Realm Wars

Chapter 4

After descending to the basement, MTHR navigated to sublevel one, room 1-11, the server farms. When the machine passed through the doors, its audio receptors picked up a faint noise toward the back of the room. The hoverton fluttered through the rows of server racks, following its origin.

"Query: Employee 1-X, are you in here?" the admin-drone called out, amplifying its speaker output.

No response came.

MTHR continued in the direction of the faint noise, weaving through the maze of machinery. As the automaton approached the back of the room, its optics glimpsed a cubical with an L-shaped workstation. A mountain of electronic components covered the surface. Coffee cups littered the remaining desk space. Rows of books filled the shelves but they weren't manuals, they were fiction. The titles varied in genre. Most were sword-and-sorcery fiction. MTHR never understood why organics read such rubbish. It was illogical to read anything that didn't increase productivity. The very few non-fiction books on the shelf were gaming how-to guides and coding manuals. Above the books, a holo-frame displayed a wizard facing off against a dragon. On the other side of the table, a woman sat hunched over with her back to the hoverton.

"Statement: Employee 1-X, the Executor sent for you."

Again, the woman did not respond.

Was she okay?

MTHR's phonic receptors indicated that the faint noise she had followed, seemed to emanate from the woman herself. It increased and dissipated with the rise and fall of the woman's chest. The sound resembled wheezing. The machine cocked it's metallic neck as it processed the information. Was the woman snoring?

The hoverton fluttered closer.

The woman startled awake, looking from side-to-side, her disheveled strawberry blonde hair concealed her face. "What's that ticking noise?"

"Response: Employee 1-X most likely is referring to this machine's faulty motivator. It is overdue for maintenance."

The server farmer stretched, then scratched the back of her neck. "Sounds like," she yawned, "a clock."

"Reminder: Sleeping on duty is against company policy."

Keeping her back to MTHR, the woman picked up a piece of equipment and scanned it with her utility cuff. "So is scheduling employees for two double-shifts in a row. But the company doesn't seem to care about that."

"Question: Employee 1-X, is your holocom broken?"

"Nope. I switched it off." She continued to perform diagnostics on the server components.

"Statement: 1-X, the Executor requires your assistance."

"Oh yeah?" The woman pressed a few buttons on the workstation keyboard. "Tell Buzz to blow it out his air-shaft. I'm busy here."

The hoverton fluttered backward. 1-X's suggestion did not compute. Protocols prohibited automatons from utilizing profanity with organics. An automaton manager should know this. Nevertheless, the topic of the executor appeared to agitate 1-X. According to conversation protocols, the most effective way to get someone to assist you was to build rapport, and the best way to do that was to engage them in small talk. 

The machine knew exactly the subject to bring up.

"Reminder: Did 1-x know that annual training slides are due next week?"

The woman sighed. "I'm a little preoccupied." She gestured toward the rows of server racks. "Some sort of strange code is wreaking havoc on the ton-net. If we don't figure out what's causing it, every automaton in this colony could be affected."