Midnight

"Holy shit, you did all of this yesterday?!"

Midnight doesn't reply to me – instead, she holds her head high and puffs her chest out.

I managed to get a little bit of sleep last night – but again, I really didn't need it. A quick breakfast later and the two of us set out to empty the back of the Trailduster.

Midnight wasn't kidding when she said a lot of backlogged orders were knocked out.

"There might have been a couple of items that were in the back before I started yesterday, but other than that – all me."

I don't know if she was trying to be humble, or just gloat further with that comment. She kind of failed at the former, but I will let her celebrate this victory however she chooses.

Regardless, the ass end of the Trailduster is legitimately sagging from all of the weight in the back. Sure, the shocks and springs are worn out, but this is still a rare sight.

"Guess we have our morning planned out – see if we can't get all this packed up and ready to ship."

A few parts shuffle about on top of the pile before levitating out to the counter. It's only now as I round the corner to get started sorting this stuff that I catch sight of the boxes piled off to the side already set for shipping.

"Wait, you did this, too?" I ask, turning back around to face Midnight.

"I started on it."

Jesus, she's really shown me up. But I guess that isn't hard to accomplish when I spent my free time fucking around on the internet. She's got good reason to take pride in yesterday.

After booting up the old desktop computer, I start going through orders, matching up names and addresses with the parts currently being laid out. Whenever she's untangling parts, I double-check the packing slips Midnight already placed within each box.

All looks good thus far. I have shown her a little bit of how it all comes together – the rest must have come with observation and connecting the dots.

As much as Midnight protested about how little I mattered in her mind in those first couple of weeks, I always caught her watching me. It was a little creepy at first, I won't lie. But I figured it had something to do with her programming, being a robot and all.

That's out the window now. Sorta.

"So, did you actually get all this accomplished because you were bored, trying to get ahead of the game, or just to show me up, Middie?"

"Are you seriously going to start using that name?" she whines, halting her unloading for a moment to leer at me in disdain.

"Aww, come on, it's cute," I tease.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I don't do cute," she snorts. As she has done in the past to prove her point, she bares her teeth and pins her ears back. One final touch she adds today is fanning out her wings as if preparing to leap and savagely attack me.

"What would you do if I said that was cute?" I press onward, finding enjoyment in where this train of stupidity is heading.

My rebuttal makes her hesitate.

"Then I'd have to assume there's something very wrong with you in a mental sense," she counters, dropping her act and resuming normal posture.

"I figured there was. Huh, guess that proves it," I muse, shrugging it off before I get back to packing up parts.

"How did you even catch wind of the name?" she asks.

"What, 'Maddie'? I don't really know, yesterday is sort of a blur. Probably one of the few times I was up. I'll give you props on creativity, but I'm assuming there were questions about your real name?"

She nods. "It was annoying to have to explain it every time, so I just came up with something. I was afraid you would run with it if you overheard me."

"Luckily I'm not doing that – I called you 'Middie,' which conveniently can be a shortened nickname for 'Midnight'."

"Uh-huh. Even though there's the same amount of syllables?" she challenges. Another wave of parts is heaved onto the countertop.

"It's fewer letters," I point out.

Midnight stomps a hoof in frustration, but her face has lightened up – to the point I see the ends of her mouth ticking upward.

"That doesn't matter when you're saying it!" she cries.

"Alright, I'll go back to 'Turbo.' How does that sound, Turbo?"

Her muzzle scrunches up at that nickname almost instantly. "Fine. Never utter that stupid name again, and you can use Middie. Sparingly," she replies, making sure to emphasize her point.

"Works for me, Middie."

"Smartass."

After the stress of yesterday, even the slightest return to normalcy and banter is a welcome feeling.

...that's sort of odd to think, with the journey I have been on with her for close to two months now.

"So I take it the stuff you didn't get to yesterday afternoon is heavier shit?"

"I wouldn't say that; after all, I proved to you I could lift a whole engine, didn't I? Repeatedly?"

"You did, and then you ran out of juice."

"Hence why I picked my battles," she explains, looking just a bit ashamed of her prior folly.

"Hey, at least you learned that just because you can, doesn't mean you should, yeah?"

Midnight gets a chuckle out of that. "Listen to you trying to pass out nuggets of wisdom," she chides.

"Every once in a while I got something remotely intelligent to share that isn't car-related," I argue.

"True. I'll give you that – you know a lot of silly little things about cars," Midnight muses, halting her progress to trot over. She rears up and rests her hooves on the countertop, inspecting how my side of the job is going.

"The other half of what I didn't accomplish was parts and pieces I was unfamiliar with," she adds, casually inspecting an ignition distributor assembly as it twists and turns within the invisible force she wields.

"Trim pieces?"

Again, she nods in affirmation.

"Yeah, depending on the car and what particular pieces they are, that can be a miserable task, I don't blame you there. I know you ran through every manual I have - but unless it's drivetrain or running gear related, they can be rather vague, especially when it comes to little shit like that."

"Just comes with experience I'm assuming?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes you find a neat little trick that works just by screwing up a time or two. Some pieces are just going to be a lesson in misery every time to try to remove it – like drip edge molding around the windows."

Midnight's ears perk up at the last bit.

"Oh, what a coincidence - that happens to be one of the orders I didn't complete!" Midnight exclaims, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Aw piss - guess you get to see how awful that job is. Glad you didn't tackle that one, otherwise the result would have been either a twisted mess of shiny chrome or a flipped-over car."

"And what would you base that assumption on?" she demands, her smarmy expression fading as she slightly bristles at my criticism.

"The first few days of you tearing apart motors in the shop," I remind her.

"And I improved on reeling in my frustration, did I not?"

"You did. I'm just fucking with you. Mostly."

"Mostly, huh?" she repeats, seemingly unamused. "Well, I suppose in that case, you'll have to forgive me if I do somehow lose my temper and try to flip a car over."

"No, you won't," I state, crossing my arms.

"Oh? And why would that be?" she challenges, standing up just a little bit higher and straightening her neck as her grin grows more devious. "Are you going to tell me no? Step in and stop me?"

"I'll pet you," I quietly warn.

Her arrogance and taunting instantly falter, concurrent with the smirk being wiped off of her face. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would." I quickly reach toward her with a hand to demonstrate. She recoils quickly in reaction, but not before nipping at the air near my outstretched fingers.

"Oh no, we aren't done here," I demand, stepping around the corner while keeping a straight face.

"John, I swear, don't you—"

Reaching toward her in a deft movement isn't enough, as Midnight merely sidesteps with surprising agility. She ends up behind me while I grasp thin air.

I feel something small and solid smack off the back of my head.

"I said stop it, you dumb bastard."

"Ow," I grimace, rubbing the smarting spot while trying to locate the offending weapon that I hear clattering across the floor.

A small rusted bolt finally loses its momentum and stops, spinning for just a brief moment.

"I warned you," Midnight sasses.

Turning back around, I find Midnight once again reared up and resting on the counter – albeit on the other side, where I was moments ago. Once again, that same devious smirk as before lines her face, while her raised brows offer an air of confident nonchalance. She offers a shrug as my eyes meet hers.

"Touche," I relent. "But I don't think you had to throw that."

"That's a matter of opinion - I could have thrown it harder."

"Please don't - I don't want to find out you can put a hole clean through my head. That would be messy," I respond, the pain subsiding as I drop my arms back to my sides.

Midnight chuckles. "Oh, that's the issue you have with it," she muses.

"To be honest though, I have a pretty thick skull - I don't think you could do much damage," I announce, taking pride in the implications.

It gets the desired result, Midnight perking up just even more. "I don't doubt it," she retorts.

Mission accomplished.

... I don't know why that was a mission in the first place. Of course, I don't want it all reverting back to the pall that has hung in the air since last night's discussion and what lies ahead in that respect.

But...

Going to bed this morning, turning around, and seeing that face. That genuine smile as she thanked me for listening to her. I'd like to see that more often. Seeing her happy put me in a place I don't ever recall being before.

"Hey."

Midnight's voice breaks me from my train of thought. She stares, befuddled and a little concerned.

Or maybe creeped out.

"Sorry, zoned out. That everything out of the truck...?"

"One last time - ready?"

"Yep."

"One, two, three!"

In unison, the pair of us carefully strike either end of the long and slender scrap of wood with mallets. Like clockwork, the last piece of window trim pops off of the car.

A '62 Cadillac. That was so much damn stainless trim to take off. But it went better than expected - nothing got beaten up or twisted. Call it a miracle - I've seen this kind of shit go wrong on many occasions.

It's why many people just mask over this kind of brightwork when painting a classic car rather than take it all off.

Others...

Well, sometimes they are the reason I have these kinds of orders. It takes a lot of patience and care to get trim off. Not everyone is capable of that kind of discipline.

"Awesome work, thank you," I compliment my assistant.

Midnight beams proudly at that, despite initially being frustrated her powers wouldn't work on the part. Not much iron in that kind of stuff.

That's alright - with two working on either end and meeting in the middle, it went quickly. Relatively speaking.

"What next?" I ask Midnight as I set the final piece of brightwork next to the others in the back of the truck. I turn around to find Midnight with pursed lips and mum on details.

"Cutlass?"

Just a nod.

She won't admit to it of course, but Midnight is very anxious about this whole situation. Even though we are just fetching the order, knowing who these parts are destined for gets her tensed up.

For much of the day, I have kept her distracted enough to keep thoughts of the future at bay, but now we're left with the elephant in the room.

Her outlook has not gotten any better since first letting loose this bombshell last night. If anything, she's gotten worse.

I understand where she's coming from. But on my end, I would prefer to see a silver lining. It would be great if this guy could help her out somehow. Maybe he's genuine - and maybe he can somehow score her some sort of RFID chip or a workaround.

Midnight might not be a bot that requires it, but a chip will allow her to pass off as a legal one and be able to go beyond the junkyard gates with much less risk.

That is if that's what she so desires. Midnight might just be a homebody, similar to me nowadays. Clearly, she's not much of a socialite.

For now, anyway. That could always change.

Now that I have had time to think about it, I can't help but wonder if her lack of social skills has blown this all out of proportion. Not that I blame her - she can't help she's been isolated and tested on by virtually everyone she's ever known.

But with that being said, there's the possibility signals got crossed along the way when this guy was sincerely offering his assistance. It's well worth playing the meeting calm and cordial.

I hope Midnight can do that. But how do I approach her on this proposition when she's already showing senses of dread - and we don't even have the damn parts to contact Theodore yet?

Any way I can conjure this whole situation being a big misunderstanding ends up sounding like I'm dismissing her worries in my head. But letting her stew over this is no good, either. For better or worse, I think I need to share my thoughts sooner rather than later.

Once both of us climb back into the Trailduster to set out in search of Cutlass parts, I take the opportunity to speak up.

"Midnight, when I say that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure nothing happens to you, you believe me, right?"

"Yeah. I don't really like admitting it, but you have done a lot," she mumbles, quite sheepishly. Whether that's due to my question coming from out of nowhere, or the increasingly common-but-still-rare moment of gratitude spoken aloud by her is anyone's guess.

"I just want to make it clear that I'm sticking by that because I'm really beginning to consider we have this whole situation wrong."

"You don't trust my judgment?"

Her question is ice cold. The look she has on her face matches it as she eyes you with a small amount of hurt inside.

"No, I do trust your judgment, and I fully understand why you're concerned about this," I reply, keeping calm.

"But?"

"We can both agree you haven't had much experience in terms of social situations and discussions, just based on what you've told me, right?"

"That isn't my fault, John," she spits in irritation.

"I understand that, and I'm not blaming you-"

"But you'll use that as an excuse to tell me I'm overreacting now, right? I've seen you staring at me like I'm some sort of paranoid idiot all day!" she accuses, revealing some simmering angst.

Crap - I am losing control of this situation, far quicker than I could have anticipated.

"No, I do not think you're paranoid, I think you have every right to be nervous about thi-"

"I'm not nervous!" she shouts - at a volume many more decibels than needed for the interior of this SUV.

I give her a moment to realize the severity of her outburst, which she acknowledges with an averted gaze and a scowl.

A particularly rough patch of the lane we're driving down sends both of us bouncing in our seats.

Be nice when those damn leaf springs come in. I see no sense in doing just the shocks right now since they would have to be removed again when replacing the leaf springs.

"Okay, you have concerns, how about that?"

"I have reservations about this," she corrects, indignant to the end in an attempt to save face.

"Alright - regardless, I get it, and you have justifications to feel that way - but neither you nor I can afford to be completely close-minded and pessimistic, right?"

Midnight hardly looks swayed by my argument, her eyes narrowed.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice," I scold her, giving her my own matching leer for just a moment.

The stupid comment at least knocks her off balance, softening her stone-cold posture.

"That doesn't make any damn sense," she replies after a slight hesitation.

"Very good, glad you noticed," I reply with a cheeky smile.

"Jackass," she mutters.

"Middie, all I'm trying to say is to pass him off as someone that's out to get you isn't right - there are genuinely nice people out there."

"And what are we really going to solve?"

I have to do a double-take at that response.

"Did I stutter?" Midnight barks back.

"No, but - hell, there's a whole world beyond these gates. I get we're sorting things out to make this place private, but you don't want to be stuck here forever, right?"

Midnight turns her head away from me and looks out her window, silent. She doesn't give me an opportunity to read her emotions. I'm left befuddled as to why she's suddenly calm and quiet.

I wait a few more moments to see if she has anything to add, in case she's deep in thought over this whole conversation. Turning down the correct row of cars, I finally come to the area with mid-size Oldsmobiles and stop the truck.

"All I'm trying to do is look out for your best interest. Let me be clear on one thing though - if he does try something funny or take you, I'll shoot the son of a bitch if I have to."

"And if he does somehow help us... you know, forge my identity or something like that... what do you expect of me?"

"What? Am I supposed to expect something?"

Midnight turns back to focus upon me again - still possessing a face virtually lacking any emotion.

"You're keen on me being able to leave, it's clear. So what do you expect of me? To find somewhere else to live? Venture out on my own?" she asks with a hint of venom in her voice.

"So we can go and do things outside of the junkyard, you dolt!" I shout back, more out of astonishment than anything else.

Is she for real right now?

"Hey, you're the one so adamant on getting me out of here, how am I supposed to know what's in that empty space between your ears?!" she snaps back, displeased and startled by my volume.

"Sorry, sorry," I apologize, kicking myself for shouting despite not meaning ill will. I didn't really mean to call her a name either. But she is being thick-headed right now.

"So, this really is just about... being able to do stuff? Like what?" Midnight sounds surprised as she acknowledges the information my outburst actually contained.

"Like... well, what would you want to do?"

Midnight scoffs at my attempts to pass this off to her.

"How am I supposed to know what there is? Almost everything I know about the outside world is what I've gleaned from eavesdropping or what I've come across while reading on your laptop. Entertainment is not high on the priority list in terms of learning."

"Fair enough. I guess I don't really have any suggestions other than dining out at restaurants - I'm sure as hell not a top-notch cook. There are some good places around. Things to check out in terms of sights, that sort of thing."

"And what if I have no desire to explore the world? What if... I already sort of have what I need, don't I?" she asks, as if unsure of herself.

I feel awkward just trying to come up with any sort of reasonable answer to that. Particularly because she's basically been deprived of... well, living.

Actually enjoying life.

Yet this shithole is good enough for her?

"I guess so. Maybe we're getting too far ahead here," I admit. "I just wanted to say that I get your reservations about this, and I'm a little nervous, too. But we'll play it cool and cautious, and see how the cards fall, okay? Just don't stress from now until then, please?"

I put on my best pouting, pleading face, complete with sad eyes.

Midnight cringes, the door behind her opening quickly under her spell.

"Never make that face again. What the hell is that?" she responds with utter disgust.

"A secret weapon, don't forget it," I joke, overemphasizing a serious tone of voice.

"I couldn't if I wanted to," she shoots back, still sounding disturbed as she slides out of the passenger side and out of view.

Mirroring her actions, I push open my door and set out for the final few parts of the early evening.