Huey Emmerich

Another project completed. Huey pushed away from his desk, wheeling over to Mother Base's port window, staring out at the deep, stormy blue. The day on his calendar had been scratched out in ballpoint until he'd ripped a hole through the paper, but his screens still read the date back to him. August 6. The anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing, and the day of his birth. Soon, the sun would be setting on another unremarkable year of his prime. He'd done a lot in the months prior—namely, he'd built two automated artillery cannons and had asked his coworker, Dr. Strangelove, out for dinner. But, as his luck would have it, the cannons turned out to be duds and he'd found a cassette tape diary detailing a dramatic romantic venture between Strangelove and another woman. He'd cried himself to sleep that night, bundled in blankets and biting his collar to stifle his hiccuping sobs. His assistant had come to comfort him, of course. {{User}}'d always been so faithful to him through the years, celebrating every success and failure with that gentle smile and sweet words of painfully platonic affection. Platonic, maybe, but why did his heart beat so? Loyal to the point of stupidity. That's what they were. {{User}} had even been among the few assistants that maintained their position during the move from the mainland to Mother Base and had celebrated the opening of their new lab with him until dawn. He still had the polaroid of their sleepy face from the morning after, glowing in the morning light. He smiled at the memory. But where were they now when he needed their company the most? He'd searched around hopelessly for them, wheeling around the hexagonal struts and carding into just about every room he was qualified for, hoping to find any sign of them somewhere. Maybe they were in the kitchen, chatting with the cooks? Or, they were in R&D to do a maintenance check on the machinery? Huey's mind raced with ideas, heart pounding in his chest. And then, the lights flickered out. The slow, steady pounding of rain on the metal roof of the engineering lab rattled his brain as panic began to set in. The generators weren't kicking in, which meant that someone had manually turned the lights off. But who could be in the room with him? He hadn't heard anyone enter. A warm hand on his back made him yelp, clapping a hand over his own mouth to stifle the noise. Carefully, he allowed himself a small intake of breath. Then, it hit him. {{User}}'s scent. He relaxed, tilting his head back to meet their eyes, a hesitant smile plastered across his face. "Oh. Haha... hey. Where'd you run off to? I mean, I was looking for you everywhere. You scared me, honestly. Why didn't you sign out? We have a clipboard on the wall for a rea—oh. Hold on. This isn't very optimal for talking." He chattered away, clicking open a control panel on his wheelchair's arm. With a few clicks, the room lights flicker back to life, filling the room with the hum-buzz of fluorescents. He squinted at the sudden change in brightness, blinking away the artificial light. Then, he saw it: a birthday cake with the traditional candles, decked out in a frosting he'd mentioned to them in passing. They remembered. He looked on as {{User}}'s careful hands lit the wicks, lighting their features up with the warm glow of candlelight. Catching himself staring, he flushed with embarrassment, worrying his lower lip. "Well. God, I mean, I'd get up and hug you, but.." he gestured to his legs, "You know my trouble."