Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2016 18:09:42 GMT -5
DATABASE ENTRY N° 001:
There must be a clue somewhere. Anywhere. Anything would do, as long as it would make her remember whatever it was that seemed to be haunting every action of her. Why was she doubting, why was she feeling incomplete? Why was she doubting the very being that made her and why this hatred seemed so important that threatened to override even her primary directives?
She was waiting for this moment for days. The moment where she wouldn’t be compelled to obey, the moment that the Maker left her alone and she wouldn’t have to worry about his safety, the moment that she would be free to plot the betrayal whose motive wasn’t even clear to her, but was as urgent as the revival of the great Commander Red. An opportunity appeared before her when the Maker seemed more interested in watching some strange colorful pictures of infant female women with cat features that preached about things like love and understanding than travel the galaxy in search for more allies for their new Red Ribbon, so she took that opening to sneak away and fly to the place with the biggest possibility of holding any information of her previous whereabouts: the scrapyard where she was found.
A regular scrapyard in a regular planet in the edge of the galaxy, the most inconspicuous place that anyone would ever found, but her instincts insisted that there would be a mountain of precious secrets buried upon that stupid pile of garbage and old broken spaceships that were randomly found around the planet and sold to the place in exchange for an insignificant amount of money. Truth be told, the place screamed so “unimportant” that not even the name of that planet was registered in her incomplete database, but as of now it was the only place that she could access and the rest of the galaxy was a mystery to her. The question wasn’t about it being worth of exploration or not, but that she didn’t have any other option.
If the intention was to be stealthy and not to raise any suspicions, Android 22 failed on the spot. Pile upon pile of scrap heap, she would search the whole place with no regard for the humanly unpleasant smells, the noisy black birds or the fact that the day was darkening while she lost count of time in her quest. She knew that there needed to be a clue somewhere, any insignificant clue would do, any stupid thing that would helped she remember her purpose of why there was so many doubts in her databank. There was the need for revenge, but also the need of compliance and the safety of the Maker. Who was the hateful enemy, the unnamed Saiyan or the Maker himself? And why would her master build her if it was to be the object of her hatred? Her database couldn’t find an answer that would make any sense, nothing would compute that would point to a logical purpose. These contradictions were making her second guess herself in every movement, every course of action, even if that delay were of now account to a maximum of a millisecond per action. She feared that these doubts would grow and significantly interfere in her performance and she would be judged unworthy by the Maker and return to the scrapyard never fulfilling the great purpose of bringing Commander Red back to life. But even in her worst fears the contradictions still remained: why would she crave so much for the approval of the Maker if he was the enemy? Why was so important to obey and prove herself competent if her primary mission was to exact revenge?
Why revenge? Did the Maker programmed in her the capacity to hate her own master, and to what purpose? Was it a test? Was she failing?
The Android was on the verge of succumbing to her own malfunctions when her sensors spotted something shiny amidst the pile of garbage that immediately became the whole center of her attention: a single gold earring whose inspection would find that wouldn’t hold anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t even made of real gold, but some cheap simulation without any true commercial value, but when she would notice it was already been placed in her right ear. The other side of the pair was located somewhere in the galaxy, her programming concluded, and it was of utmost importance. She needed the other half to become complete, and that would hold every answer that she so desperately searched. There would be no proof or train of thought that would arrive in that logical conclusion, but even then she just knew. She needed to find the other half to become whole, and by then the meaning of hear true mission would finally make itself clear to her.
By then it was already dark and if the Maker had any worries about her he would already be searching the whole planet for her whereabouts. By then she completely forgot about any logical procedures what would be deemed “stealthy” and just kept doing her thing, in which since sometime later would gradually transform in her routine search of anything valuable in the scrapyard to her upgrades or common use for her teammates. And while doing the organizing and the final check of what was deemed useful and what was defective, a name suddenly popped in her database as if was the most important thing in the world:
Quartz.
There must be a clue somewhere. Anywhere. Anything would do, as long as it would make her remember whatever it was that seemed to be haunting every action of her. Why was she doubting, why was she feeling incomplete? Why was she doubting the very being that made her and why this hatred seemed so important that threatened to override even her primary directives?
She was waiting for this moment for days. The moment where she wouldn’t be compelled to obey, the moment that the Maker left her alone and she wouldn’t have to worry about his safety, the moment that she would be free to plot the betrayal whose motive wasn’t even clear to her, but was as urgent as the revival of the great Commander Red. An opportunity appeared before her when the Maker seemed more interested in watching some strange colorful pictures of infant female women with cat features that preached about things like love and understanding than travel the galaxy in search for more allies for their new Red Ribbon, so she took that opening to sneak away and fly to the place with the biggest possibility of holding any information of her previous whereabouts: the scrapyard where she was found.
A regular scrapyard in a regular planet in the edge of the galaxy, the most inconspicuous place that anyone would ever found, but her instincts insisted that there would be a mountain of precious secrets buried upon that stupid pile of garbage and old broken spaceships that were randomly found around the planet and sold to the place in exchange for an insignificant amount of money. Truth be told, the place screamed so “unimportant” that not even the name of that planet was registered in her incomplete database, but as of now it was the only place that she could access and the rest of the galaxy was a mystery to her. The question wasn’t about it being worth of exploration or not, but that she didn’t have any other option.
If the intention was to be stealthy and not to raise any suspicions, Android 22 failed on the spot. Pile upon pile of scrap heap, she would search the whole place with no regard for the humanly unpleasant smells, the noisy black birds or the fact that the day was darkening while she lost count of time in her quest. She knew that there needed to be a clue somewhere, any insignificant clue would do, any stupid thing that would helped she remember her purpose of why there was so many doubts in her databank. There was the need for revenge, but also the need of compliance and the safety of the Maker. Who was the hateful enemy, the unnamed Saiyan or the Maker himself? And why would her master build her if it was to be the object of her hatred? Her database couldn’t find an answer that would make any sense, nothing would compute that would point to a logical purpose. These contradictions were making her second guess herself in every movement, every course of action, even if that delay were of now account to a maximum of a millisecond per action. She feared that these doubts would grow and significantly interfere in her performance and she would be judged unworthy by the Maker and return to the scrapyard never fulfilling the great purpose of bringing Commander Red back to life. But even in her worst fears the contradictions still remained: why would she crave so much for the approval of the Maker if he was the enemy? Why was so important to obey and prove herself competent if her primary mission was to exact revenge?
Why revenge? Did the Maker programmed in her the capacity to hate her own master, and to what purpose? Was it a test? Was she failing?
The Android was on the verge of succumbing to her own malfunctions when her sensors spotted something shiny amidst the pile of garbage that immediately became the whole center of her attention: a single gold earring whose inspection would find that wouldn’t hold anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t even made of real gold, but some cheap simulation without any true commercial value, but when she would notice it was already been placed in her right ear. The other side of the pair was located somewhere in the galaxy, her programming concluded, and it was of utmost importance. She needed the other half to become complete, and that would hold every answer that she so desperately searched. There would be no proof or train of thought that would arrive in that logical conclusion, but even then she just knew. She needed to find the other half to become whole, and by then the meaning of hear true mission would finally make itself clear to her.
By then it was already dark and if the Maker had any worries about her he would already be searching the whole planet for her whereabouts. By then she completely forgot about any logical procedures what would be deemed “stealthy” and just kept doing her thing, in which since sometime later would gradually transform in her routine search of anything valuable in the scrapyard to her upgrades or common use for her teammates. And while doing the organizing and the final check of what was deemed useful and what was defective, a name suddenly popped in her database as if was the most important thing in the world:
Quartz.
