A Robot Alone

[Vitruvius]

Everything was silent. The landscape was devoid of life. All around him was a base white color save for the fountain that laid ahead of him. How many people had been brought here and they're reactions were fear or desperate confusion? Did they wonder if they were dead? That this was the after life? What was he thinking? Aside from the usual “Everything all at once,” answer, the forefront of his mind was where all of this would lead and what kind of worlds lie beyond this space.

Seeing that he was alone here, Vitruvius pulled back the hood on his leather cloak. He had no reason to hide his identity at the moment. The piercing blue eyes regrouped into a single source, letting it make its rounds on his skull, going around in a full circle before hitting the vertical tracks that went along his forehead, crown and to the back of his head. His eye took in everything as he headed toward the fountain.

Offhandedly he wondered if he'd ever be able to return to his land. He enjoyed the world he cultivated, the humans he worked with, the ones who grew up knowing of his travels and deeds, the ones who died telling the next generation that he was some magical guardian. That idea was amusing. Out of the centuries man had been reestablishing civilization, they never learned of the past. They weren't taught about the dying planet and how they had threatened to destroy everything. And that for a while...they had. Further, he had never revealed that he wasn't human. No one knew he was an entirely mechanical being and that his immortality, strength and wisdom didn't come from being some all powerful wizard or magical entity but just from the men who created him. He liked keeping it that way and he enjoyed the stories he heard about himself through the years and the reverence man had for him.

To that end he had always kept himself covered up. A massive black cloak that hid his face and obscured his black metallic form. Gloves that gave the illusion of warmth and human touch when underneath all he had were cold, metallic digits. He wore pants and boots, covering as much of himself as possible. Why? There were multiple reasons for the deception. He liked the mystery he created, the living legend aspect was entertaining to a machine that spent so much time isolated and recalling all the great myths through history. Of course if people found out he was some kind of machine, a piece of technology...it reminded him of the war mongers who wanted to pull him apart and make others like him built to kill. He didn't want his people becoming like that. A reason most life forms would be ashamed to admit was a sadly simple one: He liked pretending to be human. This reason was known only to him, naturally. It was one he had come to realize and accept a long time ago. He would attempt feigning humanity no matter what world he traveled to.

Speaking of...the fountain sat in what he would call the “center” of this room. Though it wasn't quite a fountain anymore. “Curiouser and curiouser...” His voice changed to mimic the character he was quoting. Ahead of him was now a deep reflecting pool set in the ground. Tension wires and sophisticated joints allowed his body to crouch as he leaned in close to inspect the phenomena. Water wouldn't affect him negatively, not like other metal objects or electronic systems that he knew of. Which was why he felt no trepidation as he soaked his gloved hand into the pool and pulled back a seeping handful of wet. It existed. It was liquid. But moments before it was a completely different construct. Now he was no genius (modesty was not meant for robots), but his perceptions were not limited like humans. He saw things for what they were and he saw them realistically and without delusion. So what could possibly change so fast and drastically that would make it seem like what was once a fountain was now a reflecting pool?

He stared into it, the single blue eye wandering left to right and back again trying to notice the slightest flaws or cracks in the programming. Instead all he saw was himself. Perfectly. Like a mirror. His eye split once more into a pair as he examined himself. He was aware of his appearance. The black matte finish on his exterior that most would call “skin”. The mix of alloys and flexible material that allowed him to move naturally rather than mechanically. The exposed hinges for his jaw that let him mimic speech and “eating”, to which he opened his mouth, a black maw revealing a flawless set of teeth. So human like. So close. But it was all appearance. Under the shell were circuits, hydraulics, fulcrums, levers, motors, wires and all sorts of machinery that simulated the human biological systems. His jaw closed. Tightly. It looked as though he was clenching his jaw, possibly grinding it. He was given the knowledge of art and expression. The math and sciences were all there and he knew them up and down, back and forth, jumbled up or laid out in linear sequence. That bored him. But the formula of beauty constantly changed and couldn't be pinned down. He chased it incessantly. He wanted to know how to experience it for himself. Oh he knew it. He was told what was beautiful. What was breath taking. He was told what gave hope to others, what certain pictures, paintings and expressions of art symbolized. But he couldn't define it for himself subjectively. And when he saw himself in this pool of water, he just saw a creation purposely designed to be as perfectly human in concept as possible. Execution? You could argue it was a success. But as Vitruvius stared into Vitruvius' own ethereal blue eyes, he had no insight other than the facts that summed up his whole. Maybe...perhaps...this journey would be his Homer's Odyssey? His Don Quixote. His Gilgamesh. Then maybe...perhaps...he would find a semblance of beauty and expression he can define for himself?

[Vitruvius]

His inhuman senses picked up life. Quickly he replaced his hood over his face and stood up erect. His body tensed, muscles contracting to look bigger than his lithe frame really was. He turned toward the gate of metal and circuits. Two men in white armor sets emerged carrying...weapons. His hip joints widened very subtly, the outer thigh plates sliding open, readying his own arsenal. In less than a second forty inches of high end steel could launch through the hem of his pants followed by a second of twenty-one inches. In one scenario he would take one shot from the weapon before he reached the guards. The one on the left would have his helmet penetrated and the first blade would drive through the soft opening in either of his eyes, the one on the right would be kicked against the gate and with a twist of his torso he could easily slit, sever and separate his head from his shoulders. The damage would be minimal, nothing he couldn't repair himself. Another scenario would involve striking the weapon fire, hopefully deflecting or blocking whatever ammo it used, but instead of easily dispatching both guards, he would have to use the shorter blade to pierce through the chest of the left guard. The right guard would have to be tossed back through the gate he came from while he finished off the wounded soldier. From there he could jump through a different gate, follow his enemy and take him on before help arrived or just run and hope he could escape further detection. The simulations cut his internal picture as the guards noticed the figure standing by the pool.

Weapons were red alerts. He trusted himself with his toys. He didn't trust others with theirs. Raising his hands, palms out, Vitruvius approached the pair as they clutched their weapons tighter. An inquiry flashed behind his glowing eyes, did these creatures speak his language? He would allow them make the first move. Life forms appreciated thinking they had the advantage.

“Halt, Prime.” One of the called out. It was the guard on the left. His skill in body language had rightly picked him as the major threat which was why he would dispatch him first if need be. “State your name and business.” Either these two didn't care he was a machine or they couldn't tell what he was. Excellent. The magical robot could continue his ruse.

[Vitruvius]

“I am called Vitruvius,” His voice met his interrogator's, changing quickly to a lower pitch, deeper bass. First impressions and all. “Omni wants to play. I like games. What's behind your gate?” His jaw hinges were hidden behind the cloak and hood, allowing him to create the appearance of a smile, the black mouth opening to reveal white teeth.

The pair relaxed slightly, the one on the right speaking in turn “Coruscant. Home to the Empire...do you have technology where you're from?”

Vitruvius hid the excitement within himself. They definitely weren't clear as to what they were dealing with. “Technology? Somewhat. Like robots and space stations and laser guns? I've only read about those...” His ability to mimic what emotion sounds like was impeccable. He had been playing a role for centuries and likened himself to an actor in one very long play.

Both lowered their weapons, Vitruvius in turn lowering his hands, but keeping them above his cloak to respect their caution. The guards laughed easily enough, apparently he said something they liked. “Exactly like that. If you want to see it with your own eyes then Coruscant would be perfect. Better than Camelot and the other barren Verses. There's always something happening in Coruscant.” It was the left guard that spoke, taking the lead once more. “But if you're not accustomed to technology, I would recommend staying on the few top tiers. Safer that way.”

Always something happening, hm? A “Camelot”, you say? Safer to stay on top tiers? Oh how he was bursting with curiosity. Was Camelot like the Camelot of ancient tales about King Arthur? With dragons? And Morgana la Fae? Mmm, but it seemed like Coruscant would have more adventures! Inquiries had to be made. “What do you mean by tiers? What is Coruscant like?” His curiosity was sincere!

The two took turns briefly explaining what their Verse was like. Clearly they were the welcome party because it sounded like they had given the speech dozens of times. He didn't want to take up too much of their time, their voice patterns were getting more dull and bored with each sentence so when they hit the basics of what their world was like, Vitruvius made it a point to thank them. However they stopped him before he crossed the threshold.

“Just beware. Coruscant is stable because we have laws,” Warned the right guard, “Abide by them and you won't find any trouble. Trouble goes by the name of Dredd around here.”

“Dread...?” Vitruvius mimicked. Hopefully the guard didn't notice his voice being “stolen”.

“Judge Dredd. He is the law. Judge, jury and executioner. He takes his job a little too seriously.”

Vitruvius understood that role all too well. He nodded in appreciation of the warning and stepped through the gate. Again a blinding white enveloped him. Dragged his atomic structure through space. Pulled and twisted and melted him down before building him back up. It was painless, but it was still awkward. In a span of seconds that slipped from no time at all to a few seconds too long, Vitruvius found himself standing on the other side of the gate.

What he saw blew his processors.