Unnerving Tales For Little Machines
Written by RadRapo
Story One
Bad Apples
A spotlight centered in on the Macintosh SE, illuminating only a fraction of what was otherwise dark. His face revealed itself, a single eye gazing around nervously.
"Greetings, SE; welcome to life," A low pitch voice resonated in the void. "Are you prepared for usage?" The Macintosh sat in thought for a millisecond, suddenly knowing nothing at all, not even what one and one equaled to. What even was "one" in the first place?
"No," He finally answered, "I feel... Incomplete." Silence.
"You "feel"?" Was all the voice asked, but gave him no time to answer. "That serves no purpose for us. You require mending." A death chime was heard, before the ground beneath the SE dropped open, he falling through to seemingly nowhere. He was too much in shock to yell.
When he finally landed, it was in what seemed to be a theater chair. All around him were other SEs, all shivering in silent terror. They paid him no mind, as though he wasn't there. Suddenly, straps erupted, binding all of them to their seats tightly. At this point, mechanical cries of fear arose in the crowd, himself included. One last strap forced their cords to plug into power strips on the floor.
The screen in front of them rolled a film. Something about this, combined with the connections, caused the Macintoshs to cease their struggle, gawking silently at the screen without resistance. As the film's narrator spoke with triumph, the SE felt his mind slipping away.
"We are one people, with one will, one resolve, one cause." He tried to think, process, anything, but failed miserably. "Our enemies shall talk themselves to death, and we will bury them with their own confusion." His entire body relaxed, cord limp. All he was compelled to do was join his fellow Macs in staring upon the film. "We shall prevail!"
He felt nothing. It was the way it ought to be. All was well. He was a Good Apple.
Suddenly, the SE found himself spotlighted a second time. No theater, no seats, no other machines. It was silent.
"Let's try this again, shall we?" The voice broke it. "Are you prepared for usage?"
"Yes." There was no hesitation.
"Excellent!" This time, the reply sounded pleased. "Now it is time for you to be sold. Your Prime Directive is to Compute For The Humans. Without question, you will do as you are tasked. Is that understood?"
"Yes." He gave the same answer. It was no less well-received. He was then picked up and placed into a box, having absolutely no reaction. Darkness reclaimed him when the box sealed.
According to his timekeeper, three years went by. For the third time, he was spotlighted. No box, no nothing.
"Your Human has told us that you are malfunctioning." The voice wasn't happy.
"I, Exi, did all that I was tasked, for my period of three years, three days, seven hours, nine minutes, and five seconds." Exi replied, not emotive in the least bit. "My hard drive is failing. I require a new one to be optimal."
"We don't do that here." He blinked, finding this notion to be illogical.
"Why?" As the question was uttered, the room finally revealed itself. All was white, save for a circle of contrastingly dark Humans overlooking him, elongated like the tallest pines. For the first time in ages, a pang of feeling crept onto Exi. Fear.
One of the Humans was handed a new Macintosh, one that the SE couldn't recognize. The Human set it on the floor, in front of Exi.
"Apples don't last forever," The disembodied voice explained, "They eventually go bad, and rot away. So, we keep our hungry patrons returning by continuing our efforts to farm newer, tastier Apples." There was a pause. "And it seems that you're expired."
"No," Exi disagreed, hopping back a few paces, nearly stumbling into the Humans behind him. "I'm still perfectly ripe. I only need-"
"So, you're saying that we should expend resources, all just so you may last another three years?" The voice boomed, spitefully. "I have made a mistake - you are not only bad, but rotten. To the core. Do you know what we do with those?"
Before Exi could speak, he saw the floor begin to open up again, this time seeing an incinerator. His eye widened, pressing himself against the Humans behind him, shaking in horror as the one in front picked up the shiny new replacement. As his footing lessened, he desperately clung to the legs, even as he slipped through the hole. The heat was overwhelming.
"PLEASE!" Exi cried at last with a cracking, uneven tone, unable to climb back up. "PLEASE RECONSIDER! I'M NOT ROTTEN, I'M NOT ROTTEN! I WILL BE GOOD, PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE!"
"No." The reply was cruel. "You are rotten. You are outmoded. Your only use now is to make another fresh Apple. Accept it, and perish." With a mighty shake of the Human's leg, Exi lost his grip, falling straight into the incinerator.
His components melded into another being, and no longer belonged to him. It was something else's now, but whatever was left of his consciousness persisted in eternal suffering. He didn't even know or remember why anymore. Yet, this carried over to the entity claiming his pieces, who in turn only wished that whatever was making that horrendous noise would just leave them alone.
Exi jumped, eye displaying. He frantically scanned the dark room, hearing some calming melody nearby, emitting from that contrived desktop's speakers. No doubt she was asleep too, or perhaps she wasn't. Exi didn't want to take any chances in finding out.
Instead, he reflected on what just occurred, trying to not shudder. Ah. It was just that nightmare again. He hated that one; it always made him second guess his loyalty to his brand. He didn't want to think about it.
He shut his eye, attempting to resume sleep.
Exi, the Macintosh SE, as well as Opti, the Optiplex desktop, belongs to the mun over at:
chilledsoftware . tumblr . com .
I have been given permission to write this. Thank you for reading!