ROBOT CLINIC
Welcome to the infamous Robot Clinic, Nightingale Avenue, High Flyer, Celeste.
"We're Nuts for your Bolts"
Hi I'm Dr. Buckley, your friendly proprietor of RC along with my business partner, CH4RL13. You can follow our stories on the link above where we show an array of the amazing and sometimes unbelievable robots, cyborgs and machines that we bring back to life through firmware updates, physical mechanical maintenance and repair, and a good old hot oil bath in 'Mom's Old Fashioned Robot Oil'. (Incredible stuff, it really is)
We also often go out into the deepest, darkest places of Celeste to recover stranded droids and 'borgs to, so if your Bot goes for a wander, just give us your homing code and we'll book in a time to retrieve your prized possessions!
′Mad‵ Dr. Buckley, the resident mechanic, is loved and trusted by certain cyborgs and renowned for his knack for bringing faulty machines back to life - which isn’t always the safest idea.
- Features
- Gives patients batteries instead of lollipops.
- Very popular for their pro bono cybernetic health care which is what originally drew Dr. Buckley’s now partner, a cyborg boxer named CH4RL13, to get his first check up.
- At approximately every ten to fifteen minutes, the Doctor exclaims 'Dagnabbit!' for various reasons.
Sub Types
- Shop
- Mechanic
- Unofficial Music Venue
A new Year in Celeste and beyond – by Dr. Buckley of Robot Clinic
It’s tradition for us every year, for the first week our doors and services at Robot Clinic close to allow us take some time to explore the city properly and get to know our fellow Celestians. I look forward so much to this as I get to experience all things weird and wonderful along the streets and stacks of the Genesis City and meet some amazing characters along the way. Here’s what happened this year…
Bombers of Celeste
Crawling back to Robot Clinic after a heavy night with CH4RL13 on NYE down at Boysnoize, I did the usual retina scan to enter my building and as I went to go inside, I spotted a tiny but immediately recognisable stencil logo of Graffiti Club: Monkey Business on the heavy metal doors. Their famed calling card.
Two nights later I’m traversing down the dimly lit steps to their place at the agreed time and something jumps on my back whilst covering my head with a cloth hood reeking of overpowering paint and chemicals. Panicked and confused, the hood is removed an I’m inside what I assume is the lobby of the Monk-3 lair. Faced with a posse of hooded, faceless street writers with hands covered in spray paint, I feel privileged to be here, if somewhat uneasy, no doubt just the way they like things.
The walls in this place are constantly changing and have a kind of vibrant translucent character to them. As you get closer, you move into a 360 immersive graffiti environment with colours I never knew existed, including the ‘Blackest of Black’ paint, infused with all the elements of Celeste to form portals which teleport you to all of their historic ‘Bomb site’ pieces around the City. This truly is a next-gen art gallery experience that if you are lucky enough to see, you’ll never forget. Their work now randomly appears in my dreams since my visit, which I’m eternally grateful for. Hopefully it’s a sign our Clinic gets ‘Bombed’ one day.
Speeder bike Consultation
I’ve been thinking for a while of getting another speeder bike, so I paid a visit down to Swallow’s End in Lower Depths to chat with the guys down a Cool Wheels and see what they had in stock and in the pipeline. After a quick consultation, they have persuaded me to part with my soft clay and order a custom street cruiser with Ape Bars, retractable low rider style rims and oversized sidecar with suicide doors! They are also throwing in a cloaking package that when parked up, makes the bike invisible, saving me money on soft clay parking fees (Well that’s how I’ve justified it to myself!)
Although their drinking vessels could to with a good scrub in the grimy workshop kitchen, the instant coffee here is surprisingly good, thanks guys. I can’t wait to pick up my Cool Wheels!
Croctails and Dreams
I spent an evening catching up with Silver Snake at Crocodilia on his awesome roof terrace, putting the universe to rights over a few Moondowner cocktails.
This guy knows how to hustle, he’s got his eyes on all kinds of new ventures, some of which are hair-brained schemes, others are genius if he can pull them off! We hit a few strikes on his prototype extending bowling alley which if you throw a gutterball, your bowling ball will end up deep in the Calypso seas. Luckily, he has an amphibious pet (no idea what the heck it is) who will quickly return said bowling ball in return for a bag of kale flakes. Good to see you, Snake, keep on that hustle, brother!
The final Moments on Earth - by Dr. Buckley
My only connection to the old world was this Digital Journal that belonged to my ancestor on Earth over 2000 years ago, I'm not sure his exact relation to me but the source code on the ancient USB drive included a match to my DNA when I had it tested by Gregory down at the Mendel. I have no idea how I came to own this relic, but here is his my ancestors story ...
It was a balmy August evening as I sat in Dumbo's long shadows of Brooklyn Bridge taking in the view and enjoying my favourite coffee. A Costa Rican heavy blend with deep woody notes and sweet, balanced undertones. Little did I know how unimportant this small, albeit expensive indulgence would be in the coming moments….
Something felt a little unsettling, hard to describe but if felt like the air pressure was quickly changing in some form. Then, the deep rumbling roar in the distance made me think we may be in for one of those summer flash storms so hurried my coffee, gulping down what I usually savor for as long as possible.
The rumble stayed constant, growing in volume, very different to the rolling thunder and booms that we hear every so often. Once more I became aware of the pressure on my eardrums, slowly increasing. I looked across the water to the base of the bridge and saw a large, solitary whitecap wave rolling towards the huge pillar as the bridge met the water.
I scanned the orange blue sky to see if I could see an A380 heading in to JFK from some faraway place, but nothing. Then I see something from the corner of my eye, a small dot in the distance with a weird colorful vapor trail behind it in the distance. It was getting closer, and the bass from its roar was now resonating in my chest and stomach. Wait. There's SIX of them!!
Suddenly the emergency warning sirens could be heard bouncing around the city buildings with a message over the loudspeakers located throughout the area.
'THIS IS AN EMERGENCY, GET INSIDE IMMEDIATELY AND TAKE COVER. MULTIPLE ASTEROIDS INCOMING, TAKE COVER, REPEAT TAKE COVER'
I looked around, confused, as was everyone I could see, just staring at the incoming fireballs.
What happened next will never be wiped from my memories.
With the nearest solid building too far for me to sprint to, I noticed just behind me a large broken manhole cover. This damn council need to fix this place up I remember thinking. Then I realized it could have been a blessing. Struggling to lift the plate cover it started to move and I lowered myself into the street drainage system that runs deep underground the city. Just before moving the plate back over the exposed entrance I took one last glance before the impact.
I wish I hadn't.
Screams echoed around among the wining sirens and PA System messages. People too scared to run just hugged each other as their final goodbyes. Old men just standing still, staring into the sky witnessing their final moments.
It's now or never I thought. Climbing down a rusty ladder, I reached the bottom and switched on my phone torch, desperately looking for the most solid structure I could find to brace for impact. The roar was deafening and it echoed in the storm drain tunnel, the increasing, colorful light intensified revealing the squalor I was hiding in.
I saw a small crevice just big enough for me to squeeze into and took a deep breath, gagging on the stench of the thick, putrid air. I had no thoughts of loved ones at this point, Does that make be a bad guy? I remember selfishly thinking... at least I had my favorite coffee just before this apocalypse!