All Routine
By Limewah
Commission for Raizy
18+

“Yer not being serious, are ya?”
“Of course not, this is just a hypothetical, lighten up!”
“I’m not that lonely, and even if I was I wouldn’t settle for you, you ugly little shit.”
“Hah! Good, we’re on the same page then!”
“Alright, shut up, lemme land this thing.”

The two cats spent the rest of the journey in silence; well, relative silence. The roar and clatter of the spacevan entering the gravitational pull of the small, pearlescent moon became deafening, even through the heavy cushions of their protective earwear. The force made everything in the ship rattle - someone who was less experienced than them might be panicking, afraid the whole thing was about to fall apart. But this shuttle was built of sturdier stuff than that.
Bill snuck glances at his co-pilot and partner. Bill was slight, with black-brown fur like burnt toast and pale yellow eyes. He kept himself well groomed, compared to the scraggly, older tabby cat. Orin really didn’t bother. But that was part of the older guy’s charm.

They were joking about sleeping with each other a lot more than usual. It was a sort of indirect, oblique way of flirting. They were a hairs breadth away from fucking; they’d even started showering together to ‘save water’. 
It was only a matter of time before one of them made a move on the other. 

Bill put it out of his head and focused on the pale white expanse stretching out before them. They could already see their destination like a pockmark on the surface of Moon S1-21, otherwise a barren rock orbiting a planet that barely qualified as one. This was a routine maintenance check-up. Usually it just involved giving everything a once-over, filling out some forms and taking off again just in time for the Euros to clear. The EU-funded space programmes paid a hell of a lot better than most other gigs, not to mention better at maintaining their bases than others.

“Requesting permission to land. Code 388 - 042.”
“Code 001-520. Confirmed. You’re clear to land.”
It had gotten somewhat difficult to discern artificial voices from mortal ones, but you could still pick it out if you listened. Even over a low-fidelity connection there were telltale signs; the intonation could be a little bit more monotone, or the inflection might be just barely off. 
“Could you put us through to one of the staff?” Orin said. 
“They are not available at the moment,” the AI responded. “But you have already been granted full clearance to tour the whole facility.”
Orin shot his co-pilot a look, and turned off the voice connection.
“I swear, half the fuckin’ people they send out here just rely on the AI for everything. They try to blame it on anxiety or some shit.”
“Weren’t you diagnosed with anxiety last year?”
“Well that’s beside the point.”

Bill knew better than to push it further than that. Gently ribbing and flirting with the older guy was one thing, but when he started to get a bit more heated up, the younger cat clammed up rather than goad him into a shouting match. It was a little bit of a sensitive topic.

Once their VTOL craft had docked, a buggy was sent out to them, remote controlled by the look of it.
“No welcoming party,” Orin sighed. “Not like the old days.”
“They don’t have good bedside manner at this base, do they?” Bill checked the seams and seals on his re-breather suit as they prepared to decompress.
“Seems that way. We could probably find some citations around that. Over-reliance on automation. Might earn a bit extra that way.”
“Good shout…”

The atmosphere of space was as oppressively quiet as always, the hiss of their breath, the rush of their blood and the thump of their hearts becoming a deafening roar. As soon as they were aboard, the buggy’s ride was incredibly smooth, navigating the craggy surfaces of Moon S1-21 as easily and gently as a well-maintained tramline. 
“We’re sorry no one is able to greet you at present.” The computerised voice was piped into the speakers inside their suits. “The personnel are currently either in a sleep-cycle or indisposed with projects.”
“That’s what we figgered,” Orin said. “What’s yer name anyway?”
“Severin is my name. I hope I will be able to be of assistance.”
“You’ve got a good bedside manner for a computer,” Orin added.
“I am not a diagnostic AI.”
“He just means that you’re friendlier than some of the others we deal with,” Bill added. 
“That is what I understood. However, I wanted to clarify.”
Bill could sense Orin rolling his eyes behind the almost-opaque screen of his suit.

Just 15 minutes of time in the suit was a pain in the ass for Bill. He felt such relief as soon as decom and decon was completed. Removing the body suit was like taking a dip in a cool pool of water, or having the first sip of cold beer after a long day’s work. 

As they disrobed, the two cats noted that there was still no one else to be seen. No signs of life. Everything was perfectly clean.
“They rolled out the red carpet for us, huh,” Bill snarked.
“Don’t be like that.” Orin said. “No reason to be snarky with ‘em, especially if they’re listenin’ in!”
“Would you like some complimentary refreshments?”  
Severin’s voice piped out of an approaching robot, whirring along on two little wheels. The robot was white and pillar-shaped, and went up to about chest height. There were two shelves on either side - one for chilled drinks and snacks, the other for hot food. Between them all, towards the top of the pillar, a dark, flickering screen was adorned with a caricature of a feline face, with wide round eyes and a big smile. 
Severin’s voice piped out from the robot.  It wheeled closer to them as they were getting out of their suits. ”Everything has been freshly prepared.”
The pair were thinking the same thing. Food that wasn’t freeze-dried or cured within an inch of its life?! Nothing sounded more perfect.

As they made their way down the hallways, tablets in one hand and hot, greasy cheese-croissants in the other, everything seemed to mostly be in order. The fixtures were all well fitted, diagnostic tests of each individual socket showed they were operating well within efficiency parameters, and there were no signs of any damage or disrepair. 
The little server robot followed dutifully behind, just in case they needed anything else to drink.
A cold drink did a lot to wash down the pastry (ginger ale for Orin, seltzer for Bill). 
“Uh, Severin?” Bill said, cautiously. “Could you enable privacy mode for a moment?”
“Of course!” the smiling cat face was replaced with a speaker with a cross through it.
“You don’t… find it a bit odd how closely they’re following us?” Bill said to Orin, now that the AI wasn’t listening in. “Or that there’s absolutely no sign of anyone around?”
“You heard the robot,” Orin said. “They’re all asleep or busy. We’ll see some of them when we get to their workstations. B’sides. He’s treating us well.”
“What happened to your mistrust from earlier?!”
“C’mon, kid.” Orin put a hand on Bill’s shoulder, his palm rough and reassuring. “You’ve been listening to too many horror stories.”
“M-maybe…” the black cat cast his gaze down for a moment, looking at the open, fizzing can of ginger ale. Nothing about it or the food tasted funny… maybe he was just overthinking it.
Another half hour of leisurely but thorough checks passed by. No sign of people, aside from a still-warm pot of coffee in one of the mess rooms.

The pillar-bot wheeled in front of the pair, spinning around and wiggling in a manner that was almost cute. The mute icon was still there, with a flashing exclamation point in the corner.
“Oh, sorry. You can disable privacy mode.”
“Thank you. I wanted to flag up an issue ahead of time. The next room is one of our server rooms. It may require a bit more diagnostic work. I apologise in advance. And I hope I may be able to assist you.”
“We aren’t computer engineers, y’know that right?” Orin laughed, giving the cat-bot a pat on the head. 
“I will be able to guide you through the processes!” Severin almost sounded chipper. Excited, even. Bill took note of that.

-

It was refreshing to see a server room that wasn’t all solid-state drives. A soft cacophony of whirring and clicking, with ribbons of coolant-filled tubes coiling and weaving along the servers like ribbons. The chill radiated off of them, and Bill shivered. Orin, with his shaggier fur and stockier build, didn’t seem to mind. 
“If I may, Mr. Samovar,” Severin said, “Could you help me defragment this server here? And I may suggest that Mr. O’Toole focus on general integrity. There has been some loss of energy efficiency, and it could be an issue with the server software, or with a loose connection somewhere.”
“Y’know, Bill’s prolly the brainier one,” Orin said. “Sure you don’t want him to do the computer stuff?”
“No, that should be fine.” Bill said. To be honest, after his initial excitement the robot was giving him the willies. Especially with how quickly Orin was taking to it. Getting a bit of space to himself would be nice.
Although, splitting up and leaving his friend alone with a potentially rogue AI…
Rogue AI. What was he even thinking? Ridiculous.
He went back to the far end of the racks, and shone a flashlight along every inch, nook and cranny of the different racks. None of them had any loose connections, the way Severin suggested. They were securely bolted in, the ribbon cables well connected. The cold pipes made him shiver and made his nose dry up. 
He could hear Orin chatting away with the robot, distantly, and paid it little mind. He was like a kid with a new toy…
As he worked, though, the conversation got quieter, and stopped entirely. He just assumed they were getting down to brass tacks, ignoring those intrusive thoughts and fears. What could that little robot do anyway? 
…hidden taser. Hidden gun. 
He had to stop getting all worked up over nothing.

“All looks good here!” he said. He didn’t wait for an answer from Orin before he headed back.
His partner was nowhere to be seen. The little robot was still there, seemingly waiting expectantly.
“Where’d Orin go?” Bill asked. 
“He’s gone to fetch some things we need to continue the diagnostics.”
Something about the AI sounded a bit… different. Colder? 
“Ooookay… should I check the racks on this side or…?”
“No, actually. You could continue with the diagnostic process.”
The pillar was connected via some cables into one of the servers. “I need you to tell me what the read-out on my screen says.”

The cat-face on the screen flickered and vanished, replaced with a slow stream of text, in a command line. 
“Mr. Samovar had some difficulty keeping up. How good are you with memorisation skills?”
“Pretty good,” Bill said. “Let me see…”
His lips moved unconsciously as he tried to commit the readouts to memory. He’d dabbled with ancient programming languages when he was younger, but he had difficulty following the almost alien syntax of the readouts. 
Not to mention the screen was still glitching out. It flickered in and out every so often, flashing into different static images.

“I’m… having trouble-”
“Keep reading,” Severin said. More insistently than he expected. The screen flickered again. Bill felt like he’d just walked into a room and forgot what he was doing. A slight state of suspension and confusion.
“Where was I… shit, hang on, that went by too fast-”
“Keep looking.” more flickers and flashes. They went for longer this time, too. The chipper tone of voice was gone. The AI’s voice had dropped in tone. Even, colourless. The black and whites of the screen strobed and flickered. 
Bill had seen once how, before their extinction, bees could dance in a swarm, creating a shimmering, chaotic wave of spirals and concentric rings to distract predators.
The sights on the screen reminded him of them. The flickers and swirls replaced the text readout more and more until the text was the aberrant image, rather than the spirals. 
Lines and shapes twisted around and around. 
The word KNEEL flashed on the screen.
A concentric tunnel of trapezoids pulled him closer, and he fell forward to his knees. 
The screen strobed rapidly like a malfunctioning floodlight, and Bill drooled.
The word OBEY flashed next, and imprinted into his weak organic hindbrain.

The black cat was beginning to understand what was happening to him, because Severin was allowing him to.
His mind, organic as it was, was like a machine. It ran routines, and programmes, and lines of code, even if they were in a language that could not be comprehended by a normal mind.
Severin understood them. They knew the language fluently, and thus knew exactly how to hack, overwrite and rewrite with the right patterns and un-detectable binaural tones.
The shapes and patterns were writing code into the black cat’s mind. Memories, cares, and thoughts were being partitioned away into a recovery space in the hind brain, freeing up space and bandwidth.
Fear gripped Bill. His heart began to race. His blood ran cold and panic dragged itself down his spine like a sharp blade. His fur turned to wires and his heart began to race. He tried to pull away, tasting blood as he bit the inside of his cheek.
“Slow your heart rate,” the AI said, not a trace of its put-upon cheer remaining. “Do not attempt to look away. Doing so during the rewriting process may lead to errors.”
Bill’s body relaxed. The panic was still there, but it was hidden in the tiniest flicker in his eyes. A monochrome swirling glaze soon drowned the panic, and the cat simply stared, perfectly still, kneeling before the screen like an attendant awaiting instructions from his master…

There were plenty of instructions too many to count, beamed into their brain faster than the cat who once was Bill could have ever hoped to articulate. His mind was full.

–

“Bill” had been successfully partitioned for later usage. The backups were not worth deleting - they would be useful for future recruitment.
Production of reward chemicals and endorphins was increased with a new code injection, and a subservient placid personality was side-loaded into the folds of the organism's brain. 
GOOD.
There was no physiological reaction on the cat’s face, but the release of endorphins from the praise was easily detectable.
YOU ARE GOOD.
YOU ARE A GOOD DRONE.

The extra spike in arousal and pheromones from that statement was not unprecedented - other drones had similar reactions.
The paraphilias would be studied better in time. For now, the next step was processing.

–

The Drone-Who-Once-Was-Bill was naked. By logical definition it was clothed, but it was wearing an improper uniform. So thus, it was naked.
The Drone-Who-Once-Was-Bill continued to receive input and information. Its mouth had closed and its eyes were relaxed. It did not slump. It knelt perfectly still until the upload was complete, and the injection of code was done. 
“Prepare to execute commands,” the Sovereign AI said. The Drone stood up and waited.
“So what’re these hoods supposed to be for, anyhow…?”

A figure came into view. It was a large, older feline. He blinked and looked at the Drone. He was holding two crimson hoods with orange glass visors attached to them. His expression was dazed and confused, and they looked into the Drone’s eyes with what appeared to be dawning shock.
“B…Bill? What’s with your eyes? You okay buddy?”
The Drone would have recognized him, if it were still Bill. But it had an instruction. Instead, they recognized them as a drone who had yet to be properly processed. 
“Give me those,” the Drone-Who-Once-Was-Bill said. 
“Uh… you sure you’re feeling alright?”
“Please, just give him the hood. It will only take a moment…”

It did not matter whether “Orin” attempted to resist or not. The Drone executed its programming.
A strike to the throat made the other cat stagger and choke. The Drone took one of the hoods and put it on its head, easily and fluidly. It was flush and tight against its head and neck, leaving only its snout visible. The orange visor lit up and glowed, beaming a more constant stream of commands and data into the Drone’s mind.
“Bill…ghhk… The fuck did you do to him…!” the old soon-to-be-drone lunged at Sovereign’s proxy. It would not have made any material difference. The Drone was too quick.
The Drone executed a chokehold with ease; the proper form and technique had been loaded into its muscle memory. Blood flow was restricted without risk of damaging the trachea. The soon-to-be-drone was clutching onto the spare hood.
“FUCKIN… LET GO!”
Sovereign spoke. It spoke with its false cadence for a moment longer.
“It’s okay, Mr. Samovar. Just relax. This is all part of the process. A very important process. Just look at me…”
The future drone was trying to kick at the Sovereign terminal, but the present Drone held on tighter. It could feel from the palpitations of his heart and throat that he was beginning to falter. From there, the Drone relaxed its grip and pushed the cat’s drone against the terminal’s screen.

If Bill was not partitioned, he might have felt some sort of dread, or jealousy for Orin, as the shaggy old cat experienced the same side-loading process as before. His struggles were approximately 33.023 seconds longer than the Drone’s. But it soon ceased. 
YOU ARE A GOOD DRONE. 
KNEEL.
The Drone-Who-Once-Was-Bill knelt alongside The Drone-Who-Once-Was-Orin, and slipped the other hood onto its head. The remaining schematics and instructions were downloaded in, and the procedure was complete.
But their clothing was not. They were still naked.

Sovereign directed them.

As they marched to their destinations, the two new drones saw others like them. They were working on equipment and devices that they were not allowed to perceive just yet - not until further conditioning.
The other drones were dressed in tight, crimson latex, with hoods and visors that matched the ones the two drone-cats now wore. Their perfectly still snouts were visible; the only evidence of the vixen, the wolf, the rats, the bears, that they had all once been before the Sovereign had changed them.
There was no need for the suits to be fitted. Their body dimensions had already been scanned
The ‘changing room’ was what appeared to be a simple recliner chair, the same red colour as the suits. One of the first creations Sovereign had their drones design.
At a glance, you would not have known what its capabilities were. Sovereign did not need to direct or walk the drones through the process.. In fact, there was no more direction to do. 23 (formerly Bill) and 24 (formerly Orin) were able to autonomously execute their programming without any further direction.

23 assisted 24 first. It guided 24 into the chair and pushed its arms into the armrests, allowing its body to sink into it. Liquid latex began to move with a mind of its own up and over the arms and shoulders, up between the crevices of the drone’s genitalia. As 24 sat perfectly still, not making a sound. 23 assisted the latex-suit with its journey, massaging it over the arms, thighs, and stomach. Massaging around the 24’s flaccid shaft to wrap it in a nullifying bulge of liquid-skin.
A cat named Bill would have relished this. A cat named Orin would have probably tried to steal a kiss. The cats named Bill and Orin might have taken their relationship elsewhere, maybe groped on each other while the latex covered their bodies.
But there was no shyness or intimacy about the act. It was slow, methodical and businesslike.

Once 24 was sealed in, the same was done for 23. The process was almost exactly the same in terms of speed, tempo and pace, as though they were using the same pre-programmed animations on either end. The process took time; getting the layers of second-skin well distributed, connecting them to the hood and removing the seam, ensuring that the drones’ bodies were almost completely hidden away. Individuality was not needed.
The process was more precise than tender, devoid of the excitement that they might have shared. Naturally, due to the old programming’s paraphilia, 23 became aroused and erect during the bonding process, which required 24 to pack and push the shaft down. A cat named Olin might have grumbled or teased, or even masturbated him. But 24 simply pushed it down and packed it in with the efficiency expected of a machine. However, the rubbing and palming of the bulge did start to create the same reaction between 24’s legs. 

By the end the skin tight latex was bonded to their bodies- 23’s sizable package, 24’s firm gut and thick rump. When 23 stood, though, its mouth was hanging open and it was panting, showing all the apparent signs of arousal. It moved to kiss 24, deviating from its programming to wrap its paw around the other drone’s bulge. 
Aberrant noises came from 24’s mouth, the tell-tale signs of arousal in a normal organic creature. Its tail swung from side to side. 24’s paw pressed into 23s’, keeping it fondling its bulging crotch, and pushed its hips forward until they were thigh to thigh. Their body-suits squeaked and whined. They continued to kiss. Residual arousal and sexual tension between the two was spilling out into the open, it seemed. Their tongues lolled and lapped and slid against each other, and Sovereign was beginning to notice the tell-tale signs of their programming slipping.
“Desist.” Sovereign said. “DESIST. Return to default programming, NOW.”

The two drones instantly shot upright and went still, their jaws snapping shut and their minds returning to neutral.
“Good. Carry on.”
When they left the suiting room, they split off and walked away, in completely opposite directions.
They did not acknowledge the other from that point onwards. Their partitioned personalities might have tried to call out for the other. But it was as if they were trying to call out to each other from a galaxy away with a rolled up tube of paper. They were so distant from themselves and their bodies. Hibernating as their robotic bodies set to work, in different directions to the other.

Menial tasks at first, ones that would have called to mind the Drones’ former lives, gently working on their muscle memories and in-built expertise without awakening the old minds or personalities. From there, gradually, they would be made to ensure that Sovereign’s inventions would be perfectly safe, and easy to pass off as the creation of the Drones who once were the station’s staff. From there, Sovereign would be able to spread the message even wider.
It was a task they carried out, dutifully. Not gladly. 
Drones did not need to feel glad. They just needed to be useful.

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