I Hate Everything

"Wait, Gomi, if I'm here then where's me?!"

Before she could answer, the school bell rang, signaling the start of the next class period.

"Uh oh, looks like it's time for PE!" Gomi said, feigning ignorance.

I let out a frantic series of beeps. "PE?! No, Gomi, you have to tell me what happened to my body!"

"Don't worry, Shiku, I'm sure it's fine! Just go do your robot cleaning thing, I'll figure out the reverse smoothie later!"

I tried to chase after Gomi, but my new robot legs weren't built for speed. The wheels squeaked against the linoleum floor as I watched her disappear around the corner.

Great. Just great.

My internal programming kicked in, urging me to follow Cleansuke's cleaning schedule. A map of the school flashed across my vision, highlighting the route to classroom 2-A. At least that worked in my favor - I needed to get back there anyway.

As I approached the hallway outside 2-A, I spotted two figures by the doorway. One was Nezumi Myoga from 1-B, sprawled on the floor with papers scattered around her. The other was... me. Well, my body at least.

I ducked behind a trash can, my robotic eye zooming in to observe.

"Are you experiencing optimal functionality?" My body asked Nezumi in a stiff, formal tone, extending a hand to help her up.

Nezumi blinked, clearly thrown off by the weird phrasing. "Um, yeah... I just tripped."

"Your papers require reorganization." My body bent down mechanically, gathering the fallen sheets with precise movements.

"Thanks..." Nezumi's eyes widened as she caught sight of the papers. "Oh no, these were my- I mean, just some homework..."

But my body had already started sorting them, tilting its head at a perfect 45-degree angle. "These designs display remarkable efficiency ratings. The joint articulation would allow for 27% improved mobility compared to standard models."

Nezumi's face flushed bright red. "You know about mecha designs?"

"Affirmative. My primary functions include- I mean, yes. They are quite fascinating."

I slumped against the wall. There was no doubt about it - that had to be Cleansuke in my body, still thinking and talking like a cleaning robot. This was a disaster.

"T-thank you, Tanaka-san!" Nezumi clutched her designs to her chest and scurried off, her face red.

I watched as Cleansuke marched into 2-A with perfect posture - something I'd never managed in my life. The second bell rang, and my cleaning protocols kicked in, forcing me to enter the classroom to "maintain optimal learning conditions."

Professor Yamada launched into his lecture about quantum computing, and I expected Cleansuke to stay quiet as usual. But no.

My hand shot up with mechanical precision. "Professor, your equation contains an error. The quantum bits should be in superposition, not entangled."

The class fell silent. Even Yamada's jaw dropped. I'd always known the answers but preferred to keep my head down.

"That's... that's correct, Tanaka-san." 

Cleansuke proceeded to walk to the board and write out the corrected formula in perfect, ruler-straight lines. Several girls whispered and giggled. Great, now everyone was staring at "me."

"I didn't know Tanaka-san was so smart!"

"And look how neat her handwriting is today!"

"Did she do something different with her hair?"

I wanted to short-circuit right there. Cleansuke had apparently "cleaned up" my appearance too - hair neatly brushed, uniform pristine, not a wrinkle in sight. No wonder Nezumi had seemed so flustered.

The whole scene felt surreal. Here I was, trapped in a robot body, watching my own body act like the world's most sophisticated teaching assistant. It was especially weird considering Sukina High's whole thing about rejecting modern tech. The school had been founded by traditionalists who thought Gogo Brains made students lazy. Now they had a cleaning robot accidentally teaching their classes.

My protocols urged me to dust the windowsills, but I fought to stay still and watch this trainwreck unfold. Three more girls approached "me" after class, batting their eyelashes and asking for study tips.

The three girls surrounded my body, their eyes sparkling with newfound admiration.

"Tanaka-senpai, your hair looks amazing today! What's your secret?"

"Optimal grooming achieved through systematic brushing patterns: exactly 100 strokes at a 37-degree angle." 

"You're so funny, senpai! And your posture is perfect too."

"Correct spinal alignment promotes enhanced cognitive function."

I wanted to bash my metal head against the wall. Was this really happening? The same girls who'd never given me a second glance were now hanging on every robotic word coming out of my mouth.

A notification flashed across my vision: "URGENT: Floor 2 corridor requires immediate sanitization. Current cleanliness levels below acceptable parameters."

No, no, no. Not now. I needed to hear what was happening. The girls were leaning in closer, one of them touching my arm-

"WARNING: Schedule deviation detected. Initiating override protocol."

My wheels started moving on their own, dragging me away from the scene. Stupid cleaning protocols! I fought against the programming, but it was like trying to swim upstream in concrete.

"The coefficient of friction between surfaces requires-" I heard my voice drone on as I was forced down the hallway.

The cleaning supplies popped out of my compartments automatically. Here I was, stuck mopping floors while Cleansuke was probably explaining the thermodynamic principles of hair care to my newfound fan club.

"Initiating floor-polishing sequence," my system chirped cheerfully.

"I hate everything," I muttered, though it came out as a series of sad little beeps.

A student walked by, leaving muddy footprints across my freshly cleaned floor. My programming screamed in distress, forcing me to follow the dirt trail like some deranged Roomba.

This had to be karma for all those times I'd left my room a mess.