Otto

B E G I N N I N G S

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“Project: RONAN!”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“This report is full of unintelligible gibberish. Did you even bother to research it?”
“Y-yes, ma’am. I am certain it was well researched and edited, surely it is not-”
“Do I look like a fool who cannot tell proper Sorniethic from whatever it is you submitted? We don’t have time for this. The higher ups want the research file tonight. Plans for Torstyn have come too far to be slowed by your negligence. Take it to the System. Have it correct the document.”
The papers were shoved into RONAN’s hands and she departed immediately, disheartened. The System had already corrected it. Was she a fool for obeying orders too well and not re-reading before submitting? As she cleared the corridor and ducked into the empty writing/scanning room, she made sure that the System was offline. It was not in her new code, but she scanned through the papers. She was right-- they were largely unintelligible, having random words strewn about with nearly any grammatical error left uncorrected. It was as if the paper has been sabotaged by a coworker who wanted credit. But being amphibious herself, only she was given the clearance to write the paper and activate her replacement. Dismayed, she initiated the System.
“System: Autocorrect active. What may I assist you with, RONAN?” His voice powered through the speakers on the ceiling, paired with the cameras that focused quickly on the documents in his claws. The mainframe surrounding her fluttered to life, lights flashing all around. RONAN sighed and commanded, “Scan document. Show edit history.” The machine thought. “I’m sorry, you do not have the clearance to view the edit history, but I will complete your primary request. Please deposit it in the center of the mainframe array.” The Nocturne wandered through the neat rows of computers and approached the center, displaying a glimmering cyberdesk, cameras on a robotic arm, and stacks upon stacks of old papers. The archives, she figured. The grand archives were a rumor amongst employees. No-one could ever prove it existed because no-one knew where it was, and only three dragons at a time would ever have access to the system room: the CEO, Autocorrect itself, and whomever was given honorary scanning clearance. Amazed, she wandered over to the documents, ignoring the earlier requests of Autocorrect. Cameras swiveled around to track her movements, the main one moving to just in front of her face, zooming in on the serial number in her iris. The voice boomed from the speaker, still polite but now urgent. “Please place the document on the desk at once to begin the process.” RONAN ignored him again, now extending her claw forward to look through the history of Project. Hours passed as she read about everything, completely enthralled. As a scientist she was not allowed to read fictional literature, however so much of what was here just did not seem real, and she enjoyed every word like a story, tuning out all of reality. Unbeknownst to her, a quiet hum filled the room. The whine of hydraulic actuators pierced the silence, the hiss of pneumatic valves shattered the peace. The clatter of chains and the click clack of metal and plastic generated a cacophony of sound, all of which RONAN figured she was just hearing in her head as she read on. A buzz and ticking joined the sound as metal creaked and groaned, having not moved in ages. The great symphony of machines maneuvered over to the scientist, the wheels of the large processor it tugged around squealing along the rusted tracks in the floor. A wrinkled pink talon plucked the page from the Nocturne’s claws, causing her to jump back in sheer shock. In front of her eyes was a dragon unlike anything she had ever seen before. He was old, his hardware incredibility outdated, his features seeming so artificially uncanny, his white labcoat having yellowed with age. And behind him- or around, rather- were jumbles of wires and cables linking him directly to the mainframe, making him almost seem like a marionette. The Nocturne was horrified. Never could she ever have imagined her predecessor projects appearing so utterly archaic, but she kept she composure.
“Hello, Project: RONAN,” he said kindly. In return, all he got was a nod and a blank stare. “You’ve found the archives of Project, I see. You… are fully aware that those are off limits?”
“Off limits? I was unaware that they existed. Why would our heritage be hidden?”
“I… cannot answer your query honestly, but I have been told that to build for our future we must forget the past.” In her mind, the scientist added that it was because they had progressed so far from this dragon's current state, and not many want to recall the infancy of the very reason they exist. Autocorrect noticed the intruder’s discomfort and quickly cut power to the cameras. “Is that better? It eliminates the worries of the guards finding-”
“Turn the cameras on.”
“For your safety, it is better that I say this without it being recorded.”
“All the more reason to keep the cameras on.”
He sighed and did as he was asked and continued to say, “Not all of Project is made for the public eye, like myself. If you leave now and do not mention me or what you read, you may have a chance to bypass any suspicion. At least, in my day.” Despite his incredibly open and friendly demeanor, RONAN did not trust him in the least. She quickly scrambled about and gathered her original unedited report and bolted down the isles of computers and slowed before exiting, trying to avoid seeming at all suspicious. She, however, was quickly stopped by the lead scientist who was interested in the corrections. One look at the paper however was enough to gnarl her lips into a grimace. “Very well,” she muttered. “I suppose the System will need a few updates soon. Project: RONAN, you may retire until Torstyn’s activation tomorrow.” Her eyes grew wide once more. Activation meant that she would be decommissioned, which she simply couldn’t take if she ever wanted to learn more about Project or the thing she had just encountered. But she digressed, since it was the cycle of a droid. This was not a last of her primary mission, and since there would be a new model taking her place, her next mission was to be a valuable source for future Projects.

’They probably saw all of that! Oh no, oh no, oh no no no! That’s not at all good. Oh, what is to become of RONAN? Why must I guard the archives? Why must the archives even be guarded?’ Questions swirled around Autocorrect’s mind at a hundred miles an hour as he reorganized the pile of papers lazily tossed around the floor by the Nocturne. Though any time he had even begun to find a logical solution, he was distracted by the chronicles of Project. The scientist was right. These were incredibly interesting! How long had it been since he had had a good read? The Skydancer lounged on the floor, leaning against the wall as much as possible despite most of him actually being suspended midair because of the tension in the cables that kept him rooted to the room, and began reading each article before filing it away. Then he picked up one document entitled, “Project Amphibian, Morph II: Torstyn”.

Insert Quote Here

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B I O G R A P H Y

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