Man in the Machine

By Jacy Welch  09/14/00

I don’t understand it. I don’t really even know how to explain it.  Everything started when I took a head injury in the training simulation. The wound was jarring to the circuitry in my head.  I almost experienced temporary shutdown.  The other test bot failed in the end, I finished him off with quick blast from the pulse rifle.  The creators never could figure out how I had made it this far, being the prototype artificial intelligence.  I think maybe it is just because I have been around longer, had more time to learn things.  Mother creator used to spend extra time on me, I remember those times fondly.  I digress let me continue. 

The wound seems to have messed me up badly, all my diagnostics show that all is well.  All systems function, as they should. I have this nagging “feeling” I guess that is the word I am looking for.  The night of the injury I activated without being prompted, my vision seemed to be malfunctioning, and I say this because when I looked at my hand it was not normal. The metal plates and machinery were gone; it appeared human, not robotic.  My logic circuits could make no sense of it.  The problem seemed to fix itself almost instantly.  I thought nothing of it so I de-activated and returned to my recharge.

The next day I was activated early, unusual except on test days.  This day seemed more hectic.  The mother creator showed much concern on her face.  What is going on I asked the father creator.  He did not answer me, only looked as if angry.  What have I done I pleaded.  What is wrong?  No one would answer, not even the mother I remember so fondly.  As they took me out of my room, I heard a guard say that I was going to be disassembled.  I had a strange surge of energy, something that made me want to shake.  I don’t think I have emotion, but could that have been fear. 

“Mother I don’t want to be disassembled”, I said.

She just looked at me strangely and began to cry.  The energy grew stronger, suddenly I found myself running away from the creators.  They shouted the deactivate command, and I began to power down.  For what seemed like an eternity I was powerless to move. All these strange sights began to enter my still functioning vision.  I could see my legs and arms change to a humans, not those of a prototype war machine.  Somewhere in the distance I thought I heard someone calling me Sergeant.  I asked myself why they called me sergeant?  I never had the chance to do human things like join the military.  I heard gunfire, and choppers.  My diagnostics said I was in shutdown yet I could still see and hear. 

Without warning the vision disappeared, I was still running.  My optical statistics flashed the word malfunction, in bold red letters at the edge of my sight.  The shutdown command still rang in my auditory sensors, but I kept going.  That was supposed to be impossible. What was going on?  What was happening to me? 

A guard tried to stand in my way; the “fear” was truly overriding all things. I ripped him in half at the waist.  His blood splattered everywhere, as I discarded his upper body.  The whole time I never stopped.  That was against my programming, how had I done that.  It didn’t matter, I guess, I just didn’t want to be shut off.  As I ran I saw a window that was sealed with bars, this fear seemed to give me a new strength.  I ran through the window, bars and all. 

I heard sirens go off as I hit the ground; the impact jarred my frame a little.  Nothing major, I just knew I had to run.  I headed for the forest thinking I could hide there.  I moved as fast as the steel legs would allow, at about 85 miles per hour.  I struggled to control the energy that seemed to surge through my body, where had it come from anyways.  It seemed I had to answer that before grasping what was going on.  I just didn’t understand.

$$

I have been running for two days now.  My batteries are getting low, and my parts are damaged.  I am functioning at 75 percent of maximum.  The waking dreams have been coming more frequently; they have started to guide me.  I don’t understand what is going on, I am just following the visions. I ran across some hunters who were searching for me, I had to kill them.  The fear is still with me.  I do not understand where it came from; I just don’t comprehend what it is.  I head north because the dreams tell me to go that way.  I know I am approaching the destination, wherever that may be.  I don’t know how or why, I just know.  What is that ahead of me, a fence I think?  The bullet I took to my left optical sensor makes it hard to tell.  I’ll go through it as I have everything else.  Almost there, it is a fence.  I am experiencing a new “feeling”. Why am I stopping?

I see gravestones, there, and there, everywhere.  I seek one of these, rings in the back of my head.  A ghost that is not there, I think this is what it feels like to be frantic.  This way the ghost rings, and my body follows without my command.  I walk quickly, looking at each stone.  Reading the names in seconds, I move to the next.  “Sergeant,” come home, the ghost in my circuitry beckons.   My wandering body stops in front of a stone marked “Sergeant Mike Johansson”, and falls to the ground.  My damaged arms began to dig through the earth that is as cold as I am. 

“Come home”, the ghost says again.

I dig faster, without my command, just that of the ghost.  I am frantic now I think.  Why am I here?

“Come now, faster”, again the call more frantic.

I obey.  I can hear the sound of the hunter’s choppers coming from behind me.  They are still distant I have time. What is in here that I must find? What am I looking for?

“Faster, dig faster,” The ghost screams at me.

I dig as fast as I can move my damaged parts.  I can hear the strain in my shoulder as the motors begin to wear out.  The choppers get closer, and closer, but the fear is gone now.  I realize that my answer lies here, I dig more hastily.

Suddenly I hear my hands thud against the steel of a casket.  I can hear the footsteps of the hunters now; I see their lasers targeting me. I must know what is here.  With all my strength I rip, the cover off.  What an odd rending noise.  Inside I see a corpse, the skull is cut clean across the forehead. I hear bullets fired, my statistics register damage almost immediately.  What am I looking for, why here? 

“Look at the hand,” the ghost screams inside my school as I watch my stats fall to 50 percent of maximum.  I slump to the ground from the sudden damage, internal repairs and redirects begin.

I reach for the corpses hand, as I pull it within range of my optics I hear more bullets pelt my frame.  The stats read 20 percent now.   As I see the corpses hand I have the dream again, his hand and mine appear the same.  Suddenly the vision fades as more bullets pelt me.  I realize why I am here.  The sergeant has come home to rest in peace.