Advent, Chapter 8-Infiltration
Chapter 8: Infiltration
July 9, 1:56 PM, EDT
I woke up to the sound of a loud tropical bird belting out a screeching overture of sequined noises. The bed covers were wet with sweat, the floor slippery with condensation, and the air became difficult to breathe, almost clogging my windpipe when I inhaled. I stepped outside to observe the beautiful sky above me, with dark storm clouds residing opposite the sea of blue. The sun broke against the edge of the clouds, dotting the tops of the trees, and hitting my pale skin. So hot the rays were that I could feel my sensitive skin boiling. It was a good feeling, though, one of those things that gives and takes. I didn't have anything left to give, so I would take what was offered to me, that is, the glorious sun.
My face smiled as the sunlight, making the skin upon it grow gradually more irritated, though I little cared as the exchange for the life-giving heat was little consequence. My smile suddenly turned to a frown as my ears caught the sound of that propulsion system I loathed so much to hear; the human was coming. I scrambled inside the hut, imitating sleep as the human walked in, amused at my fatigue in the brutal conditions. Assuming true that I was indeed asleep, he set another pile of the familiar meson bombs upon the table. I feared he was creating a coup of his own against the saurians, undoubtedly attacking the base and endangering the operation.
He stood over me. With my thermal imaging, I could see through my eyelids and observe him as he looked me over for injuries. His hands clasped my wrist, checking for a pulse. Satisfied with my condition, he went over to the table and began fiddling with the meson bombs, fitting them upon his belt. I had had enough, and decided to wake from my pseudo-slumber. Playing dumb, I went through all the normal things a paranoid human would do in this situation.
"Wh--who are you? O-o-oh, you're that guy from before! Stay away from me! You freak! Abomination!" I decided not to run through the door screaming like any sane human would do in this situation, but just continue to run thorough my episode in the corner by the bed.
"No, no my friend! Be calm." He offered his hand in assurance to me, letting it remain there, open for me to grasp. "I'm on your side, kid! Those monsters you saw before? They're the real enemy!" His hand still extended towards me, ready for me to grasp. Suddenly, he lost it. Withdrawing his hand, he hit his temples repeatedly, ranting around the room playing the mantra, "Nobody trusts me!" His fit brought him to the desk, where he slammed his hands down on the table palm down, with his head hanging above the table, his posterior jutting out at angle, just like any frustrated human might do in a similar situation. He sobbed silently, letting tears run down his cheeks. "My own people don't even trust me now."
I proceeded with phase two of the human interface program in my consciousness programmed: Sympathetic/Empathetic relations to stressed individual. A lengthy title yes, but it came in handy for high school acting at least. I approached the distraught human, resting my hand on his shoulder, "What do you mean, 'Nobody trusts you?' Who are you anyway? If you tell me this much, I suppose I could trust you..."
He wiped the sadness from himself and returned to his normally perky and stimulated personality in an abnormal twist. His Human Interface was obsolete, as he let himself be subject to mood swings. I remember when I had those, back when I used my old OS with a primitive interface program. It made me look like a gay robot. This model was old, very old. We engaged in a conversation about trust, while I secretly scanned his robotic architecture.
"I'm glad. What was your name again? That's right, you never told me your name did you...."
SCAN INITIATED: MODEL UNKNOWN; OBSOLETE MECHANICAL ARCHITECTURE--INCAPABLE OF SELF-REPLICATION. 70% OF COMPOSITION IS MECHANICAL, 23% ORGANOID, 7% ORGANIC.
"Yeah, well....so...who exactly were those monsters? This has been one wild day for me and--,"
"Those were the saurians. I think I talked about those earlier to you, but--,"
CRANIAL SCAN COMPLETE: OBSOLETE MECHANICAL SYSTEM--NON-ORGANOID CEREBRAL INTERFACE. NOTICE: ABNORMALITY DETECTED IN ANTERIOR-DORSAL AREA OF BRAIN; SCARRING CAUSED BY PATHOGEN: PREDICT SLIGHT MENTAL HANDICAP.
A pathogen? I didn't know that mechanical beings could contract diseases, aside from viruses or glitches in their computation systems. Even so, that wouldn't cause scarring to organic tissue, it just couldn't, not with this model especially.
The Heretic went on to discuss the plague, "I don't believe you are infected with the weapon, seeing you're still alive and well. It must be this jungle atmosphere protecting you I suppose."
PATHOGEN IDENTIFIED: CLASS C GLOBAL EXTERMINATOR PATHOGEN.
The global exterminator pathogen? But that only attacked nerve tissue. Unless, that is, the being held...of course! Part of its neuralnet computer must be made up of nervous tissue. This was unusual for such an obsolete model of cybernetic technology, as most nervous tissue in these models was located in the extremities like the hands and feet. No doubt it was constructed with nervous tissue in the brain to enhance social interface and emotions. This cyborg was far from retarded, it was just a social outcast.
"What weapon are you talking about--oh! Wasn't it that disease you were talking about earlier?"
"Ah, yes. It was wasn't it? There's little time to talk now. Come on, we need to get out of here, lest we risk being caught off guard by those monsters again." He threw me a sack of what I believed to be meson bombs and headed out the door into the clearing.
I just didn't understand! I analyzed his voice patterns, interface quality, ease of interpretation, and no social deprivation was detected whatsoever! Everything about this being seemed identical to a normal human being. He spoke with the ease of a poet, his style and finesse were tuned to perfection, and his facial expressions were much more advanced than my own. How could this, machine, be more like a human than a complete organoid like myself! It didn't seem physically possible! Then I realized: he is not of the same make as I am. From what I've heard of his ramblings, he's from some other planet, probably possessing technology different from our own. Aliens? Nonsense. Aliens simply do not exist. The saurians have scoured the galaxy for life, and the chances of there being life within this solar system alone is nothing, for there is none, there never was, and there never will be a day when life crawls up from the barren sands of Mars or the raging winds of Venus!
My mind switched back to the task at hand. The Heretic called for me outside. "Are you planning on coming? Or should I leave you here for the saurians to tear you limb from limb?" I hardly agreed with his viewpoint of the saurian race, but followed his lead anyway.
His steps led into the depths of the jungle, where creatures called out at every turn, making strange, sometimes alien noises. My human guide seemed not to mind, though he was not at all human, but a mostly-metallic skeleton of circuits and processors encapsulated within the form of a human. I knew not where he led me, though I was fairly certain it was a place safe from the saurians he so feared. Though his Human Interface programs were highly tuned, his Social Interface, which, though by it's sound does not seem that different from the former, was not nearly as developed. Put simply: he was handsome and quite affluent, but performed poorly in social situations, only able to execute orders and commands, ask questions, while completely devoid of empathetic or sympathetic sensors. This was to my advantage, for he did not notice my lack of suspicion in this odd scenario: a highly advanced mechanoid walking alongside what he would expect to be an average human. Under other circumstances, the scene would be acted out much differently.
I was fed up with its incompetence and demanded an explanation as to where we were going or what the hell we were doing. "Where is it that you are leading me?" I inquired.
"I am taking you to safety. There is too much risk for you to contract the pathogen on the outskirts of the rainforest." He replied in an almost humorously excited tone. He was wearing on my nerves, and fast. Out of all the humans I've ever had to put up with, this one was the most frustrating, not so much in the lack of information he gave to me, but in the sheer annoyance of his bright and perky personality, which, by the way, was a result of the damage to his brain. Though his was devoid of human emotional interface, (with the exception of a few basic abilities such as simple happiness, sadness, anger, etc.), the objective remained clear for him: avoid the enemy. I could sense it from him. He was always on guard, as I could sense every single one of his sensors operating at full power, constantly searching for saurians. Fortunately, he knew not of the humanoids like me, and so I was safe for the time being.
*****
Five damn hours of walking in the Brazilian rainforest, not once stopping for a drink, thanks to the lack of need for resources by the stolid robot. I could put up with that for now, yet I was eager to see where we were going, and wasting time was not part of my agenda. In that sense, I thanked the utter efficiency of the mechanical man. The monotony of aimlessly traversing the sheer density of the tropical disaster soon came to a halt when I bumped into the rear end of my guide.
"What's the problem?" I inquired as patiently as I could.
"There is no problem. We have arrived at our destination."