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.