Life of Rachel hodstafer.

Chapter 1

Imagine there's a different world for an other kind of species. Would you think it's real?
If not, then you're not imagining it right.
Rachel is what I commonly go by, but bittersweet 2-0XX.5 is unique. I find humans... simply fascinating. They seem to have no idea their planet's doomed, and I even think they couldn't care less.
Commander Z, the all father, managed to find someone to take me. I haven't met someone so simply talented at brain-washing. I'm a very tame kid, not done a single killing till now. I despise myself for having such heart.
Also, being one of the only five from 56, I learnt something called as 'school', and I think it's utter rubbish.
Many puny weaklings actually enjoy sitting there for hours, learning the quadratic equation and doing 'exams'. It's just a waste of time. I have all the information in my flash drive stored behind my right eye, who needs anything else?
But what I find even more idiotic, is high school crushes. My definition for 'crush' is quite genuine and accurate: to press or squeeze that destroys or deforms. Somehow, humans have this idea they can just create some of their own definitions for themselves. How selfish.
I see some of them in huge groups, huddled and whispering about lack of tact. Most of them wear short skirts, yet they don't seem to mind that much. I still wonder why. Unlike them, I have to cover as much 'skin' as possible. Most of my definite features still aren't rendered in flesh. Some days the skin from my mouth peels off to reveal a metal frontage. I tend to wear turtlenecks with long sleeves and jeans, though if we were still in the work shop, I doubt anyone would've done that.
Our job, even described vague, still affects humans like never before. Conquering the planet is not enough, but having their own kind seeing it destroyed and then forced to be our slaves forever is our main goal. Commander Z for some reason doesn't resist to yell NO when we ask about children though. I think he had a rocky history with his youth. I instead was treated just like the others, oiled regularly, cleansed out one a month, some days we get lucky to have an addition of inventory. Of course, none of us die exactly, unless Commander Z wants us. He just has to pluck our living circuit board from our chest, and we wouldn't function ever again.
I think that's incorrect. I had never tried it before, being only three months old, but if my calculations were right, our brethren would wake from their slumber after the board's crafted perfectly back in. It has logic behind it, which I feel everyone else on earth lacks.
I would rather not talk about my failures, but murdering had never been much of my prominent feature. However, my name never appeared on the naughty list. Maybe Commander Z never heard of it, or my blood collecting status of squirrels ooze was enough to fool him. I don't find myself comfortable though, and I think there's something wrong with my code. I think I can actually... feel. Ugh. If I were Commander Z, I would've chopped me down to pieces, removed my magnetic force field and then suck out my essence. I wouldn't want any robot to be like me, but Commander Z is human, old, very old, but very much human. He has heart too, no matter what he does. He couldn't try experimenting on himself after his wife died.
My "family" consists of a happily wedded couple with a younger daughter of 9. I'm some what fond of her. She does silly things just to please me. Some days she would sneak in my room and ask me to read her a story. I adamantly refused, but she remained persistent. I would find her snoring fitfully in the bed after a great tale of Ramayana. Finally I could then relax. I'd flip my switch after setting a timer, and drop dead.
Now, as a matter of fact, is two weeks prior to exam time, and I couldn't get rid of this girl.
High school wasn't what I opted for, yet Commander Z felt it was important. I couldn't find any of my others in the same hallways, nor classrooms, nor the tech club. I thought I would short circuit immediately after I heard what all these so called "teachers" taught in biology. I find it needless to say, I'm their top student. But it brings heavy heavy burdens on me. Rachel is simply not capable of throwing parties, nor playing truth or dare. Rachel would rather be the lowest grade in the school, but my flash drive resists me. It can't help but give me the paper two weeks before, or the direct answer from the teachers mind, or have it simple stored whenever I accessed it. Trying to remove it and smash it to pieces by our iron punches just doesn't want to work. I suspect Commander Z thought I was going to do this, he must've made sure it wouldn't come off. Placing back a glassy eyeball isn't that much fun though. I had never felt something more slimy in my fingers. Rachel was almost grossed out.
I was in the cafeteria, near the lunch lady with a greasy hair net. If I focused on her with pure concentration, I could see the packet of cigarettes sticking out from her hair bun. For some reason, it didn't please me to sack her, for I thoroughly enjoy it when children are busy eating fungi hamburgers. I couldn't eat anything, for I have no digestive system, yet some rusty nuts seem to make me loose my wires. In the end, I sat alone, trying to contact Commander Z to take me back.
But today was different. Today I suppose I got a friend.
There was this girl who was in my chemistry class. Red curly hair danced when she moved, and acrid blue eyes made her rather dark skin tone pop. Always wearing a shawl around her neck, she looked stunning, yet I didn't see any boys fall for her. Maybe it was because she put it off, or because of her free spirit or slightly crooked teeth. Yet she was rather proud of her braces. I could admire sheer stupidity once in a while, but I ignored her, just like everybody else.
Yet I couldn't ignore her today. Tell me, what would you have done if a person sits right opposite to you, shares her notes and tries to figure out where your's are. As indeed, that was what happened.
She was a bit too cheerful for me, and she wouldn't get the hint. The moment she said hello, I knew I was going to perish. "I was wondering if we could exchange notes," she said, plopping her bag next to me, which jiggled suspiciously of too many notebooks. I inhaled through my non-existent nose. "I'm afraid I don't need notes," I replied back in a dignified voice. Her jaw dropped. "Whoa, dude, that's impossible! How do you-?"
"Why?" I asked. "I have memory, does your kind face difficulty using it?"
"Now that's just rude," she chided, patting my arm. I withdrew it from the table. "You're just roasting yourself too."
Ping. Roast: to cook by direct exposure of dry heat, generally on a spit. That wasn't related to the context of our not-so-informative conversation. "I'm sorry to say that doesn't make much sense."
She blinked. "Come again?"
I didn't, but continued staring at her hair than her blue electric eyes. Red orange and yellow like flames ignited by sunlight. I felt my eye sockets and skin melting. I looked away. She rolled her eyes, "Whatever. The name's Chelsea. I couldn't catch-?"
"Rachel hodstafer." I replied automatically. I was weary with the habit of introducing myself. I wanted to use my real name, yet Commander Z's instructions were crystal clear. I didn't dare defy it. Not after I saw him shred 7-0Xf.5 in the shredder. Fear was something we all had, which was peculiar, as emotions wasn't something we possessed generally.
My beanie was slipping from my fake hair. With shaky fingers I shifted it back in place. Chelsea rubbed her temples. "Nice to meet you. The real reason I came here was for help."
"Help?"
"Help. I need to understand the periodic table's relation with the atoms. As you got a full 20 on that, I-I hoped you could explain it to me..."
I thought for a bit. The clock hand was racing towards 2. Five minutes was all we had. People began to wind up and stack their food trays on the mantle. I was frozen to my seat. The words which I loathed escaped from my mouth. "Sure." I fought the urge to smack myself in the head.
She beamed. "Thank you! Hey, why don't you show me your timetable. We could see when it-!"
"No." I replied flatly. I swung my bag on my shoulder. "I rather not."
"Right," she muttered. "Then how about tomorrow? Also do you mind if I brought a friend?"
The clock struck, and she smiled one last time before her mane of bushy hair shuffled out of the cafeteria.
Disgusted, I resumed my other classes, until we met again, this time in sports.
"Hey! Rachel!"
Please no, I begged, leave me alone!
"Rachel, over here!"
Oh for gods sake, I stomped my foot, almost bending it in the wrong way. I could see the glint of metal. Quickly I pretended I was tying my lace. "Rachel! Didn't you hear me call you?" Chelsea panted, clutching her sides. "No." I tried to sound confused, but again, I couldn't do it that well. She frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Tying my shoelaces...?"
"Don't kid yourself. Those shoes are Velcro."
"Oh are they?" I looked apprehensively at my shoes as it was their fault. I glanced at an out stretched hand. For some reason my fingers closed around hers, and she pulled me up. Giggling, she called me 'funny'. I flinched and fiddled with my beanie again.
"You might want to ditch that," Chelsea said, pulling the beanie from my dark hair. I groped for it, but she was apparently taller than me, and I couldn't risk my stretch-o-arms in front of a human. "Give it back!"
"But really, you don't-,"
"Give.it. back!"
"Jesus Christ OKAY!" She tossed it to my outstretched arms and I snatched it from thin air. I fumed my way towards the coach, but she still wouldn't budge. "Why are you so-?"
"Just leave me alone," I grumbled back.
"But-?"
"Just leave me alone," I said loudly. I turned and stared at Chelsea. "Please."
Her hands rose in surrender. "Fine, as long as we can go through chemistry tomorrow without fail."
I tried to grit my teeth, but my mouth consisted only of a voice box. I sighed. "Alright. Consider it done. Now-"
I was almost smashed with what Chelsea did next. My arms pinned to my sides, Chelsea gave a rather abrupt unexpected 'hug' and then raced away to another group of girls.

As much as I was relieved she had gone, I felt something thump in my chest. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Was this normal?