Rise of the Machines: Book 1: Once Awakened Page 3

  “Hm...” The power plant owner moved his hovercraft along the conveyor belt, slow, silent, and deliberate, while his guest patiently waited to the side. He moved past Cyrii, and she froze up when he looked at her; he continued on, however. She felt immense relief, still looking ahead while one paw reached for the hatch door, only for it to pull on the handle and have the door not open.

  Oh crap, she thought, oh crap oh crap oh crap-

  The owner stopped at the end, turned back, and drove right back on by. She timed it so he didn't notice her struggling, but her adrenaline was out of control, making her visibly shake. She fumbled with the handle once he had moved away again, panicking. Why won't it open?! These things don't have locks on them!

  Despite her effort, the door didn't budge; she was stuck inside the robotic arm! She looked up and noticed the gold mech watching her carefully, and she felt faint. She hastily composed herself and avoided eye contact, but she burned up guiltily under that LED gaze, foolishly hoping he wouldn't say anything.

  The owner continued his slow scan, and had counted its twelve workers twice before he stopped near Cyrii. She pressed her mouth into a thin line and stuffed her paws underneath her overcoat, trying to hide how scared she was.

  Oh no oh no oh no no more peat in the boiler I promise just PLEASE don't take me out with those mechs...! she chanted in her mind. He looked just off to her right.

  “Probably Alesia there,” he said it in a soft tone, and yet his voice echoed just as loudly. Cyrii's eyes widened, and she whipped around to her right.

  Alesia?!

  The mentioned piebald Xinschi-uual shriveled up on the spot, especially so when the guest had come over, his mechs following him, looking her up and down.

  “Alesia?” he asked, floating close to her. Now that he was close enough, Cyrii could make out definite streaks and chevrons on his uniform: military general! Now she was really freaked out, losing her composure, but no more so than Alesia.

  “P-Please sir. It's all in the past. I'm different now!” the poor worker was begging, “I-I won't do any of it ever again! I've renounced my ways! PLEASE SIR!” her voice rose shrilly.

  “SILENCE!” the general thundered.

  She swallowed her words. The mechs had their deadly green gazes trained on Alesia. Cyrii's breath caught in her throat, her eyes flicking between them to see what would happen, and many of her coworkers were slowly shuffling away in their seats. Alesia looked like she was about to either start crying, pass out, or both, scales flattened so far she looked as if she dropped twenty pounds.

  Contrary to what was expected, the general simply turned to the power plant owner, looking bored. “Who else?” he said, still calm. The owner looked over at Cyrii, and his gaze followed. She felt like screaming and running away. No no no no no no no-

  “Who's this?”

  “Cyrii, sir. A Code Orange, just like Alesia.”

  NO NO NO NO NO-!

  “Any other Oranges?”

  “No sir. Just Yellows and Greens.”

  “Yellows are too subdued. Not enough kick to them,” the general's voice lowered to a mutter. Cyrii was utterly shocked; Code Yellow was subdued? Code Blue was the best you had, if you weren't completely innocent! Who was? Code Purple was usually assigned to hatchlings who didn't even know about thievery; that was the only way to not have cameras on you!

  She tore her gaze away from the owner, daring to look at the general. He scrutinized her, but other than that it was hard to tell what he was thinking; his mouth was a hard, thin line, and his eyes gave nothing away. He finally pulled up his hovercraft and said cryptically to the owner:

  “I'll take them.”

  “Take us where?!” Cyrii burst out loudly. He shot a look at her over his shoulder that said nothing more than “shut up”. Cyrii wheezed, in an attempt to release all of the anxiety she had; it didn't help.

  Well, if this was an unannounced execution, at least she was able to see a mech before she died.

  The owner just nodded rapidly. “Yup! Okay! Sure! When can I expect that royalty check?”

  The general now turned his stern gaze to the owner.

  “A-Ah, okay, you don't have it yet! That's fine! I can wait...” he faltered, backing off on his hovercraft. The general turned back to the task at hand, taking his hovercraft between Cyrii's and Alesia's robotic arms and swiveling it around. He looked at both of them in turn.

  “Well? Hop on. It's a long flight.”

  ----------

  Alesia was shaking. Cyrii's jaw was dropped the entire time. She rarely saw the floor of the city, as it was an overgrown place usually reserved for unsavory types, but the mechs couldn't fly so they had to travel along the ground with them on either side.

  The experience was surreal! The hovercraft moved at a speed that was illegal, just to keep up with the hulking machines! Buildings whipped by and the mechs plowed through any plants that tried growing up through the hard earth, barely fazed by them. Each footfall thundered off the concrete bases of the buildings, giving the mechs a false sense of immense power.

  Cyrii loved it. Alesia couldn't help but think about what might happen if she fell off, as she clung to the hovercraft's safety rails for dear life. The general must have been used to this speed, as he was more stolid than the machines flanking him.

  Despite being a greater distance than from Cyrii's home to her work, the voyage seemed to last only a few minutes. The group had broken out of the city and into the badlands – a huge, rocky waste that was both semi-natural and a product of the war – and traveled just a bit further out before coming across a military complex. Unlike the city, the complex didn't feature tall buildings, or glass features, or really even hovercraft of any type; rather, it was all built low to the ground and sprawled out, and much of it was probably underground. The buildings were bland from the outside, though a few of the older structures did sport some graffiti.

  “Don't be fazed by the colorful letters,” the general said, noticing Cyrii looking at the graffiti. “We're not colorful here.”

  At the opportunity of discussion, Cyrii immediately launched a volley of questions: “Do you make mechs here? What AI? How many do you have? What models? All new or some refurbished? Are they personalized? Do you paint them? Can I see them before I die-?”

  The general suddenly barked out a laugh. “'Die', lassie? 'Die'?! You think we're going to kill you?”

  “Well...” Cyrii began uncertainly, “you arrested us without warrant or notice.”

  “'Arrested'? I didn't think I would meet anyone who took Gryn's word as a word of arrest.”

  Cyrii stared blankly, glancing at Alesia as the group slowed down upon entering complex property. “Why would Gryn want us?” she pressed.

  “It's not a question if Gryn wants you, lassie. It is if you want Gryn,” the General answered.

  “Huh?”

  “Patriotism!” he boomed, “fight for your planet, lassie! Gryn's the head of this whole thing; if you want to live, you ought to know how to use a gun!”

  Cyrii blubbered for a bit, completely taken aback. “Y-You mean!? We're going to fight? WE'RE DRAFTED?!”

  The general didn't answer, just huffing and facing back to the front.

  “YES!! Yes yes yes!” Cryii squealed and did a little happy dance around on the hovercraft, making it sway dangerously. “Aaaaaaah! It's a dream come true!” Alesia clutched the railing, looking a little queasy. Cyrii didn't notice though; she was too busy jumping around and laughing with the sheer excitement of a two-year-old in a candy store.

  All anxiety about being a potential convict had disappeared.

  RISE OF THE MACHINES

  Book 1: Once Awakened

  ----------

  Booting...

  Loading BFCS... 100%. Loading successful. Initializing.

  Loading AAI base drivers... 100%. Loading successful. Queuing.

  Loading AAI subneural drive layers... 100%. Loading successful. Queuing.

  Loading AA
I neural drive layers... 100% Loading successful. Queuing.

  Initializing queue... initialization successful.

  Loading mapped CaPL... 100%. Loading successful. Initializing.

  Preliminary loading finished. Loading consciousness interface....

  There was a pause. While the terminal scrolled across my vision, I felt something shift in my head... a presence. An authorized presence?... Yes. I immediately launched into the default tutorial mode, speaking privately to the presence using internal speakers:

  Hello. Welcome to the experience of piloting your first mech. I am-

  “Model 56, ID 767!” The voice that greeted me was unexpectedly happy. “Oh boy!! I've always wanted to interface with a mech! What do your internal processes look like? How do they function? Do you really think, or is it just a bunch of trinary?”

  I was so taken aback, I was shaken out of the tutorial. Um...

  “I'm Cyrii!” the voice continued. “Aaaaah! This is going to be so much FUN! Tell me, what are your statistics like? They wouldn't show us the actual numbers you know but I imagine they're pretty crazy! Heh, I received the weirdest looks when I picked you out because your power potential is through the roof but hey who cares?! We needed a damage-dealer so I picked it! And look you're huge! So what are the numbers? What are they what are they??”

  I still wasn't sure how to respond. My programming prevented me from treating this... Cyrii... from being anything but a superior, so I decided I might as well run a diagnostic check. To my surprise though, she beat me to it, pulling up a console on one of my internal monitors and typing rapidly.

  “Wait! Hold on, hold on, hold on, I got it! Just a second...” She smacked down my enter key with striking enthusiasm. “Ah hah! Oh my gosh... wow! Look at that! And that! And two hundred fifty thousand GT cubic power?!” she laughed giddily, “You're a tank!”

  Tank...? I asked innocently.

  “Look at these stats! You could tear down a building!” Cyrii sounded genuinely astonished. I couldn't help but be informative:

  I am a Model 56 mech, designed for the semi-front ranks with a depth of at least three rows. I -

  “What, no rounds?!” Cyrii cut me off. “Your guns are supposed to be loaded! I can't train if there's nothing in them!”

  We are not authorized to have live ammunition this early, I said in puzzlement, as determined by Rulebook #8 section 33-

  “It doesn't have to be live!” Cyrii objected. There was a pause, and I could feel vibrations in my head.

  You need to calm down, I told her.

  “No no no, see, you're a fighting machine,” she tried to explain, “and I'm supposed to learn how to shoot stuff with you, but I can't if your turrets are empty! You're supposed to have blanks in them.”

  Turrets... I repeated. My interest had piqued for a second, but was gone just after that. I didn't know what to make of that, so I decided to ignore it. We are still not authorized to obtain any ammunition.

  “I am authorized,” Cyrii asserted, “the General said that blank rounds would be available for training, first thing!”

  I have no blanks, I informed.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” her tone turned sour, “and we need to fix that!”

  There is nothing to fix, I argued.

  “What are you talking about?! Aren't you supposed to believe me?”

  I do, but we have no authorization to-

  “Forget authorization!” she snapped over me, “clearly your base programming wasn't unlocked all the way!” She huffed in exasperation. “Figures I'd get the defective one...”

  I'm sorry...? I said, my threads dissolving into shame. Was this superior presence not happy with me? What did I do?

  “Nothing,” Cyrii dismissed, “It doesn't matter. We can get past the firewall easily though.” She tried to brighten up her tone, telling me something was bothering her; I didn't know how I knew that, but I did.

  We can? I said hopefully, and then I will be up to standards?

  “Yeah, sure! We'll just go get you filled up!”

  My threads spiraled back into confusion. But we're not-

  “Yeah yeah, I know. It's just a bad firewall!”

  But I have no clearance to-!

  I was ignored. Cyrri grabbed a hold of my locomotive functions and forced me out of my hangar in the wall, but the robotic arms holding me in place strained and pulled back, trying to keep me tucked into the niche. Cyrii didn't anticipate the interruption, pushing harder on the controls to get me out. Being an inferior intelligence, I did not struggle against Cyrii's will. Instead I simply asked naively: Where are you taking me?

  “Cyrii! Stand down, Gryn forsake it!” a voice barked to my left. Cyrii's head jerked toward the noise, making me I swivel as best as I could with several arms still attached to me. We spotted both a Creator Entity on a hovercraft, as well as another mech model, swooping in from the left.

  Model 36...

  Facial recognition kicked in right away, and I obeyed, forcing myself to stand still despite Cyrii's vain attempt to keep me walking forward. She grunted and pushed on the controls hard, but I overrode her efforts.

  “Good, at least the mech has brains,” the Creator Entity muttered, scanning me up and down with his three eyes. “This is what I get for choosing Code Oranges.”

  I ignored him. My gaze was locked with the 36 model mech as it came to a stop beside him, with its distinct white hull having the slightest reflective tint. Despite the mech looking a little thin it was intimidating to see it so close, probably because of the long, hooked claws on either arm, four in front and two in back. Their tips and edges seemed to glow: a sign of micro-edging. Those things could cut right through me.

  The mech stared me down. I wanted to shrink back in submission, but I could only lock up or obey Cyrii. Thankfully though, his posture was nonthreatening. He turned just slightly, his hull catching the artificial light, and I glimpsed four long wings collapsed on his back.

  “I told you we shouldn't have given her a Pusher Model. Scout, at best,” he spoke through his speaker.

  “Bah... Gryn's orders,” the Creator Entity scowled. “Cyrii, pay attention!”

  My new, separate consciousness finally obeyed, and stopped pushing the controls so hard.

  “Listen, you scalestout, you signed a contract subjecting you to military law! I have the power to take this away from you. Now get back into your hangar!”

  “But 767 is missing blanks-” she tried to explain through my speaker.

  “Doesn't matter! Your job is to follow orders, not dink around doing whatever you want!”

  Cyrii grumbled, but nothing came through my speaker since she didn't touch the comm button. Instead, she pulled on the controls – equally as unforgiving as before – and forced me to walk backwards, back into the niche where the robotic arms were less strained; I fit it nicely with a clunk. The 36 model mech walked in front of me along the catwalk, giving me a quick scan. I stood stock still as the yellow grid projection fell over me.

  “Mech is fine?” the Creator Entity asked.

  “Fine as ever,” the 36 answered, taking several steps back. The creature looked me up and down before rolling his eyes.

  “I swear, I'm going to have to babysit you... and that plant owner said Alesia was the bad one!”

  Alesia? Who is that? I wondered.

  “Whatever.” Cyrii muttered, pressing on the comm button. As a result, my own voice came through: “Whatever”, in a tone mimicking her's.

  The Creator Entity was exasperated. “Back to your post,” he said to the 36 mech. The mech looked between the two of us for a second, before retreating back along the catwalk, passing rows and rows of other mechs. The Creator Entity turned back to me.

  “Cyrii, you're under oath AND contract. Don't blow this, or you're hurting yourself. THIS close to a Code Red,” he hissed his warning, before turning and flying off on the hovercraft. I watched him leave before relaxing in my hangar as she let go of the controls.


  You are a Code Orange, THIS close to a Code Red, I echoed the Creator Entity, storing the information on my hard drive.

  “Oh please!” she spat, “What do you care?”

  I technically didn't; it was just protocol to absorb as much relevant information as possible. Cyrii simply huffed in annoyance. “The guy who recruited me was better than that oaf,” she muttered. My internal mic picked up a rough shifting sound; presumably she was shaking her head to clear it. “Fine, guess I won't have blanks. Not my fault if I can't train because of it.”

  You sound agitated, I observed.

  “Thanks, Zepholus,” she said sarcastically. “Hmph... so they won't let us have fun, we're just supposed to 'get used to each other'... What else can we do?... What about your personality?” Cyrii mused.

  Personality?

  “Yeah! I mean, I'm going to be sitting here the whole time anyway,” she said, “I might as well learn how you think. So what do you like?”

  What do I like?

  “Yeah.”

  I searched my hard drive for anything matching the terms “like”. There was nothing beyond the normal code jargon.

  I like nothing, I answered. Cyrii scoffed.

  “Come on, you have to like something! You're not a shelter bot.”

  In my rudimentary knowledge database, I found a data file on a “shelter bot”. I was confused by her tone. Shelter bots serve a noble purpose. They bring optimism into the lives of those who don't often have it.

  “Bah! That's exactly what the shelter bot said,” she said.

  It is not wrong.

  “Okay, fine, what about dislikes? There has to be something you dislike, right? Something you wouldn't want to be involved in or responsible for?”

  I repeated my internal search for anything matching hate. My results weren't very positive... I hate nothing, I answered. Anticipating the same response though, I added: I do have fears though.

  “Okay, now we're getting somewhere!” Cyrii brightened her tone a bit. “So what freaks you out the most?”