This story has a robot!

[Mac Sirloin]

We had this Artificial Organism working with us in developing the brain, he looked normal enough-a purple shirt, black pants, two Prehensile orb-jointed tentaclamps for interaction and a head that was human but off with some ocular and auditory circuits jutting here and there.

We called him Saunter.

He was really quiet, not purposefully--he was a low grade lab assistant model, but because his charging station was state of the art. Any grease or dust that he gathered was removed every time he took a standby period. It was like a big white clean pod and he looked so damn out of place in it. Clunky and with this distant look on his face.
The guy in charge of cleaning the cleaner was this fat college kid we'd recruited. He was dumb as a rock and we figured that he couldn't do any harm scrubbing away his hours. The problem was that his clearance had been 5-A, more or less allowing him to go wherever the hell he wanted. So when Saunter, Grace and I were trying to put together this Superbrain, he was peeking at gene experiments and opening the sealed containers for snacks. It was near quitting time when he found the harpoons.


See, the hallways of the complex are lined with Servers and Software managers to cope with the necessary computing power, and because a simple manual shutdown system was too risky an electronic harpoon cannon had been developed. It was simple enough--fire it into any of the bigger Servers and it would trigger a shutdown through a surge protector system, only leaving basic lighting, door control and Bot-charge systems active. We never had to use it because the whole place was just that efficient and the containing units typically sat unused except for bi monthly cleanup.

So on that particular Friday afternoon the kid decided to take out the unwieldy multibarreled anti automaton weapon and bring it into the single most important computing center in the whole damn complex.
Saunter was aware of him before he announced himself, he turned from his work looking calm, and immediately switched into his caution mode. A low buzzing would be heard in our headsets, and his headgear whirred. Grace and I turned, irritated at the tone to see the kid brandishing the harpoons with a stupid-self satisfied grin on his face. Saunter wasted no time moving toward him to take it, it was in his programming, when the kid speedily walked around him and presented his prize to us.
"Wuzzis do?" He said.
Saunter replied: "It is a HIGH YIELD anti electronics Government weapon construct. It is for extreme emergency purposes only."
"Yeaa...but whatzit doo?" the kid droned.
""It is a HIGH YIELD anti electronics Government weapon construct. It is for extreme emergency purposes only." Said Saunter, bless him.
"Howzit werk?"
"It is a HIGH YIELD anti electronics Government weapon-"The kid turned away from Saunter and started moaning at us.
"D'you need me t'use it guys?" He grinned.
Saunter dashed forward and tried to take it from him, and then everything went to hell.

The kid threw him off, looking bewildered. The security system detected the violent movement and a small platoon of security was already thumping down the hall.
"Return the construct." Saunter ordered over the klaxxon.
"Hey! No!" the kid gripped the weapon like a mother with her baby, I stepped forward to take it, only to be met with a blunt part of the weapon hitting me upside the head, I fell down-seeing the kid moving backwards as security pooled into the room.
Shouts were exchanged, the kid was frightened and threatened, and before I realized it he had fired the goddamn thing into a pool of people.
Saunter was attempting to communicate with them as three charged bolts thumped into his torso. The machinery on his head smoked as shots were fired at the kid. He fumbled it as his upper arm was hit and his shoulder blossomed with red. Grace was off to the side in shock or something when the screaming started.

At first I thought it was Grace or the kid, maybe one of the Guards, but as I turned my head I already knew it was Saunter.
He was in apparent agony. The Control centers for his body sputtered as the plastic on his face smoldered. The sound came from a speaker on the side of his head, an emergency tone. It sounded like an impaled infant. Apparently the shock had activated every single Danger part of his body; it was like being pressed with a cattle brand on all of your joints at once. Some idiot fired at him, attempting to shut him up. His face ignited and pools of plastic began visibly bubbling and blackening. He jolted, completely blind, around the room. The Harpoons delivered another shock; apparently to make sure he shut down. He didn't. The vocalizers in his throat picked up and his lower jaw hung down tearing half of his face off. He stepped forward, and saw the kid. The malice that his twitching, smoldering body held for that poor bastard was so strong you could see it. He stepped towards the kid, pulled the harpoon gun out of his hands. The kid was transfixed, Saunter turned the barrel on him, and unloaded Five of the goddamn spikes across his body. The way his steel arms were twitching, it seemed like he might have accidentally pulled the trigger, and as they jumped with each bolt-smattering the things across the kids arms, legs and torso, you could believe it.

Until he hit the charge.

The kid was dead instantly, but he burnt and his limbs flew and his skin charred. The security unloaded everything they had into Saunter, tearing apart the faceplate on his chest. He limply stood before a final bullet sent him crashing through the window into the fog below.

-End chapter or whatever. My back hurts.

[MA]

like i said before. good.

i didnt want Saunter to 'die'.

[OddjobAbe]

I never read things like this posted on the internet, but I am actually looking forward to seeing where this goes. Not a bad job at all, keep it going.

[Mac Sirloin]

A week later, the company commissioned us to look for Saunter. It wasn't personal-most people would want to keep their distance from Homocidal Robots, but we could lose our jobs if we didn't look. There was one issue with looking for him, though; he'd fallen out of a window fifteen stories up, down into the trash abyss, an enormous chasm filled with slowly rotting machine carcasses that had acid pumped in to wash them away. The process could take years and was responsible for several human deaths. Saunter had fallen from such a distance that he could be anywhere or everywhere if he had hit an acid pool.
Grace, one of the Sec-Troopers and I all packed into a small scout airship and started out. Only two of us would come back up.

We made our way down through the murky violet haze that hung over the chasm. It was more like a thick fog than cloud, and a dull thumping could be heard from the purifier pods that hung in the air, sifting apart the haze needlessly. Eventually we began seeing the points of what appeard to by Radio towers, this signified that we were roughly 700 meters from the ground. Several of the towers had the impaled chassis' of robots clinging to them. Several appeared to have been bent by impact. The place was a tomb, an all pervading fucking graveyard, seeping into the land around it. A dull light flashed below as our ship neared the floor. I thought about the kids' autopsy.

His skin had been literally blackened, his limbs useless, but it revealed that his heart was still faintly, impossibly, pumping blood through him. He wasn't conscious, his body wasn't even alive, but somehow the blood kept flowing and his brain kept flickering. He was stuck in the most meaningless of existences, unable to interact or create. Only capable of repeating the same functions until his hardened shell of a body finally gave out. He was a vegetable. A machine. A robot.

We landed. A spindly robot with an unneeded filtration mask crept towards the ship. It shared some sort of banter with our guard and the door opened and even with the gas mask and airtight suit, somehow, the stench hit me. Decay. Age. The iron filled bloodlike aroma of the eponymous acids. We worked our way forward into a small shack. It looked more like an enormous cinderblock that someone had dropped from above the way it sunk into the goop. The door was sucked open and my chest clenched. Grace yelped and the Security trooper made a move to his gun. Saunter stared back at us ominously.

[MA]

the kid ends up just like a robot. very dark and ironic, considering what he did.

[Mac Sirloin]

the kid ends up just like a robot. very dark and ironic, considering what he did.

I didn't intend to do that, but thought it would be more interesting than the 'legal proceedings following fat idiot's murder' chapter.

I should consult BM on this being even remotely possible.

[MA]

i have moments like that, where you have a flash of slight plot line twists. i usually add them, seeing as half the time they're better than what i originally had planned.

BM has a fucking bigger brain than me.

[OddjobAbe]

No, he doesn't. He just has more neurons. He also has more than me. I wish I was that smart at his age. I blame it on my father. He dropped me on my head on a hard floor when I was a little one.

Kastere, I just read the rest. Very well written. As I said, I'm not one to read such things on the internet, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

[Mac Sirloin]

The trooper unloaded three rounds into Saunter. He didn't react. The Robot started shouting, or turning up its volume or whatever and the Trooper put down the gun. The perforated husk tumbled forward.
"Holy shit." Was all I could say.
It was Saunter's body, but it was empty. Nothing inside but air. There were odd chunks of plastic missing from his face where his skeleton had been removed and the glow from his eye came from a bundle of LED's crammed into it. They were plugged into an ancient alkaline battery.
'That is what I was telling you.' The waste bot explained. 'This was found outside of the control center. It had been tied with pegs to keep it standing. We don't know who did it.'
Small trails of recent welding could be seen.
"Look at his arms." Grace said. "There's no way..."
"What?" The trooper snapped.
"It looks like he cut himself open." She answered despondently.
"That doesn't make any sense. He can't damage himself, he can't even understand the concept of self-inflicted wounds. He's programmed to shut down when the idea even presents itself!" I said, more to myself than anyone.

Understand that beyond being made of steel, Saunter was of an incredibly fragile build. His 'skeleton' didn't even properly contain his various 'organs'. His chest Chamber revealed that some of the Circuit mounts had been torn out. , meaning that unless he'd made some kind of containment for them, he was either carrying around a pile of Vital circuity or dead .

Then there was this air. The Waste-Bot had a denser construct, but Saunter's body was fragile and would oxidize in open air if left too long. There was no way that he wasn't just another crumbling husk down here.
"Were there footste-" I began, but Grace and the Trooper were looking around, surprised.
The Waste Robot was gone. His mushy footsteps led away into the dark.
"Ah, shit." The trooper said. "Shit, shit, SHIT."
"We have to find him." Grace said.
"No, we need to get on the Radio and call for help." The Trooper grumbled.
"With what?" Grace said. "This place doesn't have a fucking radio. That 'bot is the radio.
"Let's just leave. We can come back with more people later." I suggested.
"The ship's only got enough fuel to carry us back halfway. The goddamn robot was supposed to refuel it before this shit showed up. He pointed at Saunter.
"We don't have much of a choice, do we?" Grace said, filled with some new found courage. She walked out of the shack with a Lamp.
"Grace! Come on, let's figure this out!" I desperately yelled.
"We don't have any choice." The Trooper growled.
I was left alone.
I waited a beat, then followed after them.

[Mac Sirloin]

The lamp didn't light much. Just enough not for me to trip over protruding metal in the rotten ground.
I caught up with the Trooper. He nodded at me and we continued on.
"Where's Grace?" I stupidly asked.
"She must've ran ahead of us, man. I keep seeing her light every now and then but all I got is footsteps now." He answered.
We jogged on, following the sets of footsteps absentmindedly. Eventually we came to a close collection of junk that the steps wound around sporadically. I drifted behind the Trooper as the passages narrowed. We turned a final corner and crept into a dully lit area the size of a football field. Grace was ahead of us, apparently speaking with the Robot.
It just wandered away to work. This must be the fuel depot. I thought.
I looked around the place as best I could. There were remnants of some sort of wall around the sides, with plates of sheet metal planted to hold it together.
On top, there were a collection of dull, curved rods. I stared at one, trying to discern what it was when it started to glow.
"What is this?" The Trooper said. The Lights flashed, and for a moment we were blind. A shadow was cast over us as someone stepped in front of one. I couldn't tell who it was.
"SAUNTER!?" I heard Grace shout. "SAUNTER, IS THAT YOU!?"
The figure stepped back as an amplified sound played over an unseen speaker. It was a Tone, the kind that the 'bots used. It actually sounded old. Like someone had trapped a yell in a bubble and popped it. There was a grating sound along with it, something separate but still amplified. I heard machinery chugging nearby. Grace looked terrified, the Waste robot sat stock still.
"That's an activation tone." The trooper said. "It switches all machinery in an area from On to Off or otherwise." He sounded like he was quoting something. The sound cut, but the machinery still chugged.
The Trooper moved forward to get Grace. As if on cue, a large set of pistons shot out of the wall, instantly crushing The Waste Robot. Grace screamed and jumped back as a second set rushed forward, catching her right arm and pulverizing it. She screamed louder, immediately silenced by the third pistons. They connected with a low gong. I could still hear Grace screaming, muted.
As the second and third pistons came apart, a grate slid out of the wall in front of us.
The third was hollow, that much I could tell, as Grace fell out of it.
"Oh, god. Oh...." The Trooper vomited.
Her legs had been cleanly cut off, along with her right arm. She was still screaming. The lights above us faded and all that we could see was her Lamp, barely illuminating her prone, mutilated body. She stopped screaming, Unconscious. I heard the Trooper starting to move away. I turned my head backwards just as her body was pulled into the darkness. Something lifted her lamp high and turned it off.
I ran.

[MA]

the scene with Grace and the pistons was very graphic.
its quite a skill to be able to add so much detail without bogging it down.

[Mac Sirloin]

the scene with Grace and the pistons was very graphic.
its quite a skill to be able to add so much detail without bogging it down.

Really? I thought I was putting in too much detail with the pistons.

[MA]

nah, it flowed well. i hate it when people try to make a scene disgusting or horrific by describing the scene in excrutiating detail, it just gets fucking boring.

[Mac Sirloin]

Sorry for the sort of gap between this and the next part. I work at peak efficiency with the Ritalin pumping around but once it stops I'm more apathetic and prone to quit before I start.
I have a few ideas as to how I want to end this and what I want to introduce along the way, including small notes I've made in my notebook. Unfortunately I'm kind of lost on what to do along the way. I'd like some feedback on some of these ideas, but be aware that it may spoil a bit of the story for you. If you want to tell me what you think of them or just see how vastly imaginative and self important I am feel free to shoot me a PM.

[joshkrz]

Wow, I actually can see that being a film its so detailed. I like how its 1st person, there's not many around like this. Good work.

[Mac Sirloin]

EDIT: NOW IT'S 4AM WHY DO YOU FUCKERS DO THIS TO ME ARRGRHGH

It was getting cold. Really cold. I could only imagine How Grace must feel....
No. Don't think about grace. Think about running and the safehouse and getting out of here and never coming back.
The Guard was out of sight and I was running mostly blind. I'd smashed my lantern on some jutting meal and it kept flickering. I couldn't tell if I was being chased or the shadows and noise were all just me.
I rounded a corner to be greeted by the far off site of the Airship and the small shack. I ran as fast as I could, tearing ass all across the lot when a whining strained sound erupted into the air. I screamed, stumbled, and somersaulted trying to keep my momentum. Something shot through the air in front of me, something that had recently been pulverized.
A cold, faint glow stared at me from the husk of the Caretaker robot. I sprinted over it as thumping footsteps pounded behind me. The guard broke cover from behind the airship and made for the shack, I dove, right as he heaved the door shut.
We crouched, completely silent for a few seconds. He smacked several large red buttons and security shutters and reinforcement plates snaked across the door and window.
He sunk to the floor, exhausted.
"You...got...lost?" He panted.
"Yeah..."
"Airship...not enough fuel...no radio..." he broke off, desperately thinking of a way to get us out.
"Grace said something about...tha-that supervisor ruh-robot. She said it had a radio..." I tried to sound optimistic.
"S'no good...that thing's back at...at whatever the fuck that thing was. Oh, god..." he put his hands up to his face.
I tried asking him if he saw what threw the caretaker but he wouldn't respond, after awhile I realized he was asleep. I tried to close my eyes but kept being greeted by the silhouette of whatever was back at those piston things.


Whatever had been after us had gone. I didn't hear it, I guess. The guard was awake long before me, fiddling with the tools the shack had.
"Shit! God damn it!" I woke up to.
He'd opened the fridge. The freezing cartridges had long since rotted out, leaving the whole thing unusable. the food had apparently all gone bad. Air sealed meals bore puncture marks in all the wrong places.
The tools were all dusty, completely unusable. At one point a screwdriver just powdered away. There were missing cables and wrenches, too.
"Did someone raid this shithole, or what?" the guard muttered.
After a lot of pacing he succumbed to his boredom or desperation and decided to open the security locks.
He slid the panel open to find all of them torn from their sockets.

[MA]

nice. realistic dialogue too.

good work.

[Mac Sirloin]

DELICIOUS RITALIN

Here goes.

Right now.

HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH

GO STORY

GO

COME ON

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHSTRRRRYURRRRRRGH.

[Mac Sirloin]

The Guard Slumps in the corner, mortified. I don't say a word.
Time passes. I check my watch only to see it was smashed. The clock on the wall uses clockwork and dead bugs have rendered the gears immovable.
After awhile, I decide to take a look outside.
With some effort, we're able to shift the security shutters slightly. A pale, bright light creeps under our fingers.
"What the hell?" The guard says.
The air seems to be clear...somehow. The light isn't supposed to shine through this well.
A low clomping drifts through the walls.
"Look! Look under! See what it is!" He holds the shutter open while I peer out.
The slat is so thin that I can barely make out the shape slowly moving past the shack. It stops, seems to sink into the junk, and a loud rattling emanates in the air.
"I think it's looking at the ship." I say.
The guard pushes me away from the slat and lets it go. It slams shut loudly.
"What the he-" I start, but he's already at the door, kicking and punching it. It doesn't budge.
"Stop, stop! Let me see the switches." I shout.
I check the circuit panel. There are 3 sets of switches missing, well, the switches. It's a pretty simple circuit, like you could just use...
I hurry over to the fridge, checking the panel that the freezing cartridges should have been under and tearing some of the exposed wiring free.
Using the rubber handle of an ancient wrench, I place it in the panel and complete the circuit. The door makes a loud clunk and seems to loosen.
The guard is two steps ahead of me, pulling it open and temporarily blinding us with the sudden glare of an overcast sky.
My eyes adjust to see a large robot, maybe ten feet tall, staring back at us with a cyclopean orange eye. It's standing over at the heap of metal that was the caretaker, with a trail seeming to suggest it dragged it into the clearing. It shifts its gaze to the wall beside us, following it, I see it's staring at saunters propped up shell. The large robot tromps over, extends a hand and picks up the body. It seems like he's just throwing it behind him when a loud clunk seems to emanate from his back.
"Hey!" The guard flops his arms trying to get its attention. "Help!".
The titanic robot stops for a second at his second words, and shifts his body back to us.
"ASSIST." It exclaims. A small speaker on the right side of its face produces the sound.
"ASSIST." It repeats.
It dawns on me that this robot is incredibly old.
"It's not saying, it's asking." I whisper.
"Uh...Yes..." The guard says.
"ESCORT. PRIORITY. SHIIIFT." It seems to drag out its last word.
Turning to no direction in particular, it starts clomping its way toward one of the paths. It extends its arm to the side, and the hand seems to release with some pressure at the caretaker. Dragging it back over the dirt and into an enormous wicker basket on the Robots back. Above the basked the words 'Altar Boy' are visible in chrome. It stomps away. The guard and I follow, dumbfounded.

EDIT: Sorry if this seems kind of short.

[MA]

these robots from different era's interest me. i can imagine that the Altar Boy robot would have looked quite intimidating.

[Mac Sirloin]

these robots from different era's interest me. i can imagine that the Altar Boy robot would have looked quite intimidating.

Not really.

[MA]

ah. i got the wrong end of the stick with it being tall. i see now.

[Mac Sirloin]

Here's the Lego Toy that the entire story spawned from.

[MA]

did you add the burns before or after you thought of the story concept?

[Mac Sirloin]

Before. Same with the nails.

It was just sitting on my bedshelf and got me thinking.

[Mac Sirloin]

The "Altar Boy" led us through a sporadic network of paths and tunnels around and under the junk. The Guard and I lost our sense of direction quickly and stuck close to the robot. We spoke little. After getting a few looks at our Titanic guide, I concluded that he was definitely a custom job. He was an old (old, old, OLD) shipping/construction assistance robot, but those never had the ability to shoot their hands across clearings. His hands also had an odd split in the middle, giving them the ability to turn into simple crab claws. Weirder still was the basket he was lugging around; apart from Saunter and the Crushed assistance robot corpse there were a lot of parts packed below them. A large, dusty Medical casket sat at an odd angle near the top, with some radio poles and satellite dishes crumpled together. The guard pointed out various utilities and weapon parts scattered here and there, and seemed to get a little excited when he spotted some riot gear.
Suddenly, The Altar Boy stopped midstep and focused on a junkpile, tromping over to examine it closely. He began shoveling through it, focused. We stood clear and watched with interest as he unearthed a limp steel body. With care, he placed it on the ground. his right hand split open and weathered steel rod with a bearing on the end sprung out. With automatic precision, he placed it on the back right-side of the seemingly dead robot's neck, and jolted it to life. Immediately stepping clear, The Altar Boy watched as the robot picked itself up.
Its hands are stained with reddish crust. I thought.
It looked around, taking in the surroundings.
Its head has dents.
It stopped on The Guard and I, its attention focused. The previously dully lit eyes seemed to gain some brightness as it stared.
This thing is down here for a reason.
It charged, but before I could flinch Altar Boy had it by the torso, crushing it like a beetle as damage vocalizers picked up. The Guard and I covered our ears at the screeching sound. The stench of aging pneumatic fluid hit the air as it gushed out, a light-gray liquid seeped between TAB's fingers. Without hesitation, he tore the small robot's head off and crushed it, dropping the thrashing, headless torso onto the ground and stomping on it. He continued on the path we'd been walking, barely acknowledging us.
The guard and I exchanged glances, standing still. Right before he walked out of site, our enormous savior bellowed. "ASSIST 49. ESCORT 50 13 10." We followed, afraid of our own shadows.

[MA]

i liked it when TAB destroyed the other robot, i could imagine smelling the pneumatic fluid.

i certainly like this AB robot.

[Mac Sirloin]

"God damn it, just tell us how to get through!"
We'd arrived at what seemed to be the end of the Gorge, or somewhere close to it. It seemed like the air purifiers worked properly here, giving as a clearer view of the sky. The dull purple haze had given way to a thin fog, and TAB had led us to what I assumed was a toll-booth.
The Guard was not pleased.
Enormous piles of garbage--broken bottles, razor-wire, fences made of sharpened logs and outright shrapnel composed them, lined them, and fortified what I was ppretty sure was a toll booth.
TAB stood silently, observing to the best of his ability. The incident with our trashed-attacker almost forgotten in place of our newest crisis.
Something was following us.
It was sticking close, really close, and capable of moving through the garbage almost soundlessly. We first noticed it as what looked like an old, round street light sticking out of the trash, seemingly following our movement, glowing a dull green. When we turned to look at The Altar Boy to see his reaction, he didn't acknowledge it and kept trudging along. When we turned to look back it was an outright different light. The Guard said he kept seeing movement when he pulled his visor down-little twitches in the trash, but keeping in pace with us. We assumed it was just some yard animal when we started seeing hands.
Sticking out of the ground at, well, arms length, was a generic robot arm. It had been recently placed; intravenous pneumatic goo pooled out of it and some oil stains dotted the ground indicating it had apparently been shaken. We steered clear. Several minutes later another, this time missing the index finger. As we moved, they kept losing fingers. When it had gotten down to three two had been placed-one missing four and the other missing three fingers. These seemed older. The Guard told me to stay way from the walls in case we were attacked. After the two fingered hand (just a claw) passed we kept expecting an ambush...but what we got was a toll gate. The gate itself was very wide, at least 7 meters. It was shaped like a meat cleaver, complete with a hole on the top right, although that seemed to be to keep it locked in place via a large pole hung through to something on the other side. The booth was more of an outhouse, a decrepit ruskbucket of a robot sitting there, ticket counter style, deactivated. He was attached-via wiring-to a large, gasoline powered generator, and beside that was what appeared to be an ancient coin-operated gasoline pump.
Neither of us had a quarter.
"For christ's sake! What does it take to move this fucking thing?!"
I wasn't sure if he meant TAB or the gate. Maybe both. Either way, we started digging around for anything to substitute as a quarter. We were getting fed up when it we noticed the Booth-robot was covering a pile of small change. It seemed like a sick joke when we discovered a single quarter. The guard slid it into the machine and told it to "Get moving before I shoot you in the face."
It didn't budge.
"We're supposed to manually pump it." I said. "Grab that thing sticking out of the side."
He turned on me, hungry, dehydrated, and fed up. "I've been doing all the work, asshole, and you got us into this mess, with your fuckin' robot." He trailed off, muttering.
Before I could think, I said: "Maybe if you weren't a trigger happy moron I wouldn't have to chase after it."
"Oh." He responded. "That's how it is, huh? I save your ass from whatever is in this fucking nightmare...pit and you blame me, or hell, one of the other Guards for shooting the thing? Tell me, do you even know my name? Did you listen to your briefing, Nick, or did you just worry about how da big bad scary robot might get you?"
Exasperated, I tried my best to ignore him, and had the generator adequately fueled in less than a minute. Strolling over to the robot, who I assumed had become active, I waited to be called let through.
It didn't move.
I waited a moment, trying to get a good look at it. It was perfectly still. Aside form the generator chugging, nothing had changed.
I turned to face The guard, and a loud voice crackled behind me.
"Well, do you want to go through?"
I swung to face the robot. One of its hands had moved to a lever, but otherwise it appeared unchanged.
"Uh...Yes." I attempted.
"How many?"
"Two."
"No, how many Non-organics."
"Uhh..."
"Robots, Industrial robots, military robots, Portable Artificial intelligences, life-support droids, medical assitance modules and cyborgs. How many?
"One."
"Name?"
"Oh, uh Nick O-" "Not your ruddy name" He interrupted. "The robot. And class."
"Oh...Um, The Altar Boy? and, uh...Industrial." I was getting flustered.
For the first time, the booth-robot's head moved, a joint in the neck shifting to let it look outside. It held its gaze with The Altar Boy for a second, and cranked the lever.
Sure enough, the gate slowly rose out of our way. We started through it when the Robot called after us, TAB kept walking.
"You're gonna run into another gate up ahead, this one will have Organics. I suggest you declare any weapons you're carrying before-" His voice shifted to the Guard's "I shoot you in the face." His voice went back to normal. "Are we clear?"
"Uh...Yes. Definitely."
"Good, now, after that, you'll be on the outskirts of the Settlement. You'll come to a place labeled the Outer Wall Frigate. Do not stay there unless you plan to plan to spend a long time. After that you should reach the Foothills. At the next gate you can get some water. You'll need it."
We shuffled away, glad to know there was some light at the end of the tunnel.
"Hey, so what is your na-" I began.
The Guard picked up his pace away from me.

[MA]

nice chapter. the toll gate scene was good.

for some reason i liked that toll gate robot.

[Mac Sirloin]

I thought making an outright gas powered robot would've been cool, but tweaked it a little.

Also, spot the hidden reference in his last bit of advice.