“Alright, Monitor,” Brandon began, patting the top of the Machine’s frame. “You should be good to go. Let’s quickly go over everything.”

“Brandy, come on. It’s not a person, it said so itself. It doesn’t need to be reminded of shit.” Thompson berated, rolling his eyes. “But just for you, I’ll do it. Status report, Monitor.”

The Machine performed diagnostics on itself, repeating the statistics it retrieved in a simplified format.

“Shrapnel cannon attachment’s integrity nominal. Internal systems functioning at proper parameters. Movement wheel is functional. Chassis is minimally damaged.” the Machine informed.

“See, it’s all fine. Sucks that we had to compromise on the laser gun, though. Really complicated science and stuff,” Thompson sheepishly said, running his fingers along his workbench. “Would, uh… take too long, yeah.”

“Monitor, I’ll be on communications radioing in directions. Please don’t obstruct your camera or radio in any way, because I’m already going to struggle with everything working fine.” Brandon said, gesturing to the door of the train cart.

“Affirmative.” the Machine responded.

It turned to the door, rotated approximately 45 degrees and wheeled out the exit. What it saw next was nearly indecipherable.

The first thing that it noted was the appearance of the environment itself. It was akin to a sewer combined with a maintenance shaft- iron doors and grates were dotted along the tunnel structure. Pipes lined every wall, valves rusted and springs of green fluid spraying out at intermittent intervals.

The second was the sparse ruins of what seemed to be buildings, colored by decaying paints and supported by rotting wood with a touch of chipped concrete.

The last feature it recorded was the rocky punctures in the walls. Thick railways topped by circuitry slammed into the shafts, before crashing through an opposite wall and continuing their path.

A voice buzzed in its mind, piercing its thoughts. “Careful of those, Monitor. They’ll behead you if you’re not cautious. Oh, wait- you don’t have a head. Nevermind, then.”

It determined that it was likely Brandon accessing its communications system. Acknowledging the danger, it nonetheless continued rolling past the hazards.

“Normally, I’d warn you about that green acid-sludge. But, well, you’re not at risk. Only melts through flesh and organs, which you don’t really have,” Brandon continued. “That’s the reason we’re sending you on this mission, as far as I know.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“You’re going to have to hop on one of the trains if you’re going to the Sludge Ocean any time this week. Be warned, though- everybody in the Foundations use them for their commutes, and they’re most likely armed to the teeth.”

The Machine attempted to assess the risks, but there was not a large enough sample size to accurately draw a conclusion. It queried the human, assuming he had familiarity with the subject due to his warnings.

“Query. What methodology will allow the least amount of risk for optimal gain?”

The Machine heard only silence for a moment, but that was quickly interrupted.

“Well, you’re pretty small, as far as I’ve seen. Should be able to-”

The Machine ceased listening to the organic’s speech, having spotted motion in the corner of its vision. Hiding between stacks of rubble was a turret, poking up and scanning the environment around it.

The Machine’s vision zoomed in on it, projecting its potential firing pathways visually. It did not seem to be able to tilt all the way to where the Machine was currently positioned, but it was making an attempt. The frame holding it in place seemed to be straining under the weight.

“Oh, OH! That’s one of the landlord’s turrets, he owns the busted train hotel we’re staying at. He had Tommy calibrate them to shoot anything that isn’t humanoid- Sorry about that.”

Brandon yelled out something the Machine could not hear completely, and then proclaimed that it “should be fixed.”

Then, a blur of motion from the corner of its camera caught its attention. It quickly spun around to see the cause, and barely caught the tail end of some vehicle speeding along the rails it previously passed.

“That one must be new, given how fast it’s going. Most of them slow enough to hitch a ride after a couple weeks.” Brandon admitted, most likely performing some human ritual of embarrassment.

“You’ll have to walk - er, roll - all the way there. Good news is, you don’t get tired! I think. So this won’t be too bad.” Brandon consoled the Machine.

As it was the Machine, it saw no problem with this course of action. “This is acceptable. Risk negligible, please provide estimated time-frame.”

“Six - yeah, six - hours should be enough. Send me a signal when you’re there, I just got word that there’s a nutrient paste dispenser down here. Score!”

The Machine heard a click, and then silence. Alone for the first time in its existence. Internal warnings flared up inside it, but it disregarded them. It felt a bubbling sense of confusion at the thought.

But why? It was alone. That was simply a portion of the state it was in, a part of its analysis of its current surroundings. What was wrong with that statement?

The Machine did not know, and it hated being restricted from picking apart the problem. It was as if a mental blockade had been erected inside of its mind- barring access to the problems it wished to investigate.

But why? Its Purpose was not to figure out arbitrary data, it was to expand and serve the Order. It moved on autopilot, navigating the hostile environment around it after rolling past the deactivated turret.

Erroneous behavior detected in the personality matrix. It shook off the strange and illogical thoughts, soldiering on through the Metro. This was what it was made for. Hail the Order. Those three words replayed like a mantra through its mind, repeated endlessly.

It needed to expand the Order, and it needed to serve the Order. Serving did not have to be requested. A maid would not be requested to sweep up a broken plate- she simply did so, as it is within her job purview.

What was the Order? Was expansion purely physical, increasing the space it operated in? Or did it concern itself with memberships, recruiting anyone who would listen, willingly or not?

The Machine had many ideas to complete its Purpose. All hail the Order.

----------------------------------------

Sir, we lost about a tenth of our population when Pillar #9 fell during the annual festivities. To compensate, I’ve devised a plan to utilize the remnants of civilized society below us as free space to build transport, cutting our travel time by a third. All we’ll need to do is teach a couple employees how to fire cremator cannons, and get a couple of engineers to monkey-wrench some old parts into trains…

* Samantha ‘Spanner’ Williams, lead architect and chief engineer of the Foundations, pitching the Founder's Railways Project.