I see a wasteland. I wonder how anything can live. I wonder if I will.

I wonder if I care.

Perhaps the scene before me would have more impact had I anything to judge it by. I recognize that it is bleak and inhospitable. I know this is an area that was part of a nuclear blast. But I have never seen what these mountains used to be except through a screen, and for me this is the only reality. A bitter realization.

A necessary one.

The dark rocks crunch beneath my feet. The wind blows dust everywhere in sporadic bursts, giving me just enough time to get out of shelter before blowing again. It doesn't harm my skin, but irritates my eyes. I need to get my heading.

The entrance behind me exits due east, which means I need to turn around. I don't want to go back past the complex, but I have little choice.

Time Elapsed: 14:13

The years have not been long enough to put the stain of war behind, and nuclear winter has not yet relinquished its hold. Dirty snow falls as I pass through the trenches and canyons. I encounter no one. There is no sound but the wind and my feet against the rocks.

Time Elapsed: 4324:52

I run faster than humanly possible, leaping gorges and scampering up almost sheer rock faces. It feels good somehow to finally utilize my body's abilities, to test my limits and exercise my strength. I sat in that hole for too long.

Time Elapsed: 10086:36

The mountainous region gives way to more level ground. My ears pop as I descend, my body compensating for the pressure changes. I wonder if I'm the first Terminator to ever pop his ears. The bitter cold seems to fade a little. There is sparse grass on the ground.

Time Elapsed: 40321:43

I still have had no human contact, but the cleaner state of the atmosphere and ecosystem have given me some hope. I walked through an empty city, abandoned not from disease or nuclear effects, but something possibly deadlier. I saw the burnt scars on the building, I saw the glittering shrapnel of battle. This is a machine town now. Like its former human occupants Skynet chose to vacate it. The city must hold no value for the machines. Skynet has no attatchment to things it has won. The spoils of war are to be used or discarded according to their relative worth as resources, and nothing more.

Time Elapsed: 120965:12

After three months I now begin to see signs of humanity, which has apparently, and wisely, submerged itself. I've seen no actual people, but a concrete hulk buried halfway in the ground showed telltale signs of inhabitancy, and in the distance I thought I could hear gunfire. I'm nearing the human holdings, and the point of conflict.

Time Elapsed: 172809:06

The sunlight is dimming. The land I approach has been blackened and twisted. The skyline of a broken city is visible in the distance. What few buildings stand are jagged and decaying. I saw three men today, taking apart an old prewar gas station for the concrete blocks it was made of. The sight of them evoked a strange mix of feelings which I cannot analyze. I wanted to run to them and see if they were real, yet some unknown fear would not allow me to move from my place of hiding. I watched them for seven hours, sixteen minutes and fourteen seconds before they left. I have plotted their heading, and at nightfall will follow them.

Travel clock stopped. I've reached my destination.


Humanity has an innate resourcefulness that Skynet can only hope to emulate. Necessity drives these people to be creative in their survival. A computer cannot deviate in such variant patterns.

If Skynet found a boulder in its path, it would see an obstacle to be removed and immediately plot the most efficient way to do so. A human might see part of a rock house, or a barricade for a future battlefield. Perhaps even a weapon to be rolled on the approaching steel masses. I have just now discovered what it means to live in this new world, and I fear that Skynet might destroy what is left of these resilient people with sheer numbers. In the last few days I've seen actual children, a feeling that was wonderful and fulfilling. I have seen a brave race struggling to live under the ash choked sky, struggling to live despite the approaching darkness. I pledge myself in their fight. I will do whatever I can to prevent their destruction. Skynet cannot commit this atrocity.

I finally understand what the world has come to.

The state of this place brings to mind the reports I dredged from Skynet's database back when I was still a drone. They detailed the effects of nuclear war and listed what was launched where. There was a unknown missile factor of about 15-52. While no country escaped unscathed, Russia and America took the brunt of the attacks. Skynet triggered WWIII by launching America's missiles towards Russia. Russia was devastated but managed to return fire. The sudden exchange set off a domino effect of alliances and loyalties amongst Western Europe and soon smaller nuclear exchanges proliferated between those countries. At that point two days, eighteen hours and twenty-six minutes had passed, and Skynet calculated that its enemies were still potent enough to destroy it. It launched America's remaining weapons against Turkey and Korea, demolishing both countries and sending more missiles heading into the USA. By the time the dust settled, three days, fifteen hours and seventeen minutes was the total time it took to destroy civilization.

South America and Africa had remained for the most part untouched, and the only destruction Australia experienced was the complete annihilation of Sydney. However, with fallout flooding the air streams of the world and choking dust clouds congealing in the upper atmosphere, the world wide ecosystem was destroyed. Millions had radiation sickness. Nuclear winter soon followed.

I can barely imagine the horror of the survivors in those first few moments. To know that nothing would ever be the same. To know their world had been crushed to nothing. To know that the technology that had been so prized had died a violent death, destroying everything in the throes of a final agony.

The world I see was created by that which created me. It is an idea that I do not wish to dwell on.

I can hear something now. Not gunfire or the telltale clank of combat T-800s. It almost sounds like..

...Singing.

How odd. How new.

How... Exhilarating.

A woman's voice. A real woman. Not on a screen or built of metal. What is this feeling? As if some small animals were loose in my stomach.

Diagnostic: Temperature-98.43 : Heart-Normal : Lungs-Normal : Digestive- Functioning, 0.0 content level. Normal : External Damage: 0.2 : Internal Damage- 0.0 : Foreign Objects- 0.0 : Processor- SetATPISpd 4xDMD, RaW, Normal : System: Normal : Running Process: NCbeta6.9

Running Process NCbeta6.9 analyze.

Complete: Designation- Non-Combative Neural Net Program Ver. 6.9.

Running DAT.4 Specs.

Reading: 10011010011100011110 10010101 1011 011100111011

1011000100111001 10101010101 011011001 011010110 0101100101 01010101010101011101010101010111010110101011001101001011 11011 10101 01 0101010101 10110101010 10101010111011011 10 11010111110011101011 10101101101 101011 10110101011 0101111 10111011 01101010 11010 1010101 101010 1 -Canceled

Nominal.

Nothing inside of me. No program malfunction. This must be a part of me I have never had the chance to experience. It isn't fear, it's... I can only think, 'anticipation'.

There she is, coming into sight as I crest the small hill. She is gathering from sort of small garden, sheltered from the open by a large outcropping of rock. Is she beautiful? I wouldn't know. Is she real? I can only hope.

Gathering my confidence, I stand up and walk down the short incline. At the crunch of gravel beneath my feet she immediately looks up, not with fear but courage. She is ready to face me had I been hostile. I realize she is probably armed.

She relaxes somewhat at the site of me, but still pulls out a pistol. It is an older model, a postwar handgun designed for the T-600. Eight shots of .45 caliber bullets, Antimatter tips encased in steel. A single shot will blow an immense hole in flesh. It is less effective on the machines, but can easily cripple them if the person using the gun knows where to shoot. She speaks, and for a moment it is so unfamiliar it might as well be some alien language. It is an entirely new sensation to not hear a human voice from a speaker.

"Stay right there," She says, pointing the pistol at me. Her aim is steady. "Don't try to run."

She pulls a pair of bulky goggles out of the backpack at her side. A spy machine would have tried kill her, easily recognizing the infrared goggles in her hand. They are a useful tool in spotting killers hidden in flesh. This is one test that I alone of the machines can pass.

She puts the goggles to her eyes and activates them. She scans me up and down before toggling them off, apparently satisfied at my heat signature. She lowers the gun, but still keeps it ready.

"What the hell are you doing out here? Recall isn't 'till 1400."

I am momentarily confused. 1400 hours. 2:00. Recall, most likely the gathering of all humans back at some meeting point for protection. My voice is... unexpected. It is deep, but not baritone. I hope Skynet knew what it was doing when it built my voice box. I do not use a system of sound hardware like the other Terminators, I am much more organic. I have no idea what my voice might sound like to others.

"I got lost."

She frowns at this, and I realize I gave an unsatisfactory answer. No doubt I am expected to elaborate. My mostly organic systems give me an advantage over other Terminators in the same situation. The fastest Neural Net chip cannot escape the confines of its programming. My brain should be able to fabricate a suitable and well built lie to use.

Unfortunately, I am inexperienced.

"Real lost."

Her look changes again. I analyze it as one of confusion and slight disbelief. Perhaps she now thinks I am unintelligent.

"What, you were out on patrol?"

"No, I come from farther East. But-"

1. I was lost on another patrol. 2. My people wish to contact yours. 3. I am actually a Terminator who wants to help the enemy. 3. My settlement was destroyed. I fled and survived. Process 3. Change 'settlement' to 'house'.

"My house was destroyed. I only just got away."

Four months of walking through the wastes have given some visual credence to my story. My jumpsuit is ragged and worn and my skin caked in dust with various cuts and bruises adorning it. They are all recent, as most minor injuries heal within four hours.

Program: RSequence ELayer1-5

Task: N 706000-9500000

Status: Running

StatCom Change Runset0

Reloaded.

Program: RSequence ELayer1-5

Task: N 706000-9500000

Status: Disabled

Disabling my epidermis repair program will prevent the suspicion that would have occurred when my injuries disappeared.

At my false news her face turns grim, and her eyes sadden. "How many?"

How many? I realize that she means deaths. Whatever number I give her will be imagined, but she will perceive it as real. The higher the number, the greater the loss. I don't want to start my campaign against Skynet by crushing human morale.

"None. It was just me."

She quickly turns incredulous.

"You lived all by yourself? Out there?"

My travels have given knowledge of what exactly lies 'out there', and I understand her expression. Fortunately, that knowledge has other uses. Sometimes atmospheric distortion causes an area of land to be blanketed in a radiation white noise that has an effect on electronics similar to that of EMP. Such an phenomenon will not disable a Terminator completely, but will have a serious effect on its sensory perception.

The drawbacks of populating such an area are the obvious problems with electrical equipment, rendering humanities most potent defenses useless. As such, anyone who lives under atmospheric distortion most likely does so alone or in small numbers. A risky proposition, but the only one for those unable to adapt to the crush of community living.

Or so I assume.

Apparently it is a safe assumption as she accepts my explanation and reholsters her weapon.

"Well," She sighs, looking back over her shoulder. "You'll be welcome back at Central. I'm sure we can find a room for you. Just remember though, you won't be living on your own anymore. You'll have to pitch in like everyone else if you want to stay."

She looks me over again, I believe she is sizing me up. I understand that she would find it necessary to examine me as an unfamiliar person, but I don't recognize the attitude and look she does it with. Predatory. No, not predatory. Almost. Possessive. No, want of a possession.

ScanDir : The1want

(want) ache, aspire, be greedy, choose, covet, crave, cream for, desiderate, desire, die over, fancy, hanker, have ambition, hunger, incline toward, itch for, lech for, long, lust, need, pine, prefer, require, spoil for, thirst, wish, yearn

Yes, desire. Desire what? Perhaps I am to be used as some form of living currency in slave barter. No, slavery would be counterproductive in this society. I wonder if I can recognize this expression through recorded history.

ScanVis Block 23x45-65x12 Upload 'DesireWom1'

ScanDir : MovieMem1MatchCase 'DesireWom1'

'DesireWom1' Instance 34646 - Instance 37385836893 - Instance 28u066653 - Instance 499y29875 - Instance 3738368956p - Instance hp53735 - Instance 1357627l3763u - Instance 45623865 - Canceled.

I have overestimated my ability to understand life through movies. There is a solution. I feel that time spent with humanity can teach me many things and bring out the organic side of me. My systems are independent, and given time I could even come to abandon the machine within me entirely. I take this first step towards loosening Skynet's hold on my steel soul.

"I'd like that."