“Have you figured out how this works yet?”

A glance to the nearby mirror was the knee jerk reaction to the voice that invaded R’s thoughts. He sighed, his second response, and bent over his paper, letting his head rest against the lead that lay on the thin fibers.

“No such luck yet.” He spoke to the air. His lips the only movement as he answered the sound no one else could hear. “Searching the archives on alternate dimension mind synchs isn’t really the best way to get an answer, but it’s not like I can go major in quantum physics, I don't even have near enough credits for that.” He placed a hand at the back of his neck and twisted. It didn’t pop, but he felt better nonetheless.

“I thought you were on some kind of archive of intellect or something, why don't you find someone else who specializes in it?”

“Intellect comes in many different forms, not just being generally smart about everything, which I'm sure you already know” Was the automatic response, "I also imagine that you know very much that doing research in an area helps if it actually exists, which, up until now, it didn't." R explained.

“So what’s your form of smart then? Maybe you could play to that advantage to figure it out.”

“Wish I knew.” R responded. People would start to suspect he was going insane if he kept this up. And then he might actually start fitting in around here.. “They’re gonna kick me off the boat in about three weeks if I don’t come up with an astonishing discovery, something that proves I’m worth keeping around.”

“So that’s why you’re trying to figure this out then?”

“Yup, but I doubt I’ll be able to solve it. I’m probably gonna have to sign up as a guinea pig if I want to stay aboard. I was really hoping not to this time though.” He felt a pulse along the side of his head and instinctively reached up. His hand rested on a bar of metal that ran along the side of his face, giving off a warm heat.

“Guinea Pig?”

“Test Subject.” He answered as if nothing had happened. It was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Oh…”

The voice in his head held a peculiar sadness, not passing or disappointment. The books he read called it empathy, or he assumed it was empathy. He didn’t have enough information to make a solid statement on the matter. Sympathy had seemed a likely definition as well, but it didn’t quite seem correct. Regardless, the only voice he had ever heard with it was this one that spoke to him in his head.

A knock echoed from the door and R sat up with a jolt. His eyes darted first to the threshold of his house, next to the nearby clock, and finally to the mirror. With a sigh he stood from his chair. He tried to stretch his back, but once again no audio accompanied the action. He reached to the top of his desk and grabbed a small rectangular device off the wooden shelf. He tapped it against the metal strip on the side of his head.

A list of data began to project in front of him, his heart beat, blood pressure, mental activity, nutrition balances (He made a note to eat a banana later as his eyes glanced over it.) and various other strange numbers with odd symbols accompanying them. He only half paid attention to it, waiting for it to finish. After the last data scrolled by, R tapped the device against his head again and smiled as a soft piano melody permeated his head.

He pocketed his device and turned to face the door, but changed his gaze to the mirror rather quickly. He stepped in front of it and looked at the form on the other side of the glass. A small purple horse looked back at him, wings and horn adorning her features. Then, as if on some unseen queue, they both smiled at the same time. “I’ll see you later Twilight Sparkle. I’ve got a few things I need to take care of.”

“Later R.” The words in his head matched the lip movements of the odd quadraped, and he offered her a smile before taking a few steps towards the door. He thought he heard the sound of retreating hoof steps, but realized it was merely the deep end of the piano’s notes, beating in a similar pattern. He took the door handle in his grip and pulled it open.

A broad smile met him on the other side, worn pridefully by a man in labcoat with legs a bit too long for his body. The coat swayed exaggeratedly with the man’s movements as he turned to face R fully. “Hello my friend! How goes your days?”

The smile proved contagious every time they met, no matter how hard R tried to resist it’s subconscious tugging. He would swear on a charismatic mental suggestion implant if he hadn’t seen the doctor’s x-rays first hand. All he had was one mechanical hand, absolutely no brain implants. Though, more than once, R had wanted to suggest he get a fake one, just so he could explain himself to people outside of Tech Space.

“They go fairly well, Dr. X.” R responded with a smile already forming on his face. “What’s the reason for your smile this morning?”

“I didn’t die in my sleep last night!” The doctor responded excitedly, his arms pulled up in front of his chest and shaking as the rush of happiness slowly bled from his bloodstream.

“Did you expect to?”

“Not entirely, but it’s still a happy surprise to wake up to.”

“Where would you rank it, relative to your other reasons for smiling?”

“Oh, hmm, you caught me by surprise with that question today R. I haven’t even had time to make a list out!” The doc tapped his feet against the doorstep and his finger against his chin, he seemed to be keeping beat with R’s piano music but R only noticed right before the Doc started speaking again. “I suppose I’d put it above the sun rising two weeks ago but below not having cancer after our foray into simulated Chernobyl.”

“I’ll agree with your conclusion I think.” R answered, closing the door and locking it behind him. When he turned around the smile was gone from Doc X’s face and he looked extremely solemn.

“R…” Doc kneeled down to look R in the eyes. “I’ve always wanted to tell you… I’ve always thought of you like a son to me.”

“Wh-wh-what? Really?” The statement didn't just come from left field, it came from the next baseball diamond over.

“Of course!” The smile sprang back onto the Doc’s face. “I’ve been claiming you as a dependant on my taxes for the past five years! Now come on, we’ve got to get to the test rooms at the university.”

It took R about five minutes to recover from the system shock that Doc had thrown at him, but when he did he jogged a short distance to catch up to his advisor, hoping no one was around to see him look like an utter fool. Oh, and now the piano sounded like laughter. He swore to himself he was gonna rework his musician A.I. when he got back that night.