|Background||Had his parents killed; is a robotic programmer||
Helped kill Steve's parents for him; is a mechanical engineer
|A high seat in the mega corporation that produces synthetic substances and weaponry||An A.I. construct forged from the mega corporation FERU||Is a natural born killer; is a loner and drifter; he does small menial jobs.|
|Beliefs||For technology, not God; atheist||Is an agnostic; flows with technology||Is against technology; wants to find ways for peace||Believes that God is logical||Believes he is nothing more than a killer, only thinking that he is delusional|
- Story about the moral issues humans have with morals- metaethics/metamorality/metavirtueethics
- World takes place in a very claustrophic, overpopulated city; the story is mainly cyberpunk
- The main character is named Steve
- The western half of America has been attacked, but renewed with organic buildings and infrastructure
- The main character Steve lives on the newly produced western coast
I find myself in a treacherous indictment. And running away from them; I hope I can find my way home. Like a stranger in a strange land, let's see if I can make it out of here alive.
I give full stop, when I was originally at full speed. Because at this point there's no escaping it. I just know they're bound to find me. At that point I just put my hands up, giving signal for my surrender. All lights abound on me, there's no sway to what they'll do next.
One of them walks to me.
"On notice. There's nothing to hide; put your hands on the back of your head. Turn around."
I do as he says; I face the wall and let the headlights beam on my back.
The man stays at his place.
"Give it some time old chap, you'll get the hang of it. I've always fought the law, but never won; and now it's time for me to hang the coat."
I let myself to touch against the wall.
The officer pulls out a large gun from his waist side. The dot from the laser construes onto the wall.
"I'm sure there's something that's allotted for your time slot, Mr. Henry."
The dot stops on the back of the head that is leaned against the wall.
"There isn't any need for me to be replaced, Sir."
"Yes there is. Maybe consider protocol." A moment of quiet resumes. "002547"
The officer grabs the barrel of the handgun, with the other hand; he hands over the gun to the non-assailant.
"Maybe next time I'll see you dead; next time."
"Thank you very much."
I stay there in my apartment.
I don't know why that only one police car came to get me. I'll have to deduce that on my own. Maybe another day. As for this journal, I'm happy about it. Leaving it to the humans to give me that eternal everlasting. I look through my files, seeing what can be done. Anything in my mind becomes something...tangible I guess. 'Something I've gotten used to. But the reason why anyone would try to get me is for one simple reason: I've been programmed to kill- a certain something. Something that seems to be too important for most- the Grand Sphere. It's just too much of an artifact. Like art. Which doesn't pertain to me that much. I personally feel that anything like that comes into close contact against the need to think for the greater good- for the life on planet Earth. Why don't we have the overall spiral for prosperity? Probably something to handsomely deduce.
I've been interacting with these officer drones. They keep coming at me, but I feel they're just mindless ones. Hopefully nothing gets sent at me, somehow. This is the world after all; anything can happen.
After spending my time in isolation inside my apartment, I feel the sunlight on my person. The daytime has superseded the night. Hopefully today's job will get finished properly.
I unplug from the source. I keep to myself for the time being, walking through the streets. At this time there's no way to spot an innocent cyborg like me. No reason to. There's nothing to get me for. I may have been programmed to change for the good or the bad. But some risks must be taken. I know some will think that 'one day they'll understand.' In days like this, logic comes first; there's reason not to dawdle. That's what we've learned from our past.
As for the cop earlier, I have qualms as to whether or not I am in any real danger. How does one keep to themselves, in the way that allows safe haven for the self, but also accomplishes a dangerous mission like this? Well I'll be assured that being a being like this assures that. One thing is hard to consider logically however: who put the mind in me? One thing is my mind; the other thing is my knowledge. They've been dispersed. Separated. Unfortunately.
I walk across this glorious outcrop of civilization. The year is 2398. The information revolution. The intelligence revolution. Though no abundance revolution. Souls still vie for resources in our world. But we have plenty of energy, if I do say so myself. Everyone cross dresses in the enemies' accord. Humans attached to their universe, artificially intelligent beings training themselves in the 'art of behavior.' We still have separation, but we pride ourselves in our loss of discrimination. At least when I think of such things philosophically. We've hit the singularity. But with no personal knowledge of my maker. 'Would hope it wouldn't matter in the end, however.
I plan on going through the high security vault known as the Shariner. Probably not known, because of the pure understanding of the company to deviate from real social norms. I have all the tools. Just need to allocate here and there beforehand. Here it goes.
I don't need a uniform. All I have is my skin. Liquid metal; anything I want it to be. Any conscience.