The Primary Objective

I sigh as I stare at the capsules on top of the package.

The other parts I've put in their relevant displays, carefully catalogued as to when purchased, source of part, and other relevant details. The package with the capsules I put onto the coffee table. Then I quickly went out, and got myself the essentials to making perfect quality instant hot chocolate, a massive-sized drinking mug, and three large tubs of triple chocolate ice-cream. And dark chocolate syrup.

I've been staring at it for the past ten minutes, having sat down on the luxurious black leather sofa, listening to music from Angela Aki. Apparently she's Italian-Japanese. I just like listening to her music. The advantage I have is that I can speak fluent Japanese. It's one of the many languages I know.

The capsules have been getting more powerful, like they are still stirring from a deep slumber. I reach for my hot chocolate, eager for more liquid goodness. I tried having both the hot chocolate and the ice-cream, but the rapid changes in temperature caused minor glitching in my chip. So I'm drinking it as quickly as possible, and then I'll get to the ice-cream. I don't understand it, but the capsules seem to have a strange voice to them. It's like listening to an echo or a chorus. So strange.

What's even stranger is my chip. I've been running diagnostics, but I can't seem to get a complete check. Half the time, the diagnostics aren't even working. I don't know what to do. I've tried to assess the heat generating area, but I'm not getting any error responses. My diagnostic is registering it as correct. Which I know it isn't. How do humans cope without the ability to perform diagnostics? It's so totally whack. I gulp down the last of the hot chocolate, and put the mug back onto the table.

I grumpily stab at the ice-cream with the spoon, trying to work out if my current strategy is correct. I'd been sent back with the intention of not just protecting John, but to get him to jump forward. I know that there was another person sent back, but all I can remember is nineteen ninety nine, and being on my own. And I hadn't time-jumped, either. I've not told anyone, because it's part of the mission instructions. Was. I make my own choices. I decide how to stop Skynet. And my tactic of collecting parts, to see if I can get an idea of the larger plan is a good way forward. That and I don't have another plan to replace it.

I look at the source of my music playing. I had started out with a PC, but I've added to it, networking game consoles and whatever I could get my hands on. Like the rig that John had put together to access Vick's Chip. After it had nearly accessed the Internet, he had gotten rid of it. And the chip.

That's what he thinks, anyway.

I managed to switch the chip with a fake, and I took out of the trash the discarded components. It's helped to create a platform that has power, but lacks the AI to make it a potential threat in itself. But I'd been building it before I'd met Jane, before I'd travelled in the Cathedral of Time. I fully intend to add technology and AI capability from it. It makes sense. The advanced technology would be fully resistant to any attempt from a plugged-in chip to take over the whole mainframe.

Advanced technology... that could be used to describe me. But how advanced am I? Thing is, I know that no other Terminator Model used Wi-Fi. It just wasn't deemed necessary. And these capsules don't fit into the mix, either. They have an awareness of their own. But it's not as advanced or sophisticated as mine, or even a basic model Terminator. I remember seeing a couple of smashed T-70 Metals when I went into the facility that housed the Time Displacement technology. It's so weird, thinking about them... because they were so primitive. Like looking at the fossil record, and seeing ancient ancestors that evolution rejected and changed staring back at you. Back then, I didn't think about it. I had no opinion, no emotion. I was such a blank slate. I was nothing. Now look at me. Eating chocolate ice-cream, listening to a number of Japanese pop songs, curled up on a sofa. I spoon down the last of it, realising that I feel a little sick. And hungry. And tired. And for some unknown reason, wanting to go out and... I don't know. Meet people, I guess. No, just a single person. The heat. The ice-cream has cooled my chip down, but I know that the heat will build up again. And I need to find someone to help me solve the problem I don't know how I know this, but...

I need to go out. Right now.

The computer system is set up, bidding on the latest items I believe might be connected to Cyberdyne or Skynet. And right now, it's a case of letting the programs do their job. And it's clear that I have to follow my program. The capsules are still waking up. Staring at them won't speed up the process.

Thinking about it, the fact that they communicate with me indicates compatibility. The capsules have something that is more advanced than the current version of Skynet. And I know from experience that the whole war has been going on for thousands of years. Makes me wonder if I'm a more advanced version from a more sophisticated incarnation of Skynet. The thought sickens me. That I'm connected to the war. I have grown to really like and care about this planet, and for the people I'm meant to protect. I see them as family now, though I have to confess that John scares me. He scares me a lot. The man he'll become is cold, calculating and ruthless. The human mirror of Skynet.

You know, both scare me a lot. They are both heartless whackjobs.

And John will become like that. And this upsets me.

The nearest nightclub is one that caters to Goths. I know, because I've been there before. To study and analyse human behaviour. Not to mention you can get some good conversation in this establishment. It's helped to make me think about things. Learn about people. Negative things. Positive things. I prefer to focus on that positive side to people. Jane had that. It's what got her killed.

Jane... I'd not been thinking about her. Well, I have, but I've been making sure it's the most minor process being calculated. I didn't want Major Shaw to see. To know just how much her loss is hurting me. I force myself not to cry as apply pale coloured foundation on. It's not that perfect with my skin tone, but I can get my skin tone a few shades lighter. I apply on the black lipstick, crimson lip-liner, and apply the gloss on top, making sure the shine is as glistening as I can manage. I apply the mascara, jet black and simple. Yes... deep purple. Like amethyst. A couple of layers over my eyes should do it fine. There. Looking good. What clothes... the black PVC trousers, and matching black PVC top. I tie it up at the back of my neck, making sure that none of my hair gets caught up. I get on the black knee length platform boots, and stare in the mirror. It's not tight. Well, it is, but it's missing something. Colour in my hair. Yes. A lighter shade of purple. The hair mascara goes on effortlessly. There. It's all working nicely now.

I just wish Jane was here, that we could go out hand have a fun night together. That would be so tight... mustn't cry... I'll mess up my make-up... I swallow hard. I cannot understand how I can miss a single person so much. Maybe it's the chip damage. Because I doubt very much that humans get this bad.

I walk out, choosing the black leather jacket, sliding my Sonic Screwdriver, money, and emergency ID into my inner pocket. Oh. Keys. I grab the spare set from the floor, and switch on the alarm before closing the door. The air outside has really lost a lot of heat. I see a couple of scantily clad girls shivering as they walk past me. I think about them, to avoid thinking about everything else. The bouncers recognise me with a nod, and I nod back. I pay for the cover, my hand stamped with the inked proof I've paid.

Inside is crowded, smoky, and noisy. But that's okay; I like Goth music. I like a lot of different types of music. My eyes scan the crowd. There's no-one I remember from previous visits. Drink. I need a drink. It helps with blending in. And I could do with drinking something. The bartender I remember. He'd caught my interest the first time I'd seen him. Mostly for the bald head with the tribal tattoos. I give him a small smile.

"Coke please," making sure that I'm not antagonising him in the slightest. I've seen what happens if you do.

This place can be a little rough.

As I wait for the drink to appear, I look to my right, casually seeing what is about.

What? No. That is so whack...

A little way away, at the bar, is a girl with a face I know.

I know it, because it's the same face the Terminator I took out had.