#dead circuits

It’s fall in Colorado. Warm during the day and freezing at night. The leaves are down as cities and towns bustle with people wrapped up in jackets, hats, and scarves. Some are out with robotic companions; a commonplace sight in 2068. As with everything, the quality of personal robots can vary widely. From sleek, new, and shiny, boasting the most advanced and safest AI combined with the newest parts molded straight from the cutting edge, all the way down to the homemade, glitchy and rusted, slapped together and poorly soldered with parts from five or more different manufacturers and AIs taken from anything from recycled CPUs to an antique roomba.

However, away from the city, in one of the few quiet places and even fewer uninhabited quiet places left in the world lies a hospital on the outskirts of Loveland. Abandoned after failing to keep up and left by companies due to location and certain building materials, the hospital stands in a field as a beacon and monument for the unwanted.

The road leading up to its skeletal frame has long since been blocked off; and the dirt path going around said blockage only sees use when some cheap individual has something they want to get rid of and when some cheaper individual wants to see what they can find. Both breeds never stray into the abandoned halls of the looming structure. It takes someone special or twisted to leave the comforts of the setting sun, the gentle breeze, the golden grass that stands to your knees and venture inside. Into the underbelly of a structure where every creak and groan is a threat to fall and claim one last last life to fade away within its walls. It takes someone even stranger to feel comfortable in such a place.

For the first time in a while, I get a hint of relief. We’re at least not being left out here to get rained on or found again. We- well, I know we’re going somewhere else.

[MAIN POWER REMAINING: 2% PLEASE RECHARGE]

And apparently not a moment too soon.

“Hey,” Tris starts, pulling me from my thoughts. “Is this yours?” she asks, holding up the crowbar my friend found. I point to him, but the action feels laggy, delayed. “Okay.” She takes off her backpack and nestles the tool amongst a range of parts inside.

I can’t tell what any of the parts are, it’s getting dark. Or is that my camera? My vision flickers. Yup. Tris is saying something to me, but I can’t hear her. I can’t even lift my head to look at her.

[MAIN POWER REMAINING: <1% BEGIN SHUTDOWN]

Everything goes dark.

[MAIN POWER: DISENGAGED]

         [MAIN POWER REMAINING: 5% PLEASE RECHARGE]

         “I mean, they don’t look great,” she notes. “Can you hear me?”

         I nod.

         “Okay. I’m guessing you can’t talk.”

         I nod again.

         “Are you two together, do you have an owner?” she questions.

         Yes! I nod emphatically, grabbing his arm. I don’t trust these people, but we don’t have a choice; there’s no one else here.

         “Probably dumped,” the man mutters, pressing his sleeve onto the still swelling lump on his forehead. Tris ignores him. I act like I didn’t hear him.

         “Home-made?”

         I nod. She shifts a little closer to me, looking me over again and lifting my friend's arm to get a better look at it.

         “I mean, they may look like shit, but they at least look like interesting shit. Could be a nice pair of ‘fix-up and sell’ projects if we can’t find the owner.”

         The green one looks doubtful. “Dude, there’s no way we could sell them for more than the cost of new parts. That one can’t even walk!”

         “So? Could be a simple fix. Plus, if we did fix ‘em up, they’d make great before-and-after shots on the site.”

         “That doesn’t sell the bots.”

         “And putting up nothing brings in no one, Evan. Listen, I know this isn’t great; but the fact is they’re cheap as free and if they do turn out to be a waste, we can bring them back and get more parts or even salvage whatever parts they do have.”

         I really don’t like that last option.

         Evan doesn’t answer.

         “Hell, even if we do find the owner, that might be landing us two hefty fix-ups which you and I both know we could really need.”

         He still doesn’t answer, just glares while he thinks. Probably too stubborn to admit she’s right. I hope.

         “Would you please just go get the wheelbarrow? Plus, if we don’t take them, we loaded that stupid thing up for nothing.”

          My friend's pace slows to a walk as the panic from before slowly fades. I start to calm down too. However, he keeps slowing down. Are you okay? His footing falters as he comes to a stop. Yellow’s head lolls forward, limp- Oh no. -and the rest of his body follows suit, face planting into the dirt with a heavy thud and a clang as my head hits hard against the back of his. The warped crowbar falls to his side.

          Shit.

          [NO SYSTEM DAMAGE SUSTAINED]

          Of course. Of course he ran out of power. What do we do now? I get my arms out from under my friend’s body and drag myself off of him. I whirl around, looking around for anything, anything that might help us, but I can’t even see above the grass.

          “I think they went this way,” a voice says from somewhere behind us.

          No! No we didn’t! All I can do is sit by his body, hoping they’ll leave. I’m not leaving him here. The grass around us crunches softly and footsteps come our way. I’d hold my breath if I had any. 

          “Woah!” Someone walking in the grass nearly trips over us, catching himself. He looks down at me in surprise, a young man in a green hoodie with a fresh-looking welt on his forehead. “Tris, they’re over here!” he yells, ending in an exasperated sigh. “They look just as bad as I thought they did.”

          We head up some stairs at the end of the hall and come to a pair of double doors. They’re closed. He grabs the handle and pulls only for the doors to rattle stubbornly. No. No, no, no, no, no. He rattles it harder, but whatever’s on the other side is refusing to budge. Goddamn it, we’re so close! My frustration unintentionally bubbles through my speaker, bouncing off the walls. Loud, shapeless, angry static coming from the unfamiliar thing in my chest while Yellow continues banging loudly on the door. Suddenly, he pauses, letting go of the handles. I force myself to be quiet, listening as best I can. The door rattles, a muffled bang from the other side followed by a voice I can’t make out. Panic shoots through me and my friend as he looks around the small landing for something. He finally picks up a bent crowbar, gripping it in both hands as best he can given his missing fingers. He backs away from the door, gaze still locked on it. I tighten my grip around his neck as we wait, watching the door intently. There’s a sound on the other side like a metal chain sliding and I can feel my friend tense, bracing himself. 

          The door begins to open outwards and he breaks into a full sprint, charging the door. His shoulder and the crowbar take the brunt of the impact, sending both doors flying open, toppling over the two figures that were standing behind it. He keeps running, through the long-ruined lobby of a hospital threatening to fall to pieces. The windows that once maintained the sanctity of a medical waiting room, crunching under the heavy, hasty footfalls of my friend as he jumps through the broken window, out over the broken asphalt and into the long, golden grass of the field.

          Yellow’s foot moves. I look up and he looks back down at me. Yes! I wave, motioning that we need to go, trying to get him to hurry. He nods and looks back down at his feet, standing up straight and unintentionally unhooking himself from the stand. He stands on his own, faltering initially, but managing to stay upright. Unlucky me. Brushing off my mild jealousy, I give him a questioning thumbs up. Yellow reciprocates and I start making a wide turnaround to head back out to the hall when he steps directly over me and stops in my way. As I’m about to go around, he crouches down, back still to me. He looks over his shoulder, seeming to wait. Piggyback ride?  I reach up and grab his shoulders, hoisting myself up and wrapping my arms around his neck. Once I’m secure, he stands back up.

           I grab the legs of a chair and position it so I can push it with my face. It’s not stupid if it works. Once I hear the other side of the seat gently bump into his dangling legs, I stop. Carefully, I climb the chair and hope this works. I know I saw them do this once before. I peer into my friend’s chest cavity through where they haven’t welded the plating on yet and spot his core. That’s what they called it, right? It’s a comparatively well-made metal box covered in ports of different shapes and sizes, a large number of them connected in some way to the copper and plastic spider web that makes the rest of the body move. There’s a small elevated panel on top. Is this it? Carefully, I reach in and press the panel. A small, yellow light turns on and a faint whir comes from the core. Good.

          Turning to the side, I let myself fall the short distance to the floor. Ow.

          [NO SYSTEM DAMAG-] 

          I get my arms under me and push my torso off the floor. Damn it. I turn my concentration to my legs, trying to get them under me. Minutes of struggling with the unfamiliar beams, joints, and wires bring me to the conclusion I’m not getting back up. At most, I’ve managed to get that mess even more tangled. Crawling it is, then. Army crawling on my elbows, I head for the doorway leading to the hall. It’s also dark. I may be confused as to how I’m awake if they aren’t here, but I’m not questioning a chance of getting out of this hellhole. I turn left, going deeper into the basement. 

          The otherwise stagnant air is frenzied with the sounds of my legs scraping behind me as I army crawl over the dirty, broken tile floor. Signs of water damage litter the drywall halls, pieces are starting to crumble and occasionally holes are chewed through it by rodents and whatever else dares to make a den down here. I'm sure beneath the sounds of my slow progress down the hall there's a scurrying of creatures startled by my sudden presence. Even so, I'm not scared of anything that might be lurking, I can't be. He's down here, my friend is down here and if we can get out of here before those sick fuc-

          Pop! Something in my leg catches on the ground, pulling it out of whichever port it’s supposed to be in. Not that I can feel any difference. Crawling around on the ground is gonna do a number on this hardware, but I push the possibility of tearing myself up out of my mind. Instead, I replace it with a more useful, determined thought: