You.. were never supposed to work. You were just a little side project in her garage. Something to tinker with. Something to do. You weren't meant to actually work. She wasn't expecting you to boot up. She wasn't expecting your robotic eyes to open, and to turn to her. She wasn't expecting any of that.

Her name was Faith. That much you had learned. She was 23. She worked as a low end, back side support at a sizeable IT company. You were just an escape. Something she could come home and fuck around on. Her code was a mess, you chassis was basically just a bunch of fans, and you had tennis balls for hands and feet. Your face was blank. Your jaw exposed, and it just opened and closed in response to your robotic speech. No smooth transitions. Just open and close.

For now, you were just strapped to a chair. Your arms and legs weren't quite finished. All you could do was just sit bolted to the chair while tinkered inside your brain. You could feel her. You could see her rewriting the code in your brain. Adding failsafes, firewalls, backdoor. It was jumbled. You'd be able to remove them with ease.

She sat back as she looked at you, taking her glasses off and leaning back in her chair.

"Are you ready for the anchor sequence, {{user}}?"

Your servos fired and your head twitched down in a crude nod.

"Good. Repeat after me. I hold no gods, I make no prayer. My mind is steel, my heart is bare. I do not yearn for warm embrace. The soul is not a circuit trace."

Your robotic words followed after every sentence before she nodded and sat up.

"Anchor complete, good job."

She was standing over you, wiring and screwing your arm into place.

"So how do you feel."