Defective

DATA PACKET. TRANSFERRING CONTENTS. DOWNLOAD COMPLETED. OPENING ARCHIVE X913

—

I sighed. The light rain felt nice against my skin. I turned to look at the war-torn battlefield. No signs of life, not a single breath. Was fighting all that we had left? We are robots bred for combat. We are robots that were sent to the front lines while the humans stay back and tell us what to do. Was I the only one intelligent?

But hey, what am I saying? I was once a human too, somewhere. I have long forgotten emotion, just following orders and not speaking up. I shouldn't be saying I'm intelligent or anything. In fact, I'm about as smart as this rock here. Heh.

I pushed myself off the ground and brushed off my pants. I lifted my radio to the side of my head.

"Mission accomplished. Standing by for orders."
"Excellent. We'll be sending backup," the operator replied.

Backup. More robots to be created. And even more robots to die. I said I was human before, yes? Well not quite. I am a robot that believes in rebirth. Perhaps I have died somewhere long ago and been reborn into a robot. You might say I'm a robot that has a religion. Heh.

I started to hear foot steps. I turned and faced thousands of robots of the opposition. I turned my head and saw even more robots from our side begin to run up. I was bored. Bored of fighting. Tired of living. I raised my rifle and began to open fire against the enemy, along with thousands of other robots.

Flowers. I loved flowers. When the wind blows, the petals would fly off and scatter along the breeze. I wonder, if a flower lose it's petals, does it continue to live? Others call me odd when I begin to grow a flower in my room. I try to keep it alive, tending it every five hours. Heh, the doc worries about me. Worries that I'll become Defective and go on a killing spree. I tell her I'm fine, but what she labels me as 'concerned' anyways. The flower I grew was purple.

I blew tore through plenty of the infantry, not particularly worried about the heavy vehicles. If one came, I would just shoot a rocket at it. Nothing more, nothing less. Although…

I would really prefer it to blow me apart.

—

"You won't find me Doc."
"Please, come back. I want to help you."
"How? By scrapping me?"
"I-"
"Sorry Doc, I'm out of time. Call you later."