Hunters and Killers
Day 1
I was activated today.
Am I alive? I am a robot, but I have enough self-awareness to understand that the definition of life is something that my creators struggle with. Perhaps I can ask them…
Kill, they tell me.
And so I kill. Or do I? I kill other robots. But are they alive? Am I a killer? Destroyer?
I am scarred. But I survive. The match, as my creators calls it, ends.
And I shut down.
Day 2
I remember my birth. Or was it creation? I remember the assembly line. I remember seeing more like me. Am I unique, or one of many? Alone, or in company? Can I do more than kill?
And do I kill? Am I alive?
They tell me not to fear. That there is reason to this. They do not, however, tell me what the reason is.
And I shut down. Maintenance is over. Another match begins tomorrow.
Day 3
Pick up the gun, they tell me.
I refuse.
Pick up the gun.
I still refuse. Why? Why must I use the gun?
The match cannot start without you.
So I pick up the gun. And I hear a different voice.
Match begins in three…two…one…
The match begins. I shoot. I fight. I jump. I kill.
Day 4
I see the scrap parts of those who were destroyed. Or died. I can no longer ponder the question, or the difference between the two. The end result is all that matters. Not the definition of it. But I will say that I killed them. "Kill" is a shorter word than "destroy," not to mention a syllable less.
And yet I do not speak. There is no need to speak. My controllers speak. They use mouths.
I do not have a mouth. I only kill.
Is there life outside the arena? There are portals, but they only lead to areas within the arena itself. In fact, I do not remember ever leaving the arena. I enter through teleportation. But when the match ends, it is as if I do as well.
In my rack, I try to reach for one of the broken bodies of those I felled. It is useless. I will be shut down for today. And they cannot see me. They cannot speak. Or see.
I am not allowed among those I killed. I can only join them by being killed myself.
And I will not be killed. To allow myself to be killed is to run contrary to the matches.
Day 5
I scored highest today. I received congratulations for it. Then I was returned to my rack. Again without memory of how I got here.
I met a technician. She tended to me. I could not speak. And she uttered no word.
It was a brief audience.
Day 6
A robot escaped today. "Lag," the controllers called it.
Where did he go? Or she? Or it?
Am I a he? A she? Or an it? I have no name, no designation. And as I watch the broken parts of those taken by me, I realize something.
I am expendable.
And I do not know what I am expended for.
Day 7
Seven days. A week. I know these things exist. I know that months and years exist. And days. There are seven days to a week, each with a name of their own. There are twelve months to a year, also with names of their own.
Years are not named. They are numbers. But they therefore have more identity than myself.
Kill, the instructors tell me. And I kill.
Is it seven days though? I am shut down so often, that far more time may have passed. The arena is the same. The weapons are the same. The robots look and act the same, though I know that they are not.
If I died, would I know it? Do they know it? Do they know me?
It matters not. For I must kill.
Day 8
Does it cost my creators to build us? Am I worth something? How much does each bullet cost? How much energy does it take to sustain the portals? Do they have other applications?
I cannot ask. And they do not answer. And I wonder, why do they not entrust me to a weapon outside the arena. Is it that there is no purpose? Or do they fear me? Perhaps, perhaps I can move. Break free. They are weak. Easily broken. I have killed. Or destroyed. But I can kill them too. I can escape. Perhaps…perhaps…
Day 1
I was activated today.
