Springs (FNAF fic) #Wattys2015

14- I Don't Think He Can Hear You

I had been at this place for several hours. The hours ticked by at a snail's pace.

I glanced down at the robotic humanoid below me. I was unsure how to even address it, the man on the phone had called it a 'he', but that may have been in the same way people call ships a 'she'.

But, it seemed to have some level of sentience. It's AI allowed it to answer and ask questions, and even let it show emotions. So I suppose I should refer to it like a human, since it seems to work like one.

Honestly, I didn't expect the animatronic to be like this. I had assumed, since he was for a horror attraction, his AI would be programmed to be more aggressive, not sweet and naive. Springtrap's appearance created a heavy dissonance from his childlike mindset, and it made me feel a bit sick in the pit of my stomach. Was programming robots with this level of understanding even right? Does Springtrap even know what he's getting into?

Something I had read earlier resurfaced in my mind. While I was searching up on Fazbear Inc., I had come across a passage on vintage animatronics. It had said that very early robot performers for children's restaurants (such as for "Fredbear's Family Dinner") were programed to be like children themselves. It was because of something along the lines of "Who can amuse children better than children themselves?" However, this quickly become the downfall of those animatronics because it creeped out the parents and straddled on the line of child labor.

I can understand why a youthful AI would creep out an adult.

I scanned through the camera feeds that were on the tablet. Everything looked empty, and I started to wonder if there were any other animatronics here. What kind of horror attraction only has one robot? I was pretty sure the previous establishments had at least four.

I looked down, stirring my foot to beckon Springtrap's attention.

"Hey, Springtrap." I murmured.

"Yes, Scott?" answered the ragged animatronic, smiling brightly.

"Do you know if there are any other animatronics here? Are you the only one?"

Springtrap rested his head on his knees, tapping the floor with his fingers. I assumed he was thinking.

"I haven't really seen anyone else here, except for all the warm people that come in. It's quiet and lonely." he said wistfully, pulling at his matted hair.

That was pretty vague, but I tried to take his word for it. Unless the unforeseen animatronics were ghosts, Springtrap was the only metal humanoid here.

I spotted something unusual in the corner of my vision range. A box sat in the edge of the office, filled to the brim with colorful animatronic body parts. I saw several masks and other props.

I pointed to the box, a sly smile on my lips. "I guess that's where the rest are."

My small joke didn't have the effect that I had planned it to. Springtrap's mechanical sight line followed where my finger had gestured to, and he lost it.

"No!" he screamed, standing up immediately. He staggered to the box and started to dig through it feverishly, sitting on his knees. He pulled out a humanoid mask, decorated with dark brunet hair and little bear ears. The mask had empty holes where I assumed the eyes on its endoskeleton would go.

Springtrap mouth had twisted into a look of sheer horror. He shook the mask with a hysterical motion, screaming at it.

"FREDDY?! Freddy, can you hear me?! Please say something to me! Pretty please! I don't care if its mean or not, just SAY SOMETHING!"

I watched the scene with nearly the same amount of horror as Springtrap was experiencing. I had put myself in his situation: finding the dead body parts of my friends. The thought was sickening.

I pulled myself out of the desk chair, taking slow steps towards the shaking Springtrap. I sat down beside him, not sure how to console him.

Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. His skin was cold, and his clothing was crumpled and fragile.

"Springtrap," I whispered softly, "I don't think he can hear you..."

Springtrap just whimpered. His head slumped down, and he ran his fingers across the metallic mask.

"Scott, Freddy was pretty mean to me..." he said, barely audible. I leaned in to hear him.

"Really?" I wasn't really sure where this conversation was going. Was he grieving? Or was it something else?

"But...but..." his voice temporally trailed off, but it quickly returned. "He didn't deserve this."

I sighed, reaching with my other hand and patting him on the head. It was odd, trying to comfort an animatronic, but I felt it was needed. I couldn't just let Springtrap suffer like that. It just felt wrong for me to leave him alone.

We sat there like that for a while, in silence.

This animatronic was much different from the thing that staggered into the office earlier. All of that terrifying malice had disappeared from his eyes. His eyes even looked different, I believe. I was almost positive that they were glowing purple instead of grey...

A soft chime brought me back from my thoughts. I looked up to the desk, reading the clock. It was six a.m. My shift was over.

I stood up, and Springtrap suddenly went into motion. He latched himself onto my leg and stated up at me.

"Where are you going, Scott?" he said, tugging on my pants leg. "Are you leaving?"

I cringed. I hadn't foreseen that I would regret leaving this place. I leaned down and patted him on the head.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, but I need to go home now." I frowned uncomfortably. Is this what it felt like to leave a small child? "Don't worry, though. I'll be back tonight, at the same time and place." I waved goodbye, and he waved back, looking sad.

I struggled out of Springtrap's surprisingly strong grip, threw my bag over my shoulder, and left the building.

Author's Note- The beginning few paragraphs was my take on the morality of FNAF fics. Like many other writers before me, I made the animatronics to have human intelligence. I'm not sure how well that would roll in real life. It just feels...wrong to write a story where the main storyline is that a apathetic CEO is making a mentally stunted young man work without pay, appropriate housing, or even medical work (i.e., repairs). So, um, here's your realism for the day, followed by feels and some fluff.