Part I (such as it is):
http://www.citizensiegeforums.net/sh...ad.php?t=18111
Rather than pontificate at ALL I'm going to just dive right in.
I woke up to a crisp, early-morning light filtering through the junk around the foothills. I'd slept in a small domed bunker lying between the gatehouse and The Altar Boy's checkpoint, furnished with a scavenged but comfortable mattress and a jug of water. The paint inside was a bright boring green and nauseatingly refracted the sun around the small space. I looked around blearily for my pack, stepping down from the bunk and glugging thirstily from the jug of water. My stomach twitched hungrily and I opted to find my pack later. I opened the small wall hatch and was struck by a tsunami of fresh, encouraging breakfast odours. Taking one wild step forward, I plowed into my pack lying in the doorway and fell in the dirt.
"Ain't gonna find saunter that way." said Eddie, stepping out of a small cookhouse attached to the checkpoint, toting a chipped mug of coffee.
"Good way to find your shoes though, tripping." I replied, picking up the bag.
"Weld wanted to show us some stuff he's lending us for the trip to the Frigate." Eddie said, slurping his coffee. A surge of memory came back with this.
"Oooh." I said, rubbing my head. "Right. Feels like I slept for nineteen months."
"Well, get some food at the gittin' place." said Eddie, jerking his thumb towards the cookhouse. "It's true what they say; ChinAutoCo foodmotrons do make better coffee." He continued, taking another slurp.
I lugged the now-heavier pack over to the cookhouse and entered. It was made out of sheetmetal and had a towel for a door. An old extinguished neon sign sat bolted to the roof, reading 'FUDHAUS'. As Eddie said a large, boxy Foodmotron sat on the other side of the scavenged countertop, watching me idly with two square, yellow eyes. A faded ChinAutoCo logo ran along its larger right arm. There was no menu, there didn't need to be. Foodmotrons were typically programmed with advanced conversation ability and scanning equipment. They either told you what you wanted with their automated charm or tasted your sweat and checked the dryness of your eyeballs to calculate how you wanted your eggs. They were built with a series of spindly, constantly working manipulators on their left arm that did most of the cooking, their large squarish torso holding fryers or grills as necessary. The head was essentially a block with a black screen acting as a cash register and face.
I sat down on a stool and thought for a minute, looking at the piles of cooking machines lining the wall behind the Foodmotron.
"Yo, Mo." I said, as was the traditional greeting for Foodmotrons.
"Yo." It said, perking up.
"Give me a balanced breakfast with equalised portions of whatever you have most of."
It nodded and the spindly arms burst out of their sockets, working in a hypnotizing rhythm to assemble a plate of frites, half an apple, sliced banana and egg on toast. This took seconds. It plunked the dish in front of me with the smaller of its right arms and a 'STANDARD NO CHARGE RATE' blinked on the screen. The drawer of the register on its chest sprang out and it quickly smacked it back in place. I ate quietly, occasionally glancing at the Machine where it sat in the corner.
"Yo, Mo."
"Yo."
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"Best as I can answer, meat."
"How did a branded C-co Mo such as yourself end up down here? You've still got original programming."
Its yellow eyes strobed for a moment and it turned to face me.
"Well, I was here before the gate."
"Get out."
"Would if I could, meat." It chuckled.
"So...you came from the junk?"
The eyes strobed to show a bored expression.
"No. I was aboard the Frigate before it landed in the valley. I do not have much memory of what I did prior to or immediately after falling out of the crashing City Straddler."
I looked at the colourless black panel of its face, jaw agape.
It continued. "I was not destroyed, but I was not built for mobility. I remember being repaired by a Human with a companion, being activated and deactivated several hundred times in succession over the course of 22 hours, and finally reactivating with the building materials for this shack and the instructions for building such programmed into me. I built the shack and waited." It retracted its faceplate somewhat, looking away thoughtfully. Well, as thoughtfully as two yellow blots on black can look.
"That's incredible." Was all I could say.
"I have a recording of falling out of the ship." It replied, making an effort to shrug.
It was at this point that I realized that I was talking to a sentient machine, not just a preprogrammed foodservice robot.
"Sure. I've never seen a Straddler in motion." I replied dumbly.
Instantly, the face/screen flashed white. It showed a first-person perspective of the galley of the Frigate. There were a few people standing near the door, looking tense, as alarms blared. The view automatically turned towards a stack of plates facing a window, right as the plate was set down several screams could be heard and a large hunk of steel erupted through the wall and out of the hull, dragging several people and most of the innards of the galley with it. The arms of the robot sat idly as it scraped forward, there was a jerking motion as the power cabling for it snapped apart and Mo fell through the large gash as more shouts could be heard. The sound became the unmistakable ripping of freefall, as the view turned back towards the Frigate, already surging away. The Frigate was an incomprehensibly enormous green object, holding what looked like several buildings under it as it streaked away. Several more objects ripped out of the hull in a similar fashion before the view turned again, this time towards a rapidly growing wall of rock. The camera slammed into the wall and cracked harshly. There was a scraping noise as Mo fell to Earth, the view rolling occasionally. It came to settle facing the junk pit itself before blacking out. The dull yellow eyes returned.
I was shaken, not expecting quite the show I'd gotten. Mo looked at me.
"You want to know what the objects that came out were, don't you?" He said.
"I...yeah. What exactly happened?" I asked.
"Well, nobody knows
exactly what happened, but those objects were what act as bouyancy for Straddlers. They help to maintain stability when carrying city parts."
I nodded.
"Basically large inert weights. Whatever held them in place malfunctioned and they gained enough velocity to blow through their containment and out of the ship. It missed me by precisely fourty eight inches."
I nodded.
"And that's it, meat."
I nodded.
Suddenly, a gloved hand on my shoulder shook me to my senses. I turned to see Dr. Weld, standing patiently behind me.
"I always love hearing about that." he said to Mo.
I turned back to Mo, who took my plate and placed it in a vat of steamy looking water.
"We should mosey." Said Weld. "Things to do."
I nodded. And picked up my pack.
"Thanks for breakfast, Mo. It was just what I needed."
"See you, Meat."
Weld and I walked out of the shack. The sun was a bit higher and the air outside, though cooler than the cramped cookhouse, was clearly warming up. Weld led me over to the Gatehouse and walked us into another of the offices that we'd left Grace in. Eddie was sitting at the table, mug in hand.
Weld picked up a large, rolled up hunk of fabric and spread it over the table. I wasn't immediately sure what I was looking at, but Eddie's eyes immediately lit up.
"Gentlemen." Said Weld. "Choose your weapons."
Absolutely more to come.
This Story Has a Robot! Part II
