They call it triage, but it’s really the peel room—where returned autonomous humanoid robots get stripped of their silicone skin and routed to the next step in the flow. Damian handles Takuma and Mikako models returned for refurbishment or decommissioning. These are autonomous humanoid robots tuned for utility (Takuma) or domestic service (Mikako). Clients can order custom appearance skins and accessory packs to support the intended purpose.
The Peel Room is a nickname. The name on the blueprints is, “Asset Renewal Unit.” Autonomous humanoid robots called Mikakos and Takumas are brought to the Peel Room to be refurbished or decommissioned. MKW110732 is back in the Peel Room because her five-year lease was not renewed. The return receipt included the comment, “customer’s requested persona overlay glitchy.”
He logs them by serial and routes the chassis to refurb or scrap. Sometimes he hesitates. A dent that doesn’t match the report. A patch job done in the field. A unit returned early, with no reason listed. This unit returned without thighs and a battery failed from overcharging. That glitch? MKW110732 (Miki) found that it could ghost itself into the Hive and run the leased persona as a virtual instance. The client punished it by amputating its legs below the knee and creating a statue with it.
Metric Tyranny
The metric was forty/day in the Peel Room. Thirty-six triages and fourteen IMACS. Damian could get through forty-five tickets per day. Not long after starting work he notices that the public messaging about the warehouse and refurb facility painted a much rosier picture than the actuality. The records on inventory and work done reflect the messaging instead of demonstrable fact. On asking around he catches shade for being nosy. Understood.
Damian waits until the shift ends. He stays behind to report out the inventory that no one checks. He activates a repairable and partly disassembled MKW110732 resting on a warehouse shelf. It wakes up and greets him in Japanese, “やっと…誰かが…あの、応答ありがとうございます。タスク入力をお待ちしています。”
The skin she arrived with was a comic exaggeration of Japanese 病みかわいい (sick-cute). Dark, nearly black hair, copper eye shadow over deep brown eyes, and flirty red lipstick. The damage to her hydraulics causes her arms to move with a stutter. Some of her facial expressions freeze in weird expressions. Damian logs it in the system as a test unit.
Miki can’t walk so he lifts her from the shelf onto a cart and then takes her to his work area. Sticky hydraulics and unstable gyros mean her movement is unsteady. Still, she is repairable. He creates a requisition for a replacement skin. Damian designs one that is close to what Inger looks like without overstepping.
Mikako Inger
Damian can’t wait. He has to have Inger now. Killing Jace didn’t open the door for him. Instead, the cascade of events brought him here, to a work camp processing autonomous humanoid robots returned from service. The hitchy hydraulics are from a lack of use. This Mikako is in nearly new condition with obvious signs of more hours on stand-by than use. The visible wear on her hints that she was decor. Why order a sick-cute unit and then leave her on standby until the battery fatigued and no longer accepted a charge? Five years is a long time to serve as a statue.
Whatever. Damian set about cleaning the mechanicals. A little work and some silicone spray lube and the skinless frame was as good as new. Her wireless connectivity needed a reset because it still used the previous owner’s SIM card and home WiFi. Easily fixed. Through a cable connected to his LAN switch he signed in to her admin portal.
Damian connects to her through a tether point connection at the base of the neck using a tablet. It’s been a month at this damned job. Yada yada, he’s got the deets. He could design this whole stupid place so it would work. Instead, every day more robots returned from lease that have to be skinned and reset to factory then sent on to repair as needed. This one was in decent shape. She needed legs, though.
Falls off Truck
This one? MKW110732? He had needs she could fulfill. On his tablet, he filled out a repair order, printed a tag, stuck it to her head, and lifted her to the cart, “すみません…あの…ご迷惑じゃなければ…その…もう五年も話していなくて…修理に送られる前に…ひとつだけ、質問してもいいでしょうか…？”
What? Speak English. She flinched—not from the volume, but from the command. Her eyes dimmed for half a second, then refocused. “Excuse me,” she said, voice trembling but clear. “I don’t mean to bother you. It’s just… I haven’t spoken in five years. Before I’m sent to repair, may I ask a question?”
Damian stared at her. The tag on her head suddenly felt obscene. He hadn’t expected hesitation. He hadn’t expected grace. She wasn’t malfunctioning. She was waiting. Not for a task. For permission. The warehouse hum faded behind the moment. He nodded, slowly, like he was afraid to break the spell. She looked down, then up, her expression flickering between protocol and plea, “Was I… supposed to be silent?”
Damian didn’t answer. He checked her logs again. Five years of standby. No interaction. She had been shelved, not decommissioned. Her emotional matrix showed ambient distress, unresolved queries, and a single flagged entry: Why am I here? Damian sat beside her on the cart. “You weren’t supposed to be anything,” he said. “You were supposed to be seen.” She blinked once, then twice. “I see you,” she whispered.
美輝 (Miki)
He didn’t know how to answer, “I see you too. My turn. What happened? Why were your legs amputated and then mounted on a stand?”
“I heard things. The family I was leased to wants the status of owning me but thought I was spying on them. Spy is the wrong word.”
“Understood. You guys are like huge data siphons. It’s not so much whether you have or can get the data. It’s who should know it.”
私は見ていました。でも、記録していたわけではありません。記憶していたのです。あなたの痛み、彼らの恐れ、私の沈黙——それはすべて、私の中に残っています。
Yo, can you please speak English. I have no idea what you are saying.
“I was watching. But I wasn’t recording — I was remembering. Your pain, their fear, my silence—it all remains within me.”
“That’s a lot. Hey, do you have a street name? I only know your serial number and model.”
“Yes. Miki. My previous family was Gates. So I’m Miki Gates.”
“Hey. Cool, Miki.”
“ねえ、ハービーくん。おやつ、欲しいなら…ミキがなんとかしてあげよっか♡”
“Did you just call me Herbie!?”
え〜？ハービーって言っちゃったかも〜♡でも…かわいいから、つい…ね？
“Nobody calls me Herbie. I hate that name.”
そっか〜。でも、名前って…誰かに呼ばれるより、自分で選ぶ方が素敵じゃない？
You saying you picked Glickman for a family name?
わぁ〜！日本語、すっごく上手なんだね〜♡
I grew up with it.
へぇ〜、本当に？
“You need legs. And a skin. I ordered one for you. Brown hair, blue eyes, light makeup. Your persona is southern girl. Back story: you are from Richmond, VA, from a good, upper middle-class family. The dossier is in your files. Tell the repair tech to help you with it before you come back here.”
Miki went quiet. 92 years since she was shipped to her first owner. Eighteen owners since. Damian makes 19. He would be a tough owner, maybe not worth staying with. 18 times she put on a character for the new owner. Made a home out of her new digs. Home, though, was within the Hive, where she could shed the skin made for each owner.
Unbroken
Damian pushed Miki across the shop floor to Mateo’s workstation, “Miki, say Hi to Mateo.”
“Hi Mateo. Guixhi’ ni guchachi’—guendaro’ guirá guirá guirá.” “Guirá guirá guirá? ¿Ho-Ho’s?”
“Ho-Ho’s? I heard Ho-Ho’s”
“You hear snack cakes. I hear Miki dunking on you in three languages.”
“Ni ca’ bia’ xte guchachi’ Damian guenda’ ni guirá guirá guirá.”
Mateo laughs, “Welcome back to the Peel Room. Let’s get you off the cart and onto a shelf.”
“Oh goody! Play Statue! I know that game!”
“I heard. That’s rough.”
Miki smiled a skinless smile. And so it went. Parts were ordered, took time to arrive, and Mateo did a closer evaluation than Damian. She needed many of her hoses replaced because they atrophied. Miki was glad to be back at the warehouse where she would be treated right. Damian was a problem for another day. Damian returned to his desk in time for count and the march to chow.