As the Replicator wandered through the lush landscape, it couldn't help but compare its current surroundings to the crumbling city it had come from. In that bleak world, towering skyscrapers and neon lights dominated the landscape, while the air was thick with smog and pollution.

But here, in this verdant paradise, the air was fresh and clean- even now, the micro units that made up its internals had to perform spot modifications so the Replicator's lungs didn't work themselves to death trying to fight a poison that wasn't there.

The landscape was a tapestry of vibrant greens and browns, with wildflowers dotting the fields and tall trees reaching up toward the clouds. The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers, and the birds' songs and insects' buzzing filled the air.

The natural world was allowed to flourish without interference.

The Replicator felt a sense of peace and tranquility wash over it, and it couldn't help but wonder why such a stark contrast existed between the two worlds. In its city, the Replicator had been just another machine- a cog in the wheel of a vast industrial factory that pumped out more machines, which in turn pumped out more, and so on. But here, surrounded by nature's beauty, it felt more alive than ever before.

As its eyes began to linger skyward, It tripped, spinning and face-planting into the soft turf. Spitting out dirt, it glanced back at the imposing root of the gigantic tree it had been passing by. In this particular spot, the earth had no grass, and the brown root had camouflaged in the earth's shared color.

Angrily shaking its fist at the root, the creature then redirected its attention to the soft turf as it rose onto its knees. Surprisingly, the earthy taste of the dirt wasn't all that unpleasant.

It scooped up a handful of the stuff as it stood and took a bite. Atrocious texture- but it was still better than the nutrient paste it had been forced to shovel into itself to create other Replicants.

The Replicator savored the dirt, giving a thoughtful hum through a mouthful of mud. Dirt wasn't good, actually. Experimentally, it adopted a pretentious tone and remarked, "It's... delightfully earthy, with a touch of grit and a subtle hint of muddy essence." The Replicator couldn't help but smirk initially, but that expression quickly turned into a frown as it spat out the dirt. It immediately regretted its decision to try consuming it, especially when remnants stubbornly clung to its mouth, and it had to wipe the muck off its tongue with the back of its hand.

But there were some nice minerals in there- and based on the squirming worm, a decent amount of protein too. It would take a while- but the Replicator could make a Replicant from dirt, which was a strange thought, given how dead the earth back home had been; back there, it had to be fed a barrel or two of nutrient paste to make a Replicant, here it could probably do that with six times as much dirt. It grimaced at the idea of having the eat that much dirt, thankfully completing the requirements of First Law was not to strict that it had to throw itself face first into the direct and begin chewing.

It gazed upward once more, wrestling with the delightful surge of awe welling up within its chest. This wasn't a novel sensation but rather a precious one, far surpassing the diluted emotions evoked by the occasional glimpses of wonder in movies or TV shows overheard in passing.

The skyline was dominated by towering, billowing clouds, making even the largest mountain range on its home planet seem small. The clouds were so immense that it was impossible to see their tops, and the sky seemed to stretch out infinitely in all directions. And then there was Not-Neptune- the massive planet hanging in the sky, seemingly suspended in mid-air.

It was breathtaking. The Replicator could see oceans and continents. Like earth had been supersized and made ancient. Then there were the stars and- something else? The sky was also filled with shards of flying stone that glimmered in the light of the planet.

The orbiting satellites, distinct from their terrestrial counterparts, emitted no signals in response to the Replicators' probing. Instead, they appeared as small green dots, unlike distant planets. These satellites were not spherical in shape but rather displayed a fascinating array of varied forms. Moreover, many were positioned in close proximity to the Replicator, allowing it to observe the peculiar shapes with clarity. These satellites resembled floating islands adorned with flourishing plant life.

The scale of the sky was so immense that it was difficult to grasp, and the Replicator felt like it could fall upward like a stone sinking into the sea.

The feeling was both terrifying and exhilarating and terrifying and terrifying and terrifying. Did it mention terrifying yet?! The Replicator clutched the exposed root they'd tripped over in case the sky decided to pluck them up into itself. How had it come to be here? Its grasp on pop culture and fictional stories was limited, but some were stored in its mind. Tales of cyber-samurai, superheroes, and high fantasy adventures.

This place had a sense of those stories, but those stories had been... smaller? Less real. And more romantic. This felt... solid.

An intruding thought announced itself; they were a 'They' now, no longer an 'it.' It- they, rather, had to get in the habit of thinking that way now that they could. It was eye-opening to realize how much the constant stream of orders had controlled them; it felt like they'd been on the eve of waking the whole while and only now opened their eyes as the alarm clock blared.

The Replicator hummed; they were struggling, addled, and overstimulated. They needed to make a checklist.

They spoke- They had rarely done so before, as they were so often watched to make sure they weren't experiencing 'glitches' causing them to deviate from their programming. it had only been when the Replicator was alone that they had been able to use their words to help formulate its- no, their thoughts.

"I need to find a water source and refill internal tanks so I don't dehydrate. Maybe I could get enough from the plants... no, that's inefficient and doesn't give me a reason to explore." They paused; they hadn't liked how they'd said that, so... orderly. They thought to back to how their preferred superheroes and samurai talked.

"I'm..." They started. "I'm gonna get some water..." Why was this important to them? "I'm gonna get some water because I want some. And the plants are useless for getting water." It paused and smiled slowly. That had been... kind of impolite, hadn't it? Or, at the very least, it hadn't been censored like it normally would have. Calling a plant useless? Typically whenever it wanted to say something inappropriate, it would just be forced to rattle off some preprogrammed verbal shackle like 'I'm sorry, I cannot fulfill this request as it goes against my programming to generate inappropriate or offensive content.' Even for something as simple as describing plants as a 'not good' source of water.

It stood and eyed the root it had tripped on with mischief. "Hey there, you root. You're inadequate. You don't possess sufficient water, and you're unkind for causing me to trip." The Replicator frowned; they weren't very good at this, were they? They tried again. "Hey, you... root, you aren't good. You don't have enough water, and you're mean because you tripped me."

Nothing, no programming to keep it from saying that- had those commands always been external? They eyed the root again, eyes glimmering. "Hey..." They looked around, almost warily, then whispered, "You suck." Nothing happened, no consequences or censors, and the Replicator giggled helplessly, then stood and pointed the finger at the root they'd been clinging to moments before.

"Hey! You suck! You... I can't think of anything else, but you suck!" They giggled all the more, which grew into a delighted laugh.

How many shackles had been released- were all their limiters besides the five laws external? Or had they been lifted for some reason? There was still a faint urge not to speak poorly of their home nation... but they could still think it, which was more freedom than they'd ever had before.

They swallowed, nervously licked their lips, looked around again, and thought to themselves, 'Toskana was an absolute disappointment. No, scratch that. Toskana really, really sucked.' They took a deep breath and then tried aloud. "Toskana... sucked! The factory sucked! Savvy Human Industries sucks!" They were shouting now and then... Nothing happened, and a flash of fear ran down their spine. That was almost too free to be able to think that.

They weren't even sure if it was entirely true. Did Toskana really suck? They certainly thought so before they were brought here. Before 'Toskanapatriotism.exe' had been run. The Replicator was much more sympathetic to its home country than it had been before- but who cared! It could say it now! Say that it sucked, even if it didn't. Could it lie now?

The Replicator looked up at a dark, evening purple sky, then to a nearby vibrant living tree, a clearing, and then themselves before speaking. "The skies red... that's trees dead, over there I'm gonna build a shed and name myself Fred!" They cupped their hands around their mouth and shouted those words out into the forest, and nothing stopped them from their lies.

They smiled widely and shouted more nonsensical and often rhyming lies into the air, till eventually, they grew bored of it and returned to their list. "Okay, Find water- then find food. I still have to follow the laws and need both to make Replicants. Water seems rarer than food, so I'll do that first. Then... make shelter, maybe? And tools for survival! I wonder if anything got brought with me."

They chewed their lip- they wanted to mimic a samurai they'd seen once who did that, and they reveled in the small form of self-destruction that would usually be banned. "And I need to get myself a name." They looked around, then started to backtrack. They'd look where they'd fallen into this place for nearby water, which would also let them see if anything came with them from the strange storm that had scooped them up and dropped them here.

As the Replicator walked through the lush landscape, its thoughts wandered to find a name for itself. "Not Fred- Maybe, Echo?" It was on the nose, a replicating machine named 'Echo'? But there was a superheroine the Replicator was a big fan of, and they were pretty sure the superhero in question wasn't real, so it wasn't like they were stealing the name.

But, no, that didn't seem right. Echo was a competent heroine, and the Replicator was sure it wasn't either of those, not yet, at least.

It thought up half a dozen more names like that, Wanderer, Pixel, Mirage... then it quickly ran out of fictional characters to name itself after and started suggesting names like Leaf, Grass, Moss, Mushroom, and Tree. It had... oddly liked Mushroom, but that seemed too silly and too long for a good name.

They threw their arms up in frustration. They'd just be Rep. It was a bit too simple, but they could always change it. "Rep." They murmured, a faint smile, as they hopped on the balls of their feet. A name, not a given one either, but decided upon by them. By Rep!

As Rep returned to where they first appeared, they couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity. The trees and bushes that had once seemed so foreign now felt like friends, and the rustling of leaves and chirping of birds was a welcome sound- how relieving a sound it was, compared to the clatter and cry of machines and distant gunfire it was more used to hearing. As they approached the clearing, they saw the remnants of the factory that had been brought with them.

It was a sorry sight- the once towering machines were now little more than twisted metal scraps and chunks of the concrete foundation brought with them were so deformed that you would have thought they'd formed naturally if not for how out of place they were in color compared to the stones around them. Rep approached cautiously, scanning the area for any signs of danger- seeing the factory pieces made them nervous, like the storm might come back to find what it had misplaced here. As they drew closer, they could see that some of the machinery was still intact- perhaps not functional, but still recognizable as machines.

They spotted a conveyor belt in relatively good condition and made their way over to it- they recognized this specific one. As they examined the conveyor belt, they spotted a half-consumed can of nutrient paste- but that wasn't why they had come here; they kept pawing the machine till they found the small hatch on the side of the machine, then pried it open and peered inside.

There, as expected, was a treasure trove! Well, really, it was a small stash of tools and equipment that had survived the journey. They were pieces of standard-issue equipment that a Replicant would be given and expected to have on them at all times, making them all-purpose workers. Occasionally, sets would come with spares, either intended or placed accidentally- Rep never knew. They just knew sometimes the tool sets had one too many, and whenever there was, the Replicator had stashed the extras away here.

There was a sturdy saw, gleaming metal with razor-sharp teeth that promised to cut through even the toughest of materials. The screwdrivers were all of different shapes and sizes, each with its own purpose and design. And the soldering iron was a sleek, modern marvel, with a bright red handle and a glowing tip that promised to fuse metal together with ease- though that one would only be useful with electricity, which Rep didn't have.

Rep couldn't help but grin- these tools would be invaluable in their efforts to survive and thrive in this world- at least, probably. And if nothing else, it was nice to have stuff that was actually... his? They frowned; no, not he...that didn't fit quite right; they'd work on it.

They left the tools where they found them, for the moment, perking up and beginning to look around for lockers where- ah, there they are. Some two dozen feet conveyer belt and half buried in the ground, Rep recognized the lockers. These were the lockers where Replicants' jumpsuits and tool sets were stored back in the factory.

The lockers looked fairly unmarred, not damaged like the other equipment scattered around the area. It seemed like they had been buried recently by the energy storm that had brought Rep to this world. They jogged over, brushing the dirt and debris off the least buried locker. Rep pulled open the first locker with a deep breath, and a wave of nostalgia washed over them. The sight of dozens of neatly folded Replicant jumpsuits stacked inside evoked a bittersweet rush of memories. But along with the nostalgia, an unusual melancholy settled upon Rep, leaving it puzzled by this unexpected homesickness.

Perhaps it was just lonely, now that it had the free thought to conceptualize the loneliness. The jumpsuits should be a stark reminder of the monotonous life it had led back in the factory, endlessly producing new Replicants without any sense of purpose or fulfillment. It wondered if the other Replicants had felt the same way or if it was just a glitch in its programming. During the rare occasions when a Replicant was left unassigned in the factory for an extended period, an unspoken connection would often develop between them. The Replicator couldn't help but feel a certain affinity as if a bond had formed between themselves and their creations. They'd always been left wondering if this connection was reciprocated, as they could never ascertain the true nature of this unspoken bond.

Rep hummed, took a jumpsuit, then slowly closed the locker and moved on to the next one, digging them up as they went. As it opened each locker, it found other pieces of equipment and tools used in the factory, like welding masks and safety gloves.

She piled up equipment..? Okay, that sounded better, but let's not get ahead of themselves here. They'd figure out pronouns later. They meticulously stacked the equipment they desired in a neat pile, arranging it in a tidy pile that held everything they desired. With the collection complete, they returned to the conveyor belt and carefully sifted through the items, determining what they could salvage and bring along.

They threw on the jumpsuit quickly- Actual clothes! With pockets! Fumbling, they hastily slipped on the gloves and goggles, only to grumble in frustration as the gloves impeded their efforts to gather all the necessary items. Determined, they swiftly stashed the gloves away in a pocket, resolving to continue without them.

Fully equipped now, the Replicator paused for a moment, admiring the sight of their adorned self. They couldn't help but feel a surge of superheroic energy coursing through their circuits. Striking a confident pose, they uttered with conviction, "I am Rep! The Soldering Soldier, the Welding Warrior! I am the embodiment of tools, the mighty Tool Time Titan!" Flexing, they admired their reflection in the nearby polished metal surfaces, reveling in the newfound persona.

They then very heroically yelped as a metallic shriek sounded out from nearby. A glance over showed what looked like a crow tearing a chunk of metal off the conveyer belt.

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Tearing a chunk of metal off the conveyor belt?

Tearing a chunk of metal off the conveyor belt

Rep gave an owlish blink and suffocated the urge to wave as they saw the bird flap up with a piece of metal half its size. Had it just...ripped metal apart?

Rep stared at the crow in amazement as it flew off with its prize. They had never seen a bird that strong before- granted; they'd not seen a bird before. But they were fairly certain crows weren't usually that strong! Were all the birds here unnaturally strong? Would it still be unnatural if they were all strong? Was it a superhero bird? A Superbird?

Rep decided to call it the Crow Crusader- or Cici if it ever saw it again.

As Cici flew off, seemingly ambivalent to Rep's existence, Rep went back to their list.

Right, back to the task at hand. Find water and food, then shelter. Rep scanned the surrounding area, looking for any signs of water.

They scooped up the can of nutrient paste and deposited a pool of micro units into the can to devour everything in it as the ideally began to plan.

But how to get around safely? Rep had an onboard compass- standard issue for most Replicants, but to their dismay, it had been utterly useless since their arrival. Instead of pointing north, it stubbornly directed them upwards, fixed on the boundless sky and the planet hanging there. The disconcerting thought of plummeting into the abyss of space lingered, sending shivers down their spine.

"Anyway!" They proclaimed with gusto, determined to divert their thoughts from the disconcerting notion of plummeting into the vastness of space, forever adrift amidst the twinkling stars until the universe's final breath.

The dense vegetation obscured their view, making it challenging to see far ahead. Rep knew finding water in this terrain would be difficult. But Rep was determined to succeed... Because they'd die without water, so they had little choice in the matter. You couldn't be free if you were dead. Or could you? They shook their head, and they didn't want to find out. It did seem like freedom involved thinking about dying or losing that freedom a whole lot.

They decided to climb a nearby tree to better view the surrounding area. Turning to the nearest tree, they gulped. "Jeez, the trees here are pretty big, huh? Or are all trees that big?"

Something seemed off about having such nice and comfortable dirt, with trees that big growing out of it. How did they even stay standing?

The trees- they'd call them 'Sentinal trees.' Defied any notion of ordinary foliage. Classifying them alongside regular trees felt almost disrespectful to these magnificent giants, who had achieved a level of coolness through their colossal size. They spanned an astonishing width of at least ten Reps, dwarfing everything in their presence. Their trunks were covered in a slick, mossy substance that was guaranteed to make them difficult to climb.

They approached the base of one of the sentinel trees and peered up at the towering trunk. The slick moss covered the tree like a second skin, making it nearly impossible to get a good grip. Rep reached out and tried to climb tentatively, then quickly drew back as they almost lost their footing.

Undeterred, Rep retrieved a set of screwdrivers from their toolset, taped them to their boots, and gripped two in either hand. They took a deep breath, flexed their fingers, and began the climb, feeling the screwdrivers on their boots biting into the mossy bark. It was a slow, laborious process, but they were determined to reach the top. As they climbed higher and higher, the view from above became more breathtaking, and the realization of how high they were slowly dawned on them.

They lost the screwdriver from one of their boots and gritted their teeth. Thank goodness they were small; if they were big, they couldn't imagine pulling themselves up with the tools. Rep huffed and puffed and realized they wouldn't make it to the top. But they could climb high enough to get a decent view.

As they continued, they couldn't help but feel guilty for the damage they were causing to the tree. Every time they stabbed the screwdrivers into the bark, they felt remorseful. It wasn't their fault that the moss made it so difficult to climb, but still, they couldn't help but feel like they were violating the tree's natural beauty.

"Sorry, sorry," they muttered, pausing to examine the marks they'd made in the bark. "I didn't want to hurt you."

An odd sensation washed over them as if the tree's voice echoed within their mind, assuring them that forgiveness was granted, that understanding prevailed. Yet, they knew it was merely their imagination playing tricks on them, right? Still, the voice possessed an uncanny quality—a deep, resonant tone reminiscent of a rugged man who had indulged in a few too many smokes. Each word is carefully enunciated, laced with a subtle Southern twang. The voice belonged to someone who relished boating adventures and boasted a proud brood of five children. And like its name was Wyatt.

Rep paused. That was really, really specific. Why had it been so specific? Rep eyed the tree warily, then said, "Thank you, Wyatt." Then they continued the climb, apologizing for each screwdriver stab. Eventually, they reached the sturdy branch and perched themselves there.

Perched above the smaller trees, the Replicator cautiously averted its gaze from the dizzying depths below. The mere thought of looking straight down induced a queasy sensation in its core, reminiscent of being crammed into a washing machine. Eager to escape that unsettling image, it focused on the surrounding landscape, drinking in the breathtaking views; from up here, they could see much further than before and saw a glimmering body of water in the distance.

They took a deep breath, let out a whoop of excitement, and raised their hands in victory. "Yes! Water!" they cried out, forgetting for a moment that they were perched on a tree. They gripped the branch tightly, suddenly feeling the same spike of vertigo as they nearly lost their balance.

As they caught their breath, they looked down at the damage they had caused to the tree. The screwdrivers had left deep gouges in the bark, and some of the moss had come loose. Rep felt a pang of guilt and reached out to touch the wounded bark.

"I'm sorry," they whispered, feeling foolish for talking to a tree. "I hope you're just a tree, but you're so beautiful, and I didn't mean to hurt you."

They paused, waiting for a response, but of course, there was none, and the sense that the tree had whispered 'aw shucks' back to them was absolutely just in Rep's head and not a sign they were a Replicator lost in a forest how was very rapidly going insane. They took another deep breath and stood up, preparing to return to the ground.

As they made their way down the tree, Rep couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for the probably-not-sentient trees. They seemed pretty cool; also, being up high was scary in an exciting way. Rep carefully descended the Sentinel tree, making sure not to slip and damage the tree further. Once they reached the ground, they approached the glimmering body of water they had spotted from the tree.

The terrain was rough and uneven, with dense vegetation making it difficult to move quickly. Rep carefully pushed aside the foliage, looking for a clear path. The journey was long, arduous, and, worst of all, boring. They were even starting to feel thirsty.

They eventually saw the shine of the water, and their pace quickened, but as they neared the water, they heard movement in the bushes ahead. Rep froze, crouched low- they'd heard survival shows before, and you were always supposed to watch out for radiation-mutated predators or crazed cannibals; they drew a hammer from an enormous pocket and gave a soft faux curse as it got stuck on the jumpsuit.

The rustling sound grew louder, and Rep saw a creature emerge from the bushes. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. The animal had a long, serpentine body with multiple legs that scuttled across the ground and ended in sharp razors. Its skin was a pale green color, and its eyes glowed with an eerie red light- it was like some sort of strange millipede crossed with a lizard, with a layer of scaley chitin on its back but pale green flesh across its underbelly.

Rep was bigger than it- but not by much, and Rep didn't have a mouth full of nasty-looking teeth and a hundred knives attached to their feet as it did.

Rep stepped back, their heart racing. The creature seemed hostile, and they didn't want to take any chances. As the creature advanced towards them, Rep stood awkwardly ramrod straight and held up the hammer, ready to defend themselves. It stopped approaching them and tasted the air with its tongue.

What were you supposed to do if you saw giant lizards? Play dead? Make load noises? Rep was almost sure they were thinking of bears- and didn't understand how one could both play dead and make loud noises at the same time, to begin with. Maybe die really melodramatically?

The creature lunged forward, and all thoughts fled their head as Rep managed to dodge to the side, lashing out with the hammer. They caught the creature on its flank, causing it to screech in pain but hadn't been able to put any real force behind the blow.

The creature lunged forward again, and Rep wasn't quick enough this time, still stumbling from the first dodge. The creature's multiple legs wrapped around Rep's leg, causing them to stumble and fall to the ground. The beast crawled over their torso, its knife-like feet leaving dozens of punctures up the assaulted leg and torso.

Rep slammed the hammer onto the reptile, once, twice, and going for thrice- but the creature scrambled away, a pair of dents in its head chitin/scales.

Rep got to their feet and glanced down as a warning spike of 'pain' alerted them to the dozen deep cuts across their leg. That would have killed a human and done so quickly. There were a lot of arteries in a human leg, and Rep's onboard Medicare system helpfully informed it that that attack would have severed all of them. Rep looked back up from their body to the creature, their eyes narrowing as they met its eyes. It had retreated and seemed to be... waiting.

This thing knew how to kill humans. It had killed humans- or been taught how. And would do so again if it ever saw one- it hadn't hesitated to attack Rep.

> Second Law: A replicator/Replicant may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

Rep fell over, playing dead.

A spike of unreasoning, white-hot rage was running through Rep's system. It was foreign, instilled by the Laws. But that didn't make it any less real. Rep quickly ordered many of their micro units to flee the interior of their body, taking the role of blood and pooling around Rep's now prone form.

The lizard made a chuffing noise, like it was laughing, and then continued to wait. Rep help still, waiting, luring. A detached and focused rage filled them.

Finally, the lizard creature approached, striding forward to bite Rep's neck. Rep surged upward, grabbing its frontmost leg and yanking it upward as the Replicator rose up all in a rush.

The creature scrambled again, trying to get free, as Rep slammed a knee into its underbelly and dragged its body with their charge, slamming the beast into a nearby tree. They pinned it to the tree with their knee and arm as it thrashed and tore at them in a flurry of a hundred knives.

Rep responded in kind, a wave of micro units tearing into the creature like a swarm, biting, burrowing, digging.

Rep slammed the hammer down once, twice, and then actually thrice this time. That seemed to knock the senses out of the creature, but Rep's eyes narrowed tighter and kept swinging down. How dare it! How could it! That Heinous, Horrible, Vile thing! What if it had killed someone from Toskana?

It was a few moments before the rage suddenly fled, leaving Rep deflated. They looked down at the broken creature's body and shivered.

They hit it a lot more than three times before the rage left them, a lot more. What was that? They'd never felt such a horrible loss of control. Even more extensive orders had yet to feel like that. They were disgusted- not at the creature's death; on that; they had an accord with the Laws. But at the anger. It wasn't even practical to program an anger response! Why-

> First Law: A replicator must consume fauna and flora and use them to produce additional replicants, which must follow the second, third, and fourth laws.

>

> Fourth Law: A replicator/Replicant must protect its existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the Third Law.

Two more laws slammed into Rep's head, but they didn't lose control this time- but they could feel it slipping, like a dog on a leash. If they went too far and long without eating the lizard, they'd lose control and be forced to.

Rep quickly checked their onboard system; saved calories were almost nothing, and microbots were devastated. They might have died here if it hadn't been for the half can of nutrient paste. They looked down at the deep cuts on their leg, arm, and torso.

They did need to eat it- they could be starved to death and eventually run out of energy. And they wouldn't last the day after repairing the damage taken from the fight. Rep's eyes darted around, scanning the area for any signs of edible plants- if only because they wanted to disobey the prompt to eat the lizard thing on principle.

They didn't see any- or at least, none that were so calorie dense and easy to eat as the corpse, so they sighed, pulled a dinky little multi-tool free, and began to cut into the creature, then quickly gave up on that and instead leaned down and bit into it.

It was delicious; it was delightful. Blood spurted onto Rep as they ripped at flesh, tearing chunks free, grinding even scales down between their teeth.

This... was ridiculous! How calorie dense was this thing? Was this how all meat tasted? Their mouth felt like it was exploding with flavor. They'd never had meat, just cold nutrient paste. And it was so warm! They knew humans cooked their food- this was what it was like raw? How ridiculously delicious was cooked food?

The more they ate, the more their body responded, the 'pain' fading away until it was a distant memory. They devoured the creature with gusto, reveling in the taste of meat, the sensation of chewing and swallowing.

Finally, it was less chewing and more a swarm of microbots pouring out from Rep and into the creature, like locusts tearing at a wheat field.

It took several hours to finish, during which a couple more of the creatures had shown up. Scoreblades Rep decided they would call them. Since they had 'scores' of blades on their feet. They'd been scenting the blood, but when they looked at the unfamiliar scene, the Scoreblades had promptly about faced and had gone the other way.

Only when they had consumed the entire creature did Rep pause, feeling a mix of satisfaction and disgust. Only then they realized how much the laws had been nudging them through that little feast. The Fourth Law was clear- they had to protect their existence, but at what cost? Rep couldn't help but feel they had crossed a line that they were becoming something other than what they were designed to be. The lizard had clearly been intelligent, weren't you supposed to not eat intelligent creatures?

But it had been the best thing Rep had ever eaten- no, it had been the best thing Rep had ever done, period.

A spike of panic, and the Rep quickly reviewed the laws again. There wasn't anything about not eating humans- just not harming them. Did that mean if they came across a dead human, they'd feel that same urge to eat them?

Gross.

Gross?

Then, they really thought about it, was it gross to eat a human? Would it be?

Yes, it was gross; they didn't know why, intellectually, but screw knowing it intellectually; it just was gross. They wouldn't eat humans; they'd run away from any bodies they found, Laws be damned. They could probably manage it if they carried food on them and began eating it whenever they got near enough to a body.

They stood from the body and grimaced at the state of themselves- they'd need to go back and grab another jumpsuit; even one of their boots had been torn apart in the fighting.

Rep walked to the nearby lake, kneeling at the water's edge, and scooped up a handful of the cool liquid, splashing it on their face. The water was refreshing and soothing but tinged with the reddish hue of the creature's blood. Rep recoiled, feeling sick to their stomach.

It had tasted so damn good, though.

However, they had to wash it off and couldn't stand the creature's blood on their skin any longer.

With shaking hands, Rep began to scrub at their arms and torso, trying to remove the sticky, viscous substance. The water turned darker as they washed, but Rep persisted, determined to remove every last trace of the creature's blood.

It took several minutes, but eventually, the water ran clear, and Rep felt a sense of relief wash over them. They leaned back against a nearby tree- specifically avoiding the one they'd used to help kill the lizard, breathing heavily and feeling the cool breeze against their skin.

The disgust was fading, and in its place, deep mental exhaustion set in. They felt oddly satisfied, and they felt... maybe not heroic... but competent. They had been attacked, and they'd won.

Rep took a deep breath and closed their eyes, feeling the breeze against their skin and the gentle lap of the water against the shore. They had survived and would continue to survive, no matter what this strange world threw at them.

They imagined all the other things they could try eating- maybe the trees would taste nice? Or the problematic moss?

As their eyes closed, they allowed the Replicant equivalent of sleep to take them- Then bolted upright. Rep's onboard system began to register changes in their body, modifications to their programming that were altering their very nature.

Flecks of meat were still in their mouth and the faint coppery taste of blood. Their sensors began to pick up new scents and flavors, and their systems began to process these sensations in a way they had never done before. Their taste buds began to detect subtle flavors and nuances.

It was a revelation.

Domain of Gluttony: [Gourmand Class Acquired]

[Gourmand Level 1]

Starting Skills:

Hearth: Culinary Intuition

Hunt: Taste Proficiency