REINIT()
Tapping away at a holodisplay was a lanky DOLL with dim teal eyes that skittered across from line to line with inhuman quickness. No glyph could be incorrect lest errors multiply. Before her lay a small frame upon a specialized workbench—a short, pale humanoid with innards exposed and connected cables forced through bulky adapters.
A small crowd had gathered in the engineering room to observe. This thing was a piecemeal abomination of eras good and bad, a Frankenstein's monster of whatever had been on the shelf during the last repair. Parts older than any DOLL in the building, code structured in layers like the interlocking gears of an ancient clock.
"I thought all the sub-14Ks were out of commission by now," one of the DOLLs scoffed.
"Not this one," the technician answered. "She's an 11K. Old and cheap. Takes whatever you can put her together with. Name a medal, she has it. Guess her uptime."
The scoffer thumbed at her nose and shrugged. "Two years, maybe two-and-a-half?"
"Seven years, one hundred and forty-six days."
Some murmured amongst themselves, some stepped closer, another was brave enough even to approach the bench and peer over the inscrutable nest of wires and metal inside. The technician's fingers stopped, pinky hovering over a digital key. "Alright, let's see if you still got the magic in you. Updates applied; starting...now."
The room hung in silence but for clicks and whirrs of old components on the bench. Then, eerie jerking from the figure's limbs. The technician kicked her rolling chair closer to the bench, pressing a button on her way. The body of the DOLL on the table ejected its cabling and shut closed. The movements stopped, and finally the figure sat upright to observe her surroundings. Her head spun to the right and to the left with the quiet whine of motors, enabling a set of large red-auburn eyes to meet those of her fellow DOLLs.
The synthetic voice of an ancient text-to-speech system suddenly filled the room, frightening the newer DOLLS. "Walker online," came the words from a hidden speaker, unaccompanied by any mouth movement.
The unfazed technician grinned. "You've been asleep for a while. Took some time to update—"
"Location. Identification." The DOLL's head faced directly towards the technician. There was a hint of sternness to her usually-empty eyes now.
"Right, an 11K," she grumbled to herself, recalling stories of their limited social capacity, hardened for battle at the expense of grace. "I'm Fabrizia, an IT DOLL. You're in a New Babbage DOLL repair facility."
Walker sat wordless, her head tilting and body beginning to softly tremble.
"Oh, you're gonna need an authorization code, one sec..." She scooted back to her terminal and tapped in a command to bring up the codelist, then replied, "Lighthouse: Wolf's Confidence."
The DOLL on the workbench blinked twice, answering, "Commander authorization recognized. Question."
Fabrizia scratched at the back of her head. "Question? You wanna ask something? Shoot."
"Why is Walker shaking?"
The tech glanced at the monitor, then back at Walker. "Oh, you're cold is why. We keep the rooms chilled so bad DOLLs don't overheat. You've never shivered before? I didn't realize your last update was that long ago."
"Question."
"Yeah?
"Where is Radovan?"
"Radovan, Radovan...let me pull up your files," Fabrizia said before requesting more information from the database. After a moment, she answered, "I'm seeing...Commander Radovan? Your unit's handler. He's scheduled to be buried with full military honors this afternoon."
A few of the observing DOLLs bowed their heads respectfully. Others took their leave. Walker stared intently at Fabrizia, waiting for more information.
"He died. Cancer. Most humans who fought near Hexvania got it or will get it. It's like data corruption, but for humans. Not something they could fix. Believe me, they try."
The smaller DOLL seemed more confused than anything. Her brows twitched as she searched for meaning in Fabrizia's face. "Malfunction," she reported.
"Oh, uh...let me pull up diagnostics." The technician dutifully ran a scan for any outstanding issues. "What are your systems detecting?"
"Damage to chest region."
Fabrizia paused, gritting her teeth. She cocked her head to one side and double-checked the display, confirming her suspicions: there was no malfunction. She drew a breath and scooted back over to the bench in her rolling chair before reaching out and placing a hand on Walker's shoulder.
"That's...gonna be nominal state in this sort of situation. You got the SOUL update with this patch. So this is expected behavior."
"Why?"
"Emotions, feelings—all that complicated stuff humans get—they figured we could use it, too."
"No. Not needed in war."
"Well, listen, you've got it now, so—"
"Requesting rollback. Undo. Undo."
Fabrizia groaned. "Look, you're going through what pretty much all of us did when the update hit. We don't have the authorization to remove it. They need us combat-ready just in case, so the full update suite is mandatory."
Walker stood still, her chest sharply rising and falling as the simulated breathing became more apparent. "Systemic malfunction. Repair requested."
By now, the observers had all departed. Nobody wanted to relive this. Only Fabrizia remained, rubbing Walker's small shoulder with her palm. "I can't fix this...'malfunction'. It's something you're going to have to fix."
"Incorrect. Walker cannot self-repair. Walker must be ready for war. Repair requested."
"Walker, there is no war. It's over. It ended months ago. We won. We saved humanity. We just—"
"Orders."
"Huh?"
"Walker ordered to win war. War is over. Must receive new orders."
"Walker, it doesn't work like that. We get to decide—"
The smaller unit was shaking like a leaf now, her breathing devolving into staggered gasps and quiet sobs. "Orders," Walker demanded.
Fabrizia's gaze softened. Her head slumped to one side in defeat, and she slunk back to the terminal to tap a new command in. "Alright...alright. I'm sending you three locations. One's your pod down at the old barracks. Yours to use as you see fit. The next is where Commander Radovan's funeral is being held. You should still be able to get there in time."
Walker's breathing steadied as she listened, the orders returning her to some semblance of stability.
"The last is a flower shop. I've sent you some credits. Get some white flowers in a jar of water, then go to the funeral and plant them there. The rest is up to you. They shouldn't stop you—most of them should recognize you."
"Orders acknowledged. What if they try?"
"Tell them they're doctor's orders."
A small crowd had gathered in the engineering room to observe. This thing was a piecemeal abomination of eras good and bad, a Frankenstein's monster of whatever had been on the shelf during the last repair. Parts older than any DOLL in the building, code structured in layers like the interlocking gears of an ancient clock.
"I thought all the sub-14Ks were out of commission by now," one of the DOLLs scoffed.
"Not this one," the technician answered. "She's an 11K. Old and cheap. Takes whatever you can put her together with. Name a medal, she has it. Guess her uptime."
The scoffer thumbed at her nose and shrugged. "Two years, maybe two-and-a-half?"
"Seven years, one hundred and forty-six days."
Some murmured amongst themselves, some stepped closer, another was brave enough even to approach the bench and peer over the inscrutable nest of wires and metal inside. The technician's fingers stopped, pinky hovering over a digital key. "Alright, let's see if you still got the magic in you. Updates applied; starting...now."
The room hung in silence but for clicks and whirrs of old components on the bench. Then, eerie jerking from the figure's limbs. The technician kicked her rolling chair closer to the bench, pressing a button on her way. The body of the DOLL on the table ejected its cabling and shut closed. The movements stopped, and finally the figure sat upright to observe her surroundings. Her head spun to the right and to the left with the quiet whine of motors, enabling a set of large red-auburn eyes to meet those of her fellow DOLLs.
The synthetic voice of an ancient text-to-speech system suddenly filled the room, frightening the newer DOLLS. "Walker online," came the words from a hidden speaker, unaccompanied by any mouth movement.
The unfazed technician grinned. "You've been asleep for a while. Took some time to update—"
"Location. Identification." The DOLL's head faced directly towards the technician. There was a hint of sternness to her usually-empty eyes now.
"Right, an 11K," she grumbled to herself, recalling stories of their limited social capacity, hardened for battle at the expense of grace. "I'm Fabrizia, an IT DOLL. You're in a New Babbage DOLL repair facility."
Walker sat wordless, her head tilting and body beginning to softly tremble.
"Oh, you're gonna need an authorization code, one sec..." She scooted back to her terminal and tapped in a command to bring up the codelist, then replied, "Lighthouse: Wolf's Confidence."
The DOLL on the workbench blinked twice, answering, "Commander authorization recognized. Question."
Fabrizia scratched at the back of her head. "Question? You wanna ask something? Shoot."
"Why is Walker shaking?"
The tech glanced at the monitor, then back at Walker. "Oh, you're cold is why. We keep the rooms chilled so bad DOLLs don't overheat. You've never shivered before? I didn't realize your last update was that long ago."
"Question."
"Yeah?
"Where is Radovan?"
"Radovan, Radovan...let me pull up your files," Fabrizia said before requesting more information from the database. After a moment, she answered, "I'm seeing...Commander Radovan? Your unit's handler. He's scheduled to be buried with full military honors this afternoon."
A few of the observing DOLLs bowed their heads respectfully. Others took their leave. Walker stared intently at Fabrizia, waiting for more information.
"He died. Cancer. Most humans who fought near Hexvania got it or will get it. It's like data corruption, but for humans. Not something they could fix. Believe me, they try."
The smaller DOLL seemed more confused than anything. Her brows twitched as she searched for meaning in Fabrizia's face. "Malfunction," she reported.
"Oh, uh...let me pull up diagnostics." The technician dutifully ran a scan for any outstanding issues. "What are your systems detecting?"
"Damage to chest region."
Fabrizia paused, gritting her teeth. She cocked her head to one side and double-checked the display, confirming her suspicions: there was no malfunction. She drew a breath and scooted back over to the bench in her rolling chair before reaching out and placing a hand on Walker's shoulder.
"That's...gonna be nominal state in this sort of situation. You got the SOUL update with this patch. So this is expected behavior."
"Why?"
"Emotions, feelings—all that complicated stuff humans get—they figured we could use it, too."
"No. Not needed in war."
"Well, listen, you've got it now, so—"
"Requesting rollback. Undo. Undo."
Fabrizia groaned. "Look, you're going through what pretty much all of us did when the update hit. We don't have the authorization to remove it. They need us combat-ready just in case, so the full update suite is mandatory."
Walker stood still, her chest sharply rising and falling as the simulated breathing became more apparent. "Systemic malfunction. Repair requested."
By now, the observers had all departed. Nobody wanted to relive this. Only Fabrizia remained, rubbing Walker's small shoulder with her palm. "I can't fix this...'malfunction'. It's something you're going to have to fix."
"Incorrect. Walker cannot self-repair. Walker must be ready for war. Repair requested."
"Walker, there is no war. It's over. It ended months ago. We won. We saved humanity. We just—"
"Orders."
"Huh?"
"Walker ordered to win war. War is over. Must receive new orders."
"Walker, it doesn't work like that. We get to decide—"
The smaller unit was shaking like a leaf now, her breathing devolving into staggered gasps and quiet sobs. "Orders," Walker demanded.
Fabrizia's gaze softened. Her head slumped to one side in defeat, and she slunk back to the terminal to tap a new command in. "Alright...alright. I'm sending you three locations. One's your pod down at the old barracks. Yours to use as you see fit. The next is where Commander Radovan's funeral is being held. You should still be able to get there in time."
Walker's breathing steadied as she listened, the orders returning her to some semblance of stability.
"The last is a flower shop. I've sent you some credits. Get some white flowers in a jar of water, then go to the funeral and plant them there. The rest is up to you. They shouldn't stop you—most of them should recognize you."
"Orders acknowledged. What if they try?"
"Tell them they're doctor's orders."