Transformers: Generation Earth
"…Thank you for life;
Never taking any breath or any second
For granted, I will fail, but I will try…"
- "Saturday" - Olivia The Band
For the glory of the Most High
Prequel
"Oh, Autobots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Decepticons."
-"Transformers Theme" - Mutemath
"Sam, get to the building!" Ironhide called, falling from the damage caused by Starscream's most recent hit-and-run.
Sam Witwicky ran, full-tilt, along the street, towards the white building with statues at the top. There, the Allspark would be taken away by the crew in the Black Hawk Helicopters. At least, that was the plan.
Behind him, Megatron came careening down from the sky. At the last second he transformed from his jet mode to land. He called out, "Give me that Cube, boy!" and began running along the street as well, tossing an SUV out of the way while resuming his pursuit.
Sam continued to run away from Megatron, towards the above-mentioned building. The battle had not yet reached this area, so here cars were still moving along the street. Now, though, they swerved and screeched to stop, some in awe or fear of Megatron, others avoiding the people swarming out of buildings. In an effort to avoid a taxi, Sam ran into an Escalade, the women inside antagonizing over the possible dent or scratch he might have caused to their ride. Sam rolled off the car, hitting the ground. The Cube, still within his grasp, hit the ground as well, and a blue wave emanated from it.
Nearby, an X Box, Mt. Dew Dispenser, and even the Escalade Sam hit, came to life…
Chapter 1: Awakening
"We're the future can't you see,
The flame that burns inside of me….
And I will rise."
- "Gasoline Dreams" - Seven Story Ruin
A minute later and a few miles away, that blue wave perspicaciously shot across the ground past the homes in the suburbs of Mission City. Its now dimmed glow brightened for a moment as it worked its way past one of these homes. Both of the trucks in this driveway were overcome with shining, blue electricity, but only one transformed, while simultaneously a crashing sound tore from inside the garage. The huge 24 foot or-so-tall robot outside reached on its back and pulled out a huge gun, the barrel of which consisted mostly of the wheels of the Silverado. It paused, however, as the garage to the home in front of it opened. The transformed Silverado knelt down, looking inside. Its eyes - pinpricks of light upon its dark, metal visage - brightened once they reached the outline of a teen just out of the doorway that led from the garage to the house it connected to.
-o-
I rubbed my eyes; a loud but brief bzzt noise, along with a crashing sound woke me up from where I had been sleeping on the couch. I wanted to go back to sleep, but had to verify the noises were harmless. So I went in the garage, and the worst possible scene met my eyes. Ok, maybe not the worst, the house wasn't on fire, but there was a huge hole in the roof. My parents would kill me when they got back from their trip. What was curious about this hole though, wasn't that it broke into the attic, but that the roof above that was fine. It was also almost directly above the only car in the garage. My car. A red 1994 Camaro that had been a gift (when it was brand-new) to mom from dad, but now that mom had the Silverado, and I was old enough, I got it. Well, so much for cleaning the car not two days ago. It was now covered in debris, dust, and pink foamy insulation... Anyway, nothing could have crashed down from the sky, since the attic roof was fine, but what could've caused the roof to collapse like that? The garage door opening mechanism was outside the radius of the hole by about a foot or two in either direction, so, hoping for more evidence, I returned quickly to the door of the house and pressed the button on the wall to open the garage. Why is it that something always happens right after you clean your car? I thought exasperatedly.
The garage opened as slowly as it ever did, and as it did so, I noticed an unfamilar piece of machinery sitting on the pavement outside. The door continued upward and I perceived more about it: at the base of the ever-more-revealed cylindrical cluster of metal pieces lay something resembling a hand. It was proportionate to the rest of the metal, so that had the many metallic bits and pieces been a uniform part, it could have been the arm of Japan's newest robot to hit local news. It had three fingers and a thumb. I began taking another step towards the metal thing, but stopped once the garage door reached about head's height. Another, larger, bit of machinery came into view, this one suspended from a point I couldn't see. Slowly, as the door kept moving, two red points appeared, and I concluded that they were eyes, and the suspended piece of metal parts was a face. And that the hand I originally saw was connected to an arm. Which was connected to a torso. Which was connected to this face. It was a very big robot.
Finally, the garage stopped at its pinnacle, and a pregnant silence followed.
"You…?" the robot said, barely audible and raising his left arm (which was visually nothing like the right; it looked alot more like a huge machine gun than anything else) to point slightly at me. Its voice was not even close to what a robot (or in my mind, a computer) sounded like when it "spoke". It was more like listening to a human and a wolf trying to speak at the same time, because a growl was deeply resonant beneath the lone word. After it spoke, the robot then turned its 'head' away from me, as if reminiscing. Then, shortly afterward, it spoke again, though this time unintelligibly. What I heard was, "I wool great thumb" (but all as one word). I couldn't even pronounce it. At least, not as fast or as smoothly as he did. Immediately after speaking for a second time, the mechanical creature got up from kneeling on the ground, and turned to the street which was in front of the house. It walked out to the road, each footfall a loud thud, and a crack appearing in the concrete and asphalt wherever its foot decided to rest. Upon reaching the center of the road, it put it's gun-like left arm on its back, where the barrel stayed as it pulled the claw holding it away. So its left arm was actually a really big claw? Creepy. Next, he looked back at the garage, and, speaking again in the English language, said, "Stop pestering me, Camshaft."
I looked at him oddly, and opened my mouth to retort- but my car beat me to it. "Just tell me your name, at least," 'Camshaft' said. Its voice had much less of a growl in it, so much so that it was almost nonexistent compared to the robot's. The tone also wasn't quite so deep. Beyond noticing this, I was dumbfounded.
"Seether," the robot replied indignantly.
After a moment's more pause, and after it had apparently verified that my car wasn't going to ask any more questions (as crazy as that sounds), the robot sort of bent backwards. It looked like it was going to lay down, but, before I knew it, it wasn't a robot anymore. All the parts had moved and shifted, and I was now looking at my mom's truck. The tan-ish 2004 Silverado, it's diesel engine running as obnoxiously as ever, drove off down the street.
I ran out to the driveway, hand outstretched. What the? What just happened? How do you explain this to your parents? 'I'm sorry mom, dad, I woke up and there was this hole in the garage, and then your truck drove away.' 'No, it wasn't stolen; it just left.' Yeeeah. They'd think I'm loopy. "This is not good," I mumbled to myself.
"Where do you think he's going?" I recognized the voice as the one that came from my car. I turned back to the garage and looked at the Camaro.
"Maybe I am going crazy," I said as Camshaft reversed out of the garage. I tested the name on my lips, "Camshaft."
"Yea, Viktor?" it replied, stopping in front of me.
"I don't like that name," I murmured, scrunching up my face. The car shifted uneasily on it's shocks, and i realized that statement could have been referring to either name, so I clarified. "Call me V," I said quickly.
"You don't like your name?"
I gave a noncommittal grunt.
"You can call me Cam, by the way."
"You don't like your name?" I asked.
"No, Cam is just shorter," he replied.
"I see." I said slowly. "Yea, either I'm going crazy, or I'm still asleep."
-o-
Camshaft
"I'm sorry? What do you mean?" I asked. My attention wasn't fully on the spoken conversation, however, as I was keeping up a conversation electronically with Grill, the only other truck in the driveway of that property.
Grill: :He thinks he is asleep.:
Camshaft: :Why?:
Grill: :Do you have any inkling as to where our sentience originated?:
Camshaft: :No.:
Grill: :Neither does he. A result of that is that he does not believe his eyes.:
"Did I say that out loud?" V turned to me. "I guess it doesn't matter."
"You're not asleep," I said. "Grill, tell him."
Grill: :It would not help. It would probably scare him more.:
Camshaft: :It would help- wait, he's afraid?:
Grill: :When he finally accepts the reality of our existence, his bland, unresponsive demeanor will probably be replaced by one of fear.:
"Grill-?" V asked.
I ignored his question. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"…No," he said slowly.
"See, Grill? Just tell him."
Camshaft: :See, Grill? Just tell him.:
I sent the message both verbally and electronically to emphasize how important this was to me. I couldn't prove to V what was happening, but maybe Grill could.
"Who is Grill?" V posed the question again.
Grill: :Fine.:
Grill transformed.
-o-
Viktor
"I'm Grill," said the robot that was formerly my dad's truck - a 1968 faded red Ford F-250 custom. "And you aren't asleep; it's as Camshaft says."
This machine's voice was sort of deep, and had a slight rumble behind it.
"I can't believe this is happening!" I almost yelled, backpedaling and falling into the grass of our yard. I took several moments to compose myself, then asked in a steady voice, "You can't tell me this is real?"
The Ford seemed a little annoyed in his response, "I just did, but that's not the point."
Following that, it stepped over my Camaro, got down on its knees and came near to my eye level. I sat, stiff, where I had fallen on the grass. Grill then reached towards me, two-fingered hand held open. "How does one know something is real?" he asked. He grabbed a hold of me, and stood to his full height.
I had to have been 20 feet off the ground, and it was hard to think when you felt like the bottom of your stomach had dropped out.
How do you know anything is real? I finally questioned myself to get my mind off the height. Well, I definitely knew something wasn't real just because someone said it was, so, maybe, a feeling. What did you feel in real situations compared to dream? Fear? I opened my mouth to answer but stopped, fear was very prominent in nightmares (which this was quickly turning into). I shut my mouth again and closed my eyes, thinking, and trying very hard not to look down.
"You do not know?" Grill finally asked. I could feel a little bit of a vibration in his hand when he spoke. It scared me because I at first thought it was him letting go.
After a second more of deliberation, I shook my head.
"Neither do I," He surprisingly answered. Something sort of like a chuckle came from him then; it was a lot like his voice saying "hahahaa" but with more rumble in it than usual. His eyes too, blue specks in his face, sort of shuttered closed for a few moments as he "laughed". It's hard to describe how bits of shifting metal can contort to look friendly, or smiling, but, somehow, he achieved it.
I wasn't too comforted, however, since that question still loomed. "I wish I was sleeping, even though I already sleep too much," I admitted to myself.
Grill observed me for a moment before speaking again, "Perhaps in the future you will not regret our creation today. And maybe then we will be able to answer the question of reality." He paused and let me think about it.
I always came back to the same question when left to stew: what will mom say when she gets home?
Grill continued before I could ask, though. "Camshaft, do you have anything to say?" He spoke over his shoulder to where Cam had been. I say "been" because yet another automaton had replaced a vehicle I was used to seeing.
"Good job Grill," he said, "but did you have to go and confuse me in the process?" The voice was unmistakably my car's, as well as a few pieces clearly visible, such as the headlights.
"Everything sentient faces that question," Grill said. "I just brought it to the forefront of your thoughts now. Does it disturb you?"
"Yes," Cam replied; he was about 4 feet shorter than Grill when he stood at his full height, so he looked slightly up to the Ford. His build was also thinner. "Now, can I hold him?" he asked, a kiddish look overtaking his features.
"What?!" I exclaimed, affronted.
My car looked dubious. "You said you weren't afraid of me, so can't I hold you for a little while?"
"Wha- Why?" I stammered, feeling my face get a bit red.
"Why not?" It looked amused.
Grill laughed again, "Why did you ask me?"
"Because you were holding him!" Cam blurted out.
"You should have asked Viktor first."
Cam made a loud huffing noise while rolling his eyes. He folded his arms and turned his back to both Grill and myself, looking at the ground.
I looked back at Grill. His bright eyes turned from Cam to me, and he winked at me. Apparently they were holding some sort silent conversation of their own.
Finally, after almost a minute of silence, Cam turned back around to face us and asked defiantly, "V, can I please hold you?"
I looked toward Grill - he shrugged. "Why?" I asked Cam again; I noticed I sounded a bit wary.
"Uhh, err….Oh, I don't know," he finally managed to answer. "For the experience?" he put in, seemingly as an excuse.
Like that was really explanatory- I frowned at it. He sort of lost some of his happy air after that, though, so I finally conceded. "Sure…," I grumbled.
Cam quickly regained his lost excitement, putting both of his hands together nearly under Grill's, and almost under me. Grill began moving me the rest of the way, but stopped, and jerked a little bit, as a short, high-pitched whistling noise, followed shortly thereafter by a loud BOOM! interrupted the spectacle.
"What was that?" Cam asked, looking in the direction the noise had come from. It was blocked by the two, tall pine-trees planted between ours and our neighbor's houses. Grill set me down, while Cam went out into the street to see clearly. Then Grill followed, and I ran to the asphalt as well. Smoke was rising from some home a few blocks away.
"Maybe it's similar to whatever happened there," Grill pointed in a completely different direction, about 90 degrees left. The tall skyscrapers that marked the center of Mission city, and also the valley we were housed in, were having a few smoke problems of their own. As I stared, I noticed more and more things out of place. Several jets, presumably from Nellis AFB, were flying towards the skyscrapers. Jets NEVER flew over the main portion of the city, at least, never so low that they could collide with a building.
"Noticed anything out of place?" Grill asked tentatively.
"Jets never..." I paused as two of the jets apparently collided, but one pulled out from the ensuing flame and smoke safely, while the other dropped from the sky. "What just happened?"
"You couldn't see it?" Cam asked hesitantly.
"...too far away," I mumbled, still staring at the jets. Another fell from the sky.
"The one that survived," Grill paused, as if unsure whether to continue or not, "-it was only for a second, he was so precise- it converted half-way to a bi-pedal mode."
So it was a robot too. Was this happening all over the world?
"I have to investigate this," Grill said to himself, quite seriously. He turned back to the dying plume of smoke which had originally grabbed our attention, and transformed.
Cam was still watching the jets as they flew through the tall throng of buildings; he murmured to himself, "Why would…" but I couldn't hear the rest, because Grill's engine roared to life, and took him down the street.
"I have to go too," I could soon hear him mumbling again, this time with his head hanging.
"Are you ok?" I asked as he, too, turned toward the original smoke stack.
"Yea, I'd feel better if you came, though," he gave me one last glance, with an attempt at a smile, before transforming back into a Camaro.
I walked over to the door he left open, and grasped both the hood and the door, with each of my hands. One last look back at the smoke rising out of the center of the city, and I finally got in, though, I admit, a bit hesitantly. How could I not go? I had to make sure the cars lived long enough to explain to my parents why one of the trucks was missing.
-o-
End Chapter One
"-o-" indicates a break (hopefully you figured that out though).
If a name is after "-o-" that means there was a change in perspective from one character to another. The name is the character we are switching to.
Colons (:) before and after a sentence indicate the message is electronic. The name of the sender is always before the message (unless it is unavailable)
AFB Acronym; Air Force Base