CYBER SOUL

By

Darkblur

A barren desert, with never-ending dunes of sand stretching far far away towards the horizon before returning as a pure blue sky, similar to glass, sits undisturbed. The only noise in this silent world is a hot wind whistling across the surface, carrying a cloud of sand with it as it flies over the tan ground.

All is calm, all is still...until a lone figure enters this world of heat and sand. He says nothing, he doesn't wince against the lashing wind, and he isn't tired out from the heat, but then again, why would he be? He wasn't alive.

His large arms swing back and forth as he marches over the sand, ignoring the loose material's tendency to squish beneath his weight. His red eyes didn't blink, even as the wind whipped into them, they just stared straight ahead. The merciless sun glinted off his black, red, and gold paint job, but also served to fuel the solar cells that were built into his shoulders, providing him with all the power he needed and keeping his internal power source well charged.

What would possibly drag anything, alive or not, to such a desolate place? The answer became apparent as a large, steel-gray spire began to rise up out of the sand, far out in the distance. The figure re-aligns himself to head straight for the spire, but still said nothing as he marched.

Slowly the spire begin to reach upwards to claw at the sky, and at an equally slow speed the main part of the image became visible too...a giant compound at the base of the spire, the same stony, steel-gray as the spire that stood over it.

The figure only paused to look up at the giant structure in front of him before marching up to the doorway in. The doors were shut, but they wouldn't be for long...he thrust both of his large clawed hands into the door and ripped the metal barrier clear out of the doorway, letting them splash into the sand behind him.

The figure entered and began his usual job...destruction.

He entered the first room he came across and looked around, seeing nothing but old, dead Eggbots littered amongst the rubble. They were twisted and contorted into grotesque poses, some were upside-down while others smashed beneath large portions of the ceiling, a couple were cut in half, a few smashed by some object hard enough to squash their heads and upper-torso flat, and some had holes punched into the chest, with wires and a small servo or two hanging out.

The figure observed each of the dead robots, deducing that the work was a result of a couple biologicals (or "bios" as he called them) he met a few years ago. They were all acquaintances of his only two friends, and since they had already done most of the work in this room, he continued on without disturbing the remains.

The same display of metallic gore met his eyes in the next dozen rooms and chambers. Finally the figure came across something that would help him, a computer terminal.

If it booted up, he could get a map of the base, data to hand over to GUN, and maybe even the conditions of the rest of the base.

His luck held out, the terminal began to start up when he pressed the on button. While waiting for the computer to finish starting up, a footstep from behind met his robotic ears. Within an instant his upper part spun around and he opened fire on where he heard the noise with his machine guns.
After a two-second long shooting spree, he was satisfied and turned back to the terminal, just as an Egg-pawn collapsed to the ground, shot full of holes and leaking oil onto the floor. He wasn't bothered by it at all...they were the enemies after all.

The terminal finally started up and he downloaded everything of value into his memory, from schematics of canceled robot designs to the blueprints of this base to the global locations of a few bases he was unaware of. Once the last data bit was downloaded, he made short work of the terminal then set off.

With a map of the base now in his possession, he began his solemn job of destruction, targeting the most critical of places first. Of course, the first place he had to destroy was on the other side of the base, so he had to begin yet another march. However, unlike the other one where most of his memory was spent maintaining his course and monitoring the weather, this one only required a tiny part of his memory. As a result, he was free to 'think'...or at least, perform a reasonably close mimic of the task. He was a robot...robot's don't think.

He "thought" about his two friends, a couple of bios named Shadow and Rouge. What strange creatures those two were...Rouge's obsession with jewels was especially odd. To him, there was no value in them...they were little more than shiny rocks to him, but the female bat adored them to no end. He thought of where they were right now, what they might've been doing...and that in itself puzzled him.

He was a robot, he wasn't supposed to have made friends, he wasn't supposed to wonder what the people he knew were doing. He was supposed to follow orders, and yet...here he was. Was it possible he was beyond being a robot? The logical circuits overloaded when given the question and he gave up trying to figure it out. He couldn't be anything more than what he was, because he can't be anything but what he was...and yet he was exhibiting behaviors that he shouldn't be able to do.

His pondering was cut short when he heard a hissing noise and looked to see a small robotic snake had wrapped around his right arm. The thing was green and purple striped and had glowing green eyes, that it was currently using to glare at him.

That is what he was supposed to be, some simple metal machine programmed to follow certain orders when the appropriate situation arose.

Clearly this snake had no chance in beating him, but it still tried.

With a quick swipe of his left hand, he beheaded the robot serpent and continued on.

His "thoughts" returned to him and his friends as he walked on. They were capable of so much, they had free will, they had true thoughts, they had feelings, they were alive. He wasn't...and he became jealous of it.

Wait...Jealous? He was feeling...jealous? How could he be feeling jealous? He didn't have feelings, he was cold. He had a cold steel heart, not a warm beating one like in his friends, so how could he feel jealous? He abandoned the question, like the other, it made his logic circuits overload.

His footsteps continue on, resonating through the quiet of the abandoned base, his "thoughts" as blank as the walls.

After a fifteen minute march, he came upon his first target...a large room holding the remains of a large heavy-mech unit that the bios had defeated. The large humanoid robot was lying flat on the ground, cold and motionless. Its eyes were dull, its paint faded away, and its body coated in dust and the remains of the roof that collapsed on top of it. There were several portions on its body that were torn open and were oil and hydraulic fluid had spilled out, which were now dried onto the floor.

He looked upon the massive robot for almost a minute. It was such a waste of good parts, but that was the usual by-product of this endless war between his ex-creator and the bios...nothing but ruined robots. He remembered how the doctor had forcefully powered him down and thrown him into that bunker...how that act of rage on his creator's part had actually saved him from the same fate met by all of his robotic brothers...it still hurt though. Looking upon the wreck of that once proud fighting machine, it was too much. He closed his eyes, although really he just shut the covering over the lenses, and looked away. He lifted his arms and retracted his hands to fire off several missiles, blowing the remains of the golem to bits.

Why was he feeling this pain? He had no pain receivers, but he was still feeling...emotional pain? Betrayed? Upset? Enraged? He couldn't tell...he wasn't able to tell.

He looked back where the robot was, saw that his job done to a satisfactory level, the golem reduced to smoldering chunks of scrap, and turned to leave. He had several other objectives to ensure were destroyed before he got rid of the base.

As he continued on to the next location, his memory suddenly brought up one moment that also puzzled him...

"Did I ever tell you that...Shadow is a robot...and..." Rouge pauses as her ears droop a little, "Never mind." she mumbles before walking past him towards the door.

"You know about cloning?" he asked to Rouge, without bothering to turn around to face her. "The original must exist somewhere." he added before continuing on deeper into the room filled with Shadow androids.

Did he really show compassion when he tried to comfort Rouge? Or was it sympathy? No...no it couldn't have been those things...he couldn't feel anything like that. Again he just put out of his robotic mind, continuing on towards his objective.

Only two Egg-pawns got in his way by the time he reached the hangar and both were taken care of, but unlike the first one in the terminal room, these were given a much less violent end...they were simply stabbed by his claws. All around the hangar was the wreckage of flying robots, some by themselves, some on top of others, but all were beyond repair. Over by the hangar doors was a large hole to the outside...a result of the bios attack that forced the doctor to abandon this base.

Without hesitation, he raised his arms and set his flamethrowers to work on the ruined planes. Over the next several hours, he marched all around the base taking out large targets like robots and critical areas like the armory or back-up generators.

His job was pretty easy...most of the robots he came across were either destroyed or shut down from lack of power. Unless it attacked, he wasn't going to do anything to them...they were already at peace, so he shouldn't disturb his fallen brothers.

Another strange "thought" came to him as he destroyed the base...maybe he was denying some part of himself. Could he be denying? Unless the doctor programmed him to deny, he couldn't tell. He might've been denying the fact that he could deny by thinking he wasn't programmed to deny. But what if he was?

No, he can't deny because denial requires free will which is a luxury that only bios have, not robots like him. It was yet another difference.

Those biologicals...they had everything and he had nothing. He couldn't tire, he didn't need to eat or sleep, and he had more acute senses than they did...but the bios still had such things as emotions, free will, and critical thinking. They were enjoying the sunshine with friends, while toiled in cleaning up after an endless war...he almost sighed upon realizing his pitiful life, but continued on in his work.

Finally came the time to end the base once and for all. He worked his way to the power generators and began to repair them...but wired in one minor difference as he worked.

While repairing the massive generators, he glanced over to see the "corpses" of the guards for here, scattered about with signs that they were destroyed by Chaos Spears. Most of them were facing away from the door, saying that they didn't even know that death was upon them.
For some reason...he stopped his work when he saw one particularly horrid body.

It was a basic Egg-Pawn, rounded body and head, creepy grin, and small hands and feet at the end of hoses...but it was lying with its head against the generator and all around its body were the nasty slits cut by the Chaos Spears.

One cut across the right arm, almost lopping it clean in half, a half-dozen were through its body, and half a leg was missing...but the worst one was placed over the left eye.

The pawn was lying with its face angled just right for the dim lighting to glint around the missing eye, revealing the dried oil that was caked around it and the delicate circuits inside.

"Such a waste." he mumbled. Had he not known that he couldn't feel, he would've felt a surge of sympathy for the machine. He sorely hated his creator...no, his hatred for his creator went far beyond that word. All of these machines had such great potential, and here they were...being mercilessly slaughtered in a never-ending war, only to have an exact copy built to replace it. He didn't blame the bios, they were just protecting themselves and fighting back...it was all his creator's fault.

...and he hated that he was a product of that madman. He hated all of this...that's why he had to destroy it all...to never be reminded of it ever again.

After finishing the repairs of the generator, he turned to leave, exiting the desolate base in about ten minutes. He walked up to the top of a nearby sand dune before stopping to turn back to look at the large base.

In that instant, he had a sudden realization. Perhaps he did have feelings...maybe he could feel depressed, angry, confused, and everything else...maybe he could feel a bond with the bios...maybe that was why the doctor locked him away, because he couldn't be manipulated and controlled and different from the others...he wasn't a mindless drone. But if he did have feelings and thoughts, then why was he a robot instead of a bio? Could a robot really have bio characteristics? Maybe he was the first...

"Farewell brothers, you will not have died in vain." he solemnly said to the base before sending a wireless signal that kicked the generator on...and his modifications overloaded it and caused an explosion, destroying the entire base and throwing a giant fireball into the desert night sky. Another part of his...former identity was destroyed.

He was a new robot, one that was like a bio, but composed of metal and oil instead of flesh and blood.

As he watched, a small object fell to the sand in front of him, and upon looking down, he saw that it was an Egg-pawn's head.

He reached down and plucked it out of the sand, curiously looked at it for a few seconds, then
carried it over to some other nearby shrapnel. He took a long pipe off the ground, then drove it back in so it stood vertically, then carefully placed the head on top of the pole...leaving behind a tiny shrine for all of his robot brothers that perished in that base from the doctor's orders.

"Rest easy brethren." he said aloud, "I will stop doctor Eggman one day. Then this war will end."
He turned away from the makeshift shrine, looked through his memory for this nearest Eggman base, then plotted and set off on a course that will take him to his next target.

However, once again he had to give up most of his computing power to maintain this course, monitor the weather, and listen for reports of Eggman attacks. Having to give up all of that power meant that as he walked away from the base, he returned to the way he was...just a cold, steel machine...

...the real Omega receded away, only to be rediscovered at the next base and the next and the next, the same as he always was and the same as he always will be.