Help I'm Alive

Chapter 1: If we're still alive, my regrets are few

Middle schoolers were such little monsters -- but in a mostly manageable way.

Most of Mr. Smelt's class had clued in on the fact that he liked to check his dating app during breaks, and sometimes in fact called a break specifically in order to check his dating app, and they did whisper about it a little behind his back. But they didn't say anything to his face, semi-politely, and he semi-politely pretended not to know that they knew.

He got a flattering amount of messages, honestly, but none of them were what he was looking for. A lot of matches he'd just dismiss entirely; some messages he'd barely deign to respond to, and a few he'd have short conversations with. A rare few he'd even have extended conversations with, because, well, he was having fun. But it just wasn't...

A real connection.

His profile was a good one, calculated to be as interesting as possible. Good photos, some selfies, some obviously taken by a friend; there was even a video of him with his cat, Kia. Aston, his profile proclaimed:

Pick our first getaway
New York City
Rome
Berlin

Two truths and a lie
My middle name is Martin. I used to street race (and occasionally still do, don't tell my students!). I was an off-Broadway understudy before moving to Witwicky.

My favorite LGBTQIA+ book is
The Picture of Dorian Gray. No movie has done it justice yet, to my deepest disappointment.

Let's debate this topic
If the Transformers war is over, our government shouldn't still be taking sides in it, and the Autobots certainly shouldn't be working for them.

You couldn't rush things. He really did expect he'd be waiting for a while. Still, he couldn't help wanting to check the app... reasonably often, even as the years passed. To check the messages he received, looking for one that would catch his eye in a way that was extra-ordinary.

The message came from a man named Linn, partway through the 2023 school year. After class, luckily -- he nearly dropped his damn phone, and his delightful students would probably not have let him live that one down if they'd still been hanging around the place.

New York City. I'd rather not take a plane or boat. The lie is off-Broadway. I like your name. And I don't want to debate you, not when I agree with you. After so long, they should be leaving things alone.

He only took a few moments to compose his reply; he was almost surprised to find his hands shaking from the excitement of it.

I can understand that. And thank you, I'm fond of it myself. Ha ha, the government, the Autobots, and Megatron alike, right?

Just in case. He needed to be absolutely certain, for both their sakes.

With friends like that, they should get out while they can.

He found himself grinning down at his phone at that response. The classroom was empty, the papers he'd been grading forgotten on the desk and, elated in his freedom, he couldn't resist a fist pump. Childish, certainly, but the situation seemed to call for it.

Finally!

* * *

Aston Martin Smelt was a character, in every sense of the word.

And, to Knock Out's slight embarrassment at first, he was a very fun character.

That had been the point, of course. Rather, hir human guise was always supposed to be someone it would be entertaining to pretend to be. There was no point in trying to disguise a hologram that was Knock Out's "ideal human form," because it hadn't exactly been hir dream to live as a human or anything of the sort. Disguising hirself to fit in with humanity had been a way to hide, to be safe, to escape the fighting that seemed to happen over and over and over no matter how many times the war seemed to be "over."

Sie hadn't particularly wanted to go alone, though. And sie hadn't expected to -- at least, sie'd expected that at least a few of the other Decepticons and maybe even an Autobot or two would bug out themselves eventually, and there weren't very many safe ways to try doing that. The technology was difficult, but sie knew sie wasn't the only one capable of it.

Sie knew sie wasn't even the only one capable of it who was chafing.

Tarantulas had always been the Decepticon who was both most capable of making a hologram that was capable of doing what Knock Out was planning to do, and who was most obviously right on the edge of being a flight risk -- well, other than Knock Out hirself, who was at least better at hiding the latter. It was why Knock Out had made a plan with him... after a fashion.

"You know, humans have these ridiculous little phone apps," sie had said, artfully casual and not bothering to explain further what sie meant by 'apps'. Sie'd known Tarantulas would be able to follow along and anything he didn't understand he would certainly swiftly research. "They use them to keep in contact with each other, or even find new humans to meet and connect with."

"Oh?" Tarantulas hadn't looked up from his work, hadn't even gestured with a single spidery leg in any go on sort of way, but the fact that he'd replied with that at all had been a clear expression that he was interested in whatever sie was leading towards.

"Mm. Clever little things. And potentially useful to us. If, by chance, any Decepticon was in a position where using our official communication channels was dangerous to us, well. No one looking for Cybertronian chatter is going to think to download, say, Hinge to look for it."

Tarantulas had stilled for a moment. Paused in thought, and it hadn't taken long at all; he'd gotten back to work, but something in his stance had changed slightly. Interested, but cautious about it. They'd worked together, or at least separately but in the same space, for long enough that Knock Out had learned a lot of what had at first been wholly unfamiliar body language. "What you say is true," he'd allowed, and added more carefully, "I think if you were to approach our superiors, they would see the wisdom in such an-- emergency plan."

They can get bent, Knock Out absolutely hadn't said, but had instead agreed, "Oh, I'm sure they would, but I'd like to nail down a more solid suggestion before raising the idea. So many of those sorts of apps require photographs, some proof of us being human, we'd need to use code phrases just to be certain we can identify one another... Very elaborate stuff."

"It would be simple enough," Tarantulas had said, still in that same careful way, "if we were in the habit of using holograms as human distractions."

"True," Knock Out had allowed, grinning. Aha. Sie'd known they were on the same page then. "And if the profiles included something about, oh, say, the 'Transformers War', some veiled comment about G.H.O.S.T. -- humans have a lot of thoughts about that kind of thing, but not thoughts that would get very close to ours, don't you think?"

Truth be told, they probably hadn't needed to be half that secretive. The Decepticons had been in shambles by that point. No one would've been bothering to spy on them; no one would have been capable of spying on them without being noticed, most likely, except possibly for Soundwave and his cassettes, and they had become so busy.

They had all become so busy. Their people hadn't collapsed just from losing Megatron, no, despite the fact that his leadership style almost sought to ensure that sort of thing -- but they practically had from losing Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave all in one fell swoop. The few officers that remained had scrambled, and had honestly mostly been insufferable even beforehand, and Knock Out on top of that had found hirself put-upon scientist and sole remaining doctor both...

Tarantulas hadn't been at all surprised when sie had talked about leaving in only somewhat veiled terms like that. Sie'd already known that he was itching to leave, himself, to get away from all of it. Sie'd have been much more blunt and spoken more frankly if sie hadn't been so on edge that acting like they were in some spy movie where any room was likely to be bugged by Their Own Side had felt like the only safe and, indeed, rational option.

No harm had been done, anyway. Knock Out had known that Tarantulas understood hir -- that they understood one another -- and two days later, Knock Out had been gone.

Sie'd expected to have to wait for a while for Tarantulas to actually reach out to hir again. Still, somehow, the nearly seven year wait had been a surprise.

* * *

Seven years was a long time to get into character, though, and by this point Knock Out wore Aston Smelt like a comfortable sweater.

And Knock Out knew exactly what a comfortable sweater felt like at this point, because firstly, hir hologram technology was top notch, and secondly, Smelt's fashion sense was firmly established by this point and absolutely included such things the moment the temperature dropped enough to warrant them.

(He was an Autumn. He'd taken the test, because of course Smelt would. It had also given Knock Out something to work with in the early days when sie hadn't known or cared much about human fashion and hadn't wanted to draw any attention to hirself.)

So Aston sat, in a quiet corner of the cafe where he'd arranged to meet Linn, sipping at a caramel latte (Knock Out's own flavor preference) made with almond milk (a little bit of a quirk for the human that Knock Out had established early on), wearing a brown sweater-vest with a cream collared shirt and gray slacks. He was a bit over halfway through Burn the Negative by Josh Winning, but his attention was, he would have to admit, distracted from the (honestly quite enjoyable) book even as he paged through it. He kept glancing up at the door.

It fit with the nervous-excitement that would be in Aston's character, but the anticipation was honestly all Knock Out. After another minute or so he gave up on the book entirely, putting his bookmark back at the beginning of the chapter and letting himself people watch out the window instead.

He'd arrived a good ten minutes early (and that one was all Smelt), but the wait wasn't all that long, luckily; Linn showed up at 11:02 for the 11AM meeting, pausing in the doorway with a vaguely surprised expression when the bell chimed at him.

Tarantulas had apparently not spent any of his time creating a character or getting used to a human life. Linn (Linn Carroll, Tarantulas had apparently chosen for the full name; the human who had named the first tarantula, he had explained helpfully, had been Carl Linnaeus, credited many times as Carolus Linnaeus or Caroli Linnaei... incredibly endearing) had filled up his obligatory six photos necessary for a Hinge account with ones of him in the same security outfit, outside with trees in the background, and he was in that same outfit now, sans hat.

Unlike Knock Out, he'd apparently gone for as unobtrusive a human design as possible, a white man who'd just disappear into the crowd; the only little details that gave him any sort of visible personality whatsoever were a tiny soul patch and an almost as tiny ponytail. Knock Out had nodded vaguely towards subtlety by not having bright hair or clothing; sie'd even gotten an unobtrusive car, for God's sake!

(It was, to be fair, a 2014 Nissan Cube that Smelt had bought used for a little over $7k, with less than 80,000 miles on it, because while he could have simply "driven" Knock Out, Knock Out wasn't about to re-scan but also wasn't careless enough to show hir grill out in broad daylight in Witwicky, Bumblebee.)

But Aston Martin Smelt was not unobtrusive, which, ironically, made him even less obtrusive than if Knock Out had just tried to disappear into the crowd. Sie'd stayed close, sie'd leaned into eccentricities and quirks and bold choices, but not hir own -- or mostly not hir own, at any rate. He had a bowl cut that was absolutely mostly a toupee; he had a horseshoe mustache with a little soul patch like he'd gotten a bit too carried away with a Zappa; he wore golden wire-rimmed rectangular glasses and a homburg hat with a feather in its band; his unobtrusive car was bright purple and that was unobtrusive, thank you, because no one was going to look at that car and think Knock Out. No one was going to look at it and think Transformer, frankly; it had a bumper sticker on it that read "perform random acts of SHAKESPEARE" in a slightly unfortunate mix of fonts. (Old English Text should never be used for all caps.)

Aston Smelt was a somewhat ridiculous but enthusiastic human being. The so-called Linn Carroll, here, was such a generic security guard prototype even showing up for a "date" that it made Knock Out a little bit nervous.

He didn't show that long, and a little nerves were normal in any case. He smoothed over any uncertainty with a smile as he stood and motioned Linn over.

"Linn, right?" he verified unnecessarily when Linn got close. "So nice to meet you, you look just like your photos!"

"That's right." Tarantulas's familiar voice from an unfamiliar face; Knock Out was unprepared for how odd that felt, being the first and, until now, only Cybertronian who'd actually pulled off this ridiculous scheme. Linn didn't smile; Tarantulas might not actually know how to make that happen yet, as it was an expression that didn't come naturally with chelicerae. "So do you. Aston, was it?"

"It was," he agreed with a slight laugh. "It is! Please, have a seat."

Linn slipped into the chair across from Aston carefully, who sat again as well, and leaned slightly across the table to lower his voice. "We aren't going anywhere... quieter?"

More private, somewhere away from humans where they could talk. Aston knew what he meant, but waved a hand -- not speaking loudly, but not keeping his voice down to a murmur either. "That's the buzz of people focused on their own lives," he noted. "So long as we don't raise our voices, no one's going to be paying attention to us. But we can go for a walk in the park once I've finished my latte, if you like." A bit more distance from the other Witwicky residents, though the cafe wasn't exactly packed.

"Please." Linn folded his hands in front of him on the table, fingers moving for a moment like he wanted to drum them before he clasped them together instead and stilled. He had been glancing around as he'd come over to the table, but now he was examining Aston's face with curiosity.

"So you've been living as a human for six years," he said, still keeping his voice a bit more quiet than necessary. Knock Out felt a twinge of sympathy; sie remembered how nerve-wracking the early days were, even after sie'd gotten a little rest and realized exactly how paranoid being so stressed and run ragged had been making hir. "You really did it... and now so have I."

"We've escaped," Aston agreed, sipping again at his latte with a smile. "How does it feel?"

"It feels..." Linn hesitated for a moment. "Strange. This is quite an accomplishment, but my victories feel bittersweet."

"Mm. It's a very different life," Aston noted, "and all a bit alien."

"That doesn't bother me." Linn's expressions were still a bit off; his body language was mostly natural, as were the expressions and movement of his eyes, but he didn't nod or shake his head, didn't smile or frown. Didn't blink. He'd get there with time, Knock Out was sure, but it did make him interesting to watch for the moment. "I am myself, no matter where I am, what form I take, or how I introduce myself."

"That's a good way of looking at it, if that's what you're going for."

Linn looked intrigued. "Is that not what you're going for? You're as familiar to me as you've always been."

Aston chuckled into his cup. "I'm acting the same because I'm with you," he noted. "You know me -- you know Knock Out. You don't know Aston Smelt, but at least half of this town does, and he's what humans call 'a character'. Someone who's an eccentric, full of interesting and unusual individuality."

"That still sounds like you." Linn's expression wasn't teasing, but his voice was. Aston resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but did laugh again.

"If we keep meeting up like this, as humans, you'll see," he promised. "Speaking of which. You should order something, that's what humans do on dates in places like this. Go up there," he nodded towards the counter, "wait in line, and ask for..." Wait. "Can you taste anything like that?"

Knock Out hadn't been able to at first. Best to make sure.

"No. I can feel pressure, texture, and temperature to a more limited degree."

"That makes sense; that's about where I started out. All right, order an espresso, then; it's the cheapest thing here. If you didn't bring money, I can give you some."

"No, I thought it might be necessary."

"All right. You might want to put a couple quarters in the tip jar after paying," Aston advised. "Not everyone does, but it's appreciated."

And that suggestion wasn't entirely Aston speaking, but that was the thing: Aston was a character, but such an enjoyable one that the line between him and Knock Out wasn't a bright and solid one anymore. Knock Out had, in fact, gone native.

"And remember to blink," Aston added, as Linn started to stand up, and had to grin wryly as Linn blinked at him in response.

* * *

It became clear quickly that, despite reassurances, Tarantulas was not comfortable catching Knock Out up on what had been happening in his life while they were sitting in public using holograms -- or even out on that walk.

Sie could sympathize with his concerns. Luckily, they had plenty of other things they could talk about.

"Are you actually a teacher?" Linn asked, while they were still having their drinks at the cafe. The feeling of hot liquid seemed to surprise him on first sip, but since Aston was looking for it, he could tell there was no reaction to the actual flavor there. That was pretty entertaining.

"I am," Aston said. "Middle school. You'd think I was a drama teacher to look at my classroom. Smelt is passionate about theater, movies, music..." Knock Out had liked human music even back when sie'd still been with the Decepticons, and loved their films, but didn't share quite the same passion for the stage that sie exhibited as Aston Smelt. Sie'd become a lot more fond of it, though.

"He still sounds very much like you," Linn observed.

"There are differences," Aston said. "And I've come to appreciate a few things because of him. I have a cat now."

"I saw your video." Linn tried a smile. It was a nice one, unpracticed but not fake, not even all that stiff-looking, in Aston's estimation. "Kia?"

"She's a sweet thing." Aston leaned forward a little as if sharing a bigger secret than the fact that he was a hologram being used by a Decepticon, amused. "Found her as a kitten in my engine bay. I'd stopped using my hologram for the night and let me tell you, I was startled when I came back to myself and had such a chummy visitor!"

"That is a surprise," Linn admitted. "You never liked animals -- or humans -- touching you."

"I still don't like it much now." Touching the hologram was one thing, but hir actual physical self was another. But... "But, well, she was very small, and I took her to the vet and she wasn't microchipped, so I decided having a pet might help with my cover, and cats are very self-sufficient. She grew on me after a while." After not a long while at all, but details!

"I see. So having animals will make humans see you as more human," Linn mused. He actually pulled out a small pad of paper and made a note on it. Aston craned to peer at it, and grinned a little to himself.

"You know," he said casually, "some humans can actually read Cybertronian."

Linn looked up quickly. "They can? And not just--" He lowered his voice, his glance around that time more obviously nervous. Frightened, even. "...G.H.O.S.T.?"

Oh. He must have had personal experience with G.H.O.S.T., the way he was looking and talking. Knock Out felt that stab of sympathy again, mixed with concern.

Sie wanted to ask, but sie didn't think Tarantulas would answer hir here. Instead, Aston shook his head. "Remember, the Transformers War had a big impact on humans," he noted. "And not all Cybertronians have hidden away. There may not be any wandering around Witwicky, but in the bigger cities..."

Linn tried a nod that time, too. "Yes. I'd heard about that, but decided I would have been... too high-profile."

That was probably true. Not too many big spider Transformers out there; any description of Tarantulas would be unmistakable.

"And the Autobots are working with the government, obviously." Along with Megatron. Knock Out fought to keep Aston's voice from sounding irritated, to keep his expression from changing. Refocus! There was a point to this topic. "All this means that Cybertronian studies are an everyday part of the curriculum in a lot of places. Cybertronian language, Cybertronian history... Even Energon is studied in science classes, though there's not a specific subject devoted to it."

Linn's brow creased a little, a frown that didn't quite reach his mouth, and he flipped the pad closed and put it away again. "I'll write it somewhere more privately then," he said. "Later."

Aston reached across the table and squeezed his hand. They'd both finished their drinks by that point, so... "Later," he agreed. "For now, let's go for a stroll. It should be nice out."

It was nice out: overcast, a little chillier than it might otherwise be, but pleasantly so even for Aston, who could probably feel temperatures in a stronger way than Linn could just yet, the way he'd talked about it. He had the idle thought that he should have brought a scarf, more because that would look excellent than because he really needed one, but shrugged that off as he led Linn to Yellow Oak Park.

"I suppose I need a more normal home, if I'm going to also want a pet of some kind," Linn noted as they walked. He seemed a little more relaxed with the conversation, though he still walked close enough to Aston to keep his voice down somewhat.

"Well, that goes without saying," Aston agreed. "You want a home, you want a job, you want a life. Which means you also you want to have entanglements," he added. "Make connections! Exist in the world. They don't all have to be with humans, or even anything alive, like that pet. In fact, they shouldn't be."

Linn looked over at him, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"You seem more like a normal human if you care about things, have feelings about things. And people will come to recognize you, and therefore see you as just a normal, familiar part of life, if they see you around and know things about you. Are you reading anything," he held up his book in illustration, "what's the last movie you saw, what do you think of it? The people of Witwicky see my car in the parking lots around town, they see me in the store buying groceries, cat food and cat litter. Any child who attends Witwicky Charter has a solid chance of being in my class, in drama club or choir, seeing me in the halls... A lot of their parents are familiar with me via parent-teacher nights or the PTA. They know I have a passion for my work, opinions about cinema and the stage, and they think that I'm writing a screenplay. The kids at Witwicky Charter even know that I check my phone during class most days."

"I see," Linn said, and he sounded a bit marveling. "Because they know you, are so familiar with you, they feel no need to be suspicious."

"Even if someone claimed Transformers were hiding among us disguised as humans like we were in a Twilight Zone episode, I'm reasonably confident that no one would even give me a sideways glance," Aston agreed. "Even with my name. You know, I almost went with Kasey, with a 'K', but it just didn't feel right."

Linn made a quiet sound that was almost a laugh, and Aston smiled over at him.

"Of course, you don't need to be interested in or have an opinion about everything. That is in itself having an opinion. A lot of people don't care about celebrities; half of humanity seems obsessed with sports while the other half thinks they're a complete waste of time." Celebrities reminded him, though, and he noted, "You had to choose a birthday for that app, right?"

"Yes. I randomly generated one," Linn admitted.

Aston laughed. "Well, you don't have to keep that one, but you should pick one early and remember it," he advised. "Not only do you need to falsify some records as soon as possible, but it's easy to not think about those little details until they're right there and about to trip you up. Your profile said you were thirty-three?"

Linn nodded again. He was watching Aston closely, and Knock Out had to wonder if he'd noticed how much body language, including head motions, that Aston tended to use. "January 21, 1990," he said. "It gave me 1993, but I thought a round number would be easier to remember."

"Not a bad thought at all, and you can pass for that age range," Aston agreed. "January 21... That would make you an Aquarius -- a Capricorn-Aquarius cusp, actually. Zodiac signs are another thing not all humans care about at all, but Smelt seemed like the type," he explained. "He's also the type to be thrilled to have the same birthday as Dame Helen Mirren; that why I chose July 26 for mine, actually."

"I think I understand why you're telling me this," Linn said. "Your point is taken. I'll cultivate interests in human things..." He trailed off, looked thoughtful for a moment, almost a bit distant. Before Aston could ask what he was thinking about, though, he glanced down at the book in Aston's hand. "Would you recommend that book?"

Aston smiled. "I would, actually. It's a fast-paced little slasher horror-suspense. I actually picked it up after reading My Heart Is a Chainsaw and Don't Fear the Reaper by Stephan Graham Jones, which are frankly excellent."

Linn made a considering sound. "Maybe something with a little less death, for the moment."

Aston softened, and moved his book to his other hand so that he could more easily lay a hand on Linn's arm. "I'll help you find something else," he promised quietly.

"I think I might have an idea of where to start," Linn said. He looked over to Aston again, and smiled himself. "But I'd appreciate any of your recommendations, as well."