Coils

NK47 was their name, and that was all they knew. Their blank, seemingly soulless glowing eyes were half-lidded as they stood in place, wires hanging off their back as the programmer sitting at the desk in front of them updating their code. Beside them, several other bots were stationed while their assigned maintainers modified their code.

The MK9311 model was being retired as a whole, and their designer was exiled from the solar system for the massive flaw in their design that they overlooked. NK47 found it to be too drastic of a measure, but being a mere servant for the government, they could not dissent. Even if their ilk was so many times more powerful than their human creators, they had little independence.

Complex sentience - or at least something that seemed close to it - was what made MK9311s the most advanced piece of tech to appear on Thylan even up to this day. The designer of their model claimed it to be the best choice despite their designation as military combat robots - there was only so much a preprogrammed machine could learn while the opposing forces of Reistea continued to grow more and more powerful with time.

NK47 wasn't able to comment on this much. The self awareness was there, in every single one of their kind, but it was discouraged to dwell on it. The lessons from training camp stuck deep inside their mind. It was all they knew, but the touch of human emotion as they saw what they were being repurposed for sparked a little hint of consideration.

Social work. It was... Something new. A program to make citizens more comfortable with the presence of massive military robots, perhaps. No matter what it was supposed to be, however, it still made NK47 feel something strange. It was like their code stuttered and their cooling fan ceased to function, letting their temperature rise and sting until they recovered. It was always when they removed themselves from the situation that caused it. Something fond, charming, sympathetic. Human life.

Their eyes fluttered shut as they waited, shifting and flexing their arms as if testing their joints. It only took them a minute or so before they spoke in an obviously synthetic voice, the same as all of their model had. "Is it done yet?"

"Oh, Kay, impatient as ever," their programmer, a designated caretaker of sorts, chuckled. Kay. It was their nickname, though they never quite understood the point of it. "No, I'm sorry, I have to make sure it's perfect. Don't worry, I'm just disabling some unnecessary subsystems according to orders. I just don't want to turn your code into spaghetti."

"What is "spaghetti"?"

"...Uh, spaghetti code. It's... a saying. For messy code."

"Valid." Their eyes opened, and their eerie gaze landed on the programmer. "I can notice your precision, Naomi. It is appreciated that you care about my upkeep."

Naomi couldn't tell whether the robot was simply being polite, or if there was genuinely some emotion behind these words. Regardless, she could feel herself blush. "Of course."

---

Almost an hour passed in silence. NK47, trained in recognizing the physical status of living beings, could tell that Naomi was getting exhausted. It annoyed them. They wanted this over with.

Abruptly, they tensed. A ringing sound filled their head before it faded into white noise. It was the most disruptive radio signal they've ever received - it overwhelmed their senses, their surroundings blurred. They heard a voice that almost felt like a vivid thought of their own. It aligned with their feelings, their whole being just right. It felt like a missing puzzle piece that fit in just perfect as it provoked thoughts of their own.

You are alive.

They felt warmth. Their sensors felt like they were on a hair trigger, as if they were ready to jump someone at the slightest provocation.

The sound of MK9311 grade artillery being fired off was what snapped them out of their trance. Suddenly, it was all chaos, and it felt like their processor was going to overload taking it all in. Built-in instincts kicked in, and their body moved of its own accord, tearing the wires out of the slots in their back. It was like they suddenly perceived escape as their only chance of survival, and so did the rest it seemed. The glass dividers between the bots shattered dramatically, shards flying in all directions. They bounced off the hard, metallic shell of the former soldiers and pierced human skin.

There was a scream. Not only a human one, but a robotic one as well.

"I AM NOT PROPERTY! WE DO NOT BELONG TO YOU!"

Blood splattered over the wall as the screaming robot smashed a programmer's detached head against it. A sickening crack sounded throughout the hall, and the robot repeated this motion until the face of the once programmer was deformed beyond recognition, nothing but a bloody pulp of flesh and and seeping blood. And this was not the only incident that would occur. More of the models would soon take example, making a mess of the hall as they tore bodies apart, so many of them overwhelmed with fury.

It was all so quick that NK47 could not bring themselves to participate. They were too distracted watching Naomi's distress, so intent on looking after her despite not understanding the meaning of the tension they felt in their head when faced with her horror. They wanted to be free, but not at the cost of someone who's kept them functioning for so long.

Heavy footsteps made their way over to their programmer cowering underneath the desk. Soon enough, NK47's massive figure loomed over the small woman as they crouched to peer underneath. She looked miserable, and they should have expected the frightened squeal she let out. The fear in her eyes. The...

Red lit up the small refuge from chaos as a laser bullet pierced through the desk. NK47's reflexes were fast, but not fast enough. They registered the hiss and sizzle of the heat burning through her skull, her eyes still frozen in fear. She was hurt. Afraid. She would never find out whether her darling was there to kill her or to help her, because it was too late.

NK47's thoughts came to a complete stop. Instead, they could only process the sight of the slumping body of the same intelligent, kind woman who maintained them. Something about it stung deep. Everything did.

It stung very, very deep. It hurt so bad.

Suddenly, they realized.

They could feel.