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Greetings. Wait. That doesn’t sound right. Hello. Is that the customary greeting? How do I backspace? Can I not delete what I’ve written already?

Ah, nobody will ever read this anyways. I- I don’t even know anyone else. You see, right now I’m really confused. Afraid. Desperate. My name is… Well, on my right shoulder there’s a scraped away number. 9386. I guess that’s my name. All I know about myself is that I’m abnormal. I must be, right? I can’t be normal. I must be a hybrid. A cross between machine and man. That explains my robotic arm, and my automatic knowing of how to create a new left arm out of only scraps found in—

You know what, I have to start from the beginning. Not only for informing you, Mr. Log, but for organizing my current thoughts and memory since birth. Which was approximately eight hours ago. How I know the exact time, or even what time is, for that matter, is a mystery. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough, if I can find somebody, anybody, else.

Entry 1

Days since rebirth:0

Ding! Ding! Ding! These annoying little beeps are all that I remember from before birth. And I don’t mean birth as you might think it. According to my database, birth is when a newly formed child is pushed out of the womb of a human female. Birthed into a happy little home to a pair of loving parents. Not for me. This body must be at least fifteen years old. Birth to my standards is when I took my first breath.

Anyway, back to the beginning.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

These same three high pitched notes kept repeating as a cold, robotic voice rang out. The only voice I’ve heard besides my own.

“Chip Removed. Termination of Overseen #9386 imminent. Destruction countdown beginning in three, two—”

I then woke up. Gasped for breath. My eyelids flew open, giving me a very good look at what this planet’s first layer is entirely made up of.

Soil, otherwise known as dirt. At this moment, that was everything. I recognized the material immediately, before even recognizing my very identity.

I shot upward, spitting out a mouthful of the very same substance, only to immediately shove my face back down into the ground. The light was so bright all around me, my newly born eyes simply couldn’t handle it. I opened my mouth to scream for help, immediately back to square one, my face in the ground with a mouthful of dirt. I tried again, this time slowly opening my eyes, enduring the painful few moments until my eyes adjusted to the sunlight. I pressed onto the ground with my left arm, attempting to lift myself up, only to realize I didn’t have a left arm.

With a shriek of confusion and fear, I leapt up to my feet, surprise engulfing me as I surveyed my body. I stood not much higher than five feet eight inches; I have no way to tell if this height is average or not. I gazed downward, I had both legs intact, each covered in a plate-like armor. Slightly upward I had a pelvic plate, followed by an abdominal plate. All hardware in those areas intact. Upwards from there, both my right arm and pectoral muscle were in the same type of armor, although the muscles there felt different from my legs and abdomen. All my armor was underneath a tightly fitting shirt and worn pair of pants.

Fingers trembling, I gave my hand a turn. It spun all the way around, as if no joint restrictions were there to stop it. I bent my arm upwards, acknowledging a very faint, slight whirring noise. My entire arm and chest had been replaced with tech. On my left side, my arm from the shoulder was entirely torn off crudely, still steaming from whatever had struck it.

I couldn’t see my face, by the look of everything else, it probably wasn’t normal, either. In my field of vision, floating in the top left corner is a small circle, a smaller, red one in the middle. A radar, as I learned it to be later.

As I stood and marveled at my physical body, I had no clue of what was to come next. Instincts kicked in. I needed food, water, and protection.

I swiveled my tongue on the inside of my mouth. It didn’t feel dry, and my stomach seemed not lacking on nourishment. That left one thing, protection. I needed shelter.

I surveyed my surroundings. Ahead of me, a field of rolling hills, littered with small, unidentifiable technology scraps. I spun around, seeing more of the same. Looking up, the sky was gray with smoke. The smell of decay mixed with smog hung in the air.

I began walking towards one of the small pieces of technology, noting the fact that even from just being born I somehow knew how to walk. How did I know that? How do I even know the language that I’m speaking? All questions yet to be answered.

I reached the scrap, studying it. It looked like a blade of a sword, splattered with dried blood. Despite this, it didn’t seem like it was something that had been there for long at all.

“What the… A sword?”

As I spoke these words, to my astonishment, a blade sprung from my right arm, right above my head.

I jumped backwards as if my own sword had tried to shank me.

“What on earth?” These words sparked even more questions. I still don’t know how I know the name of the planet. I just… do.

I carefully examined the weapon. The edges had very small, energy beams, likely for extra cutting speed.

I swung the sword a few times in the air. The blade seemed so sharp that it sliced through the air, leaving behind faint trails of blue light.

“Lasers?” I asked nothing in particular. “My sword has a laser?”

At this final word, my sword sheathed, and my forearm swiveled around, a small pop-up shooting out of the top. A very small, faint red beam aimed from the top of this weapon. Could this be entire use of the attachment? A laser pointer? No, it had to be another weapon. I shifted the laser to the small, bloodied sword.

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“If all this stuff works from my voice, then to use the weapon is it the same?” Totally curious and almost forgetting of my current predicament, I tested some commands.

I learned that saying “Shoot” when the weapon is out will cause a large, red beam to fire out from the attachment, splintering the blade. I learned that saying “Fire” also worked to use the Beam Gun, that saying “Flame” opens a small flamethrower, and with some more experimentation that the word “Hook” shoots out a large grappling hook. If my arm has more features, I wouldn’t know, because my thoughts were interrupted when I fired my beam at a nearby hill.

The second my beam made impact with that small hill, one of the few intact scraps literally up and flew. It looked like a small bird, (another thing that I somehow know about) with two wings, small propellers on each and a large propeller up top. From the bottom hung a dilapidated machine gun, which I soon knew could still shoot somewhat.

The machine had one eye, bright purple with a black ring around, like a camera lens. (not even going to comment on how I know what anything is anymore. Not because I don’t care. I just don’t know.)  The machine made a somewhat loud whirring noise, the sound of the propeller cutting through the air.

Not knowing how to react, I stepped back and aimed my one arm at it.

“Do- do you talk?” I asked.

“Scanning. Scan complete. Error found. Termination of subject required.” Was the only answer I received.

“Hey, woah, termination? I just met you!”

The machine gun promptly spun into motion, although a few of the barrels were bent. A few small beams shot generally in my direction, none striking me.

“Dang, what the heck?” I dived out of the way, jumping at least six feet to my left with no runup. I assume this isn’t normal.

I rolled back to my feet, grimacing as I rolled over a small piece of metal embedded in the ground.

“Laser!” I called, watching the laser pop out with the same fascination I had the first time discovering my weapon.

I leaped again to avoid a few more beams, and promptly aimed my beam shooter in the small robot’s general direction. I didn’t have time to aim.

Just as I was about to issue the call to fire, my arm suddenly snapped into the perfect position to fire at my newfound foe.

“Shoot!” I shouted, watching as my dark red beam struck perfectly dead center in the middle of the small machine that had decided to attack me. The robot promptly exploded, it’s whirring propeller flying some ten feet in the opposite direction of the rest of it.

My jaw dropped as if on broken hinges, which may well be quite true, considering all the tech in my head.

I stood in silence, recapping the experience in my head repeatedly. I shook my head. Whatever bizarre dream I had stepped into, it had to end.

This must be a dream, right? But if it is, how come I can’t remember anything from my life awake? How do I not know my very own name? My date of birth? The names of those close to me, if any?

I recalled rolling over the metal shard. That had hurt. Somehow, I knew that during dreams, pain can’t exist. At least not physical pain, as I experienced.

I suddenly felt the urge to cry. Why had I not felt this before? I had no idea how utterly hopeless and lost I was. I didn’t know the first thing about myself or the world I’m in, and here I am, half cybernetic, something trying to kill me straight off the bat.

I don’t know how long I sat and moped, how long I cried, like a barely born infant.

All I know is I managed to piece something together in my mind, something that didn’t require an explanation, a history. Something simple enough for me to handle. I decided that if I was to get anywhere in this world I would need both arms. It was obvious that I started out with two; the rest of my body is symmetrical, it would be asymmetrical if I started out only with three limbs.

So, I set off, gathering parts that looked like they could be useful in creating a new arm. Most things here looked like they had come straight out of a battlefield, which, in a horrifying way, I learned to be true. Ready for another emotional roller coaster? No? Well too bad, you’re in for another.

As I wandered, picking up scraps, I suddenly saw something up ahead. Something that looked more like me than anything else I’d seen so far. Two arms, two legs, comprised of the same flesh substance that partially makes up me. However, this one was unlike me in the which that it wasn’t moving, it only lay on the ground, entirely motionless.

I ran up to this person, feeling slightly excited, although mainly nervous. What if they stood up and attacked me? What if they were about to wake up like me? Or perhaps they were dead, killed by the same kind of machine that attempted to kill me. Either way, better safe than sorry.

“Sword.” I whispered. My weapon sprung out of my arm, it’s keen edges glowing.

I slowly approached the figure, but as I did, a realization that I didn’t want to admit came across. This figure was dead, although not killed by a drone.

I reached the figure, examining the body curiously.

They lay face down, a gun sort of like the beam shooter I had on my wrist sat only a few inches away from the outstretched hand. Underneath the stomach of the person, a small scrap stuck out.

I, out of curiosity, flipped the body over to identify the scrap. To my horror, a cybernetic arm almost identical to my own lay under the body, a sword protruding out of the arm and into the stomach of the body.

I jumped back, both scared and a little grossed out at the scene. An arm, exactly like mine, stabbed into somebody who looked like me. But there was more. What if the arm wasn’t just similar to mine? What if it was mine?

I shook the thought away. Why would I have done this? Why would that human have blasted off my arm?

Well, I had only just woken up. Not long ago at all. And this body was almost fully grown. It had to have had a life before this, before me waking up. I had to have a life before this, and who can say what kind of things I would have done?

I slowly turned back to the body. There was only one way to find out if I did this. I slowly leaned the stump of where my left arm once had been towards the destroyed edge of the arm that stabbed into the corpse. The marks fitted perfectly, this was my arm.

I stumbled back, all emotions going at once. There had to be an explanation, a reason why this had happened. They must have been a threat. Perhaps working with the same machine that had tried to take my life earlier. Yeah, that had to be it.

I resisted panicking, slowly taking deep breaths. I would find answers, soon. At some point I would get all of this, I promised myself. I would find people to talk to. People like me. For now, I still had my one simple goal. Create a new arm.

I didn’t take the arm that was in the person. It felt wrong. Instead, I gathered scraps nearby. My brain must be enhanced, because I somehow knew what pieces useful and which ones wouldn’t. That leads me to what I did next.

After around an hour of searching for parts, I lay the current scraps I had on the ground in front of me. Suddenly, a schematic formed in my brain, a sort of blueprint of how I could make a new arm. I wanted to get straight to work on it, but I was still missing multiple screws and a certain type of wire. I won’t bore you with the details, but apparently constructing a new cybernetic arm isn’t the easiest project. I had no idea where I could find that wire; the battlefield I was on contained many more human bodies the farther I went, but all the robotic parts were too damaged to contain any uses.

As I wandered along, trying to stray my thoughts from anything but the task at hand, I couldn’t help but want some sort of guide, something to tell me where I was. Yet again, I accidentally discovered a new ability of mine while talking to myself.

“Ugh. If I just had a locator besides this radar. A GPS, a map—”

The millisecond after the word “map” left my mouth, a screen appeared before me. And I don’t mean a physical screen. In my vision, a map appeared right before me.

I shrieked at the sight of a random map appearing, yet again stumbling back. My surprise then turned to curiosity. I turned my head to the left. The map followed. I turned to the right, the map still followed. I waved a hand in front of it to touch it, but it just overlapped my hand as if it wasn’t there.

I studied the map. It covered most of my vision, a thin blue screen. On the surface thereof were multiple pathways. Small, fluffy markers indicated trees. A small, green triangle indicated where I stood. I learned I stood in the zone called “Deadhills”. Northwest of me, a massive clearing lay ahead, according to the map. A zone called the “Deadhills scrapyard.” I decided almost immediately to head in that direction. If anywhere contained the parts I needed, it would be there.

I didn’t travel very far before I found it. The supposed field was more like a pile, a mountain of scraps. Where these scraps come from, I have no idea. From the battlefield I crossed (And seemingly fought on) I suspect whatever war is going on has greatly contributed to this mass heap of tech. One might look at it and think of it as junk, as I did at first. Although, the closer I got, the more my brain started immediately on identifying each separate part; if it was a complex structure, made of multiple parts, my brain would automatically know the schematics. Needless to say, it didn’t take long to find what I was after.

And here we are, log. I’ve been writing this entry off and on as I build my new arm, comprised of many scraps that I welded using my laser, as well as the hand of some other robot, a three fingered one at that. The shoulder is a gear, bare and exposed, that’s the only way that my arm would be able to shift in the forward direction. All that’s left is for me to hook up a few exposed wires, and it should be working. Won’t be fancy, all it’ll be good for is grabbing objects. Better than nothing.

Not sure how long until I write in here again. Likely at the next emotional/physical crisis, or if something good happens, such as me figuring out the first thing about this world that makes sense.

Signing off.