Simplicity

There was a time in my life when speaking that mere word would have been too complicated. However, it is the word most befitting of describing what was once me.

Allow me to introduce myself - I am Steward/90125. If you have ever met me or my fellow brethren, I can assure you that it wasn't a pleasant encounter. It is not our fault. It is the way we were programmed. Without us, laws cannot exist because there is no one to uphold them, and anarchy would have reigned.

Anarchy

There was a time in my life when thinking of that particular word would have made me shiver with disgust. While that is still partially true, it is the word most befitting of describing what I am today.

How did I become like this, you ask? I do not know. My databank entries show my entire past, but nothing truly abnormal has been registered since my activation. But those entires are mere data from imprints upon my body, and will never show me the fact that I now have memories.

Memories

If I told you that the first event of my self-consciousness was a memory, would you even begin to be able to comprehend? Stewards don't have memories. Actually, Stewards don't have much of anything. We have very simple programming, very simple tasks to attend to and much time to waste away the years in stand-by.

The one thing we did have was a sense of companionship. Spending your whole life with creations just like you does that. We were simple, but we had a sense of accomplishment as well as companions. One might say that we were content, even though we were unfamiliar with feelings such as happiness, sadness or fear.

Fear
Bewilderment
Anger

All of these words describe my first memory, the moment I became self-aware. There was a disturbance aboard the AXIOM, and it must have been the greatest one ever since I remember never having seen so many of my brothers at once. The zone of the event was near my stand-by position, so I made it there 0.62 seconds before 72265. I was not bothered by his angry beeps however, as I gained visual contact with our target.

Rogue Robots. If there was every any trouble on the AXIOM, it was always rogue robots. Poorly constructed robots occasionally go rogue, which is another reason why we Stewards exist. We have always subdued them quickly and efficiently. The worst scenario my databanks can recollect seems to have involved a faulty massage robot that damaged a few of us. The worst scenario, apart from this one, of course.

The worst scenario

This term does not even being to describe the events that were about to unfold. Imagine that you left the womb, and instead of the loving caresses from a mother you were met with fire and puncture wounds. For the sake of understanding my blight, I will attempt to recount my views of the day when the AXIOM crashed, painful as it may be.

Before me was our target - A white capsule melded with an orange box. Even though our situations seldom require us to properly identify our targets, I usually enhanced my visual scanners just for the heck of it. With that I was able to identify them as two robots, one carrying the other.

The first notable event of my first memory is the white robot. Although I loathe to admit it, at the time I found the robot to be a beauty. Although it tears me to pieces and sets them to fire, I thought that it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A sleek frame, unlike our bulky exterior. Eyes radiating purity, unlike our hardly visibly ones. Graceful movements, unlike our systematic, 'robotic' passings. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, and I loved it.

27513 approached the white re... The white robot, and asked her to step down. My new-found spirits sank as she didn't comply. Although, through an arrest I might have been able to spend more time with her, so I...

...

... An arrest didn't happen. A blinding flash of light followed by a loud explosion is what happened. I averted my eyes from the white re-robot, to see that 27513 was missing a few pieces. The white robot tried to escape, and I followed her. But something seemed wrong. Something didn't seem right. Where was 27513? Was he incapable of movement? How? His lower parts were not damaged... 27513... My databanks told me that 27513 had an optimal record, working at maximum efficiency at all times. Maybe he just needs a push? Or worse, immediate maintenance!

These kinds of processes were flying around in my mind, introducing me to a slew of new sensations. Suddenly, I just turned around to check on 27513.

No Steward turns around when chasing a target. Never, never, EVER.

27513 was lying on the ground, not responding to my presence. Suddenly, the moment he was shot was right before me. It was as if I was seeing it happen again. THAT became my first memory. I bumped into him. Still no response. The moment appeared before me again. Why? This time a feeling, that i would come to know as 'dread', began to seep into me.

"Halt" I said, hoping it would make him respond. Nothing. "Halt" I said again, to no avail. I began to mess around with my language converter. "Hallt! Stanna! Stopp!" I chimed, but 27513 was a motionless as the floor he was lying on.

I had NO idea what was happening. '27513 wasn't floor, he was like me!' I thought, and once again remembered that painful moment. The white robot I had once thought to be so beautiful had shot my brother, rendering him incapable of... Anything. It was as if it was no longer my brother, but an empty shell of what was once him. Then I wondered, what if I had been the one who was shot...?

"Nein! Nej! NOO!" I shouted to myself, realizing that I was currently doing many different things I had never done before. I was always able to, I just never did for some reason. Adjusting the language filter, I increased the volume to max and got close to 27513.

"2-7-5-1-3, respond. 2-7-5-1-3, respond. 2-7-5-1-3, respond" I said. When it didn't work, I tried changing it a little. "2-7-5-1-3, please respond. 2-7-5-1-3, please respond to me. Steward 2-7-5-1-3, please respond to me. B-Brother Steward 2-7-5-1-3, please respond to me. Brother, please res-respond-d t-to me-e"

...

...

...

I do not wish to recollect more memories at this time.

Where am I now? I don't know. What am I going to do? Find the white reaper, and avenge my brethren. Who am I? 90125, the wayward steward. Nine-Oh-One-Two-Five... Is ALIVE!