Fiction: D-HEX-23675 journals - 1 - Introducing Unit D-HEX-23675 [Part II]

[world_of_eve]

Chapter: The Halls of Khalanxis
[Location: Khalanxis Research Facility]

Emphisa hovered through the hallway leading from the Inner Chamber. He was silent, listening to the barbaric clanging of Cindermaw’s steps as the Allicon followed him dutifully. Still, those heavy footfalls were now accompanied by lighter steps. Still quite as barbaric and as functional as any machine ought to be. The sound of the lighter steps behind him along with the curious looks given to him and his minions were enough to fill Emphisa with a sense of privileged pride. Both of those steps were /his/. Yes, some of the Quintessons who paused their conversations as they passed were followed by their own Allicon minions, some even handled a Sharkticon or two, but none of them would be able to say that they owned this particular set.

Cindermaw, for starters, was named. Allicons were normally given a number at best. Just for identification purposes. But Cindermaw was a brave fighter renowned for his fierce loyalty to the Quintessons. He had performed in several off-world missions and brought success to whatever objective they had given him. He was tenacious, relentless. A good ‘dog’. And like all good dogs, he had placed the lives of his Masters before his own and did what he did best. That his best at some point involved the confiscation of a smuggled crate of Magma-gnats and a cargo hold filled with volatile energon was edgy for sure but the Allicon had devoured each gnat relentlessly before they could explode and detonate the precious cargo. His maw and insides had suffered intense heat deformation from the act, and command resigned him to bodyguard duties. Fernicius hadn’t taken too long to give the Allicon a proper moniker when he heard about the reason for the fighter’s re-configuration as Emphisa’s bodyguard.

And even without Cindermaw following him obediently, there was still the prototype. Word was spreading quickly through the compound after the presentation. Curious looks were given, followed with hushed whispers. Emphisa ignored them as he led his group into one of his main floor offices and locked the door behind them. Cindermaw grabbed the little mech and promptly dropped it onto the table, legs dangling from the edge. It kept itself balanced but still looked casually dropped. Emphisa hovered over to the front of the little mech. “Cindermaw, you are for the moment forbidden to interact with the prototype unless further noted. Also, let no-one enter the room.” He whispered as he snaked his limbs around the machine to settle it better.
The Allicon acknowledged the command with a silent nod and took position at the door.

“Unit D-HEX-23675, Order: activate personality core.” Emphisa watched intently as he issued the order. This was one of the more unique moments where, for only a second, one could see the change that happened in a product as millions of systems came online and began taking in their world. This was the moment where the intricate blueprints and webs of code and protocol met to form that what a D-HEX unit truly was. An observer. A learner. A very complex system of ingenuity. “Order received and accepted. Processing.” The diaphragms behind the mech’s optics shifted, opening and closing to find focus. The sheer lifelessness that the mech had exhibited, that dull neutrality, it all melted away when the robot blinked. It suddenly took control of the facial controllers that it had been given and it tentatively moved its joints as it became aware of its components. Emphisa watched as the mech regarded its current position and shifted into a more balanced form, laying its hands flat on its upper legs. Then, it looked up at Emphisa.
The Quintesson was outright pleased with this. He had given the system a pre-programmed inclination to assume that position if it was sitting in a way similar to it. It was a check that his orders had been executed. He let go of his grip, and cleared his throat, “Unit D-Hex-23675, I am pleased to welcome you online. Question: Are your systems in good working order?”
The machine blinked and replied evenly, “Question acknowledged. Affirmative, this unit’s systems are fully operational.”
Emphisa nodded, “Good, good! Order: Identify me.” With the Personality Core activated, the mech should be capable of better language recognition, making the need to address it by name every single time unnecessary. It could even learn to carry a conversation, which Emphisa considered efficient.
Those blue optics took in the Quintesson standing before him, and within seconds the mech echoed the little bits of information that were already present in its database. “Acknowledged. You are a member of the species ‘Quintesson’, otherwise known as ‘the Creators’, or ‘the Masters’. Your unique moniker is ‘Emphisa’. Your function is that of ‘Scientist’. You are the chief of the Aphos research wing located on floor G-20 of the facility named Khalanxis.”
There was a pause, and the mech’s face shifted to a mild curiosity.
“Query: Are you this unit’s Creator?”
Emphisa smiled, “You have made a good probability calculation, D-HEX-23675, well done! Affirmative; I am one of your Creators. The other one is my colleague. His unique moniker is Fernicius. We have constructed you. We decided to call you Hextaida Mandar, or simply Hextaida.”
“Hex-tai-ai-da… Me-an-dar?” The mech repeated the name in its pronunciation, testing its sound and its relation to itself. His optics brightened as a flash of euphoria shot through his system and his mind connected these bits of information that he had gathered. He was operational, he had observed his creator, and he had been given a name. Something in his mainframe established that this was a Good Thing. Several other parts of his system were pulling up rules of behavior and complementary bits of info that they had in relation to his name and the presence of a Creator. He looked up at the Quintesson who was giving him a gentle smile.
His systems are able to interpret that! A smile was an expression that showed satisfaction, or happiness. When a Good Thing happened, one smiled. That’s what his knowledge base could tell him already.
Hextaida let his own face express it.
In reaction, Emphisa laughed in mild amusement.

“Now, Hextaida, you already mentioned its name when ID-ing me.” The scientist started, looking down at the small form-changer unit, “We are in one of Quintessa’s magnificent facilities; Khalanxis. It is our home. Your sensors can feel the vibrations and pick up the sound our home makes. I will show you around today and there will be a lot of information to take in for you. I want you to learn how to perceive Khalanxis first. So sit still and familiarize your sensors with the facility. If you power down your optical sensors, you will not be distracted by them and thus increase your focus. Activate them when you feel properly familiarized.” The instructions were clear and simple, laced with a benign explanation. Hextaida nodded. He faded his visual sensors to black and kept still, hands still resting on his upper legs. He indeed perceived something massive, a gathering of vibrations and sounds coming from unknown sources. It was an all-encompassing bass tone, a heartbeat formed from the circulation of air and water between machinery and the hot resources flowing in the bowels of the plant. He could tell this building extended deep into the earth. It was a large facility. After a while, he repowered his optics, and spoke. “This unit perceives the facility to be… everywhere.”

Emphisa chuckled, “Yes, it’s all around you, Hextaida. That is Truth you are speaking, little unit.” He sounded incredibly pleased, “Speaking Truth is very good behavior. Remember that. Now, I do believe it’s time for your introduction to the facility. Let us proceed to the hall.” With that, Emphisa unlocked the door and floated into the hallway. Hextaida jumped off the table but as he walked around it to follow the Quintesson he suddenly stopped in his tracks. His blue optics widened in surprise while he stared at the much larger mech standing at the door. It looked down at him with a stern gaze and its metal looked thick and dangerous. Several thick spikes protruded from the plating- it looked a bit weird, to be honest. Hextaida cautiously peered past the larger mech’s legs into the little bit of hallway that it could see, then back up at the mech itself. There was a second where their optics were focused on one another, before the Allicon brusquely set its gaze onto the far wall of the room.
Hextaida hesitated, his mind thinking. He opened his mouth to speak-
“Unit D-HEX-23675…” Emphisa’s voice came from the door opening, drawing his attention, “That…” the Quintesson nodded toward the Allicon, “Is Cindermaw. He is my bodyguard, in a sense. He is Allicon, another type of creation we Quintessons have bestowed existence upon. You have no need to interact with him since your standing orders are to follow me. Execute your orders, please.”
“A-affirmative!” Hextaida hastens to nod and hurry himself towards Emphisa’s left side. That’s where he should be, his systems told him. When following, be at the left flank.
“For now, you are allowed to put the suffix ‘Master’ in your sentences when addressing me or another Quintesson, Unit D-HEX-23675. We will work on a compendium suited for your language codex later.” Emphisa corrected casually. Hextaida tilted his head briefly, before nodding avidly, “Ah! Affirmative, Master!”

[Khalanxis, Salaxorius’ Office Chambers]
“Master of Inquisition Salaxorius Sir?” Fernicius spoke as he stepped inside the other Quintesson’s office chamber. The five-faced Quintesson turned around in response, switching to a blue and silver face, “Fernicius. Yes, do you have the files I requested?” There was a lack of addressing the scientist in the proper way but Fernicius took it in stride. It was actually rather fitting for the Inquisitor to not address him as he should, considering he deemed any Quintesson who had a history of trade faring as lesser. The scientist nodded, “Yes, Master Inquisitor.” He motioned to a Sharkticon who had accompanied him, arms laden with scrolls and datapads, “Where would you like them?”
“On my desk, naturally.” Salaxorius huffed, very briefly switching to red and black before returning to blue and silver. Fernicius nodded at the Sharkticon who walked up to the desk in question, and set down his cargo in a rough heap. Salaxorius grimaced, “Why thank you... now get out.”

“Of course, as you wish, Master Inquisitor.” Fernicius nodded and bowed, “Come, 6000-77-93, I still need your help at the lab” The Sharkticon nodded and stomped off after the scientist. After they left, Salaxorius turned to the pile. He reached out and grabbed a book. A real book, not a datapad. A rare sight. Stamped into the front was the ancient font of his species. It read ‘Compendium of levers and pulleys’.
Salaxorius pursed his lips in sheer distaste. His look wandered over to the rest of the pile.

[The Halls of Khalanxis.]

“Khalanxis is one of nine towers set across Quintessa, the Home Planet. It is located around the northern hemisphere and closest to the Adamantine Sea. It is therefore the number one exporter of the resource called adamant. Khalanxis has a level C military foundry for the manufacturing of Sharkticon and Allicon units in the lower floors, but is not a primary military exporter.” Emphisa lectures formally as he leads his group down pristine halls decorated with acid-green bands. “Khalanxis is one of two facilities that services as a hall of justice as its primary function, and facilitates scientific research as its secondary function.”
“What is a hall of justice, Master?”
The Quintesson looked down at the little mech walking at his left flank, “A hall of justice is dedicated to keeping order and peace in the world, unit D-HEX-23675. You will come to learn that there is a lot of chaos around and that the majority of our time is spent guarding against and dealing with those that favor chaos.”
“What’s wrong with chaos?”
“Everything. Cindermaw, if you will share your knowledge with young Hextaida?”
The Allicon following them promptly sums up from flawless memory, “Chaos is deprecation. It is Chaos that destroys Unity, hinders Progress and damns the Population. To allow Chaos to reign is to reject the principles of USVIDA and to reject one’s own integrity.”
“Expertly spoken. Thank you, Cindermaw.”
“USVIDA?” Hextaida turns around to look at Cindermaw with a curious stare. The warmachine stares down with ruby optics, “The principles that keep our society strong, young unit. They-”
“Will be learned in time,” Emphisa interjects, turning to the Allicon, “when it’s time.”
Cindermaw bows his head and averts his gaze in submission, “Affirmative, Master Creator Emphisa Sir.”
Emphisa squints his eyes, “It is commendable that you are eager to share your knowledge with your new comrade, unit Cindermaw, but I’d rather have the principles be taught through example instead of words. Unit D-HEX-23675 will understand their value better when it can experience for itself what the principles uphold.” The Quintesson shifts to face the smaller mech. “You must first learn to properly identify yourself to your brethren. Like the codes within your systems, identification adheres to protocols and must be executed meticulously. I have taken us to the entrance to the main library. It is your task to gain access to it. If you do so properly, then I will allow you to look at what will become available to you.”
Hextaida nodded, “Acknowledged, Master.” He paused, before asking, “Will this one receive… uhm… instructions?”
Emphisa shook his head, “Negative, you are an observer. I know you can learn by watching examples. Cindermaw?”

The Allicon walked past them, turned around and saluted in military fashion, “Yes Sir, Master Creator Emphisa Sir.”
Then, he turned towards the access to the main library. There were two Sharkticons standing at the sides of the large doors, one hand clasped around the handle of their maces and the other holding the chain. They looked very ready to bash the face in of whomever who would fail to properly identify.
Cindermaw approached the door fearlessly, striding forwards before halting right before the Sharkticon on the left side. He made a quick motion towards the guard and stepped a bit to the side, whispering. The Sharkticon frowned, optics shifting towards Emphisa and the strange machine standing at the side of the Scientist. Then, he followed Cindermaw into the turn, so they were viewed from the side.
Cindermaw nodded, straightened and cleared his vocalizer with a static noise. Then, he spoke clear and concise;
“Greetings, comrade Sharkticon.”
The Sharkticon nodded, “Greetings, comrade Allicon. State your designation, rank and business.”
“Affirmative, comrade Sharkticon. This one’s designation is ‘Kalldfire 6625-394-99’, otherwise known as ‘Cindermaw’. Rank: ‘Bodyguard to Master Creator Emphisa of the Aphos wing’. Business: To conduct proper identification and make example to the new unit designated as ‘D-HEX-23675’, codename ‘Hextaida Mandar’.”
“Acknowledged, comrade Allicon. Provide your tag for identity confirmation.”
Cindermaw nodded, and held out his right hand. The Sharkticon ghosted his hand over the stretched out appendage, his optics flashing. He looked up at the Allicon, “Query: Does unit Cindermaw seek entrance to the library?”
“Negative, comrade Sharkticon. I do not.”
“Acknowledged, identification complete.” Then, the Sharkticon turned and continued guarding the door, ignoring Cindermaw who walked back to Emphisa and Hextaida. The Allicon looked down to the small mech; “I hope you paid attention, little unit.”
Hextaida nodded silently. Emphisa pushed him forward, “We shall see. You have your orders, Hextaida. Execute them.”

The Sharkticon had only mildly observed the group in front of the door. He wasn’t entirely surprised when the little mech approached him next. It was, in fact, not simply little. It was actually really small and looked rather weak. Hardly even a one bite meal. How curious. The guard’s face tilted downwards, connecting with blue optics.
Blue optics that wandered over him, and turned curious. There was silence. It seemed as if the unit wasn’t going to initiate protocol. But… he had to. Anyone seeking entrance had to start initiation to gain access. The Sharkticon glanced up towards the Quintesson scientist, gaze questioning.
“What are you?” A little voice sounded at his feet.
The Sharkticon looked down in surprise. That wasn’t protocol! He blinked. Yes, there is a protocol for when someone doesn’t move according to the expected protocol, but Cindermaw had made it clear that he was teaching a unit something. Following response protocol for identification protocol lapses probably wasn’t desired in this case. “… er… Query: Are you, small one, designated ‘D-HEX-23675’?”
The little mech nodded happily, “A-affirmative! This one is unit D-HEX-23675!”
The Sharkticon nodded, “Acknowledged. Are you not supposed to… uhm… identify yourself to this unit? According to the protocol… Unit Cindermaw showed you?”
“Oh…” Hextaida went silent, thinking, “But… but this one just identified to you!”
The Sharkticon blinked. He glanced at Cindermaw and Emphisa in mild confusion. Both were simply looking expectantly. Why were they doing this? The Sharkticon tensed his grip on the mace-chain to indicate his annoyance towards the two for bothering him with this before looking back down, narrowing his optics. “Negative! USVIDA principles are clear, ‘We must show Discipline in form and thought.’ If you do not show discipline and identify properly, then this one cannot accept you and will respond according to regulations! Now start your identification process!”
Hextaida blinked, frowning. The big grey robot looked serious. In fact, he seemed a bit angry. The little mech wavered, before carefully speaking, “G-Greetings, comrade… eh…”
“Sharkticon. Comrade Sharkticon.”
“Greetings, comrade Sharkticon!”
“Greetings, comrade unknown unit. State your designation, rank and business.”
“Uhm… this unit’s designation is ‘D-HEX-23675’, otherwise known as ‘Hextaida Mandar’. This one’s rank is… er… This one’s business is… ah… to gain access to the library? Master Emphisa told me to…” Hextaida’s voice turned gradually smaller as he found that he couldn’t properly identify himself. He was missing some variables.
The Sharkticon looked down on him with a raised optical ridge and mouth drawn into a thin stripe. He glanced at the Quintesson and Allicon watching the exchange. “Extend your hand, little one.”
Hextaida did as told, and the Sharkticon placed his own hand over the extended one of the small mech. Their size difference was massive. After a while, red optics met blue ones. “D-HEX-23675, your rank is ‘experimental prototype belonging to the Aphos wing.’ Remember that for future identifications; it is /important/. Query: Does unit D-HEX-23675 seek to gain access to the library?”
Hextaida brightened up when the large mech mentioned his intention, “A-Affirmative, comrade Sharkticon! This one does!”
“You have no standing permission to access the library. Remove yourself from my vicinity and the door, unit.”
The Sharkticon raised himself from the crouch he went into while scanning the identification tag locked within Hextaida’s right hand. He assumed his sentry position again and grabbed his mace.
“But…” Hextaida blinked, “But this one was told by the creator to enter the library!”
The Sharkticon’s optics glanced down at him, but no reply was given.
Hextaida hesitated. Didn’t he do it right? Perhaps he didn’t speak fast enough? He knew the words now….
“Greetings, comrade Sharkticon!” He started anew.
The Sharkticon did not reply. Was it his imagination that the grey and rotund mech gripped the chain with the spiked ball a bit tighter?
He frowned. He disliked the lack of an answer. He had his orders, and the only thing standing between him and the library was this mech who refused to talk to him again. He decided to try once more. If the Sharkticon kept on ignoring him, perhaps he was free to simply enter through the door?
“Greetings, comrade Sharkticon!”
No answer.
He turned to face the large door, and then took a careful step towards the entrance while eyeing the Sharkticon for his reaction…

The Sharkticon never moved, since all of the sudden a powerful hand grabbed hold of Hextaida’s shoulder pauldron. At least, that’s what the hand tried to do. Instead, Hextaida looked with interest at how he had suddenly sunk partly into a big metal surface. The size difference was a bit bigger than when the Sharkticon had grabbed his hand. His head rolled upwards and instead of the ceiling he saw Cindermaw staring back down at him. “The Master says it’s enough for now, prototype.”
Hextaida blinked. But… he was trying to complete his directive! He clearly wasn’t done yet. He felt Cindermaw give him a slight tug on the shoulder, indicating the demand to turn around and follow. Hextaida leaned submissively into the tugging but otherwise didn’t make any move to turn. In fact, he looked back at the Sharkticon, ready to continue his plan.
“Prototype… I warn you: do not test me.” The Allicon rumbled.
Test him? He could do that?? Hextaida’s head tilted up fast, blue optics setting on the Allicon with curiosity and excitement. What would he have to do to test the big machine? Cindermaw huffed when the smaller mech looked at him with obvious intent. He released his grip and turned halfway around. “Master Creator Emphisa Sir, the prototype is not complying. Perhaps it is a good moment to…” His dark and rumbling voice trailed off; softened to such a tone Hextaida couldn’t hear it without tuning his audio receivers. He had yet to be told about this ability.
Emphisa’s voice was soft, overly gentle in tone when he spoke from a distance, “Prototype unit D-HEX-23675, Order: Turn around and comply with Unit Cindermaw.” Hextaida looked over at the Quintesson, meeting that patient, expectant look with open mouth and a questioning gaze, “Master… This one doesn’t want to-“
His voice cut off, suddenly and automatically. A tingling sensation burst to life in a previously unnoticed part of his processing unit. It didn’t stay a tingling sensation, but grew out into a powerful electrical current that tore through his body and scrambled his HUD into a fizzy static. The feeling was overwhelming, /paralyzing/, and Hextaida shrieked out in horrified surprise at his body’s ability to experience a shock this intense. His world went black almost at the same time the pain flooded his neural net, leaving just enough time for his sensors to transmit his sudden crash to the ground below.

[Location: Khalanxis Aphos Wing, lower chambers.]
The Assistant was pushing a cart down the hallway of the lower floor of the Aphos wing. It wasn’t kept in pristine condition, and a few lights were malfunctioning. But the Assistant wasn’t superstitious, and walked on without hesitation. The mere reason that this floor was dark and dreary was because it was under such a tight security lock that not even the standard cleaning crew was allowed here. In fact, if the Assistant counted, then it couldn’t make it beyond seven in terms of the number of mechanisms who had access to this floor.
The floor was under high security.
It looked like slag.
But there was nothing wrong with the security. The Assistant reminded itself of that when it halted in front of a reinforced door. It listened. There was silence. It knocked. There was the faint sound of something shifting behind a thick layer of steel.
Taking a large chain with several data cards attached, the Assistant selected one and pressed it against the lock. The door unlocked, and was opened just enough to allow a slight peek inside. A wall of bright blue light had formed when the door had been unlocked, and was moving towards the back of the room. Something large coiled and shifted behind it as it was forced away from the entrance. The Assistant could see numerous large, dead eyes gaze at it from the other side of the containment field. It didn’t react when the room’s occupant let out a gurgling, venomous string of curses meant for him, simply taking something from the cart and tossing it into the room.
The Assistant closed the door, and moved on. Behind him, the faint blue light that shone through the rare crack at the door’s hinges disappeared. Something large banged loudly against the reinforced cell door.

The next door that the Assistant opened was made of black obsidian, and slid away when the proper data card was scanned. When peering inside, a million small eyes lit up around a dark room incapable of being lit. They watched their bringer of food with eager squeaks and clicks. The Assistant simulated the clicks and tossed in two large bales of a hay-like substance. Dark flashes pounced upon it with ferocious hunger, revealing that the darkness of the room originated entirely from the mass of critters.

The Assistant closed the door, smiled at the happy squeaks it could hear from the other side and moved on once more. It made the rounds past several doors, opening them, tossing in food, and carefully locking them behind itself. Then, all that was remaining on the cart was a protective mask, a syringe-like device, and a small vial of energon fuel. And the Assistant looked up at the large door in front of it. It paused for a moment. This door didn’t use a data card. It used an access code algorithm to determine the identity of the being trying to gain access and squared that information off against a list of permissions. The Assistant identified itself to the system, and the door opened.
The cart was pushed inside, answered by a soft, mechanical rumbling that intensified. The sound was the same as that of a predator finding its territory being invaded by an unwanted, but unstoppable, visitor. But the Assistant did not react. It simply grabbed the protective mask from the cart, bound it in front of its face and grabbed the vial. It loaded the vial into the syringe, and approached further into the room.
“For what it’s worth, I apologize. But we still require your services. This fuel will be enough to keep you sustained for a few days.”
The door slid shut.

[The Halls of Khalanxis.]

Hextaida rebooted to a dizzy sensation in his head, the cringing of circuitry from a shock that dominated his most recent memories. The vividness with which he could remember how the pain felt made him shiver and shrink into a suffering, whimpering ball. There was a shadow over him and he could hear a deep voice talking overhead. He remained motionless as the thick vibrations of the audio brought him back around. Eventually, he realized that the voice was talking to him.
“… a legacy from the old times. A /gift/ from the creators to help us remain /vigilant/. Being able to experience the Surge is a sign that you /belong/. I know it hurts and that you experience it worse than I do…” Hextaida looked up to stare at Cindermaw looming over him, talking to him, “but it only hurts because the Masters don’t want us to lose the way like the ones who did. It’s their way of taking care of us. Remember: the Masters keep us safe. The Masters are invested in keeping you safe. It is your duty to help them keep you safe.” The Allicon reached out and uncurled Hextaida from his cowering position, lifted him up without effort and placed him back on his feet. “Stand upright, unit. Only by standing right can you show the world that your Master constructed you right. We /always/ stand right.”

Hextaida shivered from his shock and confusion, but tried to stand firmly. He gave a weak nod. His Master- Hextaida forced himself to look around and search for the Quintesson despite the wobbly feeling and lingering spasms of pain that made his form protest. He found Emphisa standing a bit to the side. He seemed to be conversing with a light blue miniature Quintesson projected from a small tablet, not even paying mind to the Allicon and the small cargo lifter. A small feeling of sorrow shot through him from his personality core at the realization that Emphisa was probably catching up with matters during the delay that had been caused. The delay he had caused with his behavior. He turned his head downwards, a feeling of shame rushing through him. It was only after a while that Cindermaw tapped the bottom end of his pole-arm against his torso and herded him onwards, following Emphisa as he moved on without a word. D-HEX-23675 followed in silence, optics focused on the levitation beam that the Quintesson emitted.

They walked through the long hallway, made a few turns here and there, took an elevator up, and went through another hallway. “Unit D-HEX-23675, you are not observing your environment.” Emphisa pointed out after a while. He didn’t need to turn; the reflections in the walls told him about the little robot’s downcast gaze. “We do not dwell on past transgressions here, unit. You are only learning. Your behavior back then was undesirable. In fact; you committed a serious offense by disobeying my command and listening to your impulse drive, but you are forgiven because you are ignorant and untrained. Question; are you proud to be ignorant and untrained?"
Hextaida looked up in shock, and stammered, "N-negative, Master! This one doesn't want to be ignorant and untrained at all! It... it wasted the Master's time with it..."
"That it did, and wasting time is Bad Behavior. You must remember that we try to teach you discipline, and that discipline is a vital key to Good Behavior. A Good Unit always makes the commands of its Masters a priority. Can you say why?"
Hextaida thought for a moment, thinking about what he learned today. The strongest memory was the one of searing pain, and a deep baritone voice talking to him. He tried carefully; "Because the Masters.... keep us safe?"
"That is an excellent answer, Hextaida, very good indeed. Affirmative; the Masters always aim to keep the population safe. And you are a part of the population as much as anyone else. So when you stray, keep in mind that your transgressions are punished to help you better yourself. Order: Observe your environment.”
“Acknowledged, Master.” Hextaida spoke, and then lifted his head as instructed. They entered the First Plaza. It is one of the public spaces where the intergalactic nature of the planet shows. It is rather crowded with beings and there are a multitude of aliens waiting around. Some of them are conversing with bailiffs and guards, showing identification and appointment schedules. At times, groups would be met by a Quintesson and led away under friendly greetings and conversations. At other moments, chained up aliens escorted by stern-looking guards are picked up by prosecutors, trailed by anxious lawyers of all shapes and sizes.

Emphisa had his group halt right in the center of the plaza. “D-HEX-23675, order: Stand at my side.”
There is the sound of steps as the cargo lifter does as he is ordered under an obedient, “Affirmative, Master.”
Emphisa looked down, and finds the mech looking around whilst standing next to him. Apparently, he was still executing his earlier order to observe his environment. So far, the unit’s prefixed ability to follow command proved capable. Eventually, D-HEX-23675 noticed his stare and looked back up, blinking. Emphisa can see patience and perceptiveness overcome the small facial features as they wait for his orders. The Quintesson gives a small nod towards the entrance to the inner structure of the tower. Multiple large lime-green banners stamped with the silhouette of a five-faced Quintesson's Judge Face are hanging against the walls. They are long enough to cover the sides of the big and majestic double doors leading further into the compound. There is water falling from several locations up high in the walls, collecting in pools with broad, adorned edges. Everything is detailed with lime-green bands and precious metals. Allicon guards are posed at strategic locations, their armor polished and ordained. They are holding the same three-pronged pole-arms that Cindermaw wields as well, and they keep it poised vertically. Their faces are pointed forward but their optics discern everything. The entire hall is very imposing and makes a clear statement: you are on Quintesson soil. This is Quintesson property. You better behave yourself.

Emphisa lets Hextaida take it all in before speaking, "Unit-D-HEX-23675, this is one of the few areas where you can see the relationship we have to the outside world. There are many alien species out there, and they all come to Quintessa for trade and council. You have no clue on what it means but our market position is a strong and valuable one. We drive multiple off-world enterprises and as you can see, we are sought out by many."
Hextaida nods, mouth open in awe, "what do they seek us for, Master?"
"Trading, Financing, matters too complex for your scope of comprehension, Hextaida. It's none of your concern at the moment. It's important that you have seen the Plaza and know the position that the Quintesson Empire takes in the universe." Emphisa answers, "You must know that you are a subject of a powerful dominion, D-HEX-23675, and you will come to learn that we do care about you. You belong to me and as such you fall under Quintesson ownership. We are strict when we need to be; you have learned the principle ‘We must show Discipline in form and thought’. That is the fifth principle of USVIDA. It means to act right to keep ourselves safe and protected. ‘We must be firm to be effective.’ is the second principle of our culture, and it focuses on not letting one be weakened and swayed into acts that harm us. So we are strict when we need to be. But… we are also caring about those under our supervision. You need not worry and you need not want. If at any time you believe that your system might be prone to worrying or wanting you must remind yourself that you are being cared for in all of your needs.” There is a hint of sadness as Emphisa looks down upon the little mech, “Unfortunately, you are tasked with a burden that might make you very vulnerable to wanting and worrying. These are bad traits, and you must make it a priority to banish any such inclination. It is very important that you trust in your Masters.”
Hextaida nodded obediently, before frowning, “What happens if I don’t banish such in- inclin-“
The word was too difficult for Hextaida’s codex to repeat yet, and Emphisa hastened to help out, “In-cli-na-tion, Hextaida. It is another word for ‘drive’. Well… if you, and the same goes for any other unit don’t worry, fail to expel such bad traits you will be a danger to the population. And I have informed you of the duties of the Masters; we must keep the population safe.”
Hextaida frowned, thinking as Emphisa looked at him expectantly.
Cindermaw, having remained silent for the entire time, now simply snorted.
Still, Unit D-HEX-23675 held his furrowed brow in puzzlement.
“You will be send to the incinerators and destroyed, Hextaida.” Emphisa explained, “Remember the second principle: We must be firm to be effective.”
Cindermaw dutifully repeated the tenant from memory, “We must be firm to be effective.”
Hextaida simply stared in shock.

Chapter: Room 2008, Aphos Wing.
[Location: Khalanxis, Aphos Wing]

The group of three; the Quintesson, Allicon and Prototype, returned to floor G-20. It was the first time that Hextaida was brought back to the wing where it was constructed. Not that it /knew/ that Aphos was the place of his creation, but Emphisa knew. When they took an elevator down into the ground, the Quintesson looked down at the mech. It was staring with interest as the glass panel of the elevator, where lights flashed by as their altitude decreased.
“Question: Is Unit D-HEX-23675 interested in the lights?” He questioned.
“…” Hextaida thought before speaking, “Negative, Master. This unit is interested in their movement on the Y axis.”
“Why is that, unit?” The Quintesson frowned.
“This one doesn’t know, Master.”
“Hmm, that is curious.”
The beeping of the elevator interrupted their conversation, since the door slid open on their destination floor. Emphisa stepped out, and Cindermaw herded Hextaida after him. The hall split off into two directions, barred by reinforced glass doors and guarded by several Allicon guards. There was a reception desk where a multi-limbed alien was busy working several consoles. It looked up, nodded and stood up to bow, “Welcome back, Master Creator Emphisa Sir! I heard your presentation went very well. Congratulations, Sir!” Then, it sat back down and continued working its schedule.
Emphisa nodded briefly before walking towards the left hallway. The Allicons there held the door open, dipping their heads low in a respectful gaze.

The hallway was long, brightly lit and fitted with several containment doors that could be locked down in case of calamities. Considering their thickness, such calamities weren’t restricted to cases of fire. The group walked past sturdy doors with glass windows and big security panels. Some rooms had wide windows revealing their interior. Hextaida watched as Quintessons, single- and triple-faced, worked in those rooms. Their activities ranged from examining small box-shaped contraptions to hooking up components to a large engine. In one room, a group of scientist was hunched over the carcass of a sturdy beast with four limbs with oversized paws and a head with a gigantic jaw. Hextaida wanted to stop and watch but Cindermaw gently prodded him onwards with the blunt end of his pole-arm.
Eventually, Emphisa stopped in front of a door, entered a code into the security panel, and lead them inside.
The room was large, fitted with two workbenches, a multi-monitor setup, several tubes filled with energon and other kinds of liquid, and had tools and parts strewn around the workplaces.
“Ah, esteemed colleague, welcome back.” Fernicius had looked up from what he was doing when Emphisa walked into the room, “how did the activation of D-HEX-23675 go?”
“It went well, I believe.” Emphisa answered, “The usual results, as we predicted.”
“And in contrast to 23674? Of course, such comparison is moot considering the difference in environment… but still?”
“Correct, such comparisons cannot be made, Fernicius. But Hextaida proves more compliant at the moment. An initiation of the corrective surge was necessary but only at one odd moment. We must start tests to see how quickly the unit can refresh its standing orders list since it showed tendency to hold vast on what I told it to achieve. It seems quite inclined to follow our preset preference to follow instruction.”
“And… that is a bad thing? Emphisa, it is my belief that we are aiming to distill a mechanism into full, instinctive compliance to our orders?”
“Correct, Fernicius, that is our intention. But without full understanding of protocol the urge to fulfill every command will see our prototype destroyed by the first unit who is merely performing its guarding functions. So we must aim to incorporate the rule that new commands take immediate priority and that older commands can be forsaken in favor of new orders”
“Of course, honorable colleague, your logic is sound. I can modify the command codex later today.”
“Excellent.”

While the two Quintessons were conversing with one another, Hextaida had stood silently at Emphisa’s left flank. His gaze was wandering around the room, taking in the contents and the devices he could see. He took in the molecular wafts of oils and energon, and his systems told him what it was that his sensors perceived. His engine responded in kind, notifying him of its state of emptiness. His tank was too empty. His systems identified proper fuel.
He should fuel up. But Emphisa hadn’t told him he could. Perhaps they were going to refuel here after the conversation was done? He looked around the room once more. There was a wall used as storage for helmets and faceplates and Hextaida watched them curiously. Some were really crude, but there was a gradual line of technical advancement until the shinier and polished helmets resembled his own. Even the facial plates had this trend of change. He wondered about the other helmets, and found them intriguing. His hand went up to touch his own head, feeling the chiseled curves of steel and the flaps in his ventilation systems. His fingers trailed forward, over his nasal ridge, feeling the difference in the two components that made up his face. The majority of his face was light grey, but there was a band of dark grey meshed like a horizontal band across his optics. Its structure was a bit rougher than the rest of his facial plate, much like what the later plates on the wall had as well. He looked around the room once more, suddenly recognizing a lot more metal components that he could find in his own form in some way or another. And he had seen his reflection in the pristine walls today. The blueprints that were projected here showed the composition of a robot body similar to what he had seen in the mirror walls.
He rested his hands at his side again, and looked up at the two Quintessons as they talked. The one who was already here, called ‘Fernicius’, was grasping a tool. On the table in front of him was a component that Hextaida knew was something that went on his own legs. He glanced down and twisted his right leg a bit so he could see the similar component attached.
His deductive systems were building the proper logic as he went on looking through the room, and this one was easy. These Quintessons indeed must have built him. Which meant that the fact that he had walked around today and had become active in the first place… was entirely through the power of these Quintessons.
Like a human finding himself standing in the presence of Gods, Hextaida stared up in silence. His personality core sparked a deep feeling of respect. His loyalty codex confirmed the discovery with a most natural answer; these are the Masters, the Creators. Of course they are called that for a /reason/.

Hextaida’s thoughts are interrupted as Emphisa concludes his meeting with Fernicius, announcing, “I propose that we are done for today regarding prototype interactions.”
Fernicius nodded, “Understood, Emphisa. If you deduce that the prototype has gathered enough impulses to require processing, then I shall prepare the analysis device for incoming data. We are still applying the schedule of daily analysis?”
“Affirmative; it’s very important that we do this correctly so we must err on the side of caution. Fortune favors the Dsciplined, after all. Unit D-HEX-23675, Order: Follow me.” Emphisa turned and headed back out of the room. Hextaida hurried after the Quintesson and heard the powerful thread of Cindermaw lumber after them. They didn’t go very far though. Emphisa halted just a bit further down the hall in front of a simple looking door without windows. Its plain exterior was broken by the large number stamped onto the surface: [2008 Aphos]. The Quintesson unlocked the room and motioned the prototype inside.
“Cindermaw, wait outside.” Emphisa ordered to the Allicon before he could follow. The war machine nodded, and took position as ordered. For the first time, Emphisa was now completely alone with the D-HEX unit. He stared down, meeting those patient and awaiting set of azure-colored optics.

The room was plain and empty in comparison to other rooms. It was small with just enough room for a console computer, a workdesk and a berth. One didn’t have enough space to walk around the slab, and everything suggested that this was a short time use chamber. Emphisa motioned towards the berth before locking the door; "Unit Hextaida, Order: Lie down."
“Acknowledged, Master.” The little mech approached the berth, discovering that a set of steps had been welded onto a leg to allow him to climb up. In another time and place, one would say Hextaida is Micromaster sized, so the steps are a welcome aide. He clambers upon the berth and lies down as told. Then, he notices that this berth has more alterations in the form of steel clasps. Emphisa hovers over and silently fastens the locks around the mech’s limbs, making sure they fall precisely over movement joints.
“Can the unit move? I order you to test your movement range.”
The futile wiggles of the machine held in suspension cause Emphisa to give a small nod, “Very good. Stand by for a moment.”
“Acknowledged, Master.” Hextaida answers, optics naturally setting upon what’s in front of him. The grey metal of the ceiling was a bland thing to observe, but D-HEX-23675 hasn’t had any experience with one form of clinical sterility or another. He doesn’t have an opinion about it. Somewhere he cannot see, Emphisa activates the console. When he comes back into view, he drags a table holding several cables with him, parking it just at the edge of the unit’s vision. Their pristine connectors glitter in the surgical lamp that illuminates the room. “Just a moment” It’s more a murmur to himself than an actual conversation with the prototype unit. There are several scrapes against Hextaida’s helmet, with weight being added to it. "Query: Does the unit sense this?" Emphisa suddenly questions.
“Affirmative, Master. It does.”
“Very well, hold on. There.” In accordance, the weight intensifies and dataports are accessed by cables. Latches disengage and with one fluid movement the protective outer plating is pulled away as designed. Hextaida gasps sharply in response and stares up with a startled look at the pieces of helmet held in suspension above him. He can see the inside patches of sensor-connectors, the way the honeycomb texture of the inner metal forms to protect his processor unit and help out with the cooling. He can see the ventilation systems located in the two ridges on the top of his helmet. A wisp of cool air runs through the components that make up his processor unit and it is a strange sensation. It is not the controlled flow of his ventilation systems but the flow of exposure. His systems tell him it is wrong.
“This isn’t uncomfortable, correct?” Emphisa asks, staring down at the little mech unit.
Hextaida attempted to shake his head, but the movement was clumsy and overbalanced due to the lack of weight. Nevermind that two bars held his head secure so he couldn’t accidentally damage any components. “N-negative, Master, it is not.”

"Good. We will proceed to copy your memory banks and the adjustments made by your personality core so we can analyze the differences. These differences will tell us how you experienced today and how we can best guide you. I’ll hook you up to the system, unit.” Indeed, a new system appears on Hextaida’s scanners as cables are connected to his processor unit. The mech attempts to ID it but the only answer he gets is the sudden intrusion into his own programming. His firewalls are put offline and new systems that were previously invisible to him are activated. They begin streaming the logs that Emphisa was talking about. A sickly mewl escapes the mech; this doesn’t feel comfortable at all. In fact, having the system take initiative like this felt like the surge threatening to overwhelm him again. Still… this is what the Master ordered. Hextaida would remain silent.

With a beep from the console, the copying of files finishes. Emphisa permits himself a slight smile before addressing the contained mech, “Your creator is most pleased with you, D-Hex-23675; you have performed astonishingly… for your first… day. We can write that down as a victory in the name of science.”
A delighted squeal emanates from Hextaida at the praise, his worry fading away, “This one is happy to help, Master. Did I do well?" Emphisa looks up from the system console, “Well, that depends… do you still know the principles of USVIDA that you learned? Can you repeat them for me?”
“Ah! Y-yes… I think so.” Hextaida thought for a moment, letting his memory search. Of course, this was his first day of being online, so that wasn’t difficult to remember, “‘We must show Discipline in form and thought’…. And, and, oh! ‘We must be Strict to be effective’!”
“Very well done, unit D-HEX-23675.” Emphisa nods happily. Then he reaches out to grab another cable from the set. It is thicker than the rest and has a heavy lock. He pulls it over to Hextaida's cranium and connects it to the one dataport that can connect with the size. On cue, the console switches to a different screen.
[Brain-module bridge connection detected.]
[Rebirth protocol preparing...]
[Protocol prepared. Sol-xian system connection validated. Identity confirmed: D-HEX-23675. 100% compatible with protocol. Initiate rebirth? Confirm/Deny?]
Emphisa taps the confirm key.
[Warning, rebirth protocol deletes all system data from test subject’s mainframe. This will lead to data loss. Has a system backup been made? Confirm/Deny?]
He did make the backup, so Emphisa presses confirm again.
[Are you sure? Confirm/Deny?]
“Fernicius, we are not doing quantum manifold tests here, this many confirms is hardly necessary” Emphisa remarks to thin air as he taps the confirm key again. The system beeps in response, and lines of code begin to flit by at lightning speed.
[Rebirth initiating. Do not disconnect test subject from the mainframe.]
This could take a while, and protocol dictated his presence to be required during the procedure. Emphisa turns towards writing his datalog, the soft tapping of keys filling the room.

[********]
Log #1 upon analysis of testing subject D-Hex-23675
Date: 35 [Data Expunged]
Contributor: Emphisa, chief of science division Aphos.

Activated our latest test subject today. It is a machination designed upon the heritage patterns of military hardware constructs as created on the factory planet Cybertron. I-

“Master? What is this program?”
Emphisa looks up with a jolt, his typing trailing off as he stares at the mech affixed on the slab.
“…” He blinks, “Excuse me? Define your statement, prototype?”
"Master…. This program, it is fragmenting my free disk space. Is this correct? Master?" The mech questions, tone that of extreme confusion.

Emphisa stares; it never happened before that a prototype began to inquire about this process. He turns from his datapad, gets up and walks over to the table to shine a light against Hextaida’s optics to check for response speed. He can see the internal HUD datafeed move in time with the console at his desk, showing the protocol’s current actions. Hextaida’s primary focus is clearly shifting between the readouts and Emphisa’s face. Somehow the personality core was determining that ‘concern’ was a good reaction. Emphisa coughed and stored his flashlight in subspace as he forced himself at ease. That the unit talked during the program being active was a new development, but there were some differences with this unit in regards to earlier ones. This was simply a side-effect of the fact that he had aimed to make this version curious. He explained in a clear tone, "This program is fragmenting your disks, unit. Your data drives and system mainframe will be blanked completely before we reinstall a fresh operating system.”
There’s the sound of sharp and alert confusion in the mech’s voice when Hextaida replies, "But-but, Master, why?! Have I done something wrong, Sir? - You said my performance was astonishing, Sir! What is this ones’ malfunction??”
Emphisa shakes his head, "There are no malfunctions in your system, prototype. And I am very pleased with you, but this is simply protocol; We reinstall all computers, every day, including you. Your drives are large and complex, though, so it takes a while longer than with the static machines. But protocol remains protocol and we must adhere to safety rules and guidelines. We must have full control over your memory banks and erase them daily." With that, Emphisa returns to his desk and bows himself over the datapad to continue his daily task of making logs and reports.

"M-Master!" Hextaida squirms franticly, balling his fists in an attempt to get free. What did he do wrong? If his performance was ‘astonishing’, why was this happening? Still, the locks around his joints make it impossible for him to move, lodging him firmly in position. There’s a sudden realization that he had walked straight into this without ever doubting anything. Another section of free space slips from his mind, shrinking his diskspace. Since when could he perceive a limit on his capacity to store data? Oh… oh /no/. He didn’t /have/ a limit on his drive capacity before. But the program gave him a limit, and even worse, he has less and less space the longer the program works in his mind.
"Master! I'm- I'm scared! Please!"
"Prototype, everything is alright. Just relax for now. You won't remember this when the protocol is at eighty percent and erasing your critical files." The Quintesson no longer bothers to look up, trying not to let the cries distract him from his text-
“But- please stop it! I’m… scared…”
It’s impossible to focus properly like this. “Machine prototype D-Hex-23675!” Emphisa raises his voice just that much, a shimmer of annoyance behind it, “Order: deactivate your vocalizer!”
There is a hitch as the order is received but the growing panic that grips Hextaida makes him stutter in confusion. “N-No!” He should’ve learned fast. He should’ve known the first time it happened. But no-one learns that fast. His processor tingles in a familiar way that promises the searing current of electricity that took him down the first time. The tingling feeling alone is enough to make him /remember/… but protocols do not take payment in memories. Disobedient behavior was exhibited. It must be responded to with- Hextaida suddenly spasms against the bonds as his systems short-circuit under the corrective surge protocol he shares with his Allicon brethren. He promptly loses consciousness, much faster than the first time he experienced the pain. The console beeps in alert; [Warning, connection lost, making reconnection attempt…]

The screen earns a glance from the Quintesson before he looks at the offline unit. “Well, that’s undesirable.” Emphisa notes rather irritated and presses a key on a switchboard. With a jolt, the mech is forced back online through its connection to the mainframe. It blinks and looks around for a moment, confused, “…?-!” It spasms once more when the system ruthlessly reconnects and resumes right where it left off. Hextaida opens his mouth to scream in reply to the terrifying intrusion, but there is no sound coming from his vocalizer. He was ordered to shut it down and during his lapse his systems had executed the order. Still, he never stops his now silent protest while the program continues to eat at his system files. Judging from the way the mech begins to wriggle and buck and the console screen begins to fill with filenames, Emphisa gathers that the fragmenting has begun to cut up databases and system files into tiny one bit segments. They were almost done.

Hextaida never stopped his attempt to get free. If only he could get an arm free he could reach up and unplug the cables from his head. He could stop the program! He wasn’t told he couldn’t do that. More error messages fill his HUD, each one so sudden that the mech can’t help but recoil from them. Files are disappearing, the intrusive system eats at the things he knows, the things he learned today, knowledge that he was told to /keep/. It makes no sense at all.
The only thing that was starting to become clearer with each bit of space that disappeared from his senses was the undeniable truth that came with his failure to break free.
He wasn't going to die.
His world was going to be /erased/.

Why does that frighten him more than the prospect of death? Just because he’s a day old doesn’t mean he’s stupid. He /knows/ the concept of death. And he knows he fears it. But he fears erasure more… which is a valuable discovery, one worth deciphering for a curious mech such as Hextaida. Alas, he finds his protocols to do so incomplete, ripped to shreds under the ruthless progress of Rebirth. His processor attempts to save the realization in its raw format instead, and finds no space to place the data. Error messages explode across Hextaida’s neural net in a searing flicker of red alerts. They lead to more errors and the pain intensifies, his voice cracking with static. The errors change as more data disappears. What was he trying to do again? Never mind. His register shudders under the amount of broken links until suddenly, very suddenly, all that is left are the critical files necessary for his basic operation. He can imagine the limits of his shrinking data drives marching upon them; an unstoppable wall of nothingness. His body control is non-existent. Machines do not watch, or feel. They /sense/ and /perceive/. But when the drivers for his sensory inputs are ripped apart into endless chaos of single bit numbers they make space for an awkward sense of perceiving. One…. No… he must be mistaken…
A kind of perception without sensors? A heightened awareness of his entire body, the slow but steady burn of a mass of energy permeated throughout his form. Energy that feels and perceives.
With a stunning realization, D-HEX-23675 becomes aware that his personality core ceased to exist a while ago. But he feels through this energy, and it has a strong pool of emotions residing within. Quite possibly a larger pool than what his personality core can avail him with. And it definitely feels something about what is happening to his being.
…
When did he become a ‘being’?

Suddenly, the walls of Rebirth are upon his consciousness. They tear into the vital system files; Hextaida’s register crashes, his framework turns to soup, and his body collapses limply against the clasps.

The room turns quiet, save for the monotone tapping of keys as the head of the Aphos science wing continues writing his log report.

[ End of Story 1: Introducing unit D-Hex-23675]
[ Follow up: Story 2: Testing unit D-Hex-23675 - Eliciting an emotional response of disobedience]