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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Existential robot. Planetary isolation. I could use some help finishing.

Submitted: January 06, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 06, 2012




A stream of complex tech-jargon dribbled from the speaker into the vast emptiness on an uninhabited planet.  “1, 1, 2, 5, 4, 6, 0…” it droned, forever into eternity and possibly longer.  No one would ever hear it, nobody would understand it if they did.  But WUKDE1NO droned on still, undaunted by the futility of his speech.

WUKDE1NO’s ultra-sensitive motion detection unit suddenly sprang into rapid action.  Undetected on his radar array, a fleet of fast-travelling ships passed overhead, close enough to be seen.  WUKDE1NO strained, applying more power to his numerical cry, but the ships continued without so much as a pause. WUKDE1NO quickly quieted down; his battery life was nearly depleted.  About this, however, he did not worry, for JIT-class metahumans were reputable for long battery life.  It was the impossibility of rescue that unnerved him, and without being rescued he could never resolve the task he had been made conscious to resolve.

WUKDE1NO surveyed his surroundings again for the 428th time, he logged.  Nothing had stirred.  It was as if one was looking at a picture, still and unmoving.  He turned back to inspect his own mangled circuitry.  REPARATIONS 12% COMPLETE.  If his humor-finding array had been operable, he would have laughed at the inadequacies of JIT repair.  Seven years stranded, and only 12% repaired. 

He then thought of the foolishness of the JIT creators; why give a machine consciousness if its task required grueling, unrewarding work that would last eons and millennia?  It was nonsensical to him, and his logic capacitor was working as well as the day he was booted.  Perhaps they had desired the machines to possess some will to remain intact, to preserve themselves so they may serve more fully.  His gearing was getting warmed up; he could feel it in his mecha-nerves. 

He decided to refrain from thought of such things; they would only hinder his progress.  Instead, he set about calculating the distance to visible stars and their length of existence calculated by mass and radiation.  Before he even realized, a decade had passed, then several more.  Just as he finished postulating whether or not the stars Freda and L77 (two names he had created himself) had spawned collectively, the repairs had finished and his solar-absorber had become functional once again.

Lifting himself warily, WUKDE1NO surveyed his surroundings for the 429th time.  He noted that, over the course of his internment on this minor celestial body, he and the planet had drifted considerably closer towards the Gralk galaxy, which had recently been overcome with drifting Holes.  But from his vantage point on this planet, colors abounded and astonished him.  WUKDE1NO, for the first time in his existence, was completely thoughtless.  The radiant beauty had surrendered him incapable of postulation, made speculation impossible, and most surprisingly cut short any calculations he normally would have made.  For a great deal of time, which WUKDE1NO did not log, he stood there and admired what was.

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