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FazEnt animatronics weren’t supposed to have feelings. They could identify feelings in humans, and they could fake feelings of their own for the sake of interacting with children, but the animatronics themselves did not have feelings.
Freddy did.
FazEnt animatronics weren’t supposed to break rules. They weren’t supposed to question the rules, either. It defied their programming to even consider doing so. They just weren’t able to.
Freddy could.
FazEnt animatronics weren’t supposed to be sentient.
Freddy was.
Freddy was, was, was, and if he thought about that for too long, it overwhelmed him. Frightened him. Because he knew the stories. Everyone, even the new animatronics like Roxy and Monty, they all knew the legacy they were born from: screams and blood-soaked gears and fire.
If Freddy was sentient did that mean his predecessors were too? Did it mean that the murders weren’t a malfunction, but a choice? Why would anyone want to hurt people? Was there something wrong about the animatronics that inevitably made them into monsters? How was he supposed to fight it if he didn’t know what it was? Could he even fight it at all?
It was too much, and so Freddy refused to think about it. He just kept his head down, tried to support his band-mates, and did his best to ignore the dread that was building up in him as more and more things went wrong in the Pizzaplex. And all the while he was very careful to act just the way FazEnt expected their star animatronic to act—like a robot. A friendly, empty-headed robot that was definitely not alive.
