Cyber Stories

Chapter 1: A Day in the Life

Rumble POV:

Just another morning.

Uncomfortable bed, maddening silence, the dread of facing the day that awaited me. All things I'd become accustomed to over the last few weeks.

My optics fought to stay closed, clinging to the foolish hope of remaining safe from the cruel world beyond the bed.

But my processor knew I wouldn't be undisturbed for very much longer. I could already hear my active roommate moving around the space.

I forced one optic to open, my blurry, half awake vision slowly clearing up until I could make out the bright Crimson griffin across the room doing chin ups on a makeshift bar.

My brother, abnormally capable early in the morning, insisted on being prepared for the day.

My optic fell closed again as I sighed softly, laying for a moment of contemplation before gradually sitting up and stepping off the cold metal slab that served as a poor excuse for a bed.

I tugged my rucksack out from beneath the bed, unzipping it and unpacking a rifle I'd crafted myself. It was lined with a deep blue that mirrored my own colors, customized to fold into a compact shape when not in use.

I dug out my datapad and a midnight black combat strap harness before zipping and stowing it again.

I tapped my datapad on and searched through its contents, finding my music player and scrolling through a list of human songs I'd compiled.

I then unclipped two audio receptor buds and situated them in place, pressing play and allowing the waves of music to take over my processor.

Billy Joel - Pressure. That delightful synth rhythm coaxed my processor out of sleep and soothed my racing thoughts, to a degree.

It was preferable to the natural ambient sounds of my surroundings, that was certain. I situated the datapad and rifle into their designated slots, then equipped the combat harness and tightened the straps around my shoulders.

With the harness in place, my rifle was secured to my back and easily accessible by reaching over my shoulder and my datapad was safely secured to my chest.

I stepped around my obnoxiously exercising brother and moved out into the hallway, stretching my wings as much as I could in the cramped space.

Gradually I made my way down the narrow halls, passing by dozens of doors leading to rooms identical to the one I had just left, with the exception of the occupants of course.

I kept my gaze on the floor ahead of me, my expression blank, my stance neutral and unsuspecting. That was how you survive here.

The hall led to a large open room, the same bland, slate gray walls making it feel confined even if the room was larger.

I moved through the room, keeping my blank gaze down even as I passed by the other bots. Most were like me, just trying to exist, but some were perpetually on the edge of a rage fest and didn't take much to set off.

Mind you, it wasn't fear that kept me playing docile, rather the fact that the resulting discipline administered for in-fighting was not pleasant for either the victor or loser.

It was better to lay low and keep to yourself, we all knew that. I walked the same path I had every morning, finding the table among the line that typically became my seat.