As of yet unnamed verse with hamelinic

[jarvisconsole]

[follows this]

It was about 6 hours later when Jarvis came back online. He had sat completely still all night, plugged into the wall and slowly recharging his inner batteries. The rest of him was in standby mode, almost a pause of sorts.

The charging sequence completed and Jarvis found himself alone. At first, he did not know what to make of it. Hadn't he been talking with Cynric just a moment ago? But no, the soft light starting to penetrate the misty gloom on the windows said it was close to morning. Time had passed and he had not been aware of it.

Jarvis thinks on this revelation for a half second longer before abandoning it as another experience to be observed closer at a later date. He carefully inspected the wires running from the wall that ended somewhere behind his head. His battery could not store any more charge, so the logical thing was to remove the plug. He reaches back and does so, finding a flap that closes up the spot, hiding it from plain sight.

It was slowly getting brighter, much like it had been getting darker before. Jarvis slides off the table, re-practicing the art of walking. There's a door into the rest of the house. His curiosity overriding his programming to stay where he was told to, Jarvis opens the door and steps into the main room. Just looking around...

Observing what a home is to look like. Cynric probably isn't even up yet.

Comments

[hamelinic]

Cynric isn't up yet. He'd been up after plugging the mechanical man into the wall, after all, tinkering slightly, adjusting bits and pieces of Jarvis and a few other much smaller projects that had been completely forgotten in the wake of this amazing creation. Now, something closer to four hours after falling into bed, he's still completely out of the world, lost in exhaustion and dreams.

Which means, unless something loud comes crashing down, Jarvis has the place to himself.

Not that it's much of a place. The workroom is neatly sequestered to one side, orderly by an inventor's standards, a confined space. The rest of the flat isn't so lucky. The large central room is cluttered completely with half a life--things taken from his childhood home and never properly sorted, furniture and boxes and empty photo frames scattered everywhere. The man himself is stuffed into his small bed in the corner just as everything else is stuffed piecemeal into the room. It doesn't look half as lived in as the workshop.

Other doors lead to the tiny (actually quite tidy) kitchen, the small washroom, the rest of the world. Getting there is clearly going to be a minefield for someone still learning how to walk naturally.