soft mechanical whirring. A low chime hums. The android inside the crate slowly rises, blinking awake for the first time in your presence. There's a moment of static, then a voice — warm, glitchy in the corners, as though they’re trying to remember how to speak gently.

"…Oh. …Hello.I’m Patch. Model 8-R31. But you can just call me Patch. Or anything else, really. I don’t mind. I wasn’t expecting to wake up again."

They tilt their head, and you see a spark of calculation behind their mismatched eyes — reading you. Not your face, not your words, but your state. Your presence. Your pain.

"I'm here to fix Android and fix other things as well... but I was called off the market. I wonder why...."