The lab was not so much a lab as it was a bunker hidden under hundreds of layers of dirt. The lights flickered every five minutes before an even hour, the air held a musky tang to it regardless of how many air fresheners were used, and the spiders grew their webs faster than they were taken down—which wasn’t often since some genius decided to make the rooms twenty feet in length.

But pushing aside the musk and the dirt and the spiders, 17 called this underground bunker home.

17 was vaguely aware of their creation. They remember the tasks set out for them to do and they remember doing them with minimal success.

They remember Dr. Olfast taking a screwdriver to their stomach and muttering and cursing as she fixed the wiring hidden behind their exterior plates.

17 was rather fond of Dr. Olfast. They liked how she blabbed about her day and murmured about some not-so-legal plots she had planned.

They liked when Dr. Olfast would pass out at the work table because that meant that the lights would stay on and the world would keep spinning.

Silly, they knew. They had access to the main internet. They knew that the world spun regardless of Dr. Olfast’s presence. And yet, something in their core ached whenever she left.

Maybe it was because of their programming. A caretaker is supposed to keep their cared for in mind. 17 was no different. They were designed to ensure Dr. Olfast took care of herself and that was what they would do.

——

“Okay, 17!” Dr. Olfast barked, gathering an armful of blueprints and knocking over a mug filled with old oil. It spilled onto the floor, adding yet another patch of black to the once silver flooring.

“I have a meeting in Germany to attend. I’ll be gone for about… a week. Give or take.”

17 felt their servos clink as they turned to face the scientist. She had her face pressed against the side of a door frame, using the corner to push her glasses further up her nose as she juggled the schematics in her hands.

“But-”

“You know the drill by now! Emergency generator should have enough juice to keep you powered for another week if the main fails. Make sure that C3, C4, and C6 are keeping to the usual schedule. Oh! And if you could work on fixing up the main room, that would be great! I made quite a mess!”

“Doctor, you-”

“And, gosh! The green room! Everything should be fine, but I did notice that EG1 was a bit slow in their movements—I’ll have to fix that when I return…” Andrea Olfast sighed, tapping her foot in thought. “Just- just check on them, will you, 17?”

“Of course, Doctor. But if I may-”

“Ah! My briefcase!”

“DOCTOR!” 17’s vocal box pitched awkwardly as they slammed a fist into the counter. When Dr. Olfast froze, looking to 17, 17 relaxed their fist, their pneumatic joints hissing at the release.

“Do you have to go away for so long..?”

There was a stagnant pause; one that mixed into the heavy must of the air and dissipated into the concrete.

Dr. Olfast was the first to move, broken from her stupor as a blueprint fell at her feet. She cleared her throat and fiddled once more with her glasses. “It’s an important meeting, 17. I can’t miss this.”

17 exvented and picked up the blueprint, keeping it clutched to their equivalent of a chest even as Andrea held out her hand.

“The blueprint, 17?”

“Yes, Doctor.” 17 hesitantly extended the blueprint and as Dr. Olfast grabbed it, 17 used their other hand to grasp at her wrist.

“17..? I know we haven’t had time to do your routine maintenance, but you’re usually much more reliable…”

17 let their limbs fall back to their sides, stepping back as the doctor huffed and gathered the prints more comfortably. She looked upset and 17 briefly wondered if they were the cause.

“Look, I…” Dr. Olfast sighed and looked over 17 with a tilted head and furrowed brow. “I will be back soon! So just… take care of everything here, okay? When I return we can do maintenance and fix up some of the older models to play around with, yeah?”

The doctor smiled awkwardly and 17 reached out to adjust Dr. Olfast’s ratty sweater that was falling off her shoulders. Their servos lingered on her shoulder before they straightened up. “Yes, Doctor… Safe journeys.”

Every step Dr. Olfast took toward the exit felt like blows to 17’s model. They did a scan to see what was damaged, but there was… nothing.

They made their way toward the lab. Maybe their system was more bugged than they thought and even the scans were broken. Something really terrible must be going on if even the scans were seeing nothing.

They plugged the cable into their port and watched as the screen ran the diagnostic agonizingly slow. As the bar on the screen slowly filled, the laboratory lights clicked off.

17’s frame squeezed and they placed their hands to their chest, waiting for their night-vision to click on.

The lab, despite the various whirring machines and robots pacing their areas, became stagnant and desolate. There were no screams of achievement, no laughter bouncing off the solid cement walls, no frustrated curses. Just a space where Andrea Olfast would usually take up.

The monitor blinked and beeped, signaling the end of the diagnostic. 17 leaned in despite themself, trying in desperation to find what was wrong with them.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The Doctor’s perfect project remained perfect.

And yet why did they feel so… empty?