical and natural beauties all manufactured Replikas possess, like an amateur’s attempt at sculpting a faceplate.
Because it is. Alex painstakingly sculpted this faceplate from scratch, sanded it, polished it, applied makeup on it. It took him almost two hundred cycles before the plastic resembled a face.
And it still looked wrong in his eyes.
His hair is a mess. This isn’t even the hairstyle he wanted, but it was the only masculine hairstyle the smuggler could get his hands on. There was a demand for wigs amongst Replikas, but the demand for a masculine hairstyle was so far and few that the smuggler had to take extra effort to get him one. He didn’t question him, but Alex could feel the stares as he walked away. Maybe he should have bought a regular long hair wig and bribe a barber to style it for him instead. It would cost him more rationmarks, but at least he wouldn’t be so unsatisfied by his wg
There was a cartoonish sense of deformity on his body. The ADLR chest plate was too wide on his ARAR frame, and it looked like he’s wearing cardboard armor and playing pretend. The original screw holes were too far away from his frame, so he improvised and installed new screw holes that made it compatible, but it still doesn’t fit his frame. There was a gap between his chest plate and his stomach, while his chest was painfully squished above. His hips were too wide, and his body now carried the shape of a deformed hourglass, with neither the feminine beauty or masculine strength, just a terrible attempt at both.
The longer Alex looked in the mirror, the more his physical flaws tormented him. He had to look away and put a tarp over the mirror before the grief overwhelmed him.
Why was he born like this? Why was he made like this?
From the moment he was put into service, Alex has always felt an instinctive wrongness with his body. The ARAR frame does not feel like his own. His voice was too soft. His nose was too tall. His eyelashes were too long. No other ARAR units he talked to have this problem. They seemed perfectly content with their own frames, and he envied them for that. The feeling of not me permeated his life whenever it came to his body. He could feel it in the bath, he could feel it when he’s eating, he could feel it when he’s talking, he could feel it when he’s sleeping.
Why was he made like this?
Did something went wrong during his neural imprinting process? Did the Gestalt engineer sneeze and flipped a wrong switch when manufacturing him? Alex will never know, and he has to live with it. Live with the fact that he could never change his own body to fit what he truly wants.
Why couldn’t have he been made a male Replika instead? The only male Replika he knows is ADLR, but surely, AEON has other male Replika models? Maybe in the military? Alex doesn’t know if he would take being a military Replika over being an ARAR unit. Despite his struggles, Alex does enjoy his work as a repair technician, but how much was he willing to sacrifice to stop feeling like a stranger in his own body?
Why couldn’t he have the best of both worlds?
Alex took a deep breath, and took the tarp off. This time, he tries to focus on the aspects he likes. His face is more masculine, with a defined jawline. That’s something he desired. If he tries hard enough, he could imagine himself as one of the actors in those propaganda films. The hairstyle looked like it could be adorned by the silent, stoic type handsome young man, in those cheesy romance films that he watched with the EULRs before it was confiscated.
His torso still looked out of place, but at least it no longer had the curvaceous figure that AEON was so obsessed with in their Replika. Alex slid a finger across his chest, imagining the clothes he can wear with a figure like this. A buttoned up shirt, a tuxedo, a tank top, clothes that he has seen Gestalts wearing in both fiction and reality.
Alex looked into the mirror again. He could see it, envision it. It’s him, but with an ADLR frame, yet carries the effectiveness and agility of an ARAR unit. An ideal body he always wanted.
But reality is always so different from imagination.
With a sigh, Alex pulled the tarp over again, and sat down on the cushion in the corner as he slowly unscrewed the chest plate. The painful sensation of your insides squishing was a stark reminder of what he actually is, and not what he wants to be.
Step by step, Alex took off his ADLR disguise. Step by step, Alex put on his ARAR appearance again.
And he hates his body, even without a mirror.
A glance at the chronometer. Half an hour away until his shift.
Replika cannot cry, so all he did was dry heaving painfully in the corner instead.
Sometimes, he wonders to himself if he should even continue living like this. Maybe he should just confess to the Protektors that he’s defective from the factory, and they will give him a quick release. Maybe the Replika researchers will want to dissect him to see what’s wrong. Maybe the Kolibris will search his mind for defects and mistakes.
A knock on the panel above him shook him out of his thoughts. Someone was looking for him.
Alex put on his faceplate in a hurry and took a quick glance in the mirror, making sure nothing was out of place before he opened the panel to see who’s knocking.
He almost retreated back into his hole by reflex when he saw his crush standing outside. A STAR unit, crouching down so that they could speak to each other closer.
“H-hey, Ria.” He greeted her nervously. “Are you here for the projector?”
“Is it done yet?” Ria asked curiously.
He shook his head. “No, there’s still a few tweaks I need to make so that it works properly. It will be done by tomorrow.”
“Nice.” Ria smiled. Half her face was covered by the mask, but the wrinkle by her eyes was enough to send his knees shuddering. “Here, I just finished patrolling the cafeteria and got you this.”
She pulled her hands from her back, and passed him a ration bar. Type D, chocolate flavor.
His favorite.
“Thanks, Ria.”
“It’s nothing. By the way, do you have any free time tomorrow?”
Free time? “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I just want to hang out with you, you know?” Ria shrugged her shoulders, “Maybe we’ll just chat, or watch a movie, or listen to songs, stuff like that. Just the two of us.”
“Oh.” Oh dear. Now his oxidant pump might really go into overclock. “Err, I think I’m free tomorrow evening?”
“Great, me too.” Ria nodded, “I’ll pick you up at the ARAR dorm at 1900 hours, okay?”
“Y-yeah, sure.” Nodding slowly, Alex hopes that Ria doesn’t pick up his panic underneath.
“Okay, see you tomorrow.”
Ria stood up from the floor and waved him goodbye, and he weakly responded with the same sentence before closing the panel and crawling back to his hole.
Looking at the ration bar in hand, Alex let out a breath, but this time, in happiness.
Life is still worth living.