Fandom: Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Category: Gen. Humor. Ficlet.
Time Frame: Post-TFA.
Spoilers: Minor for TFA only.
Word Count: 400.
Summary: Kids take things very literally. So, it appears, do droids. Well, some droids, anyway.
Disclaimer: Anyone other than Lucas owning the holy trilogy is a good thing, but alas, it ain’t me.
I heard what they said.
The general and her friends, that is.
About older astromechs. Well, a certain older astromech, anyway.
And I don't get it.
I thought they were smarter than that.
Because it's not true.
In fact, it's as far from true as possible.
Just look at the facts!
Sure, I've looked up to him since before I maxed out my first circuit board, but that doesn't change things.
It doesn't change our anatomy.
So I do the only thing I can the next time I get the opportunity, trying to call attention to their error.
It gets Poe's attention for sure.
He kneels by me.
"Hey, little buddy, you okay? You trip an inertial sensor or something?"
The general throws her hands up and shuffles away, muttering something about work to do.
I keep going, for the sake of the small audience I've gathered.
I've got a point to prove.
Poe stops me with his hand.
I push against him and he lets go.
"Okay, alright. We'll get you to maintenance."
He still doesn't get it.
I try to tell him what they said, but he's not listening.
He's already wandering off, looking for a tech.
That's when I get rude.
Ruder than the legend himself, who has been prattling on the whole time, using some words I'll have to file away for future use.
And still Poe doesn't hear me.
Thank goodness for the protocol droid. He gets it. Never thought I'd say that, but here we are.
"BB-8! That's a metaphorical expression! Now stop that! You're making me dizzy!"
I slow to a crawl, then stop altogether.
Another series of educational outbursts follows before their source rolls off down the flight line, with the protocol droid following and complaining about eccentric astromechs.
A moment later, Poe returns with a tech.
I'm fine, but he insists on a full diagnostic.
It takes most of my day and when Poe takes a short flight without me, it almost lands me with a new servo because really how could he?
But I make it through all the poking and prodding intact, and one thing's for sure.
I've learned my lesson.
He didn't even need to keep wheeling by and humming to himself during my check-up.
Because this one’s burned into my processors.
And I will never, ever run circles around R2-D2 again.