Three Nines Fine, Part 01 (of more than one) V1.6

Three Nines Fine, Part 01 V1.6

A short nandroid story inspired by a 4chan prompt, which was saved in a screencap, which was posted on FunnyJunk, which is where I saw it.

V1.1 2020/08/23 is a revised version of the original which hopefully improves and clarifies some details.
V1.2 2020/08/24 improves details further and restores a missing sentence.
V1.3 2020/08/24 alters a couple details that I was unaware would invalidate its timeframe relative to the official canon.
V1.4 2020/08/26 changes the made-up "book of respects" to just be a normal guestbook that standard Earth humans are familiar with.
V1.5 2020/08/29 changes a minor detail, the guestbook is now a nandroid manual.
V1.6 2021/05/06 attempts to improve Olivia's description and fixes some typos.

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Two great big front doors set in the front of a great big yellow mansion stood open to the world. A balding, bespectacled man stood before them, in the low afternoon sun shining beneath the edge of the mansion's covered front deck. Just behind the threshold stood a smaller, thinner figure, darkened by the foyer's shade.

"Well, here it is," he spoke, almost as amazed as the shellshocked nandroid staring at a small silver paper in his outstretched hand. "One ticket for the Sterling Three-Nines-Fine Warranty".

Purple eyes, stretched wide as dinner plates, under sky-high eyebrows, stared at the ticket.

"I've... only ever *heard* of these being given out," he continued. "Maybe three or four. Certainly never in my market. Offered only through corporate intervention for special circumstance. *Nobody* can just *buy* these."

A little cream-white nandroid hand, attached to a little cream-white nandroid arm, twitched, but did not move.

"I was, uh, surprised by the court ruling, as much as anyone I suppose. A lifetime ticket for a nan with no ties to any government officials or critical infrastructure at all."

The little mouth beneath the great big eyes shifted, but no words came forth.

Heavy and morose silence returned to the doorway, punctuated by a clunking grandfather clock somewhere in the dark foyer inside. A gentle summer breeze rustled the skirts of the nandroid's all-black uniform, the tips of her low auburn bangs tickling the poofs of her shoulders. The rest of her voluminous hair, loosely pulled back in a short docked ponytail, and the black headdress on top remained unmoved. So too did the special Sterling manual for today's earlier... event, which still rest inside her black apron pocket.

Over a minute later, the man coughed.

"Well, miss?"

The black-clad nandroid jolted, eyes flashing up to the much smaller blues behind the man's glasses.

"Will you please take the ticket?"

Her arms rose, retaining all of their grace despite the circumstance, while her hands came together to form a little cup. The man gently set the ticket down into her fingers, which accepted it with all the reverence of a prophet holding His son. The afternoon sunlight reflected off of the silver Sterling logo covering the entire front. Black text filled little white rectangles on the equally shiny silver back, indicating her single-digit warranty number and Sterling contact number, among other things.

"Please sign here."

The nandroid noticed a clipboard in his outstretched hand, a single sheet of paper clamped in place, a few words describing Sterling's coverage of the nandroid in question. His other held out a black Sterling office pen.

Her hands finally parted. The one holding the ticket also took hold of the board's base, while the other took the pen. She expertly, agonizingly printed her name on the first line, her serial number on the second, and her Sterling authentication signature on the last.

The man quickly pulled the pen and board back and scanned the paper.

"Very good, all seems to be in order. If you ever need to make a claim, call or visit your nearest Sterling service center and read the warranty code off that ticket. All repairs barring total annihilation are covered for as long as you are to remain in service, and beyond that, replacement with a like model covers the last bit. I would normally be handing this to the masters of the house, but... you are likely the most responsible member present at the moment. It is your lifeline, so please take good care of it."

The nandroid nodded imperceptibly.

"Well then, my deepest condolences to you and your charge, and may you have a fine rest of the day, miss..." he squinted at the clipboard and raised a brow, "...Olivia. How about that. Ahem. Good day."

The Sterling man stepped back through the doorway, glanced one last time at the stunned nandroid now cradling the ticket in her hands again, and closed the heavy doors between them.

-----

Olivia remained still after the man left. The ticket glinted even in the foyer shadows. After a while she turned left and headed for another great oak door, stained an immaculate chocolate brown. She glanced aside at the grand spiral staircase up the the second floor, her hand pausing for a moment over the mahogany banister, before recoiling and continuing into her former masters' library. The colossal, curtain-laden windows let in more than enough sun to illuminate the couches, and tables in the middle and the towering bookshelves on opposite walls, but she had eyes for none of them. She stood in the sun of the center glass for as much light as she could get, and held up the ticket.

The holographic Sterling watermark glinted like diamonds. Like the necklaces and earrings in the mistress' box upstairs. Like the chrome accents on the master's roadster outside.

It was real.

The weight of reality crashed down on her shoulders and brought her knees clacking down to floor. The ticket never left her shivering hand, but she looked up from it to the family portraits above the library's center mantle behind her. Both of her masters and the three children, painted just three months ago, adorned the gigantic chimney. Her face was conspicuously absent, as anyone would expect, but her face would be all that's left to console the three grieving children upstairs. How is she, alone, meant to replace the heads of household? The heads of family? What's lost forever? Will the children accept her like that? Will the neighbors? Will the school? The town? The country? Anyone? Is it even her place to try?

Someone must think so. The ticket in her hand is real.

-----

More than a few steps down the mansion's lengthy concrete stairway brought the Sterling man back down to his beautiful company car. He looked back up the the mansion for a moment.

"Purple eyes, eh? Ron was talking about a really old one with purple eyes due back. Single worst selling option we ever offered."

He clicked the car door open, slipped behind the wheel, and... paused. A sigh escaped him.

"I hope we have the spare parts for this."

Another pause, then another, longer sigh.

"I hope corporate has the *lawyers* for this.

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Part 2: https://pastebin.com/fViNfvnn