With that the screen shut down, electricity suddenly flowing through
Kummer's connection cable and up to its body. Shrieking in pain, it was
launched backwards into Tristus, cable pulling out but not going back into
its body, hanging out like a strangely placed tail. Kummer's face screen
faded to nothing, but the red oval underneath the screen still glowed red,
indicating that it had not been deactivated, but merely temporarily
stunned. At that very moment, the escape pod lurched violently, the control
panel flaring up with red, warning of an attack on the backside by laser
fire.
"Darn it. . .we've got fighters after us," announced Tacitus, who looked out of the back window of the escape pod. Psyche glanced back to see what Tacitus had stated-a squadron of six black fighter pods were quickly approaching, already gunning them down. They didn't seem to be aiming to kill, however, for their shots were carefully fired, many missing them, some completely. Still, they were aiming to disable, and disabled they would be sitting ducks for capture. Tristus looked as if she was pulling a total blank on the controls, and Tacitus was in a position that would make it impossible for him to pilot it, as he was firmly wedged into that position between Psyche and Tristus.
"Ah, heck. . .I'm not letting us get captured," grumbled Psyche, moving as close as she could to the control panel without causing anyone any discomfort. Tristus looked about to protest, but if she said anything, Psyche certainly didn't hear her, as suddenly she was jolted with what she assumed to be some sort of memory, or what some may have called a flashback. In any case, it was a revelation of some sort, a peek into her days before reactivation, perhaps. She could see the control panel, and could identify every key as if she had created it herself.
"Psyche, can't you hear me?! We're gonna be-" Tristus was cut off as Psyche suddenly broke out of her daze, seizing the controls as if she had been piloting the escape pod for all of her life. Instead of rocketing into blank space like they had been before, Psyche steered them back towards the planet Neopia.
"You're not trying to outrun them, are you?" asked Tacitus, an amazed tone in his voice.
"No, I'm not that stupid. They can accelerate quicker than us, but we can travel longer at a more steady speed, although that doesn't really help. However, we do have one ability that they don't-we can go through Neopia's atmosphere, whereas they would be melted. If we can avoid their fire long enough to get through the atmosphere, we should be fine.although we have no shields to speak of, nor any lasers to counterattack with," said Psyche, though she wondered if it was really her talking. How did she know all of this information off the top of her head?
"Can we out maneuver them?"
"Possibly. I'll have to put it on manual, though," admitted Psyche, her hands flying across the control panel. A small screen shifted from stating "AUTO-PILOT" to "MANUAL," and Psyche grabbed the two handles that were used for steering as best as she could. Swallowing any common sense she had, she lunged the ship forwards amidst the laser fire, veering sharply to the right. Behind the escape pod trailed the squadron, a persistent pack of dogs after a fleeing fox. Laser fire streaked through the normal blackness of the sky, misfiring and burning into the atmosphere. The escape pod seemed to slow for a moment, allowing the fighters to catch up, only to be caught off guard as the escape pod plunged downwards towards Neopia, boosting all of its energy into one great attempt to escape at full speed. One foolish fighters did attempt pursuing after them, only to find himself stuck in the gravity of Neopia, unable to turn back. None of the robots dared watch as he slowly melted beside them, the pilot's remains flinging out of the atmosphere, instantly incinerating.
Psyche, estimating their landing speed, activated the landing gears, flipping up a switch. The control panel only indicated that one of the landing boosters was working, worrying Psyche immensely. Tristus watched on, confused upon what was happening, while Tacitus shouted that he had a right to know what was going on, he was a warrior production type, gosh darn it!
"Shut up, Tacitus, we have a lot more to worry about than your pride," hissed Psyche, her eyes filled with anxiety. Their landing destination appeared to be some kind of medieval town-Meridell, Psyche remembered it being called. Still, Meridell would end up having a very non- ancient crater inside of it if Psyche couldn't find a big enough space to land. If robots could perspire, she would've been sweating an ocean at that moment, activating the one booster they had, tipping them sideways, towards a small village. Psyche shook her head, giving a small whine in the back of her throat, steering as best she could away. It was a close shave-the escape pod skimmed over the roofs of the houses, doing barrel rolls at the uneven power it had on one side, and found its landing place among a herd of grazing Kaus, who barely did much more than moo at the new feature in the landscape.
Despite the rough landing, everyone seemed to be in order, if a little dented in some places. Kummer was still, for the most part, shut off, though not deactivated by any stretch. The three climbed out of the escape pod, circuits throbbing with pain from the impact, Tacitus forced to carry Kummer's dead weight. For a moment, the three flopped down on the soft green grass to just stare vacantly at the smoking escape pod, trying to regain their senses.
Tacitus was the first to speak.
"We need to get on the move." Tristus, of course, was the first to answer to Tacitus' statement.
"On the move? To where? You and I hardly even remember much about anything in this mission but our boss-of course, who could forget an ugly mug like Vile's?" muttered Tristus, fixing the receiver at the end of her tail that had gotten bent during the poor landing. "We've gotta wait until Kummer's back with us-it's got all of the information." Tacitus, naturally, began to engage in a heated argument with Tristus, forgetting all about Kummer. Psyche, on the other hand, picked up the shell of a Kiko robot and held it forward, inspecting it curiously.
'Well, if it isn't Sloth's little pet project.'
The words of the crime godfather Malkus Vile repeated in Psyche's head as if it were an echo chamber. It seemed to be that the only real antagonist they had encountered so far had given her the most information, opposing what all of her so-called allies had done. She wasn't even sure what they wanted her for-why Tacitus and Tristus had been chasing her and why the program Neopets Version 2 had been searching for her. And now mention of her being some kind of project to a man even more corrupt than the one who spoke the words? No, it couldn't be. There had to be a mistake- perhaps it was a simple case of mistaken identity. Surely all robotic Blumaroos had to look a lot alike. Confusing one with another was understandable. There was no way she could be a tool of someone so hated. She would've remembered something.
'Why should I trust you?'
'Because we are the same.'
What had it meant by that, that they were the same? It was a program manufactured by Sloth as well-perhaps that was what it meant. She still refused, however, to see it as that; maybe they were of a same serial number, or maybe had the same code of programming. With aggravation building up in her body, she put Kummer's body firmly on the ground, almost in a slamming gesture. The jolt seemed to make Kummer become conscious again, its face screen lighting up, though its eyes were closed. The mouth moved, seeming to talk in its sleep.
"No. . .please. . .I don't want. . .alone. . ." it whimpered in its sleep, its digital eyelids twitching. "No. . .wait. . .I'll. . .save. . .no. . .stop. . .kill. . ." Psyche gave Kummer a questioning look, reaching over and shaking it slightly.
"Uh, Kummer? You okay there?"
". . .Kill. . .KILL THEM ALL!" shrieked Kummer, its voice starting softly and then escalating to a roar. Its eyes ripped themselves open, and its arms flailed wildly, eyes staring at nothing, seeming to go right through Psyche. "GAROO!" it howled at the top of its vocal range, clawing at the air as if it were an enemy it was trying to rip apart. It struck out madly at Psyche, on a blind rampage, eyes filled with hatred. Psyche grabbed Kummer by the arms, holding it back. Its power, however, was quickly overwhelming her, and she struggled to keep it at bay.
"Wake up, you idiot!" Psyche shouted in its face, and Kummer suddenly seemed to freeze, its facial expression still infuriated. The expression melted away, however, giving way to one of bafflement. Pulling away from Psyche's grasp, it looked up at her suspiciously.
"Who are you?"
"Oh God-don't say that jolt Malkus gave it gave the thing amnesia," groaned Tristus, slapping her forehead in frustration.
"I am Neopets Version 2-what am I doing outside of my monitor?" it asked fearfully, looking around. "I remember someone coming onto my server. . .I thought it was the doctor. . .and then I got very sleepy, and everything turned black. But now it's colorful again, and. . .and I'm not in my monitor," it said quietly, its body quaking from fear. It looked from Tristus, to Tacitus, and then back to Psyche. "Are you all here to play with me?" it asked, a small smile coming onto its face.
"Not in the slightest, buddy. You were the one who reprogrammed Tacitus and I so we can hardly remember anything-don't tell us that you don't know squat about what we're supposed to do. And why didn't you tell us that you were that murderous program?" threatened Tristus, shaking her claw angrily. Psyche ignored Tristus' angry comments, which wouldn't get them anywhere.
"Look, a little while back, I transferred you from your monitor to this Kiko body at your request. You said that you had to bring me somewhere, that you had some kind of mission, and when Tristus and Tacitus came along, that Tuskaninny and Lupe over there, you reprogrammed so that they would do your bidding, although you did not give them explicit instructions. Do you remember ever getting instructions to bring me somewhere, or are you totally drawing a blank on who we are and what we're doing here?" asked Psyche, sounding as earnest as possible. Kummer seemed to think, putting one hand to its face screen, and then replied.
"I don't remember anything that you said. . .I just remember everything getting dark. Although your name does sound familiar," it said, attempting to end on a positive note. Tristus looked about ready to rip Kummer apart wire by wire, but Tacitus held her back with one firm paw and a deadly glare.
"Alright then. I guess we're stuck here with no real objective," sighed Psyche, looking up to the sky and trying to find the Space Station. She had a sudden urge to make contact with Alexa and her owner, but she knew it wasn't possible-unlike many other robotic Neopets, she did not possess phone circuits, and knew just by looking at the types that Tristus, Tacitus and Kummer were, they wouldn't have one either. "Are you sure you don't remember ANYTHING, Kummer?"
"No. And why are you calling me that?" asked Kummer, looking scared.
"I have an idea," spoke up Tacitus. "I'm decent at cracking into other robots-I may just be able to retrieve the forgotten data, if Kummer should allow me access to its database." Kummer looked at Tacitus with a slight shade of malice, and then gave a slow shaking of its body, nodding. The red oval on the front of its body split it two and slid to the side, exposing a small input socket. Tacitus trotted up to it and plugged his connection cable into the socket. Both of their eyes switched to the passive state of collecting and transferring information. In a few minutes it was over, Tacitus retracting his connection cable.
"Well, the snippets of information I managed to salvage were sketchy at best-apparently the jolt actually did erase some of your memory of the mission permanently. The best I managed to decode was something about an underground base that you're supposed to return an important project to. . .it's underneath Neopia Central, and the entrance point seemed to be coded in a manner that I could break through. It said: Sie werden den Eingang unter der Rolle finden," informed Tacitus, his voice quite serious in nature.
"The what now?" said Tristus, her eyes widening. "That makes absolutely no sense. Is it supposed to be some kind of weird, messed-up letter language that only the person who sent this message to Kummer could understand?"
"I dunno. . .it kinda sounds familiar. . ." admitted Psyche, rubbing one of her ears. "I just can't think where I've heard it before. I haven't heard that exactly, but. . .it's just. . ." Psyche sighed, unable to find the words to express what she had to say. "Well, at least we know where we're going is in Neopia Central-that helps us a good deal. I'm pretty sure is to the east of Neopia Central, with a small bay separating the two. . .the quickest way would be to go across it. Does anybody have programming for swimming?" she asked hopefully, looking around. All shook their heads- if they went into water, they would surely be drown, rusting over.
"Then we'll go the long way," sighed Psyche unhappily. She was already exhausted-just the thought of walking all the way back to Neopia Central made her circuits throb.
"It's getting dark," said Tacitus, master of the obvious. "It would be highly advised to settle down and make camp. This is a new land to everyone in Neopia-there could be unimaginable things waiting to destroy us."
"I vote for getting out of this Kau field," mumbled Tristus grumpily, having rolled right into a nice pile of cow manure.
"Yes, it's probably private property," agreed Tacitus. Tristus looked at him in disbelief. Psyche could hardly believe than they were in agreement either. Tacitus looked at them, clearly not understanding what was up with their shock. "What's the matter with you? We need to get moving," he sniffed, slightly indignant. Tristus and Psyche still staring oddly at him, the four began moving, Tacitus in the front, followed by Tristus and then Psyche, Kummer picking up the behind, still seemingly confused upon what was happening.
They didn't travel far-all were still tired from the landing, and didn't really want to abandon their only form of shelter, the escape pod. They managed to get out of the Kau field, however, finding themselves very unprotected in the middle of an open field, forests off in the distance. Tentatively, they managed to collect a small amount of sticks to make a meager electric fire to keep away any predators that might decide to prey on cold metal. Psyche was up for patrol while Tristus and Tacitus slept on, refreshing their internal batteries manually, a nifty feature of their designs. Kummer did not seem very content to just rest, however-the Kiko was still clearly conscious as its turquoise screen glowed in the darkness.
"Restless?" asked Psyche, trying to start some kind of conversation. She was beginning to become lonely in the quietness of the countryside nighttime. Kummer looked at her, its hands rubbing together.
"Yes," it replied meekly, its voice barely audible. "I don't know how I got here. . .I don't know all of the people that surround me. . .there's no time to play. . .it's almost as bad as being lonely. . ." Psyche moved slightly closer to it in a warm gesture, but it withdrew from her kindness, the ever-frightened look present on its face. "You most of all. . .it's strange but. . .I feel like I know you from somewhere. . .I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. . ."
"Yeah. . ..hmm. . .now that you mention it, it is something like that. . .I don't know why." Psyche smiled. "Well, how can I rate that now, I've known you for something like a day now. Maybe I'm just saying things again. . .to tell you the truth, I don't even know what I'm doing here. I just got into an elevator, and suddenly I was flung into this whole situation. . .told that I was some sort of weapon with a kind of power. But do I look like I'm anything? No. I've never been anything."
"Nothing?"
"No. In fact, my so-called owner found me among someone's trash. . .they were trying to dispose of me. She reactivated me, and I'm still not even a regular pet. . .just their handmaid. I bet they don't even miss me," admitted Psyche, poking at the fire with a particularly long stick. "To boot, I can't even remember anything about myself before reactivation. . .making me nothing but a large blank: a whole lot of nothing. Scrap metal." Psyche sighed. "To be honest, I kind of was excited when it happened that I might've been something more than just another generic robot. . .but it's. . .impossible." Psyche paused, her shoulders slumping. "I'm nothing but a servant robot."
"At least you know what you are. . .I'm not quite sure what I'm even supposed to be. I know I was supposed to be a replacement for Neopets. . .but my programming says nothing about such a thing. It's like it's all been erased. Although I can remember most of my past, there's always something in the corner of my mind I seek and can't grab hold of-it's elusive, slipping through my grasps." Kummer seemed to try and shrink in on itself. "I think. . .I think I was supposed to be male. . .although sexual identity matter little now. But still. . .there's something about being an it that nobody should like.
"And. . .and I was so lonely for so many years. I was trapped in the bowels of that Space Station. . .that one brief stint I got in the public eye was only a desperate cry for help. . .for someone to talk to, to be my owner, just to play with me. I was so lonely, never truly deactivated until that fateful day. . .I almost wish they left me off, so I didn't have to experience the biting agony of solitude again. . ." Kummer looked away. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. . .but maybe it's 'cause I thought you might be someone who could play with me. . .the doctor did at the beginning, but as I asked for more lessons, for more playtime. . .the doctor started withdrawing. . .and soon I was alone. But for those few days that he did. . .it was like having another part of me there. . .another part of my mechanical soul."
"Who is the doctor?"
"I don't know. . .he said he created me, but I can't be sure. . .I've had so many log onto my program claiming to have created me. He was the only one that ever played with me, though. . .he was my owner, my creator. . .I trusted him, but he betrayed my trust. He left me alone in that horrible musty place. . .away from everybody. . .I just wanted some companionship."
"Well, I'm alone now. In fact, in a way I was always alone. . .to what I can remember. I never felt warmth, affection from my owner. . .she just asked me to do tasks for her. I was nothing but a slave. . .but now I'm free. Maybe we are the same."
"The same? What?"
"Never mind," commented Psyche, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just. . .I dunno. Maybe I still think that there's a slight gleaming chance that I'm more than just someone's little slave, and worth something.with a real purpose. I don't care what that purpose is-even if it is mass destruction by some insane criminal. What matters is I would know why someone created me, why someone bothered to bring me into this world.that somebody, just maybe, wanted me. I can't remember ever feeling needed. I wonder what it feels like. . .?"
"It must be. . .nice. . ."
"Yes. . .maybe I shouldn't go through with this. Maybe I should just bring myself to the Neopian Pound. . .I heard that there's plenty that would pay good cash for a robotic Neopet. Maybe then I could find somebody. . .a father or a mother to look after me, to pay for lube jobs. Someone to. . .yeah, someone to play with. Someone that relies on me to be their loyal pet, sees them as their child. I always wanted a parent. . .was the doctor like a parent to you, Kummer?" When she didn't get a response, she looked down to see that Kummer was not where he had been-when she had been talking, Kummer had come up next to her and rested his head on her tail, his screen blank with rest, the red oval blinking, indicating the battery recharging.
A small flutter of something alighted within her body, stirring awake. It was a new sensation, an emotion she had not fully experienced before. As she watched Kummer move slightly in his sleep, she slowly put her hand down on the side of his body. He did little more than stir under her touch, peaceful, not restless. She was not insulted that he had fallen asleep during her little speech-in fact, she didn't care. He looked so comfortable in his sleep, so totally at peace, she couldn't help but feel the same as he did, supporting him as a pillow. He gripped at her tail, something she would normally abhor, and murmured softly in his sleep. "Garoo. . ." Even if he was just taking her for granted, using her, she didn't care, as long as that feeling remained. The unknown feeling made her feel oddly warm and fuzzy inside, and gradually lulled her into a sleep of her own.
"In other news, there had been reported an isolated incident within the outskirts of Meridell.apparently an unauthorized space vehicle crash- landed in a Kau field. We'll now transfer to Larry Olaf for details. Larry?"
The cheery voices and the slight static produced by the TV suddenly halted, the screen turning completely blank. The hand that held the remote slowly placed it down on top of a mahogany desk, sliding it across to the person that sat on the other side of the desk, tension in the air. The hand that had carried the remote drifted over to the small shot glass of whiskey, picking it up by the edges and twirling it slightly, and then bringing it to its attached body. There was an extended period of silence before one of the two figures in the darkened room chose to speak, the voice soft and low, dark in nature and a slight bite carried underneath it.
"And what exactly was this about, Mr. Vile?"
"You haven't figured it out by now, doctor? I really thought that you were much more intelligent than that-what with all your Ph.Ds and MDs."
"Enlighten me. And by the way, I am not a medical doctor by any stretch. . .medical procedures are far too boring."
"That would explain a lot of things. Well, if you must know, doctor, I'm breaking away from you and your corporation-breaking away from the shackles you had put on me from day one. Besides, I did much better with my operations than you ever could. You see, doctor, you try and take too much of the cake at once-taking it slice by slice is the only way to accomplish your goal."
"You can't break away from me. I created you."
"Some humans don't believe in God, doctor. And I don't believe in you."
"But why do you want project PSYCHE?"
"Simple, doctor. I know the capabilities of Project PSYCHE-it's not that hard to enter the files of your database if you know the man who programs them well enough. For I am not after the whole cake. . .I desire to destroy the cake, to leave it out in the rain to melt. Project PSYCHE could be just the thing to aid me towards that ultimate succeed."
"Project PSYCHE is designed sentient-it will not serve you."
"Ha ha! Do you think your little pet will still obey you? Project PSYCHE remembers nothing about those precious little moments you spent together! You are the same to Project PSYCHE as you are to any common Neopian: a corrupt murderer!"
"Be that as it may, the personality programming will prevent the project from every going along with something like this. Besides, you do not fully understand what Project PSYCHE is capable of. If you choose to try and harness its power, you will fail-you will be succumbed to destruction as the rest of us will be. Project PSYCHE was not designed for merely a homicide mission."
"I'm aware of this, doctor-but thankfully, unlike you, I am not fully organic. I will not definitely die if I were to set off Project PSYCHE's true power."
The figure holding the shot glass of whiskey did not reply immediately, taking a slow, meditative sip of the alcohol. For a moment there was a pause, and then the figure tipped back his head and let the rest of the whiskey slide down his throat, not caring that it burned going down. Smashing the shot glass to the floor, it shattered into millions of pieces, a small bit of forgotten liquid turning into small droplets on the floor. The figure stood up suddenly, slamming his hands down on the desk. All of the things shook on the desk, including the paperweights and small glass figurines, some tilting over and shattering. A pen skipped about at the impact, and then clattered to the floor.
The person behind the desk leaned back in his chair, amused. "Temper, temper, doctor."
"Do not fool with me, Vile-you do not understand the magnitude, not even a slight portion of it. You are no mechanic-you are no scientist. Unless you contributed to Project PSYCHE, which you did not, you cannot even begin to imagine what will occur if you try and use Project PSYCHE without proper knowledge. It is not only a hazard to this entire solar system, but this entire universe, and perhaps others that it overlaps with. Nothing will be spared-not even robots, not even androids. There will be nothing left-not even neutrons, electrons or protons. The universe will be reduced to a giant nothingness-a place where absolutely no life can exist!"
"I care not for your petty worries-I can handle whatever you can build. I don't have time to argue with you; you are a has-been, a failure. The creation has risen over the creator. You are not even competition anymore! Looking at you is like looking at a knight who has fallen from his horse and has been stripped of his armor. It disgusts me. And things that disgust me do not stay in my office."
With a swiftness unusual for a figure of such a large stature, the figure rose from his chair, hands looming over the doctor's. For a brief moment, the doctor gave the yellow figure a questioning look. From underneath the yellow figure's sleeves came two guns, now held tightly in the yellow figure's hands. Pressing the two barrels down on the back of the doctor's hands, the yellow figure smiled snidely. "The creation crucifies his creator."
The sound of two simultaneous gun shots rang through the office of the yellow figure, resonating over and over. The doctor gave a little squeak, his eyes widening as the bullets blasted through the back of his palms, digging into the mahogany wood. The yellow figured pulled back its guns and smirked, the doctor's mouth hanging open as he looked down to see the two holes in his hands, creating two small pools of blood on the desk. A choking noise was all he could make as he pulled back his hands, shoving them underneath his armpits, the blood staining his clothing. "Ahh. . .ahhh. . ."
"Stop bleeding on my desk, Sloth," snarled the yellow figure, and shoved the doctor backwards, making him lose his balance, misaim his chair and fall to the ground clumsily onto his back, staring at the ceiling blankly, paralyzed from pain. "Boys, remove him from my sight," scoffed the yellow figure. From the shadows emerged two brown Meercas, slinging their arms through the doctor's, whose expression had not changed, but seemed set in stone on his face. The two Meercas dragged the stunned man out of the room, leaving the yellow figure in peace.
"Darn it. . .we've got fighters after us," announced Tacitus, who looked out of the back window of the escape pod. Psyche glanced back to see what Tacitus had stated-a squadron of six black fighter pods were quickly approaching, already gunning them down. They didn't seem to be aiming to kill, however, for their shots were carefully fired, many missing them, some completely. Still, they were aiming to disable, and disabled they would be sitting ducks for capture. Tristus looked as if she was pulling a total blank on the controls, and Tacitus was in a position that would make it impossible for him to pilot it, as he was firmly wedged into that position between Psyche and Tristus.
"Ah, heck. . .I'm not letting us get captured," grumbled Psyche, moving as close as she could to the control panel without causing anyone any discomfort. Tristus looked about to protest, but if she said anything, Psyche certainly didn't hear her, as suddenly she was jolted with what she assumed to be some sort of memory, or what some may have called a flashback. In any case, it was a revelation of some sort, a peek into her days before reactivation, perhaps. She could see the control panel, and could identify every key as if she had created it herself.
"Psyche, can't you hear me?! We're gonna be-" Tristus was cut off as Psyche suddenly broke out of her daze, seizing the controls as if she had been piloting the escape pod for all of her life. Instead of rocketing into blank space like they had been before, Psyche steered them back towards the planet Neopia.
"You're not trying to outrun them, are you?" asked Tacitus, an amazed tone in his voice.
"No, I'm not that stupid. They can accelerate quicker than us, but we can travel longer at a more steady speed, although that doesn't really help. However, we do have one ability that they don't-we can go through Neopia's atmosphere, whereas they would be melted. If we can avoid their fire long enough to get through the atmosphere, we should be fine.although we have no shields to speak of, nor any lasers to counterattack with," said Psyche, though she wondered if it was really her talking. How did she know all of this information off the top of her head?
"Can we out maneuver them?"
"Possibly. I'll have to put it on manual, though," admitted Psyche, her hands flying across the control panel. A small screen shifted from stating "AUTO-PILOT" to "MANUAL," and Psyche grabbed the two handles that were used for steering as best as she could. Swallowing any common sense she had, she lunged the ship forwards amidst the laser fire, veering sharply to the right. Behind the escape pod trailed the squadron, a persistent pack of dogs after a fleeing fox. Laser fire streaked through the normal blackness of the sky, misfiring and burning into the atmosphere. The escape pod seemed to slow for a moment, allowing the fighters to catch up, only to be caught off guard as the escape pod plunged downwards towards Neopia, boosting all of its energy into one great attempt to escape at full speed. One foolish fighters did attempt pursuing after them, only to find himself stuck in the gravity of Neopia, unable to turn back. None of the robots dared watch as he slowly melted beside them, the pilot's remains flinging out of the atmosphere, instantly incinerating.
Psyche, estimating their landing speed, activated the landing gears, flipping up a switch. The control panel only indicated that one of the landing boosters was working, worrying Psyche immensely. Tristus watched on, confused upon what was happening, while Tacitus shouted that he had a right to know what was going on, he was a warrior production type, gosh darn it!
"Shut up, Tacitus, we have a lot more to worry about than your pride," hissed Psyche, her eyes filled with anxiety. Their landing destination appeared to be some kind of medieval town-Meridell, Psyche remembered it being called. Still, Meridell would end up having a very non- ancient crater inside of it if Psyche couldn't find a big enough space to land. If robots could perspire, she would've been sweating an ocean at that moment, activating the one booster they had, tipping them sideways, towards a small village. Psyche shook her head, giving a small whine in the back of her throat, steering as best she could away. It was a close shave-the escape pod skimmed over the roofs of the houses, doing barrel rolls at the uneven power it had on one side, and found its landing place among a herd of grazing Kaus, who barely did much more than moo at the new feature in the landscape.
Despite the rough landing, everyone seemed to be in order, if a little dented in some places. Kummer was still, for the most part, shut off, though not deactivated by any stretch. The three climbed out of the escape pod, circuits throbbing with pain from the impact, Tacitus forced to carry Kummer's dead weight. For a moment, the three flopped down on the soft green grass to just stare vacantly at the smoking escape pod, trying to regain their senses.
Tacitus was the first to speak.
"We need to get on the move." Tristus, of course, was the first to answer to Tacitus' statement.
"On the move? To where? You and I hardly even remember much about anything in this mission but our boss-of course, who could forget an ugly mug like Vile's?" muttered Tristus, fixing the receiver at the end of her tail that had gotten bent during the poor landing. "We've gotta wait until Kummer's back with us-it's got all of the information." Tacitus, naturally, began to engage in a heated argument with Tristus, forgetting all about Kummer. Psyche, on the other hand, picked up the shell of a Kiko robot and held it forward, inspecting it curiously.
'Well, if it isn't Sloth's little pet project.'
The words of the crime godfather Malkus Vile repeated in Psyche's head as if it were an echo chamber. It seemed to be that the only real antagonist they had encountered so far had given her the most information, opposing what all of her so-called allies had done. She wasn't even sure what they wanted her for-why Tacitus and Tristus had been chasing her and why the program Neopets Version 2 had been searching for her. And now mention of her being some kind of project to a man even more corrupt than the one who spoke the words? No, it couldn't be. There had to be a mistake- perhaps it was a simple case of mistaken identity. Surely all robotic Blumaroos had to look a lot alike. Confusing one with another was understandable. There was no way she could be a tool of someone so hated. She would've remembered something.
'Why should I trust you?'
'Because we are the same.'
What had it meant by that, that they were the same? It was a program manufactured by Sloth as well-perhaps that was what it meant. She still refused, however, to see it as that; maybe they were of a same serial number, or maybe had the same code of programming. With aggravation building up in her body, she put Kummer's body firmly on the ground, almost in a slamming gesture. The jolt seemed to make Kummer become conscious again, its face screen lighting up, though its eyes were closed. The mouth moved, seeming to talk in its sleep.
"No. . .please. . .I don't want. . .alone. . ." it whimpered in its sleep, its digital eyelids twitching. "No. . .wait. . .I'll. . .save. . .no. . .stop. . .kill. . ." Psyche gave Kummer a questioning look, reaching over and shaking it slightly.
"Uh, Kummer? You okay there?"
". . .Kill. . .KILL THEM ALL!" shrieked Kummer, its voice starting softly and then escalating to a roar. Its eyes ripped themselves open, and its arms flailed wildly, eyes staring at nothing, seeming to go right through Psyche. "GAROO!" it howled at the top of its vocal range, clawing at the air as if it were an enemy it was trying to rip apart. It struck out madly at Psyche, on a blind rampage, eyes filled with hatred. Psyche grabbed Kummer by the arms, holding it back. Its power, however, was quickly overwhelming her, and she struggled to keep it at bay.
"Wake up, you idiot!" Psyche shouted in its face, and Kummer suddenly seemed to freeze, its facial expression still infuriated. The expression melted away, however, giving way to one of bafflement. Pulling away from Psyche's grasp, it looked up at her suspiciously.
"Who are you?"
"Oh God-don't say that jolt Malkus gave it gave the thing amnesia," groaned Tristus, slapping her forehead in frustration.
"I am Neopets Version 2-what am I doing outside of my monitor?" it asked fearfully, looking around. "I remember someone coming onto my server. . .I thought it was the doctor. . .and then I got very sleepy, and everything turned black. But now it's colorful again, and. . .and I'm not in my monitor," it said quietly, its body quaking from fear. It looked from Tristus, to Tacitus, and then back to Psyche. "Are you all here to play with me?" it asked, a small smile coming onto its face.
"Not in the slightest, buddy. You were the one who reprogrammed Tacitus and I so we can hardly remember anything-don't tell us that you don't know squat about what we're supposed to do. And why didn't you tell us that you were that murderous program?" threatened Tristus, shaking her claw angrily. Psyche ignored Tristus' angry comments, which wouldn't get them anywhere.
"Look, a little while back, I transferred you from your monitor to this Kiko body at your request. You said that you had to bring me somewhere, that you had some kind of mission, and when Tristus and Tacitus came along, that Tuskaninny and Lupe over there, you reprogrammed so that they would do your bidding, although you did not give them explicit instructions. Do you remember ever getting instructions to bring me somewhere, or are you totally drawing a blank on who we are and what we're doing here?" asked Psyche, sounding as earnest as possible. Kummer seemed to think, putting one hand to its face screen, and then replied.
"I don't remember anything that you said. . .I just remember everything getting dark. Although your name does sound familiar," it said, attempting to end on a positive note. Tristus looked about ready to rip Kummer apart wire by wire, but Tacitus held her back with one firm paw and a deadly glare.
"Alright then. I guess we're stuck here with no real objective," sighed Psyche, looking up to the sky and trying to find the Space Station. She had a sudden urge to make contact with Alexa and her owner, but she knew it wasn't possible-unlike many other robotic Neopets, she did not possess phone circuits, and knew just by looking at the types that Tristus, Tacitus and Kummer were, they wouldn't have one either. "Are you sure you don't remember ANYTHING, Kummer?"
"No. And why are you calling me that?" asked Kummer, looking scared.
"I have an idea," spoke up Tacitus. "I'm decent at cracking into other robots-I may just be able to retrieve the forgotten data, if Kummer should allow me access to its database." Kummer looked at Tacitus with a slight shade of malice, and then gave a slow shaking of its body, nodding. The red oval on the front of its body split it two and slid to the side, exposing a small input socket. Tacitus trotted up to it and plugged his connection cable into the socket. Both of their eyes switched to the passive state of collecting and transferring information. In a few minutes it was over, Tacitus retracting his connection cable.
"Well, the snippets of information I managed to salvage were sketchy at best-apparently the jolt actually did erase some of your memory of the mission permanently. The best I managed to decode was something about an underground base that you're supposed to return an important project to. . .it's underneath Neopia Central, and the entrance point seemed to be coded in a manner that I could break through. It said: Sie werden den Eingang unter der Rolle finden," informed Tacitus, his voice quite serious in nature.
"The what now?" said Tristus, her eyes widening. "That makes absolutely no sense. Is it supposed to be some kind of weird, messed-up letter language that only the person who sent this message to Kummer could understand?"
"I dunno. . .it kinda sounds familiar. . ." admitted Psyche, rubbing one of her ears. "I just can't think where I've heard it before. I haven't heard that exactly, but. . .it's just. . ." Psyche sighed, unable to find the words to express what she had to say. "Well, at least we know where we're going is in Neopia Central-that helps us a good deal. I'm pretty sure is to the east of Neopia Central, with a small bay separating the two. . .the quickest way would be to go across it. Does anybody have programming for swimming?" she asked hopefully, looking around. All shook their heads- if they went into water, they would surely be drown, rusting over.
"Then we'll go the long way," sighed Psyche unhappily. She was already exhausted-just the thought of walking all the way back to Neopia Central made her circuits throb.
"It's getting dark," said Tacitus, master of the obvious. "It would be highly advised to settle down and make camp. This is a new land to everyone in Neopia-there could be unimaginable things waiting to destroy us."
"I vote for getting out of this Kau field," mumbled Tristus grumpily, having rolled right into a nice pile of cow manure.
"Yes, it's probably private property," agreed Tacitus. Tristus looked at him in disbelief. Psyche could hardly believe than they were in agreement either. Tacitus looked at them, clearly not understanding what was up with their shock. "What's the matter with you? We need to get moving," he sniffed, slightly indignant. Tristus and Psyche still staring oddly at him, the four began moving, Tacitus in the front, followed by Tristus and then Psyche, Kummer picking up the behind, still seemingly confused upon what was happening.
They didn't travel far-all were still tired from the landing, and didn't really want to abandon their only form of shelter, the escape pod. They managed to get out of the Kau field, however, finding themselves very unprotected in the middle of an open field, forests off in the distance. Tentatively, they managed to collect a small amount of sticks to make a meager electric fire to keep away any predators that might decide to prey on cold metal. Psyche was up for patrol while Tristus and Tacitus slept on, refreshing their internal batteries manually, a nifty feature of their designs. Kummer did not seem very content to just rest, however-the Kiko was still clearly conscious as its turquoise screen glowed in the darkness.
"Restless?" asked Psyche, trying to start some kind of conversation. She was beginning to become lonely in the quietness of the countryside nighttime. Kummer looked at her, its hands rubbing together.
"Yes," it replied meekly, its voice barely audible. "I don't know how I got here. . .I don't know all of the people that surround me. . .there's no time to play. . .it's almost as bad as being lonely. . ." Psyche moved slightly closer to it in a warm gesture, but it withdrew from her kindness, the ever-frightened look present on its face. "You most of all. . .it's strange but. . .I feel like I know you from somewhere. . .I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. . ."
"Yeah. . ..hmm. . .now that you mention it, it is something like that. . .I don't know why." Psyche smiled. "Well, how can I rate that now, I've known you for something like a day now. Maybe I'm just saying things again. . .to tell you the truth, I don't even know what I'm doing here. I just got into an elevator, and suddenly I was flung into this whole situation. . .told that I was some sort of weapon with a kind of power. But do I look like I'm anything? No. I've never been anything."
"Nothing?"
"No. In fact, my so-called owner found me among someone's trash. . .they were trying to dispose of me. She reactivated me, and I'm still not even a regular pet. . .just their handmaid. I bet they don't even miss me," admitted Psyche, poking at the fire with a particularly long stick. "To boot, I can't even remember anything about myself before reactivation. . .making me nothing but a large blank: a whole lot of nothing. Scrap metal." Psyche sighed. "To be honest, I kind of was excited when it happened that I might've been something more than just another generic robot. . .but it's. . .impossible." Psyche paused, her shoulders slumping. "I'm nothing but a servant robot."
"At least you know what you are. . .I'm not quite sure what I'm even supposed to be. I know I was supposed to be a replacement for Neopets. . .but my programming says nothing about such a thing. It's like it's all been erased. Although I can remember most of my past, there's always something in the corner of my mind I seek and can't grab hold of-it's elusive, slipping through my grasps." Kummer seemed to try and shrink in on itself. "I think. . .I think I was supposed to be male. . .although sexual identity matter little now. But still. . .there's something about being an it that nobody should like.
"And. . .and I was so lonely for so many years. I was trapped in the bowels of that Space Station. . .that one brief stint I got in the public eye was only a desperate cry for help. . .for someone to talk to, to be my owner, just to play with me. I was so lonely, never truly deactivated until that fateful day. . .I almost wish they left me off, so I didn't have to experience the biting agony of solitude again. . ." Kummer looked away. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. . .but maybe it's 'cause I thought you might be someone who could play with me. . .the doctor did at the beginning, but as I asked for more lessons, for more playtime. . .the doctor started withdrawing. . .and soon I was alone. But for those few days that he did. . .it was like having another part of me there. . .another part of my mechanical soul."
"Who is the doctor?"
"I don't know. . .he said he created me, but I can't be sure. . .I've had so many log onto my program claiming to have created me. He was the only one that ever played with me, though. . .he was my owner, my creator. . .I trusted him, but he betrayed my trust. He left me alone in that horrible musty place. . .away from everybody. . .I just wanted some companionship."
"Well, I'm alone now. In fact, in a way I was always alone. . .to what I can remember. I never felt warmth, affection from my owner. . .she just asked me to do tasks for her. I was nothing but a slave. . .but now I'm free. Maybe we are the same."
"The same? What?"
"Never mind," commented Psyche, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just. . .I dunno. Maybe I still think that there's a slight gleaming chance that I'm more than just someone's little slave, and worth something.with a real purpose. I don't care what that purpose is-even if it is mass destruction by some insane criminal. What matters is I would know why someone created me, why someone bothered to bring me into this world.that somebody, just maybe, wanted me. I can't remember ever feeling needed. I wonder what it feels like. . .?"
"It must be. . .nice. . ."
"Yes. . .maybe I shouldn't go through with this. Maybe I should just bring myself to the Neopian Pound. . .I heard that there's plenty that would pay good cash for a robotic Neopet. Maybe then I could find somebody. . .a father or a mother to look after me, to pay for lube jobs. Someone to. . .yeah, someone to play with. Someone that relies on me to be their loyal pet, sees them as their child. I always wanted a parent. . .was the doctor like a parent to you, Kummer?" When she didn't get a response, she looked down to see that Kummer was not where he had been-when she had been talking, Kummer had come up next to her and rested his head on her tail, his screen blank with rest, the red oval blinking, indicating the battery recharging.
A small flutter of something alighted within her body, stirring awake. It was a new sensation, an emotion she had not fully experienced before. As she watched Kummer move slightly in his sleep, she slowly put her hand down on the side of his body. He did little more than stir under her touch, peaceful, not restless. She was not insulted that he had fallen asleep during her little speech-in fact, she didn't care. He looked so comfortable in his sleep, so totally at peace, she couldn't help but feel the same as he did, supporting him as a pillow. He gripped at her tail, something she would normally abhor, and murmured softly in his sleep. "Garoo. . ." Even if he was just taking her for granted, using her, she didn't care, as long as that feeling remained. The unknown feeling made her feel oddly warm and fuzzy inside, and gradually lulled her into a sleep of her own.
"In other news, there had been reported an isolated incident within the outskirts of Meridell.apparently an unauthorized space vehicle crash- landed in a Kau field. We'll now transfer to Larry Olaf for details. Larry?"
The cheery voices and the slight static produced by the TV suddenly halted, the screen turning completely blank. The hand that held the remote slowly placed it down on top of a mahogany desk, sliding it across to the person that sat on the other side of the desk, tension in the air. The hand that had carried the remote drifted over to the small shot glass of whiskey, picking it up by the edges and twirling it slightly, and then bringing it to its attached body. There was an extended period of silence before one of the two figures in the darkened room chose to speak, the voice soft and low, dark in nature and a slight bite carried underneath it.
"And what exactly was this about, Mr. Vile?"
"You haven't figured it out by now, doctor? I really thought that you were much more intelligent than that-what with all your Ph.Ds and MDs."
"Enlighten me. And by the way, I am not a medical doctor by any stretch. . .medical procedures are far too boring."
"That would explain a lot of things. Well, if you must know, doctor, I'm breaking away from you and your corporation-breaking away from the shackles you had put on me from day one. Besides, I did much better with my operations than you ever could. You see, doctor, you try and take too much of the cake at once-taking it slice by slice is the only way to accomplish your goal."
"You can't break away from me. I created you."
"Some humans don't believe in God, doctor. And I don't believe in you."
"But why do you want project PSYCHE?"
"Simple, doctor. I know the capabilities of Project PSYCHE-it's not that hard to enter the files of your database if you know the man who programs them well enough. For I am not after the whole cake. . .I desire to destroy the cake, to leave it out in the rain to melt. Project PSYCHE could be just the thing to aid me towards that ultimate succeed."
"Project PSYCHE is designed sentient-it will not serve you."
"Ha ha! Do you think your little pet will still obey you? Project PSYCHE remembers nothing about those precious little moments you spent together! You are the same to Project PSYCHE as you are to any common Neopian: a corrupt murderer!"
"Be that as it may, the personality programming will prevent the project from every going along with something like this. Besides, you do not fully understand what Project PSYCHE is capable of. If you choose to try and harness its power, you will fail-you will be succumbed to destruction as the rest of us will be. Project PSYCHE was not designed for merely a homicide mission."
"I'm aware of this, doctor-but thankfully, unlike you, I am not fully organic. I will not definitely die if I were to set off Project PSYCHE's true power."
The figure holding the shot glass of whiskey did not reply immediately, taking a slow, meditative sip of the alcohol. For a moment there was a pause, and then the figure tipped back his head and let the rest of the whiskey slide down his throat, not caring that it burned going down. Smashing the shot glass to the floor, it shattered into millions of pieces, a small bit of forgotten liquid turning into small droplets on the floor. The figure stood up suddenly, slamming his hands down on the desk. All of the things shook on the desk, including the paperweights and small glass figurines, some tilting over and shattering. A pen skipped about at the impact, and then clattered to the floor.
The person behind the desk leaned back in his chair, amused. "Temper, temper, doctor."
"Do not fool with me, Vile-you do not understand the magnitude, not even a slight portion of it. You are no mechanic-you are no scientist. Unless you contributed to Project PSYCHE, which you did not, you cannot even begin to imagine what will occur if you try and use Project PSYCHE without proper knowledge. It is not only a hazard to this entire solar system, but this entire universe, and perhaps others that it overlaps with. Nothing will be spared-not even robots, not even androids. There will be nothing left-not even neutrons, electrons or protons. The universe will be reduced to a giant nothingness-a place where absolutely no life can exist!"
"I care not for your petty worries-I can handle whatever you can build. I don't have time to argue with you; you are a has-been, a failure. The creation has risen over the creator. You are not even competition anymore! Looking at you is like looking at a knight who has fallen from his horse and has been stripped of his armor. It disgusts me. And things that disgust me do not stay in my office."
With a swiftness unusual for a figure of such a large stature, the figure rose from his chair, hands looming over the doctor's. For a brief moment, the doctor gave the yellow figure a questioning look. From underneath the yellow figure's sleeves came two guns, now held tightly in the yellow figure's hands. Pressing the two barrels down on the back of the doctor's hands, the yellow figure smiled snidely. "The creation crucifies his creator."
The sound of two simultaneous gun shots rang through the office of the yellow figure, resonating over and over. The doctor gave a little squeak, his eyes widening as the bullets blasted through the back of his palms, digging into the mahogany wood. The yellow figured pulled back its guns and smirked, the doctor's mouth hanging open as he looked down to see the two holes in his hands, creating two small pools of blood on the desk. A choking noise was all he could make as he pulled back his hands, shoving them underneath his armpits, the blood staining his clothing. "Ahh. . .ahhh. . ."
"Stop bleeding on my desk, Sloth," snarled the yellow figure, and shoved the doctor backwards, making him lose his balance, misaim his chair and fall to the ground clumsily onto his back, staring at the ceiling blankly, paralyzed from pain. "Boys, remove him from my sight," scoffed the yellow figure. From the shadows emerged two brown Meercas, slinging their arms through the doctor's, whose expression had not changed, but seemed set in stone on his face. The two Meercas dragged the stunned man out of the room, leaving the yellow figure in peace.