Rise of the Machines: Book 1: Once Awakened

by Briana Ervin

  Cyrii!! I had shouted, but I was unable to correct the calculations to stop the swing.

  “She had it coming!” my operator roared. There was a clamor as some of the mechs kept their distance and others stopped to watch. Before I had processed the injury I had caused the Fighter model Cyrii was already threatening her through my speaker, saying something about quarters abuse and theft...?!

  “It's called borrowing, you bloated scum!” the Fighter had countered.

  “I never lent you anything!”

  “Liar!”

  “Kyl-brain!”

  “Glistenfilth!”

  “Fletchscale!”

  I suddenly felt a sharp stinging sensation shoot through either side of my head that made me mentally cry out, and my movements lurched. Agh!!

  “Ack!” Cyrii cried out with me, her grasp on my controls slipping. There was a sharp, brief feedback as the Fighter model was cut off mid-insult, a navy mech wrenching her back. Cyrii tried to get in another swipe before we were separated which only made the stinging in my head grow worse.

  Cyrii, stop! I pleaded, Stop making me fight!

  “Stop making you fight?!” she echoed incredulously, “What-?! What kind of mech are you?!”

  I just don't want to be in trouble!

  She stopped fighting against me and whatever was holding me in place. I could hear the navy mech – the General – reprimanding us, but he was a distant voice as I felt Cyrii's grip on my controls growing tighter. I could tell she was mad at me, but I didn't know what else to say.

  “But... you're a combat mech. You're supposed to like fighting!” Her confidence sounded broken. “I was told you liked fighting!”

  I don't even know why you fight with our comrades, I said honestly.

  “Comrades-! I don't know these people! I don't even like half of them!” she shouted. “Princess Prettypie over there hates me for no reason! She even dropped one in my bed!”

  Dropped one-?

  “WASTE!” Cyrii screeched, “I just want to punch her lights out! We're in battle training! Why can't I just beat her up?! You're the bigger mech! It's not like it's going to be hard!”

  I could barely comprehend what she was so upset about. I couldn't hear the General over her ranting, which made me worried about what he wanted me to do. He was talking directly to me; the Fighter model he restrained already received her literal slap on the wrist and was shoved off to do extra training. I didn't know if the same was going to happen to me, which made me utterly useless as the informative one in our pair. Worse, by the time I decided to ignore Cyrii and try to parse the General's words, he had already shouted “is that clear”, and of course I had no answer.

  Cyrii, I tried to interrupt her, CYRII!!

  “What?!”

  The General demands our attention!

  “What did he say?”

  I don't know!

  She sputtered for a moment. “That's your job!”

  I don't know! I repeated helplessly.

  “767! I can't say I didn't hear him!”

  “CYRII!” We both jumped as the General's voice came through clearly, me figuratively so. I had nothing constructive to advise, so Cyrii just assumed the usual “Yes sir!” and saluted him.

  He gave us a long stare. Our other comrades were silent. I considered for a moment what the probability was that we needed to say “no”, and regretted that I didn't pay more attention instead of just feeling confused and guilty about my operator.

  No one said anything for several more seconds. I could feel how uncertain Cyrii was about holding the salute. Then, the General finally gave us a slow nod, directed at the obstacle course to the right, and I felt the stinging points release me. I relaxed, and Cyrii breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Get to it,” he ordered, and Cyrii quickly pushed me away from the scene. She returned me to where we were – the balance saws – and stepped me up on the first beam. I was glad to go back to calculating our balance.

  So... we will be training more? I asked cautiously. Cyrii sniffed, displeased.

  “I guess,” she said.

  That's nice, isn't it? It could have been worse.

  She didn't answer, possibly too focused on moving me across the beam than anything else. I fell into a glum silence, feeling she was still upset with me. That wasn't good... how could we work as a team if she didn't want to cooperate? She already didn't care, and no one else could convince her except her superiors, which would be sufficient if I didn't have this nagging protocol to be close to my pilot. It was bad for efficiency for us to be disjointed: one argument or hiccup like when I said I didn't want to fight could kill us, and I couldn't let Cyrii die! This must be my fault... what am I not understanding about her? Why does she want so badly to attack her comrades? I'm supposed to be like her; this should be comprehensible to me.

  Of course... maybe that was part of the problem? She becomes more upset the more I ask questions, like she expects me to just know why she does what she does. Maybe I need to question her less?

  Cyrii pushed me through the rest of the course, then awkwardly went back to the beginning. Our Assassin model was on his final run and passed us, so she dared to whisper to him asking what punishment we had actually agreed to. He just laughed, asked if we were even paying attention, then said something about “cleaning the mess hall”. I didn't know what a mess hall was, but it sounded messy, and Cyrii's long groan didn't make it sound any better.

  The General was the one to lead us back to the barracks. It was surprisingly quiet during the afternoon, as most of the soldiers were either on watch or out training, their hangars' lights glowing yellow. My pilot walked me up the steps leading to Row 4, and the General flared his mech's wings and fired the thrusters, propelling him over the catwalk railing and turning so he faced my hangar. He was looking at the railing, as if... oh! There was a kind of boxy device bolted onto it. A control panel?

  I didn't have much time to observe it, as my eye's movement was mapped to Cyriis' and she looked away, grudgingly pulling me back into the hangar. I felt sad and a bit weird that she was leaving early, but I suppose that's what happens when you dent a comrade's mech. The General did something with the control panel, of which I couldn't see much of despite how big I was, and I felt the robotic arms grab onto me.

  This is bizarre, I commented when Cyrii let go of the controls. She didn't answer at first, noting that a number of wires and a nozzle for fuel had attached themselves to me.

  “It feels weird?” she asked numbly.

  Not that, I said, we're usually out a lot later than this.

  “Yeah? Well, this is going to happen more often,” she said, undoing the straps keeping her in the pilot seat. I figuratively frowned.

  What do you mean by that?

  “It means that, unlike the rest of these kyl, I actually pick fights when I don't like something.”

  Meaning?

  There was a brief pause. “You saw what happened,” she said, “I'm not a Code Orange for nothing.”

  Again, I was thrown back into the confusion of trusting my pilot's logic to obeying my superiors' logic. I finally asked her, Why do you pick fights if they only get you into trouble?

  “Because I don't like those things.”

  Why does that matter?

  There was another pause, and I realized I was asking more questions instead of less like I planned, so I added uncertainly, I'm just curious, is all.

  “'Curious'?” Cyrii muttered under her breath, “More like 'slavish'...”

  I'm sorry-?

  “I have cleaning to do,” she said louder and more briskly, and I felt her presence leave my head. I felt as though my weight had increased, like some of my fuel had calcified into stone.

  Okay... I said quietly.

  I didn't see her leaving the catwalk, but I did see the General eventually leave. He had left me powered on so I could work on my report, no doubt, and I knew it would take me only a couple of minutes to recount everything verbatim
; yet, I kept hesitating after each line, wanting to shed better light on Cyrii. There was no way I could though, not without lying, and I wasn't doing that again.

  Question less. Make Cyrii happy, I instructed myself as I compiled, Obey your superiors and keep Cyrii happy. That is the protocol for efficiency. Efficiency is important. Efficiency keeps people alive. Obey your superiors... keep Cyrii happy...

  ----------

  The General had flown back to collect my report before shutting me down for the day. I didn't see Cyrii again until many hours later, by the morning of the next day, and she was quick to jump aboard. I was happy about her haste, interpreting it as enthusiasm.

  Hi! I said, remembering how much she disliked “welcome back”. She growled, but I could tell it wasn't directed at me. What is it?

  “'Unsatisfactory reports'! That's the load I woke up with today!” she complained.

  'Unsatisfactory'? I echoed, Did I write something bad?

  “That's the worst part of it!” she blurted out, “It's not that the reports were bad, it's that our behavior was bad! They didn't like how we behaved!”

  Who's 'they'?

  “I don't know! Some squeaky group of Code Greens at the top of this thing,” she huffed, “I guess they don't want a tough military, they just want a bunch of subservient wusses!”

  That must be it, I agreed rather ironically, instead of asking how fighting with your comrades made you tough.

  “Yeah, so now it's going to take longer for us to unlock our weapons and actually learn how to fight. Because, you know, it's important that we know how to balance on a stupid beam or jump over rocks.”

  Indeed... how long is the extension?

  “A day.”

  That's not that long, I wanted to say, but instead I kept quiet, simply listening to her rant on about the missed opportunity of sharpshooting and combat tactics all because of “a little skirmish”, and how our Row was expected to do yesterday's exercise again. I believed it was more than the behavior our superiors didn't like, because I knew who exactly had a bad track record of writing reports, but I couldn't tell Cyrii that, even though it wasn't just us who were penalized, our entire Row was too.

  Knowing that spun my sense of logic even further: yes, Cyrii was being insubordinate, and if it kept going it would end badly for both of us, but why would the Empire punish my comrades too? The pink Fighter and Cyrii were the only guilty ones, and I was inevitably involved. Why our Assassin, and Snipers, and Support and Tank models? Why also the Fighter's sister model, the rose one? It didn't make sense...

  The General appeared before us, the 20 model instructor following dutifully behind him as usual. Our corrections officer floated down from above using his thrusters, and landed with a thud, shutting them off. The mech looked distant, but he also never said anything anyway, so I was quick to dismiss it; who knew what was going on in Superiority models' heads?

  “So,” the General began, frustration lacing his tone, “we were going to jump straight into tactical combat exercises, but due to an incident yesterday, we will be doing more mobility exercises until reports come back up to standards.” There were some groans at the news, and he struck his arms together with a resounding clang that jarred us. “I don't want to hear it! The Empire doesn't reward bad behavior! This isn't a school test! You earn your way through the training.”

  The groans were replaced by quieter mumbles, and I recalled the near-catastrophy yesterday, all thanks to a snarky comment about competence mixed with Cyrii's temper. It was no doubt the only reason we were set back a day; the others were actually careful with what they did, especially whenever they see the corrections officer. They were even cautious about what they said.

  I suddenly noticed something odd: they had to be careful with talking. There were groans. The mechs don't groan or talk, the pilots do. Did they press their comm buttons just to groan? Cyrii had huffed quietly, but I didn't huff at the same time.

  Why did they groan? I asked Cyrii out of curiosity. She was distracted from the General and took a moment to respond.

  “Isn't it obvious?” she said.

  I know they're unhappy about the extension too, but why did they use their comms?

  “Oh, that? Their comms are always active.”

  Why's that? Ours isn't.

  “It helps with keeping order, somehow. Once we're trained privates the comms will turn to a manual toggle. Mine... I requested for it to be a toggle.”

  They complied? I said in astonishment.

  “I don't know why, but they complied on a lot of things with you. I thought it was normal until Alesia... that's our Support model... she got her mech.”

  My threads were alive with curiosity. I completely forgot about my decision to not question, wondering if what Cyrii said was true. If it was, that meant the Empiric officials cooperated with her, but why would they do that when she's a lowly Code Orange, and not even a slavish one, at that?

  I missed the opportunity to inquire further when my Row and I were released from our hangars. We lined up as before and went to the training ground. It was a dreary day, with thick, puffy clouds blocking out the yellow-grey sky, and we scattered a few tiny reptilians that had come out for the rare chance of rain. Cyrii was so quiet that I told her about the reptiles, using the smalltalk skill she taught me, but she just grunted something about how kyl were always stupid enough to be underfoot. I suppose that's where the phrase “kyl-brained” came from.

  As we arrived to the same obstacle course as before and we ran its whole length again, I kept noticing Cyrii's focus slipping, and no amount of reminders from me could stave off her boredom; as soon as she rushed me through the course repeatedly up to the General's satisfaction, she left me to idle on the sidelines and buried herself in her code again. I was exasperated, but could do nothing about it, deciding to make the most of it by sneaking peeks at her writing and only politely asking her to act when it was needed. The peeks didn't tell me much... the language was almost garbled, to me.

  Things went smoothly for the rest of the day, with the only hiccup being the pink Fighter complaining about having to stand next to me as per Row order; the General wouldn't put up with any further pettiness though and made her deal with it. It was disconcerting that I couldn't talk for myself and apologize for Cyrii's rowdy behavior, and that I could only ask her to do things, but I had to put up with that just the same.

  Once the quota of exercises had been finished and we were all lined up, we marched back into the complex, just in time for the largest sun Cryion to set. I didn't know how Cyrii controlled me, but somehow she kept working on her code even while making me walk. It was odd, how engrossed she was by it...

  I finally decided to ask her. Cyrii?

  It took her a second to pause her train of thought. “Yeah?”

  Why do you code so much?

  “...Haven't I told you that already? It's a hobby,” she said flatly.

  You don't make it seem like a hobby, I said, Jobs take precedence over hobbies, but you hardly pay attention to the General.

  “If I did, wouldn't that nullify your purpose?”

  I was surprised by the answer. Well... I said hesitantly, but we're supposed to work together.

  “It seems to be going great.” Her tone remained flat. I wasn't impressed by how flippant she was; I felt like she was avoiding something.

  Why do you code when you're supposed to be training? If the General knew about it you would be fired.

  “Oh well.”

  That's not an 'oh well'! I snapped, If you're kicked out I go through redemption! I don't want that!

  “So?!” she burst out in turn, “It's not like this is my dream job!”

  That's a lie.

  “How would you know?”

  You were excited to meet me. I don't know what has happened to you since.

  I was answered by bitter silence, punctuated only by the persistent clicks of holographic keys. Why are you so depressed, all of a sudden?

&n
bsp; “You can blame the Empire,” she grumbled.

  The Empire?

  “No one is allowed to talk about it.”

  I was growing frustrated with her ambiguous answers. The Empire is what we served to protect, and it's a very strict system. It was already a bit odd that my operator, among others, were Code Oranges and were expected to work in the military, but if Cyrii really didn't like the job then why was she even here? Why would the Empire hire someone critical of it to protect it?

  The more I thought about it, the more metaphorical walls my threads slammed into and told me to just accept what I was witnessing. I was just a mech. Just an AI told to do things, built to obey. What did it matter to me... right?

  I don't understand... I said helplessly.

  “Yup. Welcome to my world,” Cyrii snorted. “No questions, no problems.”

  But I ask questions all the time! I blurted out.

  “Good. Keep doing it.”

  I.... huh?

  “What good does it do us to obey a failing system?” she pointed out, “Also, leave it out of the report that I said that.”

  I only became more perplexed by what she was telling me. Leave it out? But...? We're not supposed to leave things out? But if it's broken...? But we're not supposed to leave things out?

  I suddenly felt her paw on my control panel, silencing me. “Don't think about it too much,” she warned, “I don't want you locking up in a logic loop. All you really need to know is... things were good... then some other things happened. And we're not allowed to talk about the 'other things' because we work for the Empire. So unless you want to redact a whole hour and end up questioned regardless, let's just leave it at that, okay?”

  My confused threads twisted themselves up in dismay, and my steady walk hitched for a second when they did. But.... but... questions? I don't... I don't know what's going on anymore.

  My pilot just sighed, going back to coding. “The whole thing is more complex than your AI,” she mumbled.

  I was so befuddled that I couldn't even decide if I was offended by that or not. To question, or not to question... maybe my decision to question less was a good thing, because then I don't have to think about it. All I do is obey and bond with Cyrii. Keep her safe, keep her happy... but what in the world just happened?