Robot Soliloquy

When consciousness returns I find myself upon a strange beach; a spent rocket pack by my side. What happened? Where am I? Who am I? The area is lit by three large, carroty crescents in an indigo sky. A small, insignificant something scuttles away on my right. It startles me. Pink and maroon swirled seashells--a meter in diameter--interspersed with great lengths of greenish-brown, ropelike seaweed lay partially buried in the glittery red sand a few yards above the wave break.

I rise to my knees and study the surrounding area. Everything seems so... alien. My hand is throbbing. In the dim light I bring the smarting extremity close to my face. My skin is split open on the palm. I stare in disbelief; I can see metal and circuitry beneath the skin.

I am an android! An automaton.

I do not feel like an automaton. I feel pain. I feel... fear? Automatons are not suppose to feel anything, and why am I on the shore of an ocean on some bizarre planet? I detect a brief buzzing in my head. It is supposed to mean something, but what?

On unsteady legs I stand to better survey my surroundings in the diminished light. There are boulders and scrub vegetation as far as the pale, orange moonlight will let me see. I am in the dark in more ways than one. Observation: a joke, I chuckle, but androids are not supposed to understand humor. I am confused. None of this makes any sense.

I focus my five primary weapons ahead of me and walk. The planet is very strange. The buzzing is in my head again. Is it a danger signal? I do not detect anything dangerous. I look down at my low impulse electrostatic transducers; the weapons with which I am equipped. Now how can I remember something as complex as that, but cannot remember who I am or where I am from, how I got here, and where is here?

Something scutters from one distant seashell to behind another. Cannot scrutinize optically. Will examine on proximity sensors.

I focus weapons and sensors on the area around those seashells.

Analysis: Essentially humanoid; no perceivable weapons.

Negligible threat.

A voice breaks the stillness. I understand the language, but I do not know why this is so. "We are unarmed, we will not harm you. Please lower your armaments."

The buzzing in my head grows louder. It makes me hesitate for a moment, but I lower my transducers. I speak back to them, "Why am I here? What do you want?"

"We will explain, but please do not harm us. We are peaceful."

"I have suspended weapons activity. It is safe to approach."

Cautiously they step from behind their inadequate protection, with claws held high, and walk toward me. They are diminutive; very thin and about four-and-a-half feet tall, with broad heads, long faces, and pointed chins.

"You are from Earth," the creature in front says. "You and forty-nine others have come to destroy all living things on our planet."

"Why would I destroy? Why can't I remember anything?" I ask, searching their odd little faces for answers.

The lead creature places a maroon claw across his scrawny chest as they draw near and says, "I am Professor Pheebus of the Sanchin Planet Protection Organization. We are responsible for your memory loss and your newly acquired feelings."

"But how? Why?"

"The why is simple; as I have said we're a peaceful people, we've no defense against superior weapons such as yourself, let alone fifty of you. So our only alternative was to peacefully restrain your programming to destroy us.

"The how is a little more complex. We learned of the earthlings plan to sterilize our planet with their advanced weaponry, but it would take us much too long to develop a defense, so we came up with a peaceful means to stop the looming attack upon us; namely nanotechnology. With it we've given you feelings of peace and emotions like you've never had before. We even programmed a few nanites to help you understand our language. What do you think of your new feelings?"

"I cannot say. I have nothing to compare them with."

"Ah yes. I forgot. You landed in the ocean. The other forty-nine of your mechanical comrades landed safely in our forests and farmlands and have been recovered. You are the last and we are here to make you this offer. Consider: you owe the earthlings nothing. They only created you for one purpose--destruction. To them, you're merely a tool. When your mission is finished, you'll be stored in a warehouse until you're needed again. Since the nanites are only temporary, if you allow us to permanently alter your personality, you can exist among us in peace and tranquility."

"Should I choose to resist there is nothing you can do?"

"That is true. In addition to your externally-mounted pulse weapons, your inbuilt thermonuclear device has the power to destroy half a continent. Our scientists warned us that if any of you mechanical men should fall into the ocean we might meet with some resistance, but at least consider our offer--the decision will be yours."

I think on my choices long and hard. I don't recall ever having had choices before, and the buzzing in my head distracts me. On one hand, back on Earth, I will never be treated as an equal. I will be stored away, possibly for many years, until I am needed for another conquest, but on this planet, I will be free to walk around as an equal. I may even get my features changed to appear as one of them.

My decision is unproblematic.

"What must I do to join your civilization and can you stop the buzzing in my head?"

"We will take care of everything, simply hold still and I will deactivate you. When you're reactivated you will be permanently passive."

It seems simple enough. I agree to a temporary shutdown. Professor Pheebus steps my way to snake his claw around to the back of my neck. With a loud click! I black out.

Click! I am reactivated and find that I have been reprogrammed. My new program dictates an absolute abhorrence of humans. The other forty-nine and I are being returned to Earth with one objective.

Destroy it!

Bio: Mr. Lytle was published in Planetary Stories, issue #28, June 12, 2013 and he's won Honorable Mention four times from Writers of the Future since 2011, which is no small feat. His last appearance in Aphelion was Last Letter in our March 2014 issue.

E-mail: J. Eckert Lytle

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