New Vegas: Sheason's Story - Chapter 105: Cyborg vs Robots

The air in the Big Empty was crisp, cool, and clear. It smelled like the rain had stopped only recently – possibly within the last hour or two – and it looked like it was actually going to be a nice day for a place with a sky entirely the wrong color. From my vantage point, everything was quiet and still…

That is, until I pulled the trigger.

The muzzle blast from the anti-materiel rifle in my hands boomed a thunderclap loosed by an angry god. It was a solid six seconds before the echo finally ended. I leaned back in the chair I’d brought out onto the balcony of The Sink, and pulled back on the heavy bolt; the spent and smoking .50 cal casing was spat out of the side and fell clattering to the ground.

“Hello, sir. If sir will permit the question, may I ask what sir is currently doing?” Jeeves’ voice burst out of an unseen speaker, somewhere above my head.

“Just taking a few pot-shots at the locals, Jeeves. Thanks for the ammo, by the way, it’s a great help.” I said, shoving the bolt forward, and taking aim once again. “I think I bagged that cazador that was chasing Roxie and me the other day. Blew the fucker clean in half, didn’t know what hit him.”

“If sir will permit me a moments unseemliness, may I inquire as to the whyness of sirs current course of action?” Jeeves asked as I pressed my eye against the scope. “I was given to understand that the Securitron De-Construction plant would be sirs next destination, once sir had acquired the necessary supplies, of course. I do not quite understand how, to use sirs vernacular, ‘taking pot-shot at the locals,’ is further in aid of sirs goals.”

“You’re absolutely right, Jeeves. That is where I was planning on going…” I paused, breaking the stillness of the air with another blast from the massive rifle. “Eventually. I just wanted to get some practice in before heading out. Make sure this arm is up to scratch, you know? I mean, hell, I do most of my fighting with my right hand. Just about all my shooting, certainly. No sense heading out without a bit of practice.”

“I see,” Jeeves said calmly; the next spent casing clattered to the ground. “And does the work of m’colleague meet with sirs approval?”

“Absolutely!” I said, holding up the rifle with only my right hand for the moment. “I mean, I know how heavy this rifle is. Roughly 30 pounds, there-or-therabouts. But it feels light as a feather!” I held out my arm as far as it would go, and kept hold of the grip; despite the weight and how unbalanced it should’ve been with me only holding onto the pistol grip, it stayed flat, level, and steady as a rock. “I bet I could probably fire this thing one handed, if I had to.”

“Indeed, sir?” Jeeves asked with an obviously incredulous tone. I shrugged.

“Well… okay, I doubt it’d be accurate. At all. But I’ll bet you any money I could fire it one handed, and still keep hold even with the massive recoil.”

“Most certainly, sir. Should I inform m’colleague that sir will be wanting a full set of replacement cybernetic extremities now?” I blanched, almost dropping the rifle.

“Uhhh… let’s… let’s hold off on that for a while. At least until… I think I’ll wait and see if any more of my limbs get cut off, how’s that?” I would give anything for a decent distraction right now…

Squeak!

I looked around, trying to pinpoint the noise, and saw Stripe perched on the balcony railing, looking up at me with a crooked smile full of surprisingly sharp teeth. It was actually kind of cute… you know, if you were to ignore the fact that it was holding the shredded and gnawed remains of somebody’s foot in its paws.

“Hey, little guy!” I set the anti-materiel rifle against the wall, and hit one of the buttons near the door; there was a fizzle, a hum, and suddenly the balcony was surrounded by a ring of blue forcefields once again. I walked over to Stripe and gently petted his mohawk. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to. Been out hunting, huh?”

Stripe let out a strange sort of pulsating purr, nuzzling into my hand (and scratching my palm with his horns)… right before tearing another giant bite out of the foot. I paused, looking down at the tiny deathclaw. I couldn’t tell for certain, but it looked like he had considerably more teeth than he had the other day… and he was perhaps a little bit bigger than I remembered…

Stripe took one last bite out of the foot, dropped the hunk of meat to the ground, and scurried up my arm. He scampered around my neck, flopped himself down on top of my right shoulder… and then he promptly started snoring loudly.

When the Securitron De-Construction Plant came into view, it put me in mind of an old factory. It was a collection of three, relatively large, squat brick buildings that looked like they’d been wedged together at the corners. I could see several enormous pipes snaking their way out of, over, beside and around all the cubes. A large portion of the grounds surrounding the building was fenced off, further adding to the factory image.

“Well, this certainly looks like the place…” I said to myself as I calmly walked over a section of knocked-over fence. I was all by myself, because the last I’d seen of Roxie and Stripe, they were curled up asleep next to each other on my bed in The Sink. Didn’t really want to wake them (I’ll be honest, I thought the image was pretty cute), so I set out on my own. “I wonder where they keep all the trucks?”

It wasn’t long before I got my answer. I rounded one of the outer corners of the factory and came across what had probably been a parking lot. There were several centuries old car wrecks that seemed to support this theory – including a two and a half ton army truck that towered over every other car. To be fair, there was more than one deuce-and-a-half in the parking lot… but of the three I could see, there was only one that didn’t look split in half.

“Well, lookit that!” I said with a grin, hopping onto the hoods of several wrecks to get closer as quickly as possible. “Looks like I’ve hit the jackpot straightaway!” The old 2½ ton truck was in relatively decent shape, considering that it had been parked out here, exposed to the elements. for what I can only assume was over 200 years. The bodywork of the cab was covered in more rust than paint, all the windows were completely broken, and when I walked around to inspect the wheels, I noticed that one of the six tires was missing… and there didn’t appear to be a usable spare on any of the other deuce-and-a-half wrecks.

And yet…

“You are gorgeous!” I patted the passenger door with a grin; the metal echoed loudly. “I am gonna have so much fun, fixing you up! Now, maybe there’s a spare in the back…” I hopped quickly onto the tailgate to get a better look. The back of the truck’s cargo bed was full of clutter. A few filing cabinets. Some discarded and broken coffee mugs, A few destroyed chairs… but no spare tires.

“Ah well,” I shrugged. “It was a long shot… any… hang on.” Something shiny caught my eye at the other end of the cargo bed. A few seconds later, it was in my hand: a very familiar metal box with a white hexagon painted on top. “Well, I’ll be damned! Another one! Fuck, should’ve just followed the signal for this, would’ve led me right-”

#^& = [.([{}]).] = #^& ?

A burst of barely legible static echoing across the parking lot from somewhere let me know immediately that I was no longer alone. In a flash, I’d shoved the box with the personality chip into one of my pockets and I leapt off the deuce-and-a-half; I rolled when I hit the ground, and came to a kneeling crouch when I was back on my feet. I kept low to the ground and carefully shrugged the LAER into my hands as I stayed in cover behind a nearby wreck.

If the sound was anything to go by, then robots were definitely on the way. And that meant lasers, certainly. Rockets and other explosives, possibly. Definitely some kind of dangerous, destructive artillery that would potentially be lobbed in my direction very soon, and if I was anywhere near the deuce-and-a-half, it would run the risk of damaging my find beyond repair before I’ve even started.

So, first order of business: get away from the truck.

%* = ()[]$$[]() = %* ?!

Another burst of static. I couldn’t exactly translate, but it sounded… confused? That was probably a good sign. I kept my head low, ducking between the broken down wrecks until I was sure that I was far enough away from my prize… and very carefully peeked over the hood of the car I was using as cover to see what I was up against.

#^% = [[..{{}}..]] = #^% ?

A pair of securitrons were rolling along between the parked wrecks, searching for something. Me, probably. Except… they didn’t quite look like securitrons. They were the same shape, but they had a completely different color scheme – a teal green chassis, rather than blue – and a pair of interlocking white hexagons were painted on the shoulder mounted missile pods. What really made them look strange, however, were the distorted face screens. One was a mass of static, occasionally thinning out enough to reveal a warped, angry face. The other didn’t have as much digital snow, but it didn’t really have a face. Just a great big black and white “NO” symbol where its face should’ve been.

These bots had certainly seen better days. And I was determined to make this day even worse for them.

“Stupidexplodingrobotsayswhat?” I shouted, popping out from behind the wreck, my LAER at the ready and slipping into VATS. The air crackled, and a pair of bright blue lasers burst from the LAER and struck the front of the robot square in the chassis… seemingly to no effect. It didn’t cause any damage, at least. The effect was that it just caught the attention of both.

{#} = [({{}})] = {#} !

“Uh…” I felt liked I’d been caught with my pants down. Hadn’t I seen this gun explode a sentry bot the other day? It –

“Whoops! Time to go!” I turned tail and ran in the other direction as soon as I saw the securitron I’d hit open up the shoulder pods, readying a missile salvo. I leapt over the hood of a nearby two-seater and ducked around the corner edge of the building, just as the unmistakable sound of several missiles screaming through the air. I practically welded by back to the heavy concrete wall and covered my-

BOOM!

The wall and the ground shook violently. A not inconsiderable amount of shrapnel peppered the ground unprotected by solid concrete. The Geiger counter on my Pip Boy spiked slightly, which meant one of those wrecks they hit still had the engine. I set off again before the ground stopped shaking. It was too much to hope for that the berserk securitrons had been caught in their own explosion, so I had to get clever. Or find a gun with a bigger bang.

Let’s be completely honest here: the gun was far more likely.

If I was lucky, I might be able to find one in the factory… or maybe I could try and lose them inside. If it was like any of the other factories I’d been to in the past, it’d be a maze of narrow, twisting corridors, dangerous conveyor belts, and even more dangerous machinery.

I skidded to a halt in front of the main factory doors – noting with a sense of wry amusement that the door had been marked with a red flag symbol. I tried the door – it wouldn’t budge. I slammed my right shoulder into the door – still nothing. There was a dent where my metal arm had slammed into the door, but it still hadn’t opened. I could hear the securitrons rolling in closer; the static was definitely getting louder.

“Alright,” I said, balling my right hand into a fist and wound up like I was going to throw a fastball. “Time for a stress test!” I planted my feet, and punched the door square in the central star of the flag graffiti.

Truth is, it didn’t feel like I gave the punch full power. In fact, just based on the weak shock that ran up my cybernetic arm, it felt like I’d only hit it hard enough to scuff the skin on my knuckles. If I still had skin on those knuckles, anyway. A love tap, basically.

So, when the heavy metal door ripped free of its hinges completely, flying into the darkness in a twisted hunk of metal and a shower of sparks…

%^# = {(..$$..)} = %^# !

“Oh, right! I’m still being chased!” I yelled aloud, diving into the freshly open door. A barrage of laser fire burst against the mangled door behind me, and I just kept running. “Hey, morons! You missed!”

Sure enough, the interior was very dark and factory-like – which is to say, built like an M.C. Escher drawing. I flipped my eyes to nightvision, climbed over a desk, and vaulted through a broken window separating the reception area from the factory floor. I rolled and when I got back on my feet I was face to face with a large box mounted on the wall.

“Main circuit breaker, huh?” I grabbed the toggle in the middle with a smirk. “Alright, let’s make some noise!” I flipped the switch, smacked the big button on the bottom, and started running again. Just in time, too.

A loud, ringing-bell klaxon echoed somewhere overhead, and all around I could see spinning lights. It was bright enough now that I switched my eyes from nightvision to normal; the hazy green miasma evaporated, replaced by the flashing yellow hazard lights all around me. The sounds of heavy clinks and machines slowly whirring to life deeper in the factory filled my ears as I kept running.

&& ^! !^#% &&

I cast a glance over my shoulder, and saw the bot with the “NO” symbol for a face burst through the open doorway, raising one of the arm-mounted weapons at me. I hopped up onto a nearby railing, jumped over and ran along a pair of workbenches, kicked off the back wall, and landed on top of a large metal shelf; it immediately started to tilt and wobble… possibly because of the unexpected weight that had landed on it, but probably because the workbenches behind me had been vaporized by grenades.

So, I just kept going. I jumped off it and landed on the next one. Then the one after that. When the last shelf started to fall, I dove off, rolling onto a nearby catwalk and didn’t even bother to stop before I set off running again. Behind me, I could hear the metal shelves get ripped to shreds by more grenade launcher fire.

“Too slow!” I called back, ducking into another corridor that I was convinced was too narrow for them to squeeze through, and emerged on the other side. All around me, I could see conveyor belts of various sizes – ranging from barely six inches wide to incredibly large – all moving, and crisscrossing the interior of the factory. Automated mechanical metal arms were already going through the motions, despite nothing on the conveyor belts (that I could see). Despite everything else that was going on – and the fact that I was still being chased by homicidal robots – I did take note of something amusing: someone had put up a Ralphie the Robot poster on the wall, identical to the one in The Sink.

“Well, I think that may have bought me so-”

BOOM!

The double doors separating the one part of the factory and the other exploded inward in a cloud of superheated shrapnel.

“Or not.” Just on reflex, I snapped off a pair of LAER blasts at the two securitrons who blasted through the doors. In response, the angry-faced on in front opened up the missile pods in its shoulders. And the chase was on again! I ran straight at one of the moving conveyor belts, grabbed hold of one of the metal arms, and swung on it over to the next belt above it. The ground behind me exploded.

“Fuck, and I thought the Legion boys were bad shots!” I said with a smirk, getting back on my feet. “You kids better get back to school, this ain’t amateur hour!” I shouldered the LAER and pulled out the pulse gun, taking careful aim. They were robots, so maybe the electronic equivalent of an STD from Gomorrah might work better than a LAER. I ducked out of the way of one of the moving arms, and blasted both securitrons with the tiny energy pistol. Bolts of electricity arced off and between both bots.

## $*! !$* ##

“Hah!” I shouted with a grin as the conveyor belt trundled me along slowly. “Eat it mother… fuuu…” My expression changed from glee to confusion to worry rather quickly when I realized the bots weren’t actually going down. I looked closer, and noticed that every place I’d struck with the LAER had actually done some damage… but instead of molten slag, the surface of the LAER impacts were covered in tiny blue holographic cubes moving across the surface… just like the holographic cubes in a replicator! These fuckers were self-repairing!

“Shit.” I turned and jumped off the conveyor belt, and hit the ground running. Okay! So, the bots could repair themselves and the pulse gun that could take down power armored Brotherhood of Steel bastards in one hit didn’t work either! That… was gonna make things a bit tricky. Punctuating the point was the sudden barrage of laser fire slicing through the air over my head. It hit one of the dis-assembly line arms, which proceeded to exploded over my head in a shower of sparks.

I must say… it was quite the merry chase. And I really mean that! Sure, I was in a lot of trouble. In fact, I was probably fucked, and not in the fun, sticky way. But ducking and bobbing and weaving through the labyrinth of machinery, constantly staying one step ahead of the robots chasing me… it was actually quite fun. In an adrenaline-pump sort of way.

The only slight annoyance was that I was spending all this time and effort slipping over, above, below, and around all the obstacles… and the securitrons were just plowing straight through. Perhaps they had the right idea.

“Hello, door!” I yelled, leaping over a pair of metal barrels and readying another cyborg-punch. “Goodbye, door!” I hit the door at full speed, not even bothering to slow down. There was wrenching sound of metal against metal, and the massive hunk of heavy steel, warped by the knuckles of my cybernetic fist, blasted out of the doorframe with a heavy crash. I was momentarily blinded by the light; the freshly open door led outside. Wasn’t expecting that. Apparently, I’d made my way from one end of the factory to the other, and I was now at the back of the de-construction plant.

#^% = [.[.{{}}.].] = #^% ?

I could hear the indistinct sounds of crashing behind me, getting closer. I tried to remember the last time I fought securitrons as I ran out of the factory for the nearby hills. The last time was… it was when I stormed the 38’s penthouse, wasn’t it? Felt like a lifetime ago. What did I use to bring them down? There was the Sprtl-Wood 9700, the holorifle, and a few pulse grenades. I think. Did House’s securitrons have the auto-repair function? I couldn’t remember. I know I have the holorifle back in The Sink… maybe I should’ve brought that instead of the LAER.

I crested a hill, the sounds of the securitrons right on my tail, when I was met with a very unexpected and unwelcome sight: for no apparent reason, a laser turret was in my way, and slowly turning on it’s axis to use my face for target practice. I didn’t have time to question what it was doing all the way out here. I just shrugged the LAER off my shoulder and dove straight at the top of the turret, to try and confuse it for long enough to…

Bingo! By the time I’d vaulted over the top and landed on the other side, the turret halted in its tracking. The motors that made it rotate had been unable to keep pace. I slipped into VATS and blasted it with the LAER; the blue streak passed through the turret completely, blowing it to pieces. I looked around and saw that this wasn’t a hill: it was the edge of a small cliff. Maybe 20 feet high. And there was something…

%^# = {.(.$$.).} = %^# !

I jumped down, digging my mechanical fingers into the side of the rock face to slow my descent. It ended up showering me with tiny bits of shaved rock that broke off under my grip. I let go and kicked off the wall, walking toward the metal lean-to I’d seen from above. There were supplies and scrap metal all around, not to mention a small terminal, somehow still working, with a makeshift antenna sticking out of the back.

“This is one of Elijah’s camps…” I said aloud, making the connection. It was the terminal that sold it, honestly. But there was something else. Something large. Something metal. Something that was very obviously a really big gun.

Result!

I grabbed the massive cannon and hefted it onto my shoulder, just as the pair of securitrons rolled around the outside edge of the cliff and came into view of the camp. I flipped open the trigger guard, and suddenly the interior of the weapon was awash with crackling electricity. I took aim carefully, and pulled the trigger as fast as it would let me.

It made a boom like some kind of old world explosion with every pull of the trigger, and thick beams of bright blue light that nearly blinded me were forced out of the end. Every time it discharged, a huge cloud of dust was kicked into the air around my feet like a stick of dynamite had gone off. Five beams of energy cut through the air and plowed into the securitrons; I tried the trigger a sixth, but the energy fizzled before reaching the end of the barrel.

Eventually, the dust cleared. I looked over to the securitrons… and let out the breath I was holding when I saw the two of them reduced to piles of broken, molten slag. I guess this thing was strong enough to break through the self-repair protocols. I started laughing, and patted the side of the massive cannon sitting on my shoulder.

“Fuckin’ Elijah… you may’ve been a crazy, genocidal old bastard… but you sure knew how to build a damn fine gun!”

“Welcome back, sir,” Jeeves greeted me as I stepped out of the elevator. I had the Tesla Cannon (I learned the name after rifling through a few of Elijah’s notes at his makeshift camp) still sitting on my shoulder, and I pushed an enormous tire out in front of me. It rolled away from the elevator and came to a stop at the hologram table. “I take it sir was successful in sirs endeavours?”

“Why, whatever makes you say that?” I smiled, setting the cannon down with a heavy THUD.

“Sir is only just returning after venturing into the crater nearly eight hours ago.” Clearly, Jeeves hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm.

“Yeah, well rebuilding an engine takes time. Especially when you have to jury-rig it to take microfusion cells. But, with all the wrecks around it, and all the securitron scraps in the de-construction plant, I had plenty of spare parts. Piece of cake! The engine runs beautifully now. Or, better than it did. But then again, since it didn’t run at all before…” I chuckled nervously.

“It warms my circuits to hear so, sir,” Jeeves said. “Does this mean that sir will not be needing any spare parts replicated after all?” I shook my head, and lifted up the tire with my cybernetic arm.

“Actually, the only thing wrong with it now is that it’s missing a tire. Not this one, another one. That’s actually why I brought you this one. Hopefully you can scan it, and make a copy,” I set the tire back down. “I’m just amazed I was able to find a working jack and a tire iron. It was in the glove box in one of the wrecks. Who’d have thought, eh? Now, before we get to that…” I reached into my duster, and pulled out the small metal box I’d picked up earlier. “Let’s see who this is!” Jeeves sighed heavily.

“If we must…” The slot opened up, and I slid in the chip with a satisfying click. For half a second, nothing happened. And then, the silence was broken by a bellow that echoed through the entire Sink.

“OH GOD!” I heard a robotic screech echo off the walls from somewhere in the bedroom… followed by a bark and a loud squeak. I sauntered into the bedroom casually, more curious and perplexed than anything else, and was almost run over by Roxie bounding out of the room with Stripe riding on her back.

“YOU!” I heard a voice from… somewhere. I looked around, but didn’t see anything. “Hey, you!” Wait, it’s coming from… that was a tiny securitron at my feet looking up at me. A tiny securitron with a smiling cartoon coffee cup for a face. What. “YEAH! YOU! Got any mugs?”

“Uh…” I wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Mugs? Why do you want mugs?” The tiny securitron shook his tiny, tiny arms.

“Why do YOU want mugs? HUH? You some kind of sick mug hoarder? OH GOD! Give me the coffee cup, PLEASE! I know you have some! I can tell it’s sitting there in your pack, TAUNTING ME!” The tiny robot started panting heavily. “Sorry… I’m sorry. I got a little carried away. It’s… just… all those GODDAMN dirty dishes out there! With no one to CLEAN them! It breaks my tiny metal heart!”

“Wait, let’s back up,” I couldn’t bring myself to tell the tiny securitron that I didn’t actually have a pack. I just knelt down to get a bit closer. “Who are you?” He looked up at me, still as a stone.

“You…” It sounded like he was about to cry. How a robot was going to cry is beyond me, but anyway. “You really want to know about… me? Nobody ever asks about Muggy! Oh, you’ve made me so happy!” The tiny robot spun around in circles on his one tiny wheel. “Okay, maybe you’ve seen some of those big, imposing securitrons with their lovely laser guns and rocket launchers and scary faces?” I nodded.

“Yeah, I blew up a few earlier,” I smirked. Muggy nodded.

“I’m not one of those.” I tried very hard not to laugh. “Dr. O was always jealous of House Industries, and he thought it would be FUCKING HILARIOUS to build a tiny neurotic securitron. BIG. FUCKING. LAUGH.”

“So, is that why you’re so obsessed with mugs?” I asked. The tiny robot twitched.

“I’m obsessed because they MADE me this way! You think I don’t know how crazy I sound? OF COURSE I DO! They programmed me to know that, too! They made me just to torture me. But you know? It’s the neglect that hurts the most.” The tiny robot coughed, like he was clearing his throat, and then it sounded like he was trying to do an impression of Dr. Klein. “Hey everybody, let’s turn ourselves into robot brains in jars!” Muggy wailed in agony again. “Do you know how many coffee cups giant robot brains in jars use on a daily basis? NOT FUCKING MANY!”

“But… what do you do with the mugs?” I asked, feeling a bit sorry for him now.

“I’m supposed to keep them clean,” Muggy said, almost calm for once. And then the calm evaporated. “OH, GOD! The thought of all those dirty dishes out there makes me CRAZY!” He started huffing and puffing and panting. “Most of them are probably beyond saving now… Do you have any? Please, please, PLEASE tell me you brought me some?!”

“Tell you what,” I said, standing up straight once again. “I saw some coffee cups in a truck I fixed up earlier. When I bring it back here, I’ll bring you the mugs, and any more I find. Deal?”

“OH, SWEET, SWEET FULFILLMENT!”

My plan worked wonderfully. Jeeves was able to scan the tire, and (after a few botched attempts) made a replica of the tire I’d brought up. But instead of immediately heading back out to replace the tires and bring the truck back to the relative safety of the front doors to the Think Tank dome… I decided to take the elevator deeper into the facility to visit the brains once again.

“A LOBOTOMITE animal before me!” Borous floated over to me and started overacting as soon as I stepped into the Think Tank. “What other terrifying terrors will plague us in our quest for knowledge? Communists? Communist ANIMALS, perhaps? Be warned, attempt to propaganda ME, I will shriek as a frightened babe, calling loyal Cyberdogs to my aid. Do you comprehend, Commie animal?”

“Hey, Borous,” I said with a smirk and a laugh. “I’m not just any lobotomite, you don’t have to worry about propaganda. Don’t you remember me? I’m the one collecting all the technologies. And I brought you Gabe’s bowl, remember?” Borous paused, hovering around me and staring for a few seconds.

“Oh, yes!” Borous started nodding his tank. “I remember now. Gabe… what a rascal. But there are MANY animals I shaped HERE in BIG MOUNTAIN! Industrious cazadores, the happy-go-lucky nightstalkers… they are my living, breathing DNA test tubes!”

And then the other shoe dropped.

“Wait, wait, hang on. YOU are responsible for cazadores and nightstalkers?” I asked. I was so surprised that I’d forgotten why I came down here in the first place. “I mean, that explains why I’ve seen both of them here, but…”

“Indeed!” Borous proclaimed proudly, completely ignoring my brief moment of clarity. “Docile! Curious! Safe! Sterile! They are all contained here at Big Mountain to preserve DNA for observation! I created them… in…” He paused clearly thinking. “Two thousand… let’s see, carry the three… then count backwards from the Great Static… or beyond? There were the tarantula debates… and something about hawks, which made it around… eh, it was probably one of the days in… 2003? I can’t recall which one, there were so many days that year. In particular, there were quite a lot of Tuesdays, so I have a feeling it may have been one of those. Perhaps it was one of those fresh June mornings in early May…”

“Nevermind that,” I tried to shake off the nonsense he was spewing. “What makes you think they haven’t escaped the Big Empty?” Borous stared at me curiously, as if he didn’t understand the question.

“Because Big Mountain’s safety measures are far more sophisticated than their primitive animal instincts! WE are their lords and masters!” I didn’t even bother stifling the laugh.

“Sophisticated my toned, muscular buttocks, those assholes all over the Mojave!” Borous shook his tank and hovered to my other side.

“No, no, no. Such creatures are found only HERE, for RESEARCH purposes! They would no more be capable of ESCAPE than BREEDING!”

I couldn’t tell… was he fucking with me, or was his legitimately this stupid?

“No, they breed all right. They nest and breed and lay eggs and everything.” Borous started shaking his tank more violently.

“I cannot expect a LOBOTOMITE to understand the careful surgical castrating procedures used in their creation! Perhaps a demonstration of my castrating POWER would settle your doubts?” I blanched and subtly reached down to cover my crotch. It was kind of a reflex, really. Any mention of castration is bound to make me involuntarily protect my gentlemen sausage.

“Uh…” I coughed nervously. “No, that’s all right. I’m good.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Borous seemed disappointed. “Perhaps we can perform a sterility castration some other time, then.” I thought about that, thought about the cazadores, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Eh, fuck. Go ahead! You might make me more fertile!” I said with a laugh, shaking my head. “Actually, nevermind, that reminds me of why I came down here in the first place. See you around, Borous,” I gave the green-tanked brain a wave, and started walking away.

“Until NEXT time then!” He shouted at me while my back was turned. “Provided there IS a next time! For ANY of us!” I just shook my head, and kept walking towards the real reason I was here.

“Dala!” I said with a smile. “There you are!” The purple-tanked brain jumped (wait, what?) at my voice, and very suddenly turned around, her tank glowing slightly as I approached.

“Oh! Sheason! He-hello!” Dala’s voice was almost… she seemed happy to see me, let’s put it like that.

“Hey, Dala. You miss me?” I smirked, walking over to her tank with a barely contained swagger. Her tank bubbled slightly.

“Oh, I… yes. Yes, very much so. I didn’t think you’d come back. I mean, when you left… and then I… but you…” She coughed, trying to hide how she was stumbling over her words; her tank glowed brighter and bubbled a bit more. “Yes, it’s very good to see you again, my little teddy bear.”

“Yeeeeah…” I stretched languidly and sighed for her; the way her tank bubbled, she seemed pleased with that.. “Sorry I didn’t swing by earlier. I had a lot of fun the other night.” I know you’re expecting me to say something like ‘No I didn’t,’ but I actually meant what I said. Maybe I’m just odd.

“Yes… s-so did I. So, what happened? Why are you only returning now?” I shrugged, and sniffed loudly, scratching my cheek; the light in her tank flickered.

“Mostly because I’ve been out cold last few days. Got my arm chopped off, and had to get it replaced.” To illustrate the point, I flexed my cybernetic arm. She didn’t seem as impressed or intrigued with it as I thought she might – and then I remembered. It was organic nonsense that got her motor running, wasn’t it?

“Oh, you poor little fragile skinvelope with all your easily breakable organs…” Dala hovered around me, and I could almost feel her sensors scanning me – discreetly, of course, so as not to alert the other members of the Think Tank. “Are you alright? Are there any other… I mean… you weren’t… damaged in any other way?” Subtle as a freight train, Dala.

“Don’t you worry your tank about that,” I said, placing a hand on the glass dome to halt her in the middle of one of her orbits around me. I leaned in, whispering to her huskily. “That’s actually why I came down here. It’s been a hectic, stressful couple of days, and I was wondering…” I smirked, running a finger along one of her monitors. “… if maybe you want to help take the edge off with a bit of science?” Her tank glowed brightly and bubbled again.

“Y-yes,” Dala stammered out, barely holding back a few girlish giggles. “Science. Yes. I would like to be doing The Science again very much so, yes.”