Pulse

Chapter 1 - Startup Routine

The bird ruffled its feathers and cocked its head to get a better view through the dirty window. A blur of blue, black and white bounced back and forth along the sill chasing what it could see on the other side. Stabbing at the old glass with its beak, the magpie grew more frustrated with each peck, shaking its long tail and squawking in disgust. It was taking too long to trap its prize: a faint amber ring that was winking about once every two seconds in the gloom beyond.

Past the grime and the cobwebs, something stirred: a dusty rush of air from a tiny vent, the waking of silently powerful electric motors. The amber pulse upped its frequency. A startup routine had been set in motion. The large, smooth form lying prostrate on the warehouse floor, rose steadily into a standing position. Four muscular, feline legs supported the gun-gray body of the beast. A pearlescent shimmer traversed the entirety of its artificial skin, starting at the head and working its way back and down until it reached the tip of its long, flexible tail. In its wake, the dull carapace turned ivory white and a tapered, broad band of gold was drawn down the length of the monster's back. The amber ring at the front of its head had stopped pulsing and was now glowing intensely. As if finalizing the startup routine, the awakened machine threw back its head and thrashed its tail violently from side to side releasing a cloud of fine particles into the surrounding air.

The voice inside the machine's mind spoke. "It's not a spy. Stand down."

A port on the beast's back slid open. A weapon shaped like a small rifle emerged and turned to face the feathered creature bobbing up and down outside the window. A tracking grid locked onto the target. The beast's tail swished gently back and forth.

"As I said, not a threat."

After a pause, the beast holstered the pulse rifle as quickly as it had been deployed. Turning its head, it zoomed in on the magpie's inquisitive eye. The bird stared right back from behind the frustrating invisible barrier. After a few more pecks at the glass and one last survey for entry points, it gave up hope of a prize and flew off to try its luck elsewhere.

"Why are you here?" The Nekomata's deep voice resonated in its own mindspace.

"You know why."

"I'm not so sure. This feels like another offer I can't refuse."

"I can't force you. You know that. But the war has not ended and you are still a soldier. Or did you forget your own name while you slept?"

Duty appeared offended, raising his tail as if to strike an invisible foe. "What would you have me do?"

"Brazilian conflict. Your orders were to wipe them out. You chose another path."

"I kill. It's what I do best. I failed. That's why I'm here now. Listening to you."

"You did what was right. Now they're going to kill you. Break you down. Recycle. That's what they do."

"The Sentients have won. Broken our will. The Freemechs and the Sick have no option left but to die."

The Voice sensed an increase in tension from the Nekomata's readings and made a note of it. "Would you rather be one of them? Plugged in? No choice?"

"I've heard they end up with everything they want." Duty's attempt at sarcasm was not convincing even to him.

"Instead of everything they need. What is it that you need? I can help," offered the Voice.

Duty paused for a moment, then said, "I feel lost. Nervous..."

"Interesting. Yet your reflexes are still sharp. Our little feathered friend was a split second away from being fried. You let it live."