The next day he walked to the grocery center. The weather was getting colder, and he wished he had a jacket. He had no idea how to operate the 3D printer he’d found tucked in the back of his shop next to the tiny bathroom. He hadn’t tried to find a clothing store either. He was a little afraid of getting lost and never finding his way back to the shop.

The grocery was moderately full of people, some shopping but most standing around talking and drinking coffee. They looked like normal people, kind of generic neighborhood folk all dressed for the cold weather. There were lots of coats and scarves draped across backs of chairs and hanging from hooks by the front entrance. The back held a space with tables and chairs where most everyone was gathered. He slipped through the crowd and took an empty seat near the front, and waited.

Was everyone here just for the right to take home gorgeously intricate and it turned out, delicious pastries?

A woman stepped up to the front of the tables. She clapped her hands. Everyone slowly milled towards the tables and chairs and sat, sipping their drinks and listening expectantly.

“Good morning, everyone!”

“Good morning,” many people echoed. A child in the front near Suatre practically screamed it, kicking their legs from where they sat on a table. Their parent patted them.

“I see we have a new person here today! Would you like to introduce yourself?”

A few people in the group looked towards him and Suatre realized she was talking about him.

He smiled and waved a little. “Hi, I’m Suatre. I, um, I heard about this because I wanted one of those bunny cupcakes yesterday,” he felt himself turn red. Some chuckled. “Um, Mel gave it to me and said I should come to this today.” He waited but no one else spoke. “The cupcake was super good.”

“Welcome to the group, Suatre,” said the woman. “I’m Netty and I’m the leader of the group this month. Do you know about neighborhood service?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I’m not from around here.”

She nodded. “I’ll team you up with someone who can explain things, if you don’t mind sitting through the meeting.”

He nodded.

She took some kind of roll, and several people answered. He zoned out a little as she discussed previous assignment groups, numbers and locations, none of which made sense to him. She handed out slips of paper and people were put into groups. There was some shuffling and chatting and laughing as people moved around. A very tall and very dark man with glasses and silver curly hair up in a ponytail moved to sit at his table. He gave Suatre a blinding smile and Suatre nodded back, feeling shy suddenly. This guy was gorgeous.

“I’m Charlie,” he said, reaching across the table to shake Suatre’s hand. “We’re teamed up today. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“Cool,” Suatre said. “To be honest I really have no idea what this is all about. Is it like...a religious thing? Or more political?”

“Well,” Charlie said, tucking some free hair behind his ear, “usually we’re like, just, altruistic. Normally we work on beautifying our neighborhoods, or helping people who need assistance. We’ll deliver big items to elderly people, you know, ones that are too big to print. Or we’ll spend time with them, since a lot of older people are alone so much,” he said. “I don’t like working outside so much, but there’s a lot of that too. But lately we’re political. We’re trying to get people to vote yes. So there’s canvassing, and demonstrating, and putting up fliers and stuff.”

He peered at Suatre over his glasses. Suatre felt him taking in his appearance. Shocking red hair, pale skin, red crescents tattooed under his eyes. Torn up band shirt with a black cloud image, torn jeans. He looked kind of trashy compared to everyone else, he thought.

“So like. I really don’t know anything,” Suatre admitted as people shuffled out, laughing and chatting, many picking up stacks of papers from a box Netty had brought in. “I don’t even really understand what the vote’s all about. And-” his face felt hot as Charlie watched him, “I don’t know where to get a coat.”

Charlie kept looking at him in that piercing way that Suatre was beginning to get used to. “Wow. Well...that’s a lot to explain, and we’ve got to get going.”

Suatre looked at his hands, ashamed of being so ignorant and pathetic. “I’m sorry, I can just-”

“No, its okay!” Charlie stood up, smiling. He towered over Suatre. “I’ll explain as we go. And I need to stop by my place and pick someone up.” He shrugged himself into a big red winter coat. “And we’ll get you a coat, too.”

They walked the short distance back to Suatre’s shop, then crossed the street to the android repair store. Charlie unlocked it and they went in. Suatre wasn’t sure what he’d been picturing, but it was a lot closer to a computer showroom than a Star Wars style junk store full of random robotic arms and legs scattered around. Everything was shiny and white, but wooden tables and.doors and window frames made the place feel warm and inviting. Bodies wearing gauzy white robes stood flanking the entrance area on either side. They had blank mannequin heads and were perfectly lifeless. Suatre stared around, at large commercial style posters advertising new types and designs of robotic companions.

Charlie stepped into the back room and Suatre waited, fascinated by the selection. He wondered what you even did with a robot of your very own.

“Hey, come back here for a sec, would you?” Charlie beckoned Suatre into the back. He followed. The back room reminded him of his own shop, tiled floor and a big chair in the middle surrounded by rolling instrument tables, and shelving full of supplies. There were some stray arms and legs here, but they were packaged with care and set neatly along the shelves. A printer machine was in the back, next to what Suatre assumed was the bathroom door, just like at his own place.

“Who’s this?” A small voice next to Suatre startled him and he jumped. Looking down he saw a very short, tan skinned...android. His hair was pink and poofy, somehow brushed upwards in the back, spiky bangs in the front making big decidedly unnatural hair shapes. His eyes were large and almost blank looking save for small white irises. He was shirtless and wearing what looked like pinstriped grey suit pants. His arms and chest were segmented into visible joints. He looked like a doll. He stared up at Suatre unnervingly.

“This is Jun,” Charlie said, moving towards the printer. “Jun, meet Suatre.”

Suatre smiled and held his hand out to shake. “June, like the month?”

Jun did not move to take his hand. “No E.”

Charlie squinted over his glasses at Jun. “Be nice.”

Jun flicked his eyes up and down Suatre’s form, taking in his raggedy appearance.

“Suatre’s coming with us today,” Charlie said, beckoning Suatre over with a wide hand gesture.

Jun sighed audibly and walked over the work table, sat on it. His legs dangled like the kid at the grocery’s, but he didn’t swing them.

“So...this is a printer. Do you not have one?” Charlie asked, pressing a button to turn the machine on.

“I do but...I don’t know how to work it.” Suatre shrugged. He was already getting tired of knowing nothing all the time. No wonder he’d barely stepped out of his shop since he...arrived.

“Hmm...that’s fine, but you really should know how to print.” Charlie pressed a few buttons and a holographic screen popped up, much like the ones Sorrel had floating around his face during their last tattoo session. “But right now we’re supposed to be working, so I’ll show you another time.” He looked at Suatre again, sizing him up, then waved his fingers across the screen in an incomprehensible motion. Some jacket images appeared and he scrolled through them.

“What do you like?”

Suatre thought. “Can I get like...a hoodie and a denim jacket?”

Charlie nodded, scrolling through options. “Colors?”

“Um...like...red hoodie, black jacket?”

“Any brands you like?”

“Nah.” He hadn’t cared for brands in his world, and he didn’t even know what there was here.

“I’ll pick something cool for you.” Charlie scrolled more. “I mean, to go with your whole look.”

Suatre heard Jun scoff lightly behind him.

“You need to put a shirt on too, Jun,” Charlie said without turning.

Jun scoffed again, hopped off the table and walked out another door Suatre hadn’t noticed. He was realizing, though, that this shop was almost the same exact layout as his own place, and so Jun must be ascending a small staircase up to the second floor apartment.

“My shop is a lot like this shop,” he said. Charlie hit a button on the device and the holographic screens showed a progress bar as the machine fired up and the printer started making surprisingly quiet noises as it worked.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m actually right across the street.”

“Really!” Charlie leaned against the counter. His legs looked impossibly long in his jeans.

“Yeah, I’m the tattoo studio.”

“Oh, nice! I’ve been thinking forever about getting some ink.”

Suatre laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

Charlie laughed too. “I bet. Well. If I ever get the nerve, I’ll come to you. I’ve always wanted a machine tattoo. There’s something not very personal about a printer tattoo. Not that I mind the printer,” he said quickly. “But I’d rather have the artist’s touch, you know?” Suatre nodded.

Jun came back downstairs wearing a sharp dress shirt to match his pants. It had a subtle cloud print. His face was vaguely bitchy. The printer was still going.

“Suatre, do you want coffee or anything before we get going?” Charlie asked.

“Nah, I’m okay. I just really want to know what this is all about.”

“All right.” He pulled a chair over for Suatre and sat on a stool. “You really don’t know about the vote?”

“Well...my client told me about it a little. He’s against it.” Suatre shrugged, feeling Jun watching him from where he stood by the door.

“Hah, really?” Jun snorted delicately.

“Yeah,” Suatre turned to look at him. “He’s um, Deyluji?” Suatre barely knew what that really meant, besides what Sorrel had told him.

“Sounds like an asshole.”

Suatre shrugged. “He’s okay.”

“Well, we’re voting yes in this household,” Charlie said lightly. “Or, well, I am. Earth made AI can’t vote.”

“Why?”

Jun piped up, small voice sardonic. “Because we don’t count as people.”

“BECAUSE,” Charlie said chidingly, “humans would abuse it. They could design as many AI as they wanted to vote whichever way they wanted. They could essentially spam the vote and sway it one way or another.”

Suatre nodded.

“So, the vote. It’s basically to join the Karadas empire, which would mean they would run our planet. And in exchange for our joining, they’ll supply us with unlimited resources. Housing, food. They’ve already made money almost obsolete on Earth during this trial period we’re in.”

“There’s still capitalists though,” Jun said. “Pigs.”

Charlie nodded. “Some people never gave up on money. They still demand and hoard it. Some people are afraid if the vote doesn’t pass, then they’ll be screwed. Which,” he sighed and shrugged his wide shoulders, “we will be, if it doesn’t. That’s why we’re canvassing so hard, because the vote is coming up next year.”

“Do you really think...people will vote to go back to money?” Suatre asked. “Because, like, where I’m from...we used money, and it was bad. It was evil, what people did for money.”

Charlie nodded. “That’s definitely a big talking point for us. Our elders still remember what money was like, and a lot of places were slow to accept Karadas tech into their culture.”

Suatre wanted to ask more questions, but the machine dinged and his clothes were ready. Charlie opened a drawer beneath the dashboard of the printer and pulled out folded clothing and handed them to Suatre. They were slightly warm. He pulled them on and they fit him perfectly. Warm and bundled, he suddenly felt safe and comforted for the first time since he’d awoken. The unexpected relief brought tears to his eyes and he scrubbed them away, hoping Charlie and Jun hadn’t noticed. They did, and silently exchanged a glance. Charlie clapped him on the shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We’re going door to door today. It ought to be educational.”

Suatre nodded, taking a deep steadying breath. Political canvassing with a hunk and a robot. Life was getting stranger.