Perfection is in the mind that makes mistakes [Open] [Bendytimed after SHODAN]
The Vatican was empty now of the sounds of fighting, but one didn't have to look hard to spot reminders of SHODAN's attack on the ship. Laser burns here, a crumbled section of wall there, a bloodstain...
Atom wandered over the grounds, collecting pieces of the ruined droidekas and other robots that had attacked the crew, carefully piling the larger shells up in one corner and placing the smaller pieces into a large bag he'd found. It was all he had, really, to store them in. He faltered briefly when his fingers found a shattered eyepiece or the blasted remains of a CPU, but he continued onward anyway. It was like sifting through the bodies of the fallen, which was something he tried not to dwell on too long. Someone had to clean this place up, and with all the damage, likely people would want to reuse the old robot parts. And another crew member... well, they wouldn't be anywhere near as delicate with the broken robots as he was.
But he still felt like a vulture. Or a grave robber, maybe, scouring the battlefield for body parts that were still fairly intact, still had use. Still had value.
And in the end, wasn't that all the people around him cared about? He'd seen the way the crew had reacted when the robots had first appeared: shattering their frames with abandon, killing them without a thought. To them, no doubt, robots were just soulless, malfunctioning machines -- maybe even monsters. Certainly nothing to be mourned, nothing worthy of sympathy.
He found a small, slender piece of metal and plastic on the ground and recognized it instantly for what it was. A memory chip, simplistic in design, no doubt from one of the fallen droids. For a moment, Atom held it in his small hand, curling his fingers over it, feeling the grooves along its otherwise smooth surface. Then he unzipped his hoodie slightly, revealing a small indentation near the center of his chest. He inserted the chip carefully into the reader there, closing his eyes and holding one hand over his chest as he did so, as if feeling the beating of his own heart.
The droids were simple robots, built for battle. They'd been designed and programmed to kill people designated as enemies, to hurt them, so it hadn't been hard for SHODAN to simply designate all humans as targets. Atom could only struggle to understand why this had been allowed to happen. In his world, robots helped humans -- they were construction workers, designers, policemen, travel agents, teachers. They were people. Programming them to kill was a crime. And why? Why create something whose only purpose was to kill?
But that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Robots were limited by their programming; if someone programmed them to kill, they had no choice but to do so, regardless of what they might actually want. Only advanced robots could, perhaps, be said to be capable of overriding that programming. And the most advanced robots of all, the ones closest to being human...
Atom wandered over the grounds, collecting pieces of the ruined droidekas and other robots that had attacked the crew, carefully piling the larger shells up in one corner and placing the smaller pieces into a large bag he'd found. It was all he had, really, to store them in. He faltered briefly when his fingers found a shattered eyepiece or the blasted remains of a CPU, but he continued onward anyway. It was like sifting through the bodies of the fallen, which was something he tried not to dwell on too long. Someone had to clean this place up, and with all the damage, likely people would want to reuse the old robot parts. And another crew member... well, they wouldn't be anywhere near as delicate with the broken robots as he was.
But he still felt like a vulture. Or a grave robber, maybe, scouring the battlefield for body parts that were still fairly intact, still had use. Still had value.
And in the end, wasn't that all the people around him cared about? He'd seen the way the crew had reacted when the robots had first appeared: shattering their frames with abandon, killing them without a thought. To them, no doubt, robots were just soulless, malfunctioning machines -- maybe even monsters. Certainly nothing to be mourned, nothing worthy of sympathy.
He found a small, slender piece of metal and plastic on the ground and recognized it instantly for what it was. A memory chip, simplistic in design, no doubt from one of the fallen droids. For a moment, Atom held it in his small hand, curling his fingers over it, feeling the grooves along its otherwise smooth surface. Then he unzipped his hoodie slightly, revealing a small indentation near the center of his chest. He inserted the chip carefully into the reader there, closing his eyes and holding one hand over his chest as he did so, as if feeling the beating of his own heart.
The droids were simple robots, built for battle. They'd been designed and programmed to kill people designated as enemies, to hurt them, so it hadn't been hard for SHODAN to simply designate all humans as targets. Atom could only struggle to understand why this had been allowed to happen. In his world, robots helped humans -- they were construction workers, designers, policemen, travel agents, teachers. They were people. Programming them to kill was a crime. And why? Why create something whose only purpose was to kill?
But that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Robots were limited by their programming; if someone programmed them to kill, they had no choice but to do so, regardless of what they might actually want. Only advanced robots could, perhaps, be said to be capable of overriding that programming. And the most advanced robots of all, the ones closest to being human...