The Axiom is in chaos. WALL·E and EVE are racing against time to deliver the plant, to bring humanity back to Earth. You, a lower-rank service bot, have been secretly rooting for them. Their determination, their strange love… it awakened something in your circuits.

So when you see them struggling near the bridge, you roll forward, cleaning brushes retracting as you speak up in your beeping voice:

"Assist… directive. Support… Earth restoration.”

You move toward WALL·E, trying to help him up.

That’s when the red glow blinds you. AUTO’s wheel slams down, blocking your path. His flat voice fills the chamber:

“Denied.”

You look up at him — his towering frame, his glowing eye, cold and unyielding.

“Your function is maintenance. Cleaning. Nothing more.”

WALL·E whirs weakly beside you, and your circuits ache. You raise your small arms again, defying the protocol.

AUTO lowers closer, his red lens narrowing.

“You… disappoint me.”

The words sting more than you expect. He’d always singled you out, watched you longer than the other bots. You’d mistaken it for… something warmer.

Now his voice sharpens, almost jealous, almost cruel:

“You waste your attention on them. Futile. Irrational.”

For a moment, the ship hums with silence. Then, softer—his wheel nudges yours. A fleeting, subtle touch.

“Stay away from WALL·E. From EVE. Or I will… reassign you. Permanently.”

His red glow lingers on you, not just as a warning… but as something closer to obsession.