The burger was halfway to his mouth when Ami slid a plate of dessert in front of him.
Sebastian paused mid-bite. “…This is a trap.”
“Obviously,” Ami said, setting down a slice of synth-apple pie with suspicious precision. “I need a favor.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You bribing me with pie now?”
“You work for Stuffies. I work with sugar.”
Sebastian took a bite anyway. It was criminally good.
Ami leaned on the counter. “You remember that old nursery rhyme? The Iron Lullaby?”
He swallowed. “The creepy one they play in commercials to make garbage dumps look wholesome? Yeah.”
“Well… it’s been playing out back.”
Sebastian stopped chewing.
“Playing,” he repeated.
“Soft. Like someone humming it. Only it’s… off. Slower. Wrong. No speaker, no source. Just echoes out of the alley behind the kitchen.”
“Maybe someone’s pranking you.”
“That’s what Cordell thought. Until Milo started getting headaches from it. And two regulars said they felt ‘watched.’”
Sebastian took another bite of pie, chewed slowly, and muttered, “Cool. So haunted alley, brain-melting tune, mystery pie. Sounds like my kind of evening.”
Ami pointed to the back door. “Go knock some cursed audio off a rooftop or whatever it is you do. And if you survive, I’ll throw in a milkshake.”
Sebastian stood.
“You drive a hard bargain.”
Sebastian stepped into the alley behind Cordell’s Diner, instantly regretting it.
The space was dim, greasy, and smelled vaguely of burnt circuitry. Shadows stretched between broken crates and rusting dumpsters, but that wasn’t the worst part.
It was the song.
Lay thee down, the sky runs dry…
We cradle the world in iron sighs…
‘Great. Creepy lullaby in an empty alley. Nothing ominous there at all.’
He took another step forward, eyes flicking around, looking for speakers, radios—anything.
‘Who even came up with this song? You’d think someone would’ve realized by now it’s nightmare fuel.’
A soft glitch echoed through the alley, distorting the tune. He paused, frowning.
Then he saw it, half-hidden between an overturned crate and a pile of trash.
A small, humanoid shape. Thin limbs, faded synthetic skin peeling in patches, tangled pastel-pink hair. Her lower body was shattered from the knees down, metal joints exposed and wires sparking quietly in the dim light.
Sebastian stepped closer. He recognized the model immediately—a discontinued AI companion unit. Expensive, once. Now, she was trash, discarded like an old toy.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
A brand logo flickered weakly on her chest plate:
“LUV-3 Companion Series by SynthaCorp”
He crouched in front of her, inspecting the damage carefully.
Her eyes were dark, lifeless. No movement. But the lullaby continued faintly, brokenly, from the small, barely-functional speaker lodged in her throat.
‘Damn. Poor thing probably got dumped here years ago. Playing that same creepy lullaby on loop till her battery finally dies.’
Sebastian sighed, brushing a stray lock of artificial hair aside.
“Let’s see if we can shut you up without permanently bricking you, huh?”
He gently lifted her, surprisingly lightweight, careful not to sever any wires as he carried her out of the alley.
The lullaby distorted again—then slowly faded into silence.
Sebastian popped his head through the diner’s back door.
“Hey, I’m gonna need a rain check on that dessert. Something came up.”
Without waiting for a response, Sebastian turned and headed off down the street, half-broken bot cradled awkwardly in his arms.
‘What the hell is an expensive bot doing dumped in a diner alley?’
He glanced down at her lifeless face, synthetic skin peeling slightly around the edges. Her expression was frozen, delicate features permanently etched into a faint look of sadness. Expensive tech, expensive model—yet tossed aside like a busted toaster.
‘No way someone just forgot you. Someone paid big money, got bored, then threw you out.’
A few late-night wanderers gave him odd looks as he passed, but no one bothered stopping him. Brim wasn’t the kind of place where carrying broken bots home at night was the weirdest sight.
He shifted her weight slightly, taking a shortcut through the narrow alleyways back toward his garage. Her limbs hung limp, joints clicking quietly with each step.
‘Maybe you pissed off the wrong rich asshole. Or you saw something you shouldn’t have.’
He paused, glancing around briefly before ducking into the side entrance of his garage. The door slid shut behind him, sealing off the city noise.
Sebastian gently placed the bot down on the cleared workbench, where her tangled wires and fractured frame stood out starkly under the bright lights.
“Alright,” he muttered softly, grabbing his toolkit. “Let’s figure out your story.”
He flicked on the garage lights, bathing everything in sharp white glare.
He set the damaged bot down gently on his workbench, carefully turning her over to assess the full extent of the damage. Up close, she looked worse than he’d thought: synthetic skin peeling off in ragged patches, joints shattered, and wiring splayed like veins. Her hair was clumped together with some kind of industrial goop, staining it a dirty pastel pink—but a closer look revealed hints of the original color underneath.
‘White. Pure white. That pink stuff’s just gunk. Probably coolant or grease or worse.’
He sighed and opened his wristband, pulling up Brim’s local market listings for SynthaCorp replacements. He scrolled through parts casually, eyes skimming the list—then stopped cold.
? Replacement synthetic dermis (full-body, premium): 2,200 Stuffies
? Servo-joint replacements (set of four): 5,600 Stuffies
? Optical sensor array (single eye, genuine SynthaCorp): 3,000 Stuffies
? AI Vocal modulator (factory-new): 3,500 Stuffies
? Lower limb actuator assembly (complete): 7,800 Stuffies
Sebastian felt his stomach turn.
‘…Nope. Nope. That’s a whole lotta zeroes I wasn’t planning on.’
He quickly checked his current account balance:
5,220 Stuffies
Enough for maybe one major part, two if he scraped together some scrap jobs—but nowhere near what he needed to fix her completely.
‘Who the hell priced these parts? SynthaCorp executives who use hundred-dollar bills as tissues?’
Sebastian rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking down at the broken AI lying silent on his workbench. Her pale, damaged face stared blankly upward, the white of her hair barely peeking through the grime.
He exhaled sharply.
“Alright, princess. Looks like you’re getting the DIY special,” he muttered, reluctantly closing the market page. “Hope you don’t mind a little homemade hardware.”
Sebastian leaned over the damaged AI, brow furrowed, arms crossed, mentally calculating his next move.
‘Okay. Priority check—what can’t I half-ass?’
He gently lifted one of her shattered arms, inspecting the snapped joints and exposed wiring.
‘Limbs—expensive, but manageable. I can craft replacements. Some scrap alloy, old servo joints from junked drones. I can rig something decent enough.’
He carefully brushed his fingers through the stained, clumped hair, grimacing slightly as flakes of dried goop fell away, revealing more of the pure white strands underneath.
‘Hair, though? Synthetic fiber’s cheap enough. I’ll order replacement strands, good quality. She deserves at least one thing brand new.’
Finally, he eyed the peeling synthetic skin, half-disintegrated from neglect and exposure.
‘And the skin…not even gonna try making that. Too delicate. Too complicated. One bad patch-job and she’ll look like a zombie that someone tried to spray paint.’
He sighed, tapping his wristband again, bringing up the order screen reluctantly.
‘So, new hair, new dermis. Limbs handmade. It’ll drain most of what I’ve earned this month—but she’ll run. Maybe even look half decent.’
Sebastian glanced down again at the quiet, broken form on his table, pale hair framing her softly damaged features.
“Alright, princess,” he murmured, placing the order. “Time to put Humpty Dumpty back together.”
The next few weeks passed in a blur of sparks, sweat, and stubborn determination.
Sebastian took every job that hit his inbox—no exceptions.
Repair a broken neon sign at midnight? Done.
Fix a drone that kept trying to unionize other bots? Easy money.
Rewire half the district’s faulty security grid in one night? Worth the exhaustion.
Each job became a paycheck. Each paycheck became new gear, parts, tools.
First came the welding rig, heavy-duty and reliable. Then an industrial-grade smelter for custom alloys. Soon after, metal molds lined the shelves, each labeled carefully—servo housings, limb frames, joint components.
Between repairs, Sebastian forged Lovey’s new limbs from scratch. He poured molten alloys, welded joints meticulously, tested each servo until the motion felt fluid, natural.
Packages arrived almost daily. Brand-new synthetic skin, smooth and pristine, carefully draped over newly crafted limbs. Snow-white synthetic hair, shimmering softly beneath the garage lights.
He upgraded her internals too—a new power core, coolant lines, precision wiring. Overkill? Probably. Worth it? Definitely.
And he didn’t stop at mechanics.
He ordered clothes. Real ones—functional, tough, but undeniably stylish. A short white crop-top jacket, flexible black leggings, and a dark tank top. Clothes that felt more like gear than decoration.
As days blurred into weeks, the garage transformed completely:
Blueprints covered the walls, precise and annotated.
Smelting equipment stood proudly in the corner, molds neatly stacked beside it.
Tools hung organized above his workbench, welding gear resting carefully nearby.
By the end of it, Sebastian’s garage wasn’t just a scrapyard anymore.
It was a workshop—a real one. Something he could actually take pride in.
At the center of it all was Lovey’s new form, carefully rebuilt, waiting silently on the workbench for that first surge of power.
Sebastian, covered in grime, grease-stained hands crossed over his chest, surveyed his work. He allowed himself a small smile, exhaustion mixed with pride.
‘Yeah. This’ll work.’
