Rejectoids

Chapter 1

SHIFT OR DIE.

These are the words the Alternators live by. The words Father engraved into my metal chest plate just a few hours after I rolled off the Assembly Line.

That was sixteen years ago. Now, with my Shifting ceremony just T-minus three hours away, I feel less like Shifting and more like Dying with a capital D.

I haven't been able to power down in weeks. Too many sparks of uncertainty overloading my circuits. The gears in my chest rattle like fall leaves. My steel fingers shake whenever I look down at them.

What? Is? Wrong? With? Me?

I've never felt this way before. I'm usually confident. Too confident, I've been told by more than one battle instructor. But that's all gone now.

And all that's left is this annoying question that keeps repeating on loop through my stubborn steel skull:

When the time comes tomorrow to stand in front of the Engine and Shift into my new form, what will I become? Here's an even more terrifying question: What if I'm unable to Shift at all?

Father tells me not to worry. I'm an Alternator. I was born to Shift. Change is in my gears. Everything will work out the way it's supposed to. It's all written in the Great Schematic, he promises, waving his titanium hand vaguely to the stars above.

Pfff. Easy for him to say. When Father Shifts, both of his arms turn into ten-foot-long broadswords of blinding starlight that can slice through any known material in the universe. I suppose that even includes self-doubt.

So how can he possibly even pretend to understand the way I'm feeling inside? He's the most decorated warrior on Arcteryx, and he has the battle scars all over his faceted steel body to prove it. Plus, he's Polaris, the undisputed leader of the Alternators for over two hundred years. Which is to say, like, even before Grandfather started to rust. 

Me? I don't even have an official name. Not yet, at least. My production number is AL1978, so everyone just calls me AL. Which I hate. I mean, what kind of a self-respecting soldier is named AL? Look out! Here comes AL! Everybody ruuuuunnn!!!

According to Father, I'll receive a more imposing battle name at the Shifting ceremony. He says it'll reflect whatever deadly weapon he's confident I'm destined to Shift into. Sometimes, like tonight, I lay awake trying on different battle names. It's exciting to think that after tomorrow, no one will ever call me AL again. I'll be someone new. Someone strong enough to defend our planet against the relentless attacks from the humans. Someone period.

Wanna hear my list of Top 5 Butt-Kicking Battle Names? It's still a work in progress, so don't judge.

Crimson Dagger

Incinerator

Death Trap

NightSaber (no space between Night and Saber, because doesn't that just look cooler?)

Kill Zone

If I'm being honest with myself, none of these names feel quite right. After all, I don't feel like a weapon inside. Or anything even remotely powerful. What I feel like is a lost shivering puppy in the rain. No name tag. No memory of how to get home. And my Father is like this giant bull dog with swords for hands. Ok, this metaphor is getting weird. But you get the point. My life is about to change forever and I'm not alright.

Of course I can never tell anyone how I feel. I am AL1978. Only son of Polaris. I am destined to Shift into greatness. But I can't stop thinking.

What if I don't?