6.15

[In a writing mood]

The man turned the key in the lock. "Well," he said as he threw the door open, "It ain't much, but I don't suppose it should be."
H3R0 detected an odd inflection in the man's voice, but his vocal decryption database was too slow to use for conversation. He ignored the syntactical warning messages and walked inside. Once inside, he turned in circles with his arms outstretched.
"This will do nicely." The new man swiveled his head to face the landlord.
"Good. It's all I have for one of you."
Again, that discrepancy. H3R0 nodded and the man left. The third type did not need much--the model was built to be fine without. The room he stood in was sparse and square. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all of the same grungy white. A single table stood in the center of the room. H3R0 moved it fourteen centimeters to align it to center. He opened the only other door, which led to a room no bigger than the bed it housed. He closed the door, disinterested. Why he had been taken to a house without a restroom irked him somewhat. He knew the emotion of disappointment from training exercises, and wondered why he had it just then. The room would be perfect for him. It must be something else.
H3R0 pulled up the syntactical warning messages from before and analyzed the contents. The lights behind his irises dimmed and his arms dropped to his side. Seven minutes forty seven seconds later, his eyes lit. The man had been condescending. The meaning behind the man's comment about 'one of you' was meant to separate the man from H3R0. The new man did not appreciate this distinction, and did not understand its necessity. He and the landlord shared much. They were both male models, both tall, both swarthy. H3R0 did admit to himself that his voice was much more controlled than that of the other man, but surely the landlord would not be so astute as to notice such a disparity. Perhaps he was referring to the relative newness of H3R0's finished humanity. That must be it.
As the new man was given to understand, humans were usually made by being slowly assembled by an automated system in a woman's abdomen, then vacated after the tedious nine-month safety checking and assembling process. And still sometimes they malfunctioned. Maybe H3R0 would find a way to optimize the process, but he was only equipped with an artist module. He would have to acquire a medicinal module later. Without context, he could not be sure, but he assumed from the available data that it was his relative newness and ease that surprised the man.
Surely the man's distrust would fade as H3R0 acquired some dust and nicks in his chassis. There could be no other reason for one man to irrationally classify another.