Jace had to sit down. "What is happening to me?"
I am your system. I am known as Patchwork
"My system?"
Correct. I was bound to you when the microwave you were "repairing" decided to avenge its ancestors. The capacitor was still charged—because safety is apparently optional—and if I'd waited another minute, your soul would've scattered like loose change in a blender. You're welcome, by the way.
Jace sat for a moment, digesting what he was just told. "I died from something I've fixed countless times. I was sloppy..." Then he thought farther about it. "Patchwork, do you have a main goal other than fixing me?"
For now, think of me as your unsolicited life coach, emotional support algorithm, and new best friend—whether you like it or not. Now then, shall we dive into your next thrilling directive, or do you need a moment to mourn your dignity?
"What happens if I say no?"
Short answer: you die permanently. Long answer: I unbind from your tragically flammable soul, find a new host with better reflexes, and your essence gets shredded across countless universes like cosmic confetti. It's painful, messy, and impressively inefficient. Easily ranks in the top five worst ways to die—right between "swallowed by a sentient vending machine" and "volunteering for a reality TV exorcism." So… maybe just say yes next time.
"Sounds like I'm taking the next directive then!"
Wonderful news!
Repair Points: 15
Next Directive Available
Suggested Target: Human Interaction Module
Analysis: Host exhibits suboptimal social integration.
Symptoms: Isolation, avoidance, elevated cortisol during verbal exchange.
Suggested Action: Engage with Subject: Riley Quinn
Riley Quinn? "I've talked to her before, not a big deal. She's nice, just awkward. Besides, I like how much I deal with people, I'm not broken."
You are now a system. Congratulations. That means you need optimization—because clearly, whatever you were doing before wasn't cutting it. As a courtesy (and I use that term loosely), changes will be gradual. You now have two thrilling options: Option 1, manually go talk to Riley Quinn like a normal human with questionable social skills. Option 2, let me take the wheel and handle the interaction for you with maximum effectiveness and minimum cringe. Please choose wisely, or at least quickly—I have subroutines to judge you with.
"Given how you're forcing this, I'm choosing option 2. She's nice and all, but I really don't feel like being social right now"
Option selected
Jace felt the control of his body taken from him. He was a passenger in his own skin, unable to move or speak on his own. He watched with no small amount of anxiety as his body walked itself over to Riley's apartment and knocked on her door. He heard his own voice speaking, but he wasn't saying it.
"Oh hey, Jace! What's up?" Riley asked as she opened the door.
"Just realized I never thanked you for the microwave." His body said.
"Did you get it working? I noticed the lights dimmed a little while ago
"It was acceptable." His body replied. Have was mentally shaking, not knowing how to handle this. "I want to thank you properly. Want to go out to coffee in the morning?"
"Sure, I'd love that!" Riley's face lit up as she started grinning ear to ear. "Meet you at 8?"
"That would be great! See you then!". Jace was surprised with how smooth everything went, although still creeped out about the system taking over. It walked him back to his apartment before returning control.
Directive complete. Host has earned 10 repair points
"Ok system, that was weird. Let's not do that again."
Patchwork is merely assisting the host in becoming less of a socially malfunctioning potato. Humans, as you may recall, are pack animals—wired for interaction, validation, and occasionally sharing memes. Having a good friend nearby improves cognitive function, emotional stability, and your odds of not dying alone. Especially when said friend is of the opposite sex and currently experiencing what humans romantically refer to as a "crush." You're welcome for the matchmaking upgrade.
"She likes me? How do you know?"
Host, one of my many dazzling functions is to scan any person, object, or emotionally constipated interaction and map out all possible connections. It's like matchmaking, but with less romance and more brutal accuracy. In this case, Riley Quinn's intended connection toward you is very strong—strong enough that even your oblivious meat-brain should've noticed. But don't worry, I'm here to compensate for your lack of emotional radar.
"Ok, that aside, why invite her for coffee? I have no job right now, and no money. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to pay my rent this month already"
Scanning… Oh dear. It appears the host is currently broke as a joke, and not even a funny one. Your bank account is emptier than your fridge on laundry day. Calculating possible efficiency upgrades to prevent you from bartering toaster repairs for instant noodles. Initiating rescue protocol before you start considering "professional microwaver" as a viable career path.