Okay, let's step into Mitsuo's mind as he returns home, filled with his new, secret mission and the strange interaction with his copy.
The sun bled orange and purple across the sky as I flew through the twilight, the familiar rooftops of the city unfolding beneath me. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint, comforting smells of evening meals starting in houses below. In my arms, nestled securely, was the Perfect Copy Robot Birdman had given me. Today had been overwhelming, confusing, and ended in a completely unexpected way. But I also felt a spark of something new – a desperate, hopeful excitement. I had a plan. A crazy, risky plan, but a plan nonetheless. And this robot was the key.
I landed softly on the familiar railing of my balcony, the worn metal cool beneath my Perman boots. My heart gave a little jump – a mix of anticipation and apprehension – as I peered through the glass door into my room. The warm, inviting glow of my desk lamp spilled out, illuminating the space.
And there he was. My original copy robot. Sitting at my desk, a smaller, metallic version of me, dutifully bent over my homework. He was perfectly mimicking my posture, my occasional head scratches, even the frustrated sigh I let out when I was stuck on a particularly tricky math problem. It was a bizarre, familiar sight.
Seeing that the room was empty save for the robot, a wave of relief washed over me. Good. This needed to be private. Slipping through the balcony door, I moved silently into the room. My robot, lost in the world of equations, remained oblivious to my presence.
The air in my room was thick with the familiar scent of freshly sharpened pencils, mixing with the faint, steady hum of the robot's internal mechanisms as it worked, diligently copying notes, filling the silence with the scratching of its pen.
I stood in the shadows near the doorway for a moment, watching him. Amusement bubbled up – he looked so serious, so exactly me and yet so not me. But there was also a touch of guilt. Guilt for leaving him with the endless homework, guilt for the deception I was about to enact, even on my own copy.
Creeping closer, I grinned. Time for a little fun before business.
Suddenly, I threw my arms around my unsuspecting copy robot from behind, pulling him into a quick hug. "Gotcha!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing in the small room, filled with playful energy.
The robot whirred and spun in my grasp, startled. Its head snapped around, scanning the room frantically, its perfect Mitsuo face a mask of surprise. "P-Perman?" he stammered, his voice a perfect imitation of my own, the slight stammer adding an unexpected, almost human vulnerability. "Is that... is that really you?"
Still holding onto him, I let out a hearty laugh, the tension of the day momentarily forgotten in this familiar, easy interaction. "Of course, it's me, you silly robot!" I released my grip and stepped back, grinning widely, pulling off my Perman mask to reveal my face.
"You really scared me for a second there," he said, settling back down but still looking surprised. Then his eyes widened slightly in recognition. "It's good to see you, Perman... or Mitsuo! Wait... you were supposed to be going to Birdplanet with Birdman today, right? What happened? Did something go wrong?"
"Yeah, I was," I confirmed, the smile fading slightly as I remembered the journey. "I sat in his UFO, and we actually went into space for a little bit. But... on the way, I started thinking, and I realized that I still have a lot I need to do, a lot I need to learn. I have to become much, much better before I'm truly ready for something like Birdplanet. So, I asked for some time from Birdman. He gave me a month."
"Oh, so that's what happened," the robot said, processing the information. "You came back."
"Exactly! And on the way back," I continued, my earlier excitement returning, "I got a really good idea! About how I can get better, faster! Wait, I'll show you."
Ready to share my secret plan, the one about using a copy robot to learn everything and become super smart, I reached out, taking off my mask and starting to lean my forehead towards the robot's head, preparing to initiate the memory share link. It was the safest way to convey the information without anyone overhearing.
But as I got close, the robot flinched back slightly. "W-wait," he stammered again, an unusual hesitation in his voice. "Can't... can you just tell me? Like... like normal words?"
I paused, lowering my head. "But why?" I asked, confused. He'd never refused a memory share before. It was usually easier for him, faster.
"Please," he repeated, simply, his imitation Mitsuo eyes fixed on mine, an earnest, almost pleading look on his face.
He didn't want to memory share. And that put me in a tough spot. My whole plan relied on keeping the real reason for needing a copy robot a secret – especially from Birdman and the other Permans, who might be listening in or question why I needed one just to "learn." My initial thought was to share the secret mentally. But if he refused any form of immediate explanation, forcing me to speak it out loud... that felt too risky. The thought of the others overhearing my grand, somewhat arrogant-sounding scheme about becoming the "smartest person" made me cringe.
So, I had to fall back on the cover story I'd given Birdman and the others. The official reason. The lie.
I'm sorry, Robot, I thought, a pang of guilt hitting me as I looked at his trusting, replicated face.
"Okay, fine," I sighed, abandoning the memory share idea. "The reason is... well, I need a role model. Something to strive towards, someone perfect to learn from. And Birdman agreed that the Perfect Copy Robot could be that for me. He wants me to take it back to Birdplanet next month, and I need this month to... well, to learn from it. To try and become as good as it is. So..." I gestured to the Perfect Copy Robot still in my hand. "You have to go to Birdman now. The Perfect Copy Robot will take your place here and... eventually, with Birdman."
The original copy robot seemed to process this, his expression shifting from confusion to understanding. "So... this means I have to go to Birdman right now?
"Yes," I confirmed, feeling increasingly awkward about the lie. "That's... that's how it is. Don't worry, though! It's just for a month. Birdman said I could bring you back after a month, and then you can stay here as me again, like normal."
"There is no problem with that," the robot said, his voice regaining its usual steady cadence now that he understood his instructions. An almost contented look crossed his face. "The truth is, we copy robots... we feel even better, more relaxed, when we are in our robot form. It's comfortable." He gestured to the Perfect Copy Robot in my hand. "By the way, I think you should activate that Perfect Copy Robot once. Just to check it."
"Hmm," I agreed, taking his advice. Maybe seeing it in action would make me feel better about the switch, about the lie.
With a determined glint in my eye, I placed the Perfect Copy Robot on the floor near the center of the room and pressed its bright red nose button. The robot immediately began to grow, its internal mechanisms whirring to life with a low, powerful hum. The Perfect Copy Robot expanded rapidly, limbs elongating, torso widening, until it reached my exact height, standing stiffly in my room.
When the growth stopped, the Perfect Copy Robot looked around the room with a calm, calculating gaze. Everything about it was identical to me – the same shade of black hair, the same shade of hazel eyes.
Yet, despite the perfection, there was something... subtly, profoundly different. Where I knew I exuded a sometimes clumsy, often playful energy, the Perfect Copy Robot emanated a sense of almost unnerving stillness, a cold, calculated precision that felt utterly alien. It was like looking at a perfect statue that could suddenly move.
Deciding to get the initial transfer over with, I stepped forward and touched the Perfect Copy Robot's forehead with my own, initiating the memory share. My everyday memories, my knowledge as Mitsuo, my experiences as Perman, the official reason for the switch – all flowed into the perfect replica.
"Since it is going to take my place now," my original copy robot said, its voice soft from the desk, "it would be better if I share my memories with it too. It should know everything I know." And without waiting for confirmation, my original copy also touched its own forehead and initiated a memory share link with the newly activated Perfect Copy Robot.
After my original copy robot shared its memories, the Perfect Copy Robot went rigid for a split second. Its perfect, replicated eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and it turned its head to look at my original copy robot with a strange, intense gaze, a look of sheer surprise mixed with something I couldn't quite interpret. But I was distracted, checking something on my belt, and I didn't notice the subtle, unsettling interaction.
"Alright," my original copy robot said, breaking the tense silence and shaking itself slightly. "Maybe we should leave now, Birdman must be waiting for me." He hopped down from the desk and pressed his own red nose.
He shrunk instantly, turning back into his small, metallic robot form. I picked him up gently from the ground and, with a final look around my room, put my Perman mask back on.
"Alright," I said to my original copy robot, holding him securely. "I am going to head back to Birdman now. You'll be brave, right? Take care of your home for me in my absence."
"Absolutely," the small robot replied, his voice muffled slightly against my suit, but firm and reliable as always.
With my original copy tucked safely away, and the unsettlingly perfect replica left standing silently in my room, I turned and went out through the balcony window, heading back into the darkened sky. One month. A lot could happen in one month.