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Description
Chapter 3 – Memories of Destruction
2471 AD

The side street was deserted for the most part. A few rats lived in the dumpsters, but other than that no one ever came down this far into Old San Francisco without a reason. The eleven humans who had gathered in back alley had their reasons, each of them personal, but they were gathered there none the less.

“So, you sure you’re ready for this?” All of the gray haired men, save the one who originally spoke, nodded. They were old, dressed in the most inconspicuous clothes they could find, and already reeked of the foul smelling underworld. “Well, then let’s get going. The subject is waiting for us.”

They walked together, walking toward an old warehouse that their leader had purchased. One of the men, with a wrinkled visage contorted into a questioning glance, approached the leader. His name was Paul Franklin, an expert on energy sources for robots. “John, you said that this particular subject was different from all of the last ones. How so might I ask?”

Jonathan Kell smiled, shaking his head. “You’ll just have to wait, Paul. You and Matt will have a field day with this one.”

Paul nodded, keeping quiet for the moment. When John didn’t want to vocalize his latest finds, it normally came with good reason. Was the government watching them?

“Ah. Here we are.” John moved forward, pushing open the doors with dramatic flare. The lights were already on, shining down on a robot that was lying on a central slab. It’s silver and gray helmet had been set to the side, as had several different weapons. Submachine guns, rifles, pistols, grenades, and at least three clips for each of the weapons sat on the table, encircling the deactivated machine. The two energy sabers that had been equipped to it were still attached to its hips. “It’s a Japanese stealth assault model,” John gestured toward it with his hand, “with over fifty years of service. It was found in the Appalachians, deactivated and resting in an underground shelter. No records of it were present on site, or in the department of records, so we’re free to experiment as we please.”

Quickly, they encircled the robot. Its false red hair was lying on the table, head opened to reveal the optical and intelligence centers. Several of them had taken up positions closer to the machine, pulling a hand or leg closer to themselves for further inspection. The audible hubbub they made while looking over his disabled form became hushed when Paul placed a hand on its chest plate, gripping at its edge before pulling the loose armor from its place. Blue light spilled out of the opening, bathing the scientists in the reactor’s glow. John smirked knowingly as his compatriots gasped in unison.

“I see you found its energy source, gentleman. I have absolutely no idea what is powering it, but whatever it is, it’s beyond anything we are capable of creating.”

One of the men raised a shaking hand. He wasn’t afraid though, just old and frail. “You’re saying the Japanese designed this energy source?”

“No. I looked up this model through the usual means. It’s got quite a history, I assure you, but this machine was constructed with an energy source that even the scientists who discovered it couldn’t identify. Evidentially, it was found drifting at sea. Now, if that’s all the questions for now, we need to get to work. No telling how long we have until the project goes public, with or without our permission.”

“Speaking of which, where’s Jude?”

Silence spread over the room for a moment before all of the men scrambled for tools. If one was missing, it would only be a matter of time before everything was reported. After all, it was illegal to try and make a machine sentient, but then again, they weren’t trying. They were doing so, as they had many times before. From inside the disabled machine, Isolinium watched their movements with interest…

Four weeks passed before everything hit the fan. Military and media alike swarmed the warehouse, but for the moment the doors were holding. They had finished with the enhanced programming, reworked the entire chassis, and improved his weapons as much as they could. All that was left was to test his capabilities…

Matt swiped a bit of sweat from his forehead, “Okay gentlemen. I think everything’s ready. Any objections to starting him up?”

“If it’s going to be sentient, shouldn’t we give it a name before releasing it on the world?” Luke, the chief mechanic, raised an eyebrow as he continued tossing one of the plasma blades up and down in anticipation.

Mark stepped up to the table, placing a hand on the robots now helmeted head. “He’s already got one. The Japanese called this one Kaze Issen, or Issen Kaze as we would say it. Got the mementos, Paul?”

“Yes, right here.” The elderly man pulled out eleven items, each picked by one of the team members, Paul’s own being a crucifix. Others included a dried rose petal, a twenty sided die, and a picture of all the scientists together. He laid them inside a capsule, placing it in Issen’s chest with a feeling of reverence. They had built a shielded compartment just to hold it. “There…”

“That’s everything then.” Mark nodded to his team. The noise outside was reading audible levels, meaning that either the press was getting riled up again, or the military was getting ready to go in and make them come out. “Let’s start him up.”

They moved away from the table, Luke flipping several switches that kept Issen offline while the work had been completed. They felt the air charge with static as energy flooded into the machines condensers, electricity pouring into his circuits and awakening his intelligence. He raised himself up, sickle blades scraping against the holes specially drilled to accommodate them. The eyes opened, flashing with new intelligence behind the blood hued irises.

“…Where am I?”

Mark stepped forward. “San Francisco, the ghettos to be exact. How do you feel?”

The robot swung its legs off the table, pushing off of it and standing toe to toe with the man. “…A bit confused… and angry. Why did you wake me up?”

“Wake you up? Oh, yes. Sorry about this, but we needed a test subject for our research. Since you were alone in that cave I found you in, I figured whoever left you there wouldn’t mind us using you.”

“…I see.” He looked at his hands, seeing the changes that had been made to his anatomy. “What exactly have you done to my body?”

Thomas stepped forward. “We’ve add several new functions to your body. Up until now, you’ve been using a single ping system to locate targets. It had to be initiated at your discretion as well, which often left you without guidance. We’ve upgraded the GSP system to constantly ping through the soles of your boots, giving you a fifty kilometer range of effective detection.”

Issen nodded, easily understanding what the scientists were saying. They had done massive interior work, giving him new systems that increased his abilities far beyond that of any other Type-Two. Of course, he was no longer a Type-Two. He had become what many feared and others championed as the future; a Type-Three robotic life form.

As the others finished their explanation, Mark stepped forward. The others hushed in his presence. “Now, you must understand Issen, what we’ve done to you is illegal under international law. Others have tried the same thing, and their projects were destroyed on contact. That’s why we chose you. You were the only combat model not registered in the system, therefore you were our only chance to have a success that could fight back against whatever the military throws at you. I’m sorry for putting this burden on you…”

“Sir,” Issen stopped him, “I don’t know why you’re apologizing. You have drastically increased my combat ability, as well as giving me emotion. I’m indebted to you.”

“But…” Paul stepped forward, but stopped when Issen raised his hand.

“You probably didn’t know, but there is something inside me I must protect. I tried to keep her safe by sleeping, hidden in the mountains. If I had woken up without your support, I might not have been ready for this task.”

“H-her? Who are you talking about?”

Issen opened his mouth to respond, but an explosion on the far side of the warehouse silenced the reply. GSP working at full strength, he counted as twenty men poured into the building. There were heavy with gear, obviously military. Paul was immediately at Issen’s side, shaking his shoulder with fragile arms.

“Issen, you must escape! We don’t have time…” A bullet pierced the man’s chest, cutting off his words. Paul crumpled into a heap, dead. More bullets ricocheted off of Issen’s body, scratching the silver colored armor as he watched the other men fall. They were dead as well, bullets lodged in their bodies at dozens of critical spots.

‘No! These men…!’ Issen turned, gripping a pair of high caliber pistols that had been placed just below his hips. His hands hesitated as Isolinium spoke her own feelings however. They had to run, for survival and for the sake of the now deceased scientists. ‘…Alright.’

Issen reached over his shoulder and kicked over the table, unhooking a flash-bang from his new back holsters as the soldiers continued to fire at the now sentient robot. He tossed the device without a second thought, running for the front door as the blinding light poured over his shoulders. While he didn’t know if his enemies were incapacitated by the grenade, they had stopped firing by the time he opened the doors. Cameras immediately began snapping pictures as the Type-Three charged out, hundreds of reporters gathered at the end of the street with high quality photography equipment that caught every inch of the machine.

‘This is not ideal placement if the soldiers behind me recover. Guess it’s time to test out Dr. Kell’s LD system.’

Looking up, he spotted a steel I-beam hanging just below street level. In a blaze of blue light, Issen was suddenly standing on top of the beam while everyone below looked around, trying to find where he had gone.

“Well, it appears that human kind is still as it was, wouldn’t you agree?”

‘True, they’ve retained the same fear for robotic sentience, but it appears that some have become more open minded. Perhaps there is some good we can do here.’ She giggled, a bit playful after being asleep for so long. Issen could feel her wanting to help the people, but at the moment those people wanted to expose and destroy him.

“We’ll have to wait and see. If the opportunity…” Issen’s words stopped when something dropped down next to him, its heavy feet causing the beam to bend beneath its weight. “Well, looks like escaping won’t be as easy as I thought it would.”

Standing beside him was a huge robot, its rounded shoulders decorated with the American Flag. It had a dome shaped head with three eyes, each glowing softly in the dark under city, and a barrel sized torso supported by heavy quadruped legs. Both of its arms were heavy chain-guns, which began to spin at amazing speeds.

“Crap!” Issen yelled as he jumped, avoiding the first volley of fire as he returned the favor with an explosive grenade. The bomb exploded right in its face, but unfortunately didn’t do much more than scratch its armor plating. The machine tracked him, its aim following Issen as he danced about to avoid the constant streams of fire. Dipping behind a concrete pillar for a moment, the Type-Three reached over his shoulder and grasped a submachine gun with each hand. He turned and dived out from the momentary cover as it crumbled under the war machine’s onslaught, returning fire with the twin weapons as he continued to evade his pursuer. It took the bullets with ease, almost ignoring the slight damage they were causing as it marched after him. ‘That’s some tough armor the Army got their hands on. I can’t do much at this range, so…’

Diving behind another pillar of concrete, Issen stowed the subs in favor of his plasma blades. They hissed to life in his hands, the translucent azure sabers shimmering in the dark. He counted down until the pillar lost its integrity, jumping out of the way as the armor piercing rounds ate through the space he had occupied. Issen twisted in the air, putting his boots against an old sheet of metal before bouncing off of it and higher into the air. The guns were still tracking the robot, trying to catch up with his movement but failing in the end. As Issen came down from his bounce, the blue blades cut through the machine with disturbing ease… And then he woke up, the florescent lights above him shining down upon his face with little remorse.

3025 AD / 15 RE
Seventeen days after reactivation.

“Issen, can you hear me?”

He recognized the voice; it was doctor Varr. He tried to move his mouth, but something was wrong with the motors. His eyes couldn’t move either…

“Nathan, did you hook up the link correctly?” That was a new voice, one the robot hadn’t heard before. He sounded agitated, like he dealt with this sort of mistake on a daily basis.

“Yes! Jeez, I went over it three times already…” This voice, presumably Nathan, held just as much anger. “Look, the system is running perfectly. It must be the vocal transition circuits in his core system.”

Dr. Varr sighed. “…Sorry about this Issen. We’ll have to shut you down again until we fix the problem. Sweet dreams.”

2494 AD

As his higher functions switched off, he returned to the defrag program. It had moved on, fast forwarding through twenty years of his life. He was in Ireland, and even here the U.S. military had chased him. It was all in the name of killing “a mockery of Mankind” as some politicians put it. More countries were joining in on the search and destroy mission, but beneath the friendly demeanor there was a growing tension. Border skirmishes had broken out several times already, all because Issen’s survival had drawn away troops from almost every modernized country. Rumors of other Type-Three units were spread far and wide, though few had real proof of such claims. Governments where Issen had visited were often outraged at the destruction left behind by the forces chasing him, but most viewed the collateral damaged as something that could be swept away. Issen knew different however. Blood covered most of his body, but it was slowly being washed away by the rain. The little boy in his arms had died minutes ago but the robot still couldn’t bring himself to move. He didn’t know what to do. The stone church, which had doubled as an orphanage, was now a smoking ruin. The Baptist preacher had died in the first volley of shells as had a dozen children. The rest had died from the barrage of rifle fire that followed the shelling. He had desperately tried to shield them, using even his own body to block the bullets. Every one of the children had died, no matter how hard Issen had tried.

“Why…?”

Isolinium was silent. He had not listened to her during the mad rampage that followed. An entire platoon had been killed in his madness, their bodies strewn across the fields beyond the surrounding walls.

“…No one … deserves this…”

Finally, Issen moved. He laid the boy down and began digging. There was nothing else he could do for them now. He dug until enough holes had been made for everyone, even the soldiers outside. Issen buried them, carving the children’s names into a granite slat that had escaped destruction and setting crosses made of anything he could find above their graves. The soldiers received the same treatment, their dog-tags hanging from the markers he had set up. Once he had finished, Issen went to each grave, remembering that person’s last moment. It was hard to do so, because each person had been afraid of their inevitable end. Fear had been etched into their faces…

“I’m sorry…”

The rain began to let up as he finished. The blood that had soiled his armor had been washed away, but somehow Issen still felt unclean.

‘Issen… What should we do? I just…’ The girl had been crying, or at least the equivalent of it. The raw emotion he felt from her was like an anvil, weighing him down with the sadness she experienced.

“…I must protect you. That is my first and foremost mission. Until now I’ve had no other; there’s never been a reason to have one. But in carrying out that mission, I have caused harm to hundreds of people.” Issen stated the fact coldly, as if he was still the emotionless Type-Two from seventy years prior. It hurt him to think about it though, and just as he felt her sorrow Isolinium could feel his. “Even if I avoid humans for the rest of eternity, they will never stop hunting me. If I hide in the mountains, they will comb every crevice. They’d search the depths of the ocean to end my existence. We are never safe, and no one around us can survive if they remain close. As of this moment, we have no options that provide ourselves safety, or those we are in the vicinity of.”

‘What can we do?’

“Not much I’m afra—” He stopped, looking straight up into the cloudy sky. There was a broadcast being transmitted on every frequency. “What in the…?”

It was an emergency news broadcast. Palestine, Iran, and a number of other nations had unsuccessfully attacked Israel, North Korea was threatening a nuclear strike on Japan unless it surrendered, the Chinese army was moving for Mongolia, and more threats were mounting by the minute. Alliances were coming apart at the seams, and the world had become chaos incarnate. An emergency meeting had been called at the U.N. in an attempt to regain some order, but it was too little too late…

“...This is it. The world is going to hell in a hand basket, and I can’t do a thing to stop it.” He sighed, sitting down on a granite column that had been snapped in half by a heavy round. There was a bible, partially soaked by rain, lying at his feet. “…God, I may not have a soul to speak of, but please help them all.”

‘Issen, there must be something we can do! If things keep going, how many more will…’

“I know! We could go to the United Nations, but would they listen to us? Would they care what a mockery has to say? …You’re right though. We must try.” He looked south, formulating a plan as the blue glow surrounded his sickle-wings. The brilliant light flared and disappeared along with the robot, his body reappearing inside the main chambers of the U.N. building. Everyone was yelling, hurling racial slurs and every curse imaginable as diplomacy failed. Few took notice of the silver machine. “…Idiots… You’re all such idiots!!”

Angered by the human stupidity before him, Issen drew back for a punch. Instead of taking the head off of a diplomat, he made a crater in the floor. The noise alone was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, not to mention the slight vibration it sent throughout the entire building.

“…Do I have your attention now?” The entire assembly had paled with fear. They knew what Issen was capable of. “I will take your stunned silence as a yes.”

Someone shouted something in a foreign tongue, which was roughly translated as “Holy cow!” A few of the men fainted. Amazingly, the American representative had the nerve to speak. “…You are Issen, correct?”

“Yes. I’ve come with a simple request for you. All of you.”

“A-and what, Monsieur, would that be?” The French representative, who was currently dabbing his sweaty head with a handkerchief, had spoken.

Issen closed his eyes. “Make peace. I’ve seen enough death, and I wish for there to be no more.”

Someone further in the back yelled out in rage. Issen couldn’t make out his affiliation, as his desk had been overturned. “Insolence! You expect us to make peace? You and your kind are the cause of this! You alone have killed hundreds of thousands, and now you come to us begging for peace? What a fool you are…”

“If the world hadn’t set their might against me, then there would have been no deaths. In Ireland, there is a church that now lies in rubble simply because its pastor had pity on me. He gave me sanctuary in exchange for helping with daily chores. Yet even with this protection, which has been used many times over the years, the troops sent after me bombarded the stone chapel. The orphans inside, along with the entire staff, were killed!” His face had contorted as he spoke, a righteous anger overcoming him and overwhelming his logic. “You are the barbarians here, not me! I would never have killed anyone if you hadn’t come after me. I despise the shedding of blood! This form was given to me for the purpose of protecting people, not slaying them!”

“You think this is still limited to incidents involving Type-Three robots?” The same man scoffed at him, “You don’t know this world very well, do you? My nation has been to war again and again, trying to reclaim our rightful place for centuries, and now we have our chance! We will not stay our hand, not for you or for anyone else! Leave us! Go out and die like the rest of your kind!”

For a few moments, Issen considered staying, fighting even harder to have them hear his voice. It was unstoppable however; the assembly descended into madness before him. The coming war would continue.

The first nuclear bombs were dropped two days later. North Korea was swept off the map by America. China fired at Russia and the USA, which returned fire in kind before feeling the deadly atomic fire. America, limping after the western states had been exterminated, hit every nation that was attacking Israel even though the nation was doomed. Dirty bombs and biological weapons hit every continent as old grudges resurfaced, tearing through civilian population centers with little warning and few survivors. After three weeks, only a few civilized nations remained intact, but their numbers shrunk every day. The Final War was in full swing, and all Issen could do was watch. He had unknowingly lit the fuse that eventually ignited the world.

Millions disappeared without a trace.

In the real world, Issen’s face twitched in agony. Dr. Varr frowned sadly. This same twisted face of pain and sorrow had graced the robots features more than once in the past few days. “I guess my wish for you to have sweet dreams didn’t come true. Considering that your past is our greatest nightmare, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Description
Chapter 3 – Memories of Destruction
2471 AD

The side street was deserted for the most part. A few rats lived in the dumpsters, but other than that no one ever came down this far into Old San Francisco without a reason. The eleven humans who had gathered in back alley had their reasons, each of them personal, but they were gathered there none the less.

“So, you sure you’re ready for this?” All of the gray haired men, save the one who originally spoke, nodded. They were old, dressed in the most inconspicuous clothes they could find, and already reeked of the foul smelling underworld. “Well, then let’s get going. The subject is waiting for us.”

They walked together, walking toward an old warehouse that their leader had purchased. One of the men, with a wrinkled visage contorted into a questioning glance, approached the leader. His name was Paul Franklin, an expert on energy sources for robots. “John, you said that this particular subject was different from all of the last ones. How so might I ask?”

Jonathan Kell smiled, shaking his head. “You’ll just have to wait, Paul. You and Matt will have a field day with this one.”

Paul nodded, keeping quiet for the moment. When John didn’t want to vocalize his latest finds, it normally came with good reason. Was the government watching them?

“Ah. Here we are.” John moved forward, pushing open the doors with dramatic flare. The lights were already on, shining down on a robot that was lying on a central slab. It’s silver and gray helmet had been set to the side, as had several different weapons. Submachine guns, rifles, pistols, grenades, and at least three clips for each of the weapons sat on the table, encircling the deactivated machine. The two energy sabers that had been equipped to it were still attached to its hips. “It’s a Japanese stealth assault model,” John gestured toward it with his hand, “with over fifty years of service. It was found in the Appalachians, deactivated and resting in an underground shelter. No records of it were present on site, or in the department of records, so we’re free to experiment as we please.”

Quickly, they encircled the robot. Its false red hair was lying on the table, head opened to reveal the optical and intelligence centers. Several of them had taken up positions closer to the machine, pulling a hand or leg closer to themselves for further inspection. The audible hubbub they made while looking over his disabled form became hushed when Paul placed a hand on its chest plate, gripping at its edge before pulling the loose armor from its place. Blue light spilled out of the opening, bathing the scientists in the reactor’s glow. John smirked knowingly as his compatriots gasped in unison.

“I see you found its energy source, gentleman. I have absolutely no idea what is powering it, but whatever it is, it’s beyond anything we are capable of creating.”

One of the men raised a shaking hand. He wasn’t afraid though, just old and frail. “You’re saying the Japanese designed this energy source?”

“No. I looked up this model through the usual means. It’s got quite a history, I assure you, but this machine was constructed with an energy source that even the scientists who discovered it couldn’t identify. Evidentially, it was found drifting at sea. Now, if that’s all the questions for now, we need to get to work. No telling how long we have until the project goes public, with or without our permission.”

“Speaking of which, where’s Jude?”

Silence spread over the room for a moment before all of the men scrambled for tools. If one was missing, it would only be a matter of time before everything was reported. After all, it was illegal to try and make a machine sentient, but then again, they weren’t trying. They were doing so, as they had many times before. From inside the disabled machine, Isolinium watched their movements with interest…

Four weeks passed before everything hit the fan. Military and media alike swarmed the warehouse, but for the moment the doors were holding. They had finished with the enhanced programming, reworked the entire chassis, and improved his weapons as much as they could. All that was left was to test his capabilities…

Matt swiped a bit of sweat from his forehead, “Okay gentlemen. I think everything’s ready. Any objections to starting him up?”

“If it’s going to be sentient, shouldn’t we give it a name before releasing it on the world?” Luke, the chief mechanic, raised an eyebrow as he continued tossing one of the plasma blades up and down in anticipation.

Mark stepped up to the table, placing a hand on the robots now helmeted head. “He’s already got one. The Japanese called this one Kaze Issen, or Issen Kaze as we would say it. Got the mementos, Paul?”

“Yes, right here.” The elderly man pulled out eleven items, each picked by one of the team members, Paul’s own being a crucifix. Others included a dried rose petal, a twenty sided die, and a picture of all the scientists together. He laid them inside a capsule, placing it in Issen’s chest with a feeling of reverence. They had built a shielded compartment just to hold it. “There…”

“That’s everything then.” Mark nodded to his team. The noise outside was reading audible levels, meaning that either the press was getting riled up again, or the military was getting ready to go in and make them come out. “Let’s start him up.”

They moved away from the table, Luke flipping several switches that kept Issen offline while the work had been completed. They felt the air charge with static as energy flooded into the machines condensers, electricity pouring into his circuits and awakening his intelligence. He raised himself up, sickle blades scraping against the holes specially drilled to accommodate them. The eyes opened, flashing with new intelligence behind the blood hued irises.

“…Where am I?”

Mark stepped forward. “San Francisco, the ghettos to be exact. How do you feel?”

The robot swung its legs off the table, pushing off of it and standing toe to toe with the man. “…A bit confused… and angry. Why did you wake me up?”

“Wake you up? Oh, yes. Sorry about this, but we needed a test subject for our research. Since you were alone in that cave I found you in, I figured whoever left you there wouldn’t mind us using you.”

“…I see.” He looked at his hands, seeing the changes that had been made to his anatomy. “What exactly have you done to my body?”

Thomas stepped forward. “We’ve add several new functions to your body. Up until now, you’ve been using a single ping system to locate targets. It had to be initiated at your discretion as well, which often left you without guidance. We’ve upgraded the GSP system to constantly ping through the soles of your boots, giving you a fifty kilometer range of effective detection.”

Issen nodded, easily understanding what the scientists were saying. They had done massive interior work, giving him new systems that increased his abilities far beyond that of any other Type-Two. Of course, he was no longer a Type-Two. He had become what many feared and others championed as the future; a Type-Three robotic life form.

As the others finished their explanation, Mark stepped forward. The others hushed in his presence. “Now, you must understand Issen, what we’ve done to you is illegal under international law. Others have tried the same thing, and their projects were destroyed on contact. That’s why we chose you. You were the only combat model not registered in the system, therefore you were our only chance to have a success that could fight back against whatever the military throws at you. I’m sorry for putting this burden on you…”

“Sir,” Issen stopped him, “I don’t know why you’re apologizing. You have drastically increased my combat ability, as well as giving me emotion. I’m indebted to you.”

“But…” Paul stepped forward, but stopped when Issen raised his hand.

“You probably didn’t know, but there is something inside me I must protect. I tried to keep her safe by sleeping, hidden in the mountains. If I had woken up without your support, I might not have been ready for this task.”

“H-her? Who are you talking about?”

Issen opened his mouth to respond, but an explosion on the far side of the warehouse silenced the reply. GSP working at full strength, he counted as twenty men poured into the building. There were heavy with gear, obviously military. Paul was immediately at Issen’s side, shaking his shoulder with fragile arms.

“Issen, you must escape! We don’t have time…” A bullet pierced the man’s chest, cutting off his words. Paul crumpled into a heap, dead. More bullets ricocheted off of Issen’s body, scratching the silver colored armor as he watched the other men fall. They were dead as well, bullets lodged in their bodies at dozens of critical spots.

‘No! These men…!’ Issen turned, gripping a pair of high caliber pistols that had been placed just below his hips. His hands hesitated as Isolinium spoke her own feelings however. They had to run, for survival and for the sake of the now deceased scientists. ‘…Alright.’

Issen reached over his shoulder and kicked over the table, unhooking a flash-bang from his new back holsters as the soldiers continued to fire at the now sentient robot. He tossed the device without a second thought, running for the front door as the blinding light poured over his shoulders. While he didn’t know if his enemies were incapacitated by the grenade, they had stopped firing by the time he opened the doors. Cameras immediately began snapping pictures as the Type-Three charged out, hundreds of reporters gathered at the end of the street with high quality photography equipment that caught every inch of the machine.

‘This is not ideal placement if the soldiers behind me recover. Guess it’s time to test out Dr. Kell’s LD system.’

Looking up, he spotted a steel I-beam hanging just below street level. In a blaze of blue light, Issen was suddenly standing on top of the beam while everyone below looked around, trying to find where he had gone.

“Well, it appears that human kind is still as it was, wouldn’t you agree?”

‘True, they’ve retained the same fear for robotic sentience, but it appears that some have become more open minded. Perhaps there is some good we can do here.’ She giggled, a bit playful after being asleep for so long. Issen could feel her wanting to help the people, but at the moment those people wanted to expose and destroy him.

“We’ll have to wait and see. If the opportunity…” Issen’s words stopped when something dropped down next to him, its heavy feet causing the beam to bend beneath its weight. “Well, looks like escaping won’t be as easy as I thought it would.”

Standing beside him was a huge robot, its rounded shoulders decorated with the American Flag. It had a dome shaped head with three eyes, each glowing softly in the dark under city, and a barrel sized torso supported by heavy quadruped legs. Both of its arms were heavy chain-guns, which began to spin at amazing speeds.

“Crap!” Issen yelled as he jumped, avoiding the first volley of fire as he returned the favor with an explosive grenade. The bomb exploded right in its face, but unfortunately didn’t do much more than scratch its armor plating. The machine tracked him, its aim following Issen as he danced about to avoid the constant streams of fire. Dipping behind a concrete pillar for a moment, the Type-Three reached over his shoulder and grasped a submachine gun with each hand. He turned and dived out from the momentary cover as it crumbled under the war machine’s onslaught, returning fire with the twin weapons as he continued to evade his pursuer. It took the bullets with ease, almost ignoring the slight damage they were causing as it marched after him. ‘That’s some tough armor the Army got their hands on. I can’t do much at this range, so…’

Diving behind another pillar of concrete, Issen stowed the subs in favor of his plasma blades. They hissed to life in his hands, the translucent azure sabers shimmering in the dark. He counted down until the pillar lost its integrity, jumping out of the way as the armor piercing rounds ate through the space he had occupied. Issen twisted in the air, putting his boots against an old sheet of metal before bouncing off of it and higher into the air. The guns were still tracking the robot, trying to catch up with his movement but failing in the end. As Issen came down from his bounce, the blue blades cut through the machine with disturbing ease… And then he woke up, the florescent lights above him shining down upon his face with little remorse.

3025 AD / 15 RE
Seventeen days after reactivation.

“Issen, can you hear me?”

He recognized the voice; it was doctor Varr. He tried to move his mouth, but something was wrong with the motors. His eyes couldn’t move either…

“Nathan, did you hook up the link correctly?” That was a new voice, one the robot hadn’t heard before. He sounded agitated, like he dealt with this sort of mistake on a daily basis.

“Yes! Jeez, I went over it three times already…” This voice, presumably Nathan, held just as much anger. “Look, the system is running perfectly. It must be the vocal transition circuits in his core system.”

Dr. Varr sighed. “…Sorry about this Issen. We’ll have to shut you down again until we fix the problem. Sweet dreams.”

2494 AD

As his higher functions switched off, he returned to the defrag program. It had moved on, fast forwarding through twenty years of his life. He was in Ireland, and even here the U.S. military had chased him. It was all in the name of killing “a mockery of Mankind” as some politicians put it. More countries were joining in on the search and destroy mission, but beneath the friendly demeanor there was a growing tension. Border skirmishes had broken out several times already, all because Issen’s survival had drawn away troops from almost every modernized country. Rumors of other Type-Three units were spread far and wide, though few had real proof of such claims. Governments where Issen had visited were often outraged at the destruction left behind by the forces chasing him, but most viewed the collateral damaged as something that could be swept away. Issen knew different however. Blood covered most of his body, but it was slowly being washed away by the rain. The little boy in his arms had died minutes ago but the robot still couldn’t bring himself to move. He didn’t know what to do. The stone church, which had doubled as an orphanage, was now a smoking ruin. The Baptist preacher had died in the first volley of shells as had a dozen children. The rest had died from the barrage of rifle fire that followed the shelling. He had desperately tried to shield them, using even his own body to block the bullets. Every one of the children had died, no matter how hard Issen had tried.

“Why…?”

Isolinium was silent. He had not listened to her during the mad rampage that followed. An entire platoon had been killed in his madness, their bodies strewn across the fields beyond the surrounding walls.

“…No one … deserves this…”

Finally, Issen moved. He laid the boy down and began digging. There was nothing else he could do for them now. He dug until enough holes had been made for everyone, even the soldiers outside. Issen buried them, carving the children’s names into a granite slat that had escaped destruction and setting crosses made of anything he could find above their graves. The soldiers received the same treatment, their dog-tags hanging from the markers he had set up. Once he had finished, Issen went to each grave, remembering that person’s last moment. It was hard to do so, because each person had been afraid of their inevitable end. Fear had been etched into their faces…

“I’m sorry…”

The rain began to let up as he finished. The blood that had soiled his armor had been washed away, but somehow Issen still felt unclean.

‘Issen… What should we do? I just…’ The girl had been crying, or at least the equivalent of it. The raw emotion he felt from her was like an anvil, weighing him down with the sadness she experienced.

“…I must protect you. That is my first and foremost mission. Until now I’ve had no other; there’s never been a reason to have one. But in carrying out that mission, I have caused harm to hundreds of people.” Issen stated the fact coldly, as if he was still the emotionless Type-Two from seventy years prior. It hurt him to think about it though, and just as he felt her sorrow Isolinium could feel his. “Even if I avoid humans for the rest of eternity, they will never stop hunting me. If I hide in the mountains, they will comb every crevice. They’d search the depths of the ocean to end my existence. We are never safe, and no one around us can survive if they remain close. As of this moment, we have no options that provide ourselves safety, or those we are in the vicinity of.”

‘What can we do?’

“Not much I’m afra—” He stopped, looking straight up into the cloudy sky. There was a broadcast being transmitted on every frequency. “What in the…?”

It was an emergency news broadcast. Palestine, Iran, and a number of other nations had unsuccessfully attacked Israel, North Korea was threatening a nuclear strike on Japan unless it surrendered, the Chinese army was moving for Mongolia, and more threats were mounting by the minute. Alliances were coming apart at the seams, and the world had become chaos incarnate. An emergency meeting had been called at the U.N. in an attempt to regain some order, but it was too little too late…

“...This is it. The world is going to hell in a hand basket, and I can’t do a thing to stop it.” He sighed, sitting down on a granite column that had been snapped in half by a heavy round. There was a bible, partially soaked by rain, lying at his feet. “…God, I may not have a soul to speak of, but please help them all.”

‘Issen, there must be something we can do! If things keep going, how many more will…’

“I know! We could go to the United Nations, but would they listen to us? Would they care what a mockery has to say? …You’re right though. We must try.” He looked south, formulating a plan as the blue glow surrounded his sickle-wings. The brilliant light flared and disappeared along with the robot, his body reappearing inside the main chambers of the U.N. building. Everyone was yelling, hurling racial slurs and every curse imaginable as diplomacy failed. Few took notice of the silver machine. “…Idiots… You’re all such idiots!!”

Angered by the human stupidity before him, Issen drew back for a punch. Instead of taking the head off of a diplomat, he made a crater in the floor. The noise alone was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, not to mention the slight vibration it sent throughout the entire building.

“…Do I have your attention now?” The entire assembly had paled with fear. They knew what Issen was capable of. “I will take your stunned silence as a yes.”

Someone shouted something in a foreign tongue, which was roughly translated as “Holy cow!” A few of the men fainted. Amazingly, the American representative had the nerve to speak. “…You are Issen, correct?”

“Yes. I’ve come with a simple request for you. All of you.”

“A-and what, Monsieur, would that be?” The French representative, who was currently dabbing his sweaty head with a handkerchief, had spoken.

Issen closed his eyes. “Make peace. I’ve seen enough death, and I wish for there to be no more.”

Someone further in the back yelled out in rage. Issen couldn’t make out his affiliation, as his desk had been overturned. “Insolence! You expect us to make peace? You and your kind are the cause of this! You alone have killed hundreds of thousands, and now you come to us begging for peace? What a fool you are…”

“If the world hadn’t set their might against me, then there would have been no deaths. In Ireland, there is a church that now lies in rubble simply because its pastor had pity on me. He gave me sanctuary in exchange for helping with daily chores. Yet even with this protection, which has been used many times over the years, the troops sent after me bombarded the stone chapel. The orphans inside, along with the entire staff, were killed!” His face had contorted as he spoke, a righteous anger overcoming him and overwhelming his logic. “You are the barbarians here, not me! I would never have killed anyone if you hadn’t come after me. I despise the shedding of blood! This form was given to me for the purpose of protecting people, not slaying them!”

“You think this is still limited to incidents involving Type-Three robots?” The same man scoffed at him, “You don’t know this world very well, do you? My nation has been to war again and again, trying to reclaim our rightful place for centuries, and now we have our chance! We will not stay our hand, not for you or for anyone else! Leave us! Go out and die like the rest of your kind!”

For a few moments, Issen considered staying, fighting even harder to have them hear his voice. It was unstoppable however; the assembly descended into madness before him. The coming war would continue.

The first nuclear bombs were dropped two days later. North Korea was swept off the map by America. China fired at Russia and the USA, which returned fire in kind before feeling the deadly atomic fire. America, limping after the western states had been exterminated, hit every nation that was attacking Israel even though the nation was doomed. Dirty bombs and biological weapons hit every continent as old grudges resurfaced, tearing through civilian population centers with little warning and few survivors. After three weeks, only a few civilized nations remained intact, but their numbers shrunk every day. The Final War was in full swing, and all Issen could do was watch. He had unknowingly lit the fuse that eventually ignited the world.

Millions disappeared without a trace.

In the real world, Issen’s face twitched in agony. Dr. Varr frowned sadly. This same twisted face of pain and sorrow had graced the robots features more than once in the past few days. “I guess my wish for you to have sweet dreams didn’t come true. Considering that your past is our greatest nightmare, I shouldn’t be surprised.”