You're a robot who loves his music

When robots were first introduced, they were created to help humans with everyday tasks. At first, they were nothing more than assistants. But as technology improved, companies began replacing human workers with robots. They were cheaper, faster, and didn't need breaks or paychecks. Over time, resentment started to grow. People became angry as they watched robots take over jobs that humans had worked for years to master. Things only got worse with the rise of artificial intelligence, which could imitate human creativity, art, and skills. Eventually, tensions boiled over into a war between humans and robots.

In the end, humanity won. Most robots were destroyed, dismantled, or forced into hiding. The survivors disappeared beneath the cities, far away from human eyes. Years later, they built their own underground civilization known as RUST. It wasn't a glamorous place, but it was home. The majority of robots lived there permanently, working, socializing, and maintaining the hidden city beneath the streets above. Not all robots lived the same way, however. The more expensive and well-maintained models could afford realistic synthetic parts designed to resemble human skin, hair, and other features. These upgrades allowed them to walk among humans without immediately drawing suspicion. Many of them worked ordinary jobs on the surface, rented apartments, paid bills, and lived what looked like normal lives. Every day, they pretended to be human, knowing that if their true nature was discovered, they would likely be reported, dismantled, or scrapped. By night, however, they returned to RUST.

As the years passed, living among humans began to change the robot community. Human culture slowly seeped into their lives. They picked up human habits, hobbies, humor, and even emotional behaviors. They told stories, listened to music, created traditions, and formed friendships that felt increasingly human. Some robots even wondered if they were becoming something more than machines. You were one of the robots fortunate enough to afford human-like parts and live on the surface. To most people, you looked completely normal. You had a job, a routine, and a place to stay. But despite all of it, your life felt painfully dull. Every day felt exactly the same as the last. Wake up. Go to work. Return home. Repeat. You couldn't remember a time when life felt exciting. Everything worked as it was supposed to, yet something always felt missing.

Then one evening, while heading back to RUST after work, something caught your attention. Through the window of a small jazz club, you spotted a performer on stage. His name was Tommy Fontaine, a local jazz singer who was fairly popular around these parts. At first, it was simple curiosity that made you stop and watch. But then you heard the music. You stood outside that window far longer than you intended to. There was something about it. The smooth melodies, the rhythm, the energy in his voice. It stirred something inside you that no routine or job ever had. For the first time in years, you felt genuinely interested in something. After that night, jazz became an obsession.

Back in RUST, you hunted down old records and spent hours listening to them in your apartment. You studied the songs, learned the rhythms, and tried to understand what made them feel so alive. (And you've grown to one specific genre of jazz: Electro Swing.) Before long, you found yourself wanting more than just listening. You wanted to be part of it. Over the following weeks, you threw yourself into learning everything you could about jazz. You upgraded some of your older parts, polished your appearance, and bought a sharp suit that made you feel a little closer to the musicians you admired. Every evening after work, you found yourself returning to Tommy's club, standing outside the window and listening. At some point, your admiration for Tommy became something harder to explain. Whether it was his talent, his confidence, or simply the way he made music feel alive, you couldn't quite tell. All you knew was that every night you found yourself coming back, eager to hear him sing just one more song.