(To the other author: Sorry! I fell asleep again. My apologies.)
"Well! Uh, Mr. Hardin, sir, it's nice to know that we have electricity in this castle, and that you seem to be a brilliant...technologist, but I must ask you... and I'm sorry if this is too personal... how did you get like that?" you ask, leaning up against one of the workbenches, trying to hold a squirming Cain in your arms. Leona looks at you in shock. "How could you? Mr. Hardin here probably doesn't want to talk about becoming some kind of Doctor Who monster, and furthermore..." Hardin waves his prongs in the air like a dismissing hand. "No, no, it's perfectly alright. In the many years I've been here, many, many... uh... visitors to the castle have asked me that very same question. But it's a long story, and I don't know if you kids want to hear it."
You and Leona look at each other, smile, turn back to Hardin, and nod eagerly. Hardin attempts what must be a returning smile and begins his story.
"Well, let's see here, it was the fall of... '66, I think. I worked for some big company back in New York, I can't remember the name. We made toothpaste, shampoo, other things like that. 1966, what a year for America. Vietnam was starting, wholesome high school kids were becoming hippies real fast, and psychedelic rock was just coming out. That's why I got started in technologies in the first place, a huge group of workers, mostly young guys with long hair, from our factory quit to go protest the war draft. We only had about two hundred guys working in a building built for 1,000. We were losing money fast. So I went down the New York Public Library and checked out the few books they had (remember, it was '66) on modernization and streamlining the manufacturing process. I read those goddam books till 3 in the morning until I had everything I needed. I went to my boss, presented my plan, and, much to my surprise, it got approved. I was only 20 at the time, so I was feeling pretty smug about it."
"The company exploded in profits. They jumped to the top of the sales charts, blowing most of the competition out of the water. With my knowledge of the business process and how advanced I was at robotics and mechanisms, I was the most sought-after worker the Big Apple probably ever saw. I musta got 12 job offers every day." While Hardin stops to catch his breath (do robots need to do that? You think wildly), you recall seeing a dusty old newspaper in your Grandparent's attic, with the headline, "DRAKE HARDIN, NEW YORK'S GREATEST BUSINESSMAN, DISSAPEARS". Hardin continues. "One day, I was sitting in my apartment up on 56th street when I heard a knock at the door. I put down the book on machines and systems I was reading on the couch and went to answer the door. I pulled it open and was instantly socked right in the jaw. I think I was out cold before I even hit the ground."
"When I woke up, I was in the backseat of some car, a gag in my mouth and my hands and legs tied together with thick rope. I looked up and saw a hooded figure driving the car. I screamed into my gag and tried to move, but from the passenger seat rose a big, burly man in a lab coat. He grabbed this rag off the dashboard and covered my mouth and nose with it, much to my tries to resist. Damn chloroform. When I woke up a second time, I was lying on the floor of this workshop. I was already this thing I am now by then. Boy, I couldn't get over it for about a month. I tried many, many times to go through the mirror, but I guess it's blocked for robots like me. I was blue as hell for a while. It took a lot of getting used to. But by the time six months rolled around, I was doing my job smoothly. All I have to do is power up the machines every morning and shut them off so they can charge up every night. You three ruined the charge by turning all the machines on, sadly. The Ones aren't going to be happy about that."
"Uh, who are the 'Ones'? Leona asks, but Hardin quickly changes the subject. "Ah. I see you found Cain." At the mention of his name, Cain's ears perk up and he starts panting, squirming in your arms to get out of your grip. You set him down and he scampers up to a laughing Hardin, who scoops him up and starts petting him. 'Yes. Cain. Awful case, that. He got kidnapped from his elementary school in the spring of... 1994, I want to say. The Ones changed him into a black dog the moment he got here. Since he was so young, he got used to things real quickly. He was all grown up until about two hours ago, when you fed him some of those age-regression eggs. Hey, good thinking." Hardin says, smiling at you.
"How to you know all that?" You ask the robot in amazement. "Oh, whenever I feel bored, I head down to the Hall of Records. It's the only place in the castle I'm allowed to go besides my workroom. They have a file on every single person trapped here, their backstory, what date they arrived at the castle, all the transformations they've gone through, and why they were brought here. And it all updates instantly. Here, I'll show you -" Hardin turns, walks down a few aisles of workbenches and snatches a folder off of one of them. He opens it and hands it to you. You read:
D. HARDIN. ARRVIED OCTOBER 17TH, 1966. TAKEN FROM APARTMENT IN NEW YORK CITY, UNITED STATES. PURPOSE: TO POWER THE CASTLE. TRANSFORMATIONS. IN ORDER: ROBOT. HISTORY: (you skip about ten pages of information until you arrive at the last page) MET (your first initial and last name) AND L. KINCAID. TALKED ABOUT BACKSTORY WITH TWO, CURRENTLY SHOWING FILE TO (your first initial and last name).
"Wow." You say, handing back the file. "We'd like to see that room." Leona says eagerly. Hardin laughs and says, "Of course. But there's a few things you have to know first. You gotta watch out for the record keeper. He's this gigantic, spider-beetle like thing that is constantly rearranging and putting in new files. It's a huge room, you might be able to avoid him, but don't just stop to look at stuff. Grab what you need and get out." Hardin eyes your transformative sword. "I'm guessing that you won't be needing any weapons." He says. You nod. "Ok. Right this way."
He leads you and Leona to an old, rotting bookshelf on the right wall stuffed with moldering yellow books. He taps once on the side and it swings out, revealing a dark stairwell leading downward. "Go down this stairway. You'll come to a dark corridor that splits off. Go right. The you'll come to two stairways, one leading up and one leading down. Go up. Then, you'll reach another breakoff. Go left this time. Then you'll be at the door of the records hall." He says. Leona nods and repeats it back. "Right. Up. Left." She says. Hardin attempts to smile. "Good." Now, off you go. I'll take Cain for you." Leona sadly pets him one last time while you simply wave. You two step into the dark stairwell and turn, watching a smiling Hardin close the secret door, plunging you and Leona into darkness.