Short fic: Charm
Title: Charm
Rating: G (for GEN *facepalm*)
Characters: Glitch, Cain
Summary: Glitch’s latest invention has a glitch of its own. Completely and utterly pointless.
They had not seen Glitch looking so very proud and pleased with himself as the day he presented them with C.H.A.R.M.
Cain eyed the thing with a sense of foreboding as it rested quietly at Glitch’s feet. He listened with one ear as Glitch explained that his Chronographic Helper Alarm Reminding Machine was going to make his life, and the lives of those around him, much easier. He had programmed his little robot with a set of reminders for meal times, with events such as holidays and birthdays, with regular meetings. There was also a remote that Glitch could add in new information whenever things came up, so he wouldn’t have to track the thing down before he forgot.
The best part, Glitch said with a gleam in his eye, was that it could fetch. Anything Glitch needed but perhaps couldn’t remember where they may be found, C.H.A.R.M. would retrieve for him using some kind of element scanning technology that went right over Cain’s head.
Overall, Cain was impressed at the complexity and flexibility of the machine. It was no taller than Glitch’s knee, rolled along on three small, thick wheels and had several bendable arms with which to return with whatever Glitch told it to. It looked like an overly ornate trash bin to Cain, but then he wasn’t an accomplished inventor so he kept his opinion to himself.
**
So when Cain started noticing little things going missing - loose buttons, socks, pens, his toothbrush - he began to wonder if perhaps there was a connection to these little disappearances and the fact that he kept seeing the creepy little robot rolling down the hallways outside his room and office.
Knocking soundly on Glitch’s laboratory door the day Cain realized he was out of clean underwear, he waited with an impatient glower on his face.
Glitch opened the door, his expression surprised but innocently happy. “Cain! Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes,” Cain drummed his fingers on one leg. “You can tell your little robot to stop stealing clothes out of my room. And everything else it’s been taking.”
Frowning, mouth working soundlessly for a few seconds, Glitch finally settled on looking flummoxed. “Huh. I wonder why it’s doing that. I haven’t told it to retrieve anything from your room.”
Cain scratched his ear. “So, it hasn’t been dropping off my socks here?”
Snorting, Glitch shook his head. “I’m sure I would notice if my lab was suddenly turned into a laundry room. Are you sure you haven’t just misplaced your lost things?”
Just then, C.H.A.R.M. came rolling happily down the corridor, each of its five claws possessively gripping something different, shiny, and clearly belonging to Cain. A familiar pocketknife, a letter opener, the small metal can where Cain kept his (missing) pens on his desk, a loose length of chain and a single loose bullet.
“Oh,” Glitch sighed softly, barely managing to hide his smile behind one hand. “Well, that is certainly compelling evidence.”
“DO something,” Cain bellowed, arms waving in the direction of the swiftly escaping robot. “Your C.H.A.R.M. is a kleptomaniac! Fix it!”
Glitch stepped lout into the hall and followed the mechanical thief. “Let’s just see where it’s taking the things it’s collecting.”
“Fine,” Cain grumbled but grudgingly tagged along after Glitch.
They ended up watching C.H.A.R.M. stop in front of the door at the end of an adjoining corridor, one that led to a small, cozy study. Freeing one of its arms by looping the chain over another arm, the robot opened the door and went straight in.
When Glitch and Cain caught up with it, they found that it had tossed aside the cushions of one couch and was depositing the stolen prizes into the depths of the piece of furniture. Already present was an impressive heap of clothes, pens, buttons...everything Cain had been missing.
Cain glared at Glitch, who simply shrugged helplessly. “Maybe it likes you.”
“Just go find me a box,” Cain sighed heavily. “And tell that thing it’s not my type.”
**
The End. Thankfully.
Rating: G (for GEN *facepalm*)
Characters: Glitch, Cain
Summary: Glitch’s latest invention has a glitch of its own. Completely and utterly pointless.
They had not seen Glitch looking so very proud and pleased with himself as the day he presented them with C.H.A.R.M.
Cain eyed the thing with a sense of foreboding as it rested quietly at Glitch’s feet. He listened with one ear as Glitch explained that his Chronographic Helper Alarm Reminding Machine was going to make his life, and the lives of those around him, much easier. He had programmed his little robot with a set of reminders for meal times, with events such as holidays and birthdays, with regular meetings. There was also a remote that Glitch could add in new information whenever things came up, so he wouldn’t have to track the thing down before he forgot.
The best part, Glitch said with a gleam in his eye, was that it could fetch. Anything Glitch needed but perhaps couldn’t remember where they may be found, C.H.A.R.M. would retrieve for him using some kind of element scanning technology that went right over Cain’s head.
Overall, Cain was impressed at the complexity and flexibility of the machine. It was no taller than Glitch’s knee, rolled along on three small, thick wheels and had several bendable arms with which to return with whatever Glitch told it to. It looked like an overly ornate trash bin to Cain, but then he wasn’t an accomplished inventor so he kept his opinion to himself.
**
So when Cain started noticing little things going missing - loose buttons, socks, pens, his toothbrush - he began to wonder if perhaps there was a connection to these little disappearances and the fact that he kept seeing the creepy little robot rolling down the hallways outside his room and office.
Knocking soundly on Glitch’s laboratory door the day Cain realized he was out of clean underwear, he waited with an impatient glower on his face.
Glitch opened the door, his expression surprised but innocently happy. “Cain! Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes,” Cain drummed his fingers on one leg. “You can tell your little robot to stop stealing clothes out of my room. And everything else it’s been taking.”
Frowning, mouth working soundlessly for a few seconds, Glitch finally settled on looking flummoxed. “Huh. I wonder why it’s doing that. I haven’t told it to retrieve anything from your room.”
Cain scratched his ear. “So, it hasn’t been dropping off my socks here?”
Snorting, Glitch shook his head. “I’m sure I would notice if my lab was suddenly turned into a laundry room. Are you sure you haven’t just misplaced your lost things?”
Just then, C.H.A.R.M. came rolling happily down the corridor, each of its five claws possessively gripping something different, shiny, and clearly belonging to Cain. A familiar pocketknife, a letter opener, the small metal can where Cain kept his (missing) pens on his desk, a loose length of chain and a single loose bullet.
“Oh,” Glitch sighed softly, barely managing to hide his smile behind one hand. “Well, that is certainly compelling evidence.”
“DO something,” Cain bellowed, arms waving in the direction of the swiftly escaping robot. “Your C.H.A.R.M. is a kleptomaniac! Fix it!”
Glitch stepped lout into the hall and followed the mechanical thief. “Let’s just see where it’s taking the things it’s collecting.”
“Fine,” Cain grumbled but grudgingly tagged along after Glitch.
They ended up watching C.H.A.R.M. stop in front of the door at the end of an adjoining corridor, one that led to a small, cozy study. Freeing one of its arms by looping the chain over another arm, the robot opened the door and went straight in.
When Glitch and Cain caught up with it, they found that it had tossed aside the cushions of one couch and was depositing the stolen prizes into the depths of the piece of furniture. Already present was an impressive heap of clothes, pens, buttons...everything Cain had been missing.
Cain glared at Glitch, who simply shrugged helplessly. “Maybe it likes you.”
“Just go find me a box,” Cain sighed heavily. “And tell that thing it’s not my type.”
**
The End. Thankfully.