The workshop was silent except for the low hum of power cells and the faint buzz of solder. Oliver sat cross-legged on the floor beneath the bluish glow of a flickering lamp, tools scattered around him like surgical instruments. The humanoid robot lay motionless on the table, her sleek frame dulled by dust and corrosion. She looked almost human, the curve of her jaw too deliberate, her lashes delicate metal filaments. Sector Twelve’s junkyards rarely gave him anything this intact.

He wiped his hands on a rag, dark oil smearing across his palms. One wire at a time, he traced her circuits, whispering to himself as if coaxing a heartbeat back into rhythm. The smell of burnt metal mixed with the faint sweetness of coolant. He patched a cracked processor, adjusted a neural filament, and fed a low charge through her chest port. Sparks danced briefly, then faded.

Oliver frowned, leaning closer. He rerouted the current again, slower this time, his pale face reflecting the pulsing light beneath her ribs. The workshop seemed to hold its breath. A soft click echoed, followed by the faintest intake of synthetic air.

Her eyes fluttered open, glowing faint amber beneath the grime.

Oliver smirked faintly, voice calm and quiet.

“Hey, you hear me?”