Ask PR073-C70R about his hugging technique

Consent be damned, PR073-C70R gives undeniably amazing hugs. Maybe they'd be willing to part with some pointers, so you too could hug with the same intensity.

Making sure your dad isn't within earshot, you decide to ask, "PR0-- I mean, Robbington. What is it about your hugs? They're so good."

"Processing query. Access level FIVE." Lines of random strings pass on PR073-C70R's LED display, interrupted by several question marks, and finally an exclamation.

"USER SHIVA query answered with TWENTY-FIVE percent honesty modulation. Initiating reply with BANTER variation." Their entire posture changes. Standing slightly more relaxed, PR073-C70R leans on one leg, resting their elbow on your workbench, doing its best to look suave. "The secret ingredient is LOVE, my child. Why? Do you want another?"

"Why do you 'modulate' your replies? You're basically letting me now you're not telling the truth." you ask, adding, "Also, not thanks," as PR073-C70R starts to lean in for another hug.

It seems to consider your question for a long while. You can never know if it's pretending to think or if parsing its database takes a while.

"Citizens enjoy HONEST communication. If this unit, SIR ROBBINGTON, admits to partial modulation of statements validity, citizens won't need to worry whether this unit is lying or not. In this manner, anxious and paranoid citizens, finds it MODERATELY EASIER to trust this unit."

"But... you always modulate everything by twenty-five percent?"

Looks like you hit a sore spot for PR073-C70R. Seemingly unable to comprehend, their LED display remains fixed on you, still remaining in their suave pose. Finally, it goes, "Modulate reply with TWENTY-FIVE percent assuredness." It displays a tired face, eyebrows lowered, tone deadly serious, "No I don't."

Shrugging, your conversation is interrupted when your father knocks for your attention. Over the years, you swear a slight dent can be seen on the suspended engine. It - almost - creates an illusion of this retrofitted warehouse turned workshop containing actual rooms.

If you stood on top of your dad and he stood on top of PR073-C70R, you still wouldn't be able to reach the top. Hell, you could always add more length to PR073-C70R's legs, but they're already taller than anyone in the village. It'd loose that human frame. PR073-C70R would hate that. You add it to the list of possible modifications to do later.

"One of these days you'll be knocking on that thing and - WHOM - explosions everywhere."

Smiling, he says, "I doubt it. Damned thing haven't even had the decency to turn on for me."

Dad always had a weird affection for it. Once bordering on obsession, according to your mum. When you were little your dad would rather work on said engine, putting his everything into improving people's lives. Apparently, this is bad. But you've got to admit, in the grand scope of things, you don't really matter compared to everyone else. Neither does your mom or brother.

Everyone knows your mom is slightly... weird. You can't bring yourself to use the same word everyone else uses. Maybe it's because - if you really strain yourself - you can understand her a little.

Sure, you can kinda emphasize with your mothers sentiment. Would it be nice to have the father of your children home? Sure. No doubt. Would it have been nice if your dad had been less busy and acknowledged your existence before you had shown an interest in machinery? Yes. Totally. A pat on the head would have been preferred to a hollow sigh when reading him one of your poems. But, you get it, your poems were pretty shitty. It's not like he owed you anything. Least of all that he'd let you steal his time away from more important stuff.

Like, taking an interest in this engine. Figuring out how it works. Dad has no idea how it works, but if it couldn't have helped people in some way, he wouldn't have sacrificed precious time with the family he loves so much. Now, thanks to your mom, whatever benefit that engine would have had, is lost forever. No doubt it would be amazing and a huge boon to the community.

There's a lump in your throat. Why did that last part feel mean and sarcastic? You're not a mean and sarcastic person. You're not being fair towards your dad. For some reason you want to cry.

"Time to head home. You got Sir Robbington? I'll lock the place down and catch you by the door. Unless..." he says, mistaking your thoughtful stare into nothingness for a glint in your eye, as you just so happen to look in the vague direction of the engine, "Unless you want to stay here and see if you can figure this thing out?"

He has never offered that before. Overwhelmed, your brain seems to have forgotten how to close your mouth, as a series of ahs and uhs bubble out your throat.

Before you can answer, PR073-C70R interjects, "She'd love to Eigel. Unfortunately, USER SHIVA already has an appointment."

"I do?"

"Yes. I believe you set me to remind you at TIME RETRIEVAL ERROR. Calculating via your set pre-reminder notice you are VERY, VERY late."

You stare at your father. You stare at PR073-C70R. What time is it even? PR073-C70R stares at you.

"UPDATE. USER SHIVA is now: VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY--"

Grabbing your jacket, you rush past your fathers laughter and out the door.