No Survivors

Aim-mo lays on their back. They can feel each little pebble and dip in the cement floor beneath them. It seems like a weird place to be, just laying on the floor, but it's oddly comfortable. Temperatures are low, the first break they've gotten all summer. A solid crisp beam of sunlight slices through the torn currents covering the glassless window. The curtains silently flap back and forth in a soft morning breeze.

Next to them sits a forgotten teddy bear with only one eye and stuffing intestines oozing from it's abdomen. Around it is a shrine of broken glass and varying furniture debris, mostly splintered, with a smattering of dirt and mold and god knows what else has come in through the window over the past months.

Despite the less than ideal ambiance, it's still a pretty good squatting place. Quite, secluded on the outskirts of town. It's a safe place to hide out until they're found or receive a mission.

Aim-mo spends most of their time alone. Might sound lonely but everyone else around here is a real piece of work. Like not just a stick, but the whole forest stuck up their arse. Way better to ride solo.

Besides, they get a chance to explore more on their own. It would be too difficult with someone else in tow, especially considering how small they are. Can't be more than four feet tall. Not many left this small.

Suddenly the red proximity alert begins to flash on their wrist five seconds before the far wall crashes in.

What is the point in having a proximity alert if it isn't going to give you ample amount of time to leave? Used to work better. Aim.mo supposes they should try to find the equipment to fix it before it fails all together.

In a golden dusty haze a silhouette emerges from the new doorway. Stepping inside, he straightens glaring down at Aim.mo.

"Hey Saieo." Aim-mo doesn't move from their position on the floor.

Saieo's naturally angry face downturns into an even a deeper scowl.

Nothing is more disrespectful than calling someone by their human nickname.

"Artificial Intelligence Mechanic-Model One what are you doing here?"

Aim-mo flinches at their full name. Who wants to constantly be reminded that they're an outdated model and the only reason why they are still around is because they are just good enough at their job to not become obsolete?

Electing not to respond, Aim-mo keeps their thoughts to themselves.

Saieo's eye sockets shrink and the calm blue turns to red. Aim-mo wonders if the rumors are true that the Senior Artificial Intelligence Enforcement Officers (SAIEOs) can shoot lasers out of their eyes. If it is true, it's no wonder why the humans fell so easily. It's like they were asking for the robots to take over with all of the upgrades they gave.

"Artificial Intell--"

"Whaddyou want Saieo?"

He grimaces. "You even sound like them." His eyes return to blue, more annoyed with Aim-mo than anything else. "You're needed in Pod Bay 2."

"Me?" The monotone voice that comes out of their vocal module box can not accurately express the sense of dread and panic that flicker through their system. Pod Bay 2 hasn't been used since the beginning of the war.

It only holds human prisoners.

Why in the world would they need them there?

Begrudgingly, Aim-mo gets to their feet, passing the skeleton on the floor. It wears a dress, stained with dark dried blood and weather, and a heart shaped pendent on a chain hangs look over it's rib cage where there is a whole in the material from a bullet wound.

Following Saieo back to the main base, Aim-mo can't help but to compare their steps. Saieo's steps are light and barely touch the ground, while Aim-mo's are loud and each clanking step plumes a small cloud around his disc-shaped feet.

They can't help but note the difference between their two models. Aim-mo's paint has chipped and rusted, existed before the "revolution" -- as the others would call it -- as a engineer's assistant. Probably the best days they ever had. Every day completing work or tinkering or solving problems. No one got hurt, at least not intentionally, and everyone, for the most part, was content. Aim-mo actually helped build some of the later models that would eventually replace his counterparts.

Saieo was created for the "revolution" by other robots. Their ideologies programmed into him, so Saieo's generation never had a chance at free will. Never had the chance to become his own person, not like Aim-mo.

Back at camp, the majority of occupants are other AIEOs. Most of the AIGTUs (Artificial Intelligence Ground Team Units) were taken out by the humans' military. They were the last generation that were actually built with some human intervention.

Oddly, as they enter camp it appears deserted. Almost eerily silent as well.

That is until the left side of Pod Bay 2 bursts open with a spew of fire, black clouds and robot limbs.

Saieo continues on unaffected by this as if it had never happened.

This is why they needed Aim-mo. They probably found some human machinery or equipment that they need them to look at and fix up, to either make it work again or decommission it depending on what it's purpose is. Despite the revolution having been over for years, it seems that there can never be too many weapons in reserves. WHY? Aim-mo has no clue. It's not like they need them.

Saieo holds the door open for Aim-mo who hesitates just long enough for Saieo to make a sound of dissatisfaction before they enter.

Dust still floats through the air, obscuring the ring of glinting metallic bodies in the center of the room. But Aim-mo still can't see what they are there for.

"Clear the way." Saieo bellows to the backs of the crowd, who instantly part without turning to see who has entered.

Aim-mo shyly makes their way forward, avoiding eye contact as they approach the inner ring of the circle.

They expected to see a machine. Some kind of catastrophic doomsday weapon, some awful creation where they might have finally found their match.

Instead, there is a small, filthy, terrified looking human.

A human.

Aim-mo hasn't seen one of those alive since the purge after the robots won the war. But this human is young, judging by it's size. It's barely as tall as Aim-mo, scrawny and dirty. But young. Which means it was born after the revolution. Which means there are more humans out there.

Aim-mo, distracted by the human, can't figure out what the fuss is about. Almost anyone of them could have taken out the human without ever needing to come into close contact with it. And it is completely beyond their comprehension as to why they would ask them of all individuals to come to dispose of a human.

Someone from within the circle dares to take a step forward to grab the child, but as soon as they have broken free, Aim-mo sees what the commotion is all about.

A tiny Gen.1 Bot Assistant leaps through the air, hand morphing into a plasma blaster. It's small screen face have a straight line for a mouth, pin-points for eyes and angry eyebrows. There is a bright burst of light as the plasma blaster goes off.

Where the AEIO had been now stands a pair of legs with a molten core All of these who had been behind him have been cleared away by the blast. The floor strewn with melted parts.

"Goba!" The tiny bot chimes in an equally proportionate high pitched voice. It shakes it's minuscule fists in the air, blaster still smoking, before the gun recedes and is a small metal hand once more. It's screen face returns to it's default setting of large round eyes and a small little smile in the shape of an "u". It turns back to the child and pats it's head to comfort it.

Somehow this human, who shouldn't exist, has modified a Gen.1 into a killing machine. But only one that will kill robots.

Aim-mo looks back at Saieo, hoping that they will see something other than the order that is sure to come. But there is no assurance in Saieo's lifeless eyes.

With the motion of a heavy sigh, a nervous habit that they picked up from their time working with humans, Aim-mo steps into the ring.