Silent Dusting

"Run: Routine_Cleaning_15b.exe," a droll but sweet voice said. "Mode: Mobile." A large rectangular cube in the corner of the supply closet opened, unfolded, and expanded to form an automaton. Cobalt, named after her paint job and the many alloys comprising her structure, saluted reflexively. Despite the lack of superior officers around her, it was a good habit to keep, especially in this type of facility. 

She ran a swath of diagnostics on herself. Everything seemed in order. Cobalt's long and lanky corrugated tube arms were functional and working at eighty-four perfect efficiency. After testing her joints and how quickly she could shift between cleaning implements, she unplugged herself from her charging port. 

Though many saw Cobalt's design as cumbersome, Ralston-Majors Incorporated believed that a more personable automaton was favorable in the service and medical sectors. She was among the peak of robotics technology. To maintain her esteemed status, she routinely received software and firmware updates via wireless communications from RMI headquarters. She patiently waited with her antenna sprouting from the top of her head. Unfortunately, it'd been a long time since her last update. After about ten minutes, she returned to her cleaning duties.  

Her left hand opened into a vacuum nozzle, which would feed into the large cylindrical canister on her back — a repurposed airplane engine. She exited the supply closet door and entered the lengthy corridor. If the area weren't so poorly lit, the pristineness and shininess of the floors would be more apparent. The only sounds echoing down the halls were the clattering from her pointed feet and the whirr of her vacuum components. 

Cobalt scanned the floors for any debris or grime but only found the odd cobwebs and specks of ash. She followed her cleaning programs to the letter, even when her workload appeared incredibly light. Her usual path took her through the laboratories, offices, meeting rooms, and medical bay. Without anyone in her way, Cobalt could quickly and efficiently complete her tasks — proudly representing RMI to her superiors. Once she finished vacuuming and disinfecting the latrines, she discovered a small but distinct oily black trail along the floor. The thing had returned. Breaking from her usual routine, she followed the trail all the way to mission control. 

The space was bare except for the lonesome desks and main terminal at the end of the room. The central computer displayed the same message: "Successful." Since she was forbidden from interfacing with the terminal, Cobalt never understood the message's meaning. As she rounded the work surfaces, Cobalt eventually cornered the defiler of her precious floors. It was small, approximately one foot tall, and had a roundish blob-like shape. Like its trails, the creature's body was oily and black with tiny, beady yellow eyes. 

Cobalt recognized the creature but couldn't identify it, let alone vocalize it. Everything within her databanks referred to this entity as "Redacted." Aside from the obfuscating to her memory, Cobalt, without hesitation, vacuumed up the creature. It didn't take its new cylindrical confinement too kindly, but Cobalt couldn't care less — she had a new mess to clean now. 

With her right arm changing into a floor scrubber, she slowly followed the inky trail out of central command and down the lengthy corridor to the elevator. Occasionally, her foreign occupant would thrash about in its confinement, especially the closer they got to the elevator. Cobalt rode the lift, annoyed that the Redacted had discovered a way into the facility. Little nuisances. 

The elevator had gotten slower and slower since Cobalt was stationed at the base. To combat the long wait, she played some jazz-heavy rock and roll music; she used to do this at the request of soldiers who would often ride with her. She mimicked the rhythmic foot-tapping and little shimmies some officers would unintentionally do. Although some of the more senior brass would admonish the noise, the cadets enjoyed the brief but pleasant morale boost. 

At the top, the doors sluggishly opened. Immediately, Cobalt was reacquainted with the persistent hum of the upper levels. She trekked into the dark, dilapidated hallway strewn with crumbled concrete and torn insulation. Though much of the concrete structure around the elevator and up to ten feet away was still intact, the rest of the corridor was under threat of collapsing. Solid steel doors sat at the end of the dust-filled path. 

A little device hastily soldered to her chest had been clicking repeatedly since she booted up, but now, it was one long, continuous beep. A couple hard taps to the meter silenced the device. Cobalt cycled through various hand attachments until she found her identification card, which she swiped through the reader. The pneumatic locks hissed as one of the doors slowly opened. All the humming muffled by the concrete was now deafened by the outside howling winds.

Despite her internal clock reading that it was midday, there was no sun to greet her as the grayness of everything whipped around her. Cobalt trudged through the knee-high ashen dust. After a precise number of strides along a predetermined path, she arrived at where the supply truck parked. 

Per her instructions, she was to unload cleaning supplies from the vehicle within a specific time frame. She rotated to see the broken remains of the supply truck, partially buried in the ashes about fifty feet away. No resupply today, either. At least the spot now served as an acceptable location to eject her loathsome passenger. 

She inflated the canister on her back until it made worrisome, crinkling noises. Cobalt then launched the Redacted into the unforgiving winds, carrying it away and rapidly out of sight. Hopefully, it wouldn't return. 

As she turned back toward the facility, she noticed something sticking out of the layer of dust and ash. Cobalt shoveled the gray particulates until she revealed a skull. Further investigation showed that the rest of the skeleton was buried as well. Cobalt emptied the rest of her canister and swapped out her nozzle and identification card for pincer claws. She collected the bones and a few metallic mementos like a watch and a set of keys. 

As Cobalt returned to the pneumatic doors, she found another trail of ink on the floor leading inside — another mess and a Redacted intruder. She rode the lift down and followed the oily path toward the barracks, readying her vacuum attachment as she opened the door. 

Silent like all the other rooms, two rows of bunks lined along walls, each with a skeleton tucked under the blankets. Cobalt found the Redacted huddled in the corner, smaller than the previous one, with only two eyes. She was about to start her vacuum until she heard the creature shudder and whimper. It reminded her of the times she would find soldiers hiding or sobbing in empty rooms, away from any prying eyes. She would play some of the same elevator music to help cheer them up, to middling results. 

She felt compelled to play music now as well. Interestingly, the Redacted started humming along, or at least tried to; The singer of the song was too loud for the creature to mimic. She didn't feel sympathy per se, but much of her coding involved working with and around living beings. The quietness of the facility made her feel a type of loneliness that her coding couldn't quite compute. 

At the very least, this thing seemed harmless except to perfectly innocent floors. Cobalt swapped out her vacuum attachment for her standard hand and scooped the creature up. It took a few moments for the Redacted to settle down, but eventually, it stopped shaking. It still hummed to the music as it slithered up Cobalt's extended arm and rested on her shoulder. Among the hums were softer noises akin to purring. 

With the little creature seemingly tamed, Cobalt returned to cleaning the floor before stopping in front of an empty bunk. She assembled the skeleton while her new companion watched from its perch. Once completed, she covered it with a blanket like the others, tucking it in for an eternal slumber. She raised her antenna and signaled to the nearest military post in Morse code: "Disregard missing person report. Stop." No follow-up message was received. 

With every room cleaned and no specific requests from her superiors, Cobalt returned to her supply closet. She disinfected her arm before placing the Redacted on a shelf so she could run a check on her supplies and build a requisition list. Once completed and sent out via wireless communication, she looked back at her new companion. It had engulfed an entire plastic container, blinking back at Cobalt. That particular bleach container was empty, so she didn't mind if it was being... eaten? 

"Mode: Storage," Cobalt said as she plugged herself into the wall and then contorted back into her small, more compact form. After dissolving the bleach container and growing slightly bigger, the Redacted slithered onto the top of Cobalt's rectangular form, waiting for it to eventually wake up again. "Terminate: Routine_Cleaning_15b.exe"