Spectrum

6.1: Green

Pt. 6/10: Green:

green

[green]

adjective, greener, greenest.

1. of the color of growing foliage, between yellow and blue in the spectrum: green leaves.

2. covered with herbage or foliage; verdant: green fields.

3. characterized by the presence of verdure.

4. made of green vegetables, as lettuce, spinach, endive, or chicory: a green salad.

5. not fully developed or perfected in growth or condition; unripe; not properly aged: This peach is still green.

6. unseasoned; not dried or cured: green lumber.

7. immature in age or judgment; untrained; inexperienced: a green worker.

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The eccentric teen sighed as a small explosion ricocheted through the small apartment. Pulling goggles over tired eyes, he ran a hand through his stained hair - a leafy green color that stood out against the black and white world that he lived in. His latest machine was malfunctioning again, a robot that he called GreEN. It was meant to be a house aid for challenged people, but during its testing proved to be slightly hostile, and now it was lost somewhere in his lab downstairs. He had tried to communicate with it, through layers and layers of code and engineering, but somehow it wouldn't respond positively. 

'Creator Micah.' an interrupted, soothing voice could barely be heard through the carpeting and floorboards. The male's head picked up a bit, his tired smile picking up at the corners a bit and spreading across his face. GreEN was responding to something down there, and he was exhilarated to find out what. 

His apartment was small for the most part - at least, his living quarters were. A kitchenette consisting of a refrigerator, a toaster, and a microwave was shoved into one corner, next to that a couch and a small television that was in pieces on the floor (Micah had taken it apart, needing to use the pieces for a project) and then a bed hung suspended on the wall opposite it, held up by various cogs and gears that were attached to various cables used to adjust the height of the cot. However, the rest of the space was used for his lab downstairs, a basement that no one in his building ever used. Down there he made all of his friends, all of his contraptions that kept him sane. The male's feet were currently pacing down the stairs, taking two at a time in excitement. 

'Creator Micah.' The voice was audible now, and the said creator had to stop himself to compose his excitement. In his mind he was repetitively telling himself that the situation could possibly still be volatile - GreEN could still be violent. With a wary step, the teen took hold of the handle and pushed. 

His laboratory was hell. And not in the sense that it was a place where he would not want to spend his time, but in a sense that anyone who enjoyed a clean place to work would not even want to gaze into the room. Normally it wasn't as bad as it was currently, with robot pieces and cogs lying about as if it was a child's room, but it was still rather trashed. A table worked as the centerpiece in the basement, with a desk shoved into the corner. Both  surfaces were absolutely covered in clutter, but never clutter that was trash - only bits and pieces of metal that were all going to be used for a purpose eventually. 

And, standing before him, was GreEN. His ellipsoidal head was lit up with various lights, his facial features meant to seem comforting, but in the dim lighting of the lab (and the knowledge that the robot could still be hostile) made him look rather ominous. The metal sidings that he had were still shiny and reflective, and the teen could se his reflection in the dented frame. White and leafy hair was messy and almost pulled out in places, and his nose was slightly ridged from accidents with a wrench. An old sagging sweatshirt was tossed over his shoulders, its edges frayed and torn. Thick jeans with pockets all over them adorned his legs, stained with varying oils and paints. 

'Creator Micah.' GreEN's voice repeated the saying. 'I am ready to commit my service.' Micah could hear only the light whirring of gears and cogs for a moment, before jumping in the air with an excited yelp. 

"Yes! You work, finally…" A sigh of relief blew out through his lips, and he pulled his goggles into his wild hair. a wild grin spreading across his face. "You finally work… Ok, GreEN, help me into the desk." Cogs turned backwards, whirring and clicking as the robot gently grasped his arm, small heated pads in the fingers warming his skin slightly and soothing his tense muscles. 

'This way, Creator Micah, be careful; there is rubbish all over the floor, and you don't want to f-f-fall.' The bot's voice chip must have slightly worn down over the time when he was hostile, but that was only a mere scratch on a diamond, for with GreEN, Micah would finally have something that he could use to watch over his mum (who lived in the apartment building too, and wasn't entirely all there) when he was gone to expositions and such. Soon, he felt himself lowered into a cushioned chair: the desk chair across the room. GreEN had done it; he had actually obeyed code and worked correctly, guiding the male across the cluttered room (one that would have been a gauntlet for any other bot) safely. 

"Thank you, GreEN. You may go now." He smiled to himself as wheels propelled the bot across the messy floor and back into its original position in which it had stood so many weeks ago, before everything  went haywire and GreEN nearly killed him.

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