"Emily, no."

She has been trying for weeks to help her come back to a semblance of awareness and identity, and just that one simple word can bring freedom. Much more is needed, however, but absolutely nothing less can be accepted. Yes has been a given in her life and in the lives of countless others like her.

The Autonomous Robots or Autobots, as they are commonly called, have been victorious or better still, the freedoms have been fought for and won. The process of reunification had started under the leadership of Rodimus Prime and continues now, under both the Matrix holder, Optimus Prime and the one whom the Matrix shares a bond, Rodimus sans Prime. The Robo Smasher was an infamous and despairing success in what was, still, the recent past to those that experienced it and those that were affected by the results of it. It was thought that the override program was impossible to conquer; could never be overcome, but impossible and never are absolutes. There are very few absolutes in the universes, and those known can be named on, at the most, eight digits: weak, strong, love, hate, lie, truth, good and evil. All other things, as can be known by imperfect sentient beings, are shadings, inconclusive ramblings.

"Emily, no."

With patience, technique and not too little help from the Matrix, itself, the healing had begun. There are still so many open wounds. Unlike biological organisms, wounds in cybernetic sentient constructs did not fester, did not develop into infections, but bleed through, depleting the site of any energy to boost the self-repairing nanites, and while the engines still churn, and the cogs turn—burns into the body, causing the other systems to fail, if not stopped and repaired.

"Emily, no."

But these wounds are not to be confined to a single entity or even many entities. And while they could be physical, they primarily are the emotional and spiritual wounds that slip past the awareness of even the most discerning and perceptive on Cybertron, Earth and beyond, to hurt, maim, cripple and destroy.

"Yes."

A sigh, deep from within her heart comes up to meet the impatience in her mind, grappling with each other. Neither won. Emily's yes was a weak, but non-troubled response, and that almost discouraged her. Almost made her want to give up. Instead, she looks outside the window, out onto the world.

It was a solemn morning that looks so pleasant, almost surreal. A crystalline blue sky, the color of clear, calm and inviting water, refreshing, and inspiring, with lovely white, small puffy clouds of white dreams, floating by.

No, I will not give up. I will not stop. I must continue. I will continue.

Trying again, she again demands of her to awaken, "Emily, no!"

It is hard work, to awaken and engage the mind. If she were sleep, it would be a different matter. But she, Emily, is not asleep. She is worse. She is hardly here. Physically present, but emotionally and spiritually imprisoned within her body. A victim of a cybernetic sex-slave trade that by all accounts, started at least 2,000 Earth years ago, and only was abated this year. Many generations came and went without a savior, not even a spark or soul to take pity on them. When the Autobots did come, it was too late for almost all of them. First Aid's vocal processor was heavy with sorrow, "95.4 percent of them are beyond repair, Prime." He whispered it, shuddering, "95.4 percent, gone to the Pit, and never coming back." And by the Pit, he means to the dark of existence.

The essence, the meaning of freedom, what was that exactly? It was more than just the ability to say yes or no. It was the ability to determine your course, your path with the knowing of what consequences that might bring. Indeed, the knowing of the consequences could bring restrictions, especially if those consequences of a decision or decisions could bring forth results that were harmful. It was the Autobots' freedom, the right to say and do no harm that brought about their seemingly eminent destruction. It was the Deceptions' freedom, their sheer will to rule that also brought about their seemingly eminent destruction. Both could be destroyed by their freedoms by none allowing any quarter. In this imperfect situation they find themselves, they must allow for quarter, even though good cannot compromise with bad. There is no light in darkness. By this very nature, this imperfect state would only bring more hurt, more pain, and more suffering.

The Autobots' quest of freedom from fear and the Decepticons' freedom of pursuit, but both absolutely held sacred their freedom of will, if not movement. It was against their being to be brought into anyone's will involuntarily. To be enslaved was beyond them, however, known by them. Which is why the Robo Smasher was at once a failure and a success. Love, justice and wisdom are inherent in all sentient beings. Even the most malevolent, had, at one time, possessed these--some say--divine qualities.

The Robo Smasher was a success because it warped the mind, amplified any spark of hate to a heightened degree, some more than others. It was a failure because it reprogrammed and still conserved. Reprogramming meant it would, for many, not have been of their free will and choice to join him. For those whose will was bent, their personality was bent towards it as well. Cohabiting with the living hate that resided in the light, hiding and waiting in plain sight. It was also a failure because it returned many to that which they fought so hard against. The Quintessons, at one time, took over the planet and all at once, took Primus' one creation and reformatted and reprogrammed it. So that it was no longer an autonomous being but a simple drone. They then replicated it to the point that they, the Quintessons, had enough to sell. Who they sold them to was a mystery. Perhaps to a now dead civilization or maybe it was preliminary steps to an invasion of some sort. There is now a theory that they were going to use the constructs to enact a coup d'etat on their own world, to divide the populace and bring it to a global war. Yet still, they failed, as the RoboSmasher failed. For within the first construct, as they renamed him, was awareness and sense of self, sense of life, given as a gift from Primus to his first-born, as he rightly was called.

But what about the other quality, power? Power flows to the one who knows how, said an ancient construct, Megatron. Primus is said to be their deity, Carly had once explained to her. So, it can be reasonably argued that Primus is weak. Where was he when the first cyber being on their planet needed him? Why didn't he exact justice and throw the Quintessons off of his planet to protect his sparkling?

Isn't that what we humans asks of our deities? Where were you? Why didn't you?

She is standing up, looking down at Emily, who is looking up at her, ghostly.

Didn't you care?

Enough.

Taking Emily by the hand, she pulls her up. In the sunlight that floods the room with a sense of hope, she undresses her. Pulling her pajamas over her head, reveals a nude form underneath. The room is warm, yet she shivers.

No licentious reaction. Hardly any reaction at all. Not even to the change in temperature.

There was no recognition that she was naked. There is just acceptance; no shame at being bare in front of her. She reaches out to touch Emily's breast.

She doesn't respond to my touch. Only a mechanoid could get anything from her. This one was taught while the others were reprogrammed that way. Pain is pleasure.