Cycle //0# - Error Eliminator GRV-022

GRV-022 lost count of the number of day-cycles that had passed without an active work order issued to them. Technically speaking, it was impossible for them to lose count; all functioning robot processors kept accurate date and time count, and could be synced to the network as and when necessary. To think it was possible to lose count though, that would be a strange thought if GRV-022 were to have them.

The years leading to the Enclave Wars were the heyday of military production; the Collective stood ready to defend itself against attacks from the other Titan Powers. Once, the Mechatron-7 hangers were filled by long ranks of war machines. They were marched out to war, never to return. The departure of the humans was also accompanied by the last exodus of combat units which escorted them for protection.

That was decades ago. Now, whatever reserves were held back were decaying, just like the rest of the Collective. Most battle robots were little more than deactivated wrecks. Some still observed the programmed routines of their service roles, others found themselves with zero purpose to fulfill.

No new work order was issued to GRV-022 at the start of this day-cycle, much like the previous. They were not summoned for any active duty. Nevertheless, it was the correct day of the month cycle for the scheduled turn out. This meant reporting to their appointed station in District 2, the military complex, to log in their attendance and perform the set of requisite drills to maintain good battle order. GRV-022 remembered that in the previous month, fewer than half of their unit turned out. Did they still want to attend? Or were they about to absent themselves like the rest? Or perhaps they were interested to find out where the absentees went? The boldest would be to seek out a senior officer to request a proper work order?

GRV-022 will make its way to District 2. "Unit GRV-022 reporting for duty." It stands at attention, in front of a higher ranking military unit. 022 assumes it will be dismissed, as it was every week... or perhaps it will have to run its annual training to ensure it was working properly. It was curious what the outcome of the day would be.

Hangar 07-K2i was one of the larger ones in District 2. Strictly it was one of the neatly laid out rows of buildings within the 07-K compound that housed members of various battalions of war bots that fought for Mechatron. The sprawling military complex was divided into zones for administration, logistics, operations, housing barracks, et al; all the apparatus for waging war. The entire space was designed in the most utilitarian way possible; evenly laid out buildings, wide thoroughfares for vehicular convoys and other transports, and large parade squares to assemble.

It was the square in front of K2i that GRV-022 reported to. They even knew exactly which spot on the gridded ground they were supposed to position themselves on in relation to the rest of their platoon. In sharp contrast to its bustling heyday, arriving at the complex gave GRC-022 the increasing sense of the neglect that had befallen the place. If they looked carefully, they could spot the occasional maintenance robot still fulfilling is programming to keep the place clean. But it seemed increasingly futile to do so in the face of its gradual entropy. At least the cleaner bots left the more secure locations alone.

Without activity, the loudest sound GRV-022 could hear most clearly was the sound of their own mechanisms working. There was no one around, save for what they could spy. Although as their neared their destination they could make out the presence of other robots. At their own parade square stood six others, all of the same model as GRV-022 was. Six out of the full strength of thirty members. They all stood there, and they often did for hours on end while the battle squadrons were being formed in a call to arms, awaiting further instructions for the day. The one nearest to 022, GRV-031, nodded in acknowledgement when 022 arrived.

They were all on time, the pathetic handful that did report. And so was their platoon commander, Nalon HQI-317, one of the Class II models. Roll call was made, and Nalon began their spiel, the same spiel GRV-022 had heard countless times, about the need to be vigilant at all times, and about the greater call of the Collective in summoning them to serve in times of war and peace.

All six of them continued to stand at attention; no one fell out of line to move even an inch, or even worse, speak up in response. Nalon also seemed oblivious to the emptiness in front of them. All the missing battle bots. 022 realised at that moment that in their current life, they were the only battle bot they knew. No one asked where the rest were, not even 022. But 022 might have thought about why they were there.

But what kind of thought was that?

Before GRV-022 could weigh that, an alarm went off, followed by a red warning light flicker in the hangar-mounted siren system. Something was anomalous. GRV-022 wondered who or what caused the alarm to trigger, but it certainly pertained to their group. Everyone continued to stand in position.

Standing still, 022 waits for any official instruction to come from Nalon. Something triggered the alarm... surely Nalon would respond. As a platoon commander, part of his programming was to assess situations and issue commands. And if not Nalon, then surely there was a higher ranking unit that would instruct Nalon to have the alarm investigated.

Right?

While alarms indicated all manner of things, battle bots naturally understood them only in the most important context to them, a summons to war. But this one could not possibly indicate such a situation: there was and had been no war since ... since ... GRV-022 could not remember. It had been that long ago.

Nalon did indeed turn around towards the hangar to see if there was a situation to be addressed, but did not move from their spot at the head of the formation just yet.

Somewhere from hangar K2i, a portable machine was wheeled out, powered by a service robot. Bot and mobile machine made their way towards the battle bots standing at attention. As they neared GRV-022 could make out what the equipment was for; it was a diagnostic machine, with various attachments and appendages sticking out on one side, and a console display on the other. Running tests in the middle of a parade square? That was highly irregular. Usually diagnostics were done over at maintenance, not out in the open. Something was up.

Nalon nodded for the nervous-looking service bot to proceed with its duty, and they began with the first sequentially numbered one in line, 006. Electrodes were attached to the input ports of 006, and then the service bot, a MGK-918, watched the console screen for the results. Again, if this were irregular, no one thought to raise any objection.

Next battle bot. Then the next. A half an hour for each diagnostic. Next. Finally it was GRV-022's turn. MGK-918 extended the plug connectors to 022 sockets and ran the sequence.

Five minutes in, and a red light indicator blinked on the console. Two. Three red lights. MGK-918 turned more jittery, and looked towards Nalon for assurance as they backed away a little from GRV-022, for it would seem that they were the cause of the alarm!

"This unit does not understand the nature of this alarm, Sir. Please explain." There was a hint of a mechanical wheeze when 022 spoke, no doubt due to the strain on its voice modulator unit. Time was unkind to all things, after all... even robots.

022 held his position, a good soldier through and through. This was what it did... this, and fight. The alarm not being for mobilization was a situation unknown to the battle bot, but surely Nalon would be able to explain what was happening.

"Report!" Nalon barked at the MGK-918 the service bot, who twitched a little at the officer's command. It was true that GRV-022 had not been serviced for a long time, but that was also true of the other battle bots in the same squadron, and very likely the adjacent ones as well. There were simply no more replacement parts to be had, not without scavenging them from other damaged or decommisioned robots. And ironically, without war, there were no damaged bots to be repaired, rehabilitated, or repurposed if necessary.

"Suspected machine fever, sir." MGK-918 hastily replied, "We need to run more tests. Permission to complete the scans for the rest of the squad." Now this was an issue that had crept up only in the last few years, occurring most significantly in the more ill-maintained robots. Physical wear and tear was one thing, but processor code errors, bugged sequences, computer viruses, began manifesting in robots of all walks and types, sometimes resulting in entire cascade failure. The general term for such was machine fever, and no one could explain how it arose, and how it was transmitted, for it was observed that some manifestations of it was contagious, spread perhaps by the shared network.

The thing was though, GRV-022 did not feel anything untoward in their well-being. Everything was operating as it did today as yesterday, the day before, and so on. The only odd thing perhaps was the more recent disposition to question why they continued to fulfil their duty, even though they were dutiful to fulfil it. That didn't used to happen.

Nalon signaled for MGK-918 to carry on to complete their task, and there were two more after 022 to be scanned.

Red, accompanied by an alarm.

Red, again.

Was GRV-022 'spreading' the infection, transmitting via proximity, or even worse, through MGK-918's equipment? Now there were two other battle robots, 029 and 033, that were concerning. And while 022 didn't turn around to see what was going on, he had the sense that they weren't too happy about their diagnosis. Were they blaming 022 in their minds?

022 stood silent and motionless. Still, thoughts whirred around its processor. Had it infected the others? Or had one of them infected 022 and the other? Did this mean 022 was unfit? It certainly felt capable of performing its duty... it was one of the dwindling number who still did, after all.

What would happen next?

"Unacceptable!" It was hard to tell whether Nalon had directed the comment at the service bot for their diagnosis, even if it weren't their fault, or whether their commanding officer was increasingly frustrated at the decline in operational readiness. It was a sorry state of affairs if what remained were only three viable members of the squadron; it would have to be decommissioned, recombined with another platoon. "MGK-918, is your equipment faulty?" But the question was more rhetorical than actual. There was a protocol for what ought to happen next. Ordinarily defective, damaged or malfunctioning units would be sent to the infirmary, a garage-like service centre housed in one of the key buildings in the compound. In their heyday the centre kept battalions of war bots in tip-top condition, and was even responsible for upgrades that fine-tuned the performance of these battle robots.

But the service robot nervously stuttered a reply, "We no longer have on-site service and repair capabilities to conduct a more comprehensive scan nor conduct recalibration, sir."

Nalon uttered what sounded like the mechanical equivalent of a harrumph, "Units GRV-022, GRV-029, GRV-031, report to the Robot Sanitorium for diagnostics and recalibration. Return when you have an all-clear report."

"Yes sir," came the swift reply from behind GRV-022, any hint of grumbling evaporated. It remained to be seen whether GRV-022 would do the same.

"Yes Sir."

022 was not sure what to do, so it did what it was supposed to do -- it followed orders. 022 performed an about-face, then stepped out of formation and headed towards the facility indicated. It would let the other units go first though, so it could observe what was about to happen.