fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room, Sunday Evening

Fortunately for the canines of the world, Topher did not still have the dog who'd been following him around on Thursday. (Even more fortunately for the canines of the world, this sudden lack of a dog was because it had disappeared with the others, not because Topher had somehow managed to accidentally kill it.) But a part of him missed ol' Broca (he was pretty sure it had been named Broca), so as of this morning, Topher now had himself a shiny new robot dog, who he had very creatively dubbed Broca II.

By evening, Topher was testing Broca II's athletic capabilities by setting up an extremely minimalistic obstacle course (basically some couch cushions and a couple of pots and pans) on the floor of the common room and watching the dog try to navigate it. So far he was doing surprisingly well.

Though there was one setback.

"Dude," Topher said, very firmly, as he came up behind the adorable mechanized puppy and redirected him away from the TV set. "You can't actually chew on wires. Quit that."

[[i have no idea. open!]]

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"You have the best toys," Richie said admiringly after watching the robo-puppy for a minute. "Where'd you get a robot dog? Come out of a robot ball or what?"

"In fact, no," Topher said cheerfully, turning around to see who'd asked the question. (He'd totally been hoping someone would ask. "No, my friend, this bundle of nuts and bolts is my very own pride and joy. He took about four hours this morning. Best four hours ever spent." He tilted his head before revising that last point. "On a... Sunday morning in my dorm room in the beginning of junior year. Today."

That was probably more accurate.

"That," Richie said, "is awesome."

"Seriously though, you built that in four hours? All I did this morning was sleep."

Which admittedly had been pretty great, really, but didn't compare to building a robot dog.

"Going to stick with one dog or will you be branching out into robot cats and bears and elephants next?"

Richie, do you think giving Topher ideas is a good idea? It isn't.

Fortunately, Topher had some self-control. And also he didn't really like any of those other kinds of animals, so he didn't feel much need for any of them. Mostly that.

"Nah," Topher said. "It's the same principles. It'd just get boring. And crowded. Unless my roommate would maybe share his bed with the bear."

"A bear might be pushing it a little," Richie admitted. "These rooms aren't all that big. And I don't think anyone really wants to share a bed with a robot bear, do they? If they do I don't wanna know about it."

That might be too weird even for Fandom.

"Does robo-puppy here have a name?"

"Broca II," Topher said proudly. "After the neuroscientist. And also the dog I had on Thursday." Hence the 'II,' see? "Please tell me you've heard of him."

Beat.

"The scientist, I mean."

Edited 2012-09-17 01:09 (UTC)

Richie shrugged. "Sorry man. Science was never really my thing. That's why I watch you in prison jumpsuit gym class. Or someone else who catches on faster than I do."

Otherwise Richie would never make it out of the Danger Shop.

"What'd this Broca guy do with brains?"

"Aww, you do?" That was actually flattering. "I mean, you know. I am a genius. Puzzle-solving is sort of my forte."

Yes, Topher. People knew this. It probably had something to do with all the bragging you did all the time.

"Broca," he continued, "was a French guy, 1800s-ish, who basically figured out the whole concept of neurofunctional localization. It's kind of like as if he was the one to come up with the idea of different football players playing different positions, if you're a very dull person who needs a crude unintellectual analogy."

"I had kinda picked up on that, yeah," Richie said. You're so subtle with the bragging though. Really!

"So he figured out different parts of the brain do different stuff?" Richie was really hoping he'd parsed that correctly.

"Not explicitly, but yes," Topher shared. Which was super-helpful, really. "That was more the implication of his findings than the actual point. What he actually discovered was this spot of the brain that's responsible for people's ability to talk, which is arguably also important but sort of the small-picture of it all."

Richie was going to enjoy that he'd sort of figured something out. Woo!

"That's cool. Do I wanna know how he figured that out or is it all creepy mad scientist stuff I'm happier not knowing?"

"...I think it was probably standard surgery," Topher decided. "Like probably someone smashed that part of their brain and lost the ability to speak and Broca put the pieces together." He shrugged. "Any genius with an X-ray machine and a willingness to be ridiculed by the plebian masses could've done it."

"No poking holes in people's brains to see what happened? Good."

Now, moving on.

"So does Broca the robo-puppy talk? Or just do regular doggie things?"

"Just dog stuff." Topher actually had to chuckle at that. "Huh, I didn't even think about that. He can't talk language but he's named after the guy who figured out the part of the brain that lets us have language. That was completely unintentional." Okay, Topher. "Aren't I smart?"

Sure. Whatever.

"Anyway, he just barks and walks and jumps over things and stuff," he summarized once he was done tooting his own horn. "And eats wires. I should probably fix that."

"Still impressive," Richie said. "I mean, I couldn't do it. Probably would've put his head on backwards, for a start."

That's okay Richie. Someday you'll be a badass swordsman even if you can't make robots.

"Gonna teach him tricks too?"

"Maybe," Topher said thoughtfully. "Any recommendations?"

Third Floor Common Room, Sunday Evening

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