Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the "Steam Machine" AU is mine.

Author's Notes: When prompted to work in an AU, I decided to write a little oneshot set in the universe of my "Steam Machine" fanfiction/AU. (Please give it a read if you haven't!) I thought this would be cute. Enjoy!

67. Inventions
Steampunk AU

Being a Fenton, Danny had gotten used to new gadgets being left around the house. They were in the lab and in the kitchen and in the parlor, and on tables and on countertops and on the floor. Most of the ones left around were left in various states of being unfinished, parts and tools scattered around them, and with the intention of being worked on later. Some of the "unfinished" projects were mostly finished, however; Maddie and Jack just had to fix any glitches before proclaiming it done and dubbing it with an appropriate title (no doubt with the word "Fenton" in it).

Danny came across one of those nearly-finished — but still unfinished — inventions as he returned home one day. It was sitting on table in the parlor, and Danny thought that it was one of the stranger-looking things his parents had invented. It looked like some sort of hybrid between a phonograph and a typewriter. It was clearly meant to write something, but the keys were protected under a glass cover, which was on a hinge and had to be lifted for the keys to be accessible — presumably for repairs only. Danny was at a loss as to what the horn-like speaker was for.

Curious, he approached it and carefully inspected it, not wanting to break anything, including himself. After all, it was sometimes difficult to discern what was a scientific instrument and what was an anti-ghost weapon, though this thing seemed to be pretty harmless. Danny ran a finger along the top of the typewriter, along the flat surface's edge, and muttered, "Weird…"

Almost immediately, the device whirred to life and Danny, startled, retracted his hand. He watched as the keys began to move and type on the loaded sheet of paper. With a soft ding, the its task was done, and on the paper, it read:

Weird. Fear me.

Danny frowned and said, "'Fear me?' But why does it say… Augh!" The boy crossed his arms and pouted as glared at the machine, which had begun to type again as he was talking. When it was finished, there was a word-for-word transcript of what he'd said, with another added "fear me."

To make matters worse, his mother came into the room. "Danny, I didn't even hear you come in. Did you have a good day at school?"

Danny turned his attention away from the machine and to his mother. "Yes."

Yes. Fear me.

"Good… Oh, it looks like this is acting up again," Maddie said as she went over to the device. "It really needs to be fixed."

"Fixed?"

Fixed? Fear me.

"It's not working right. See? It's writing everything you're saying, which is very strange. It really shouldn't do that. It's meant to interpret ghostly vocalizations and write what the ghost is saying. It's a bit like automatic writing, but without the influence and human error of a medium." Maddie paused for a moment. "Say something else."

"U-um…" Danny tried to think of what to say, but he was getting nervous. He swallowed hard, wondering if his mother was starting to get suspicious of him, and he found himself desperately trying to come up with contingency plans, in case he had to make a run for it. He took a deep breath and said, "Boo?"

I am a ghost. Fear me.

"Hm… The basic mechanics of it are working, but it shouldn't translate human speech, let alone just yours. Of course, it's nowhere near done and, with such a delicate piece of technology, it won't be perfectly functioning at first. A few adjustments will have to be made before it can work correctly." Maddie fussed over the machine, musing over what needed to be fixed and what may have gone wrong with it. She didn't seem very suspicious of Danny at all — just concerned that the invention wasn't working — but he felt that he should leave the room while she was distracted.

"That's, um, really great, mom," Danny said, edging toward the stairs. "I'll be in my room." With that, he quickly went upstairs, internally screaming as he heard the sound of typing. Under his breath, he swore, "God damn it!"

That's, um, really great, mom. I'll be in my room. God damn it! Fear me.

Within the minute, Danny heard the voice of his mother shouting from downstairs, using his full name and telling him to get down the stairs that instant, or so help her —and that minute became the very minute he decided how much he hated that machine.