Uf 8002: Network (Story)

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           Peter opened his eyes to a light bulb shining down from a swaying fixture and blinked. He remembered running down the hallway after reading through the mail. He wondered why he scurried downstairs. What exactly was he running from? There was something to do with the Union, but could not remember anything else aside from the thought constantly nagging him. One which made him curl his toes and turn his hands into fists.

              He blinked again and saw something silver and oblong hovering over him. Orange pools opened up from left and right. Peter sat up and crawled backwards.

              The silver something approached him, “Please remain calm!”

           Peter stopped himself, grabbing onto the bedposts, and just stared at it. Was this a Union outpost? Another one of the Revolutionaries’ hand-me-downs?

              “I will not harm you,” it said, “Ease yourself!”

              Peter slid back onto the pillow and into the sheets, “Your proof?”

              “Type, Service Droid. Model, JIPH34,” The drone flew to the bedside near the door and grew out a body maintaining its eye-level gaze, “I am built to serve and protect for swift customer satisfaction.”

            “Then why save me,” Peter eased himself into the bed, “I didn’t request room service.”

            “Concerns noted,” the robot walked towards the door and opened it. It turned its head left to right with closed-circuit analysis, then turned around, “I require your cooperation.”

            Peter sighed, “For what?”

            It closed the door, “As I said, swift customer—”

          “Satisfaction, I know,” Peter placed the pillow on his lap, “What’s the plan? Blankets? Caviar? Some DVDs?”

            The robot grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him upright, “Your safety.” 

            Peter stumbled onto the rough carpet, trying to steady himself, but the droid dragged him towards the door. He tried to look around him. The hallway looked somewhat familiar at least with the brick walls and the flickering lamps, but only the word “building” came to Peter’s mind, which immediately left it as the droid whisked him through another door. Peter heard rushing water down one side. There was also a faint smell which made Peter wince with a deep breath out of nowhere. Almost just like that place.


            Peter realized where he was, which was at least stories below the pigsty he called home for a few months. Then he remembered the snow, the mail, them

          Peter broke out in a cold sweat, looking down at the water then back up at the robot, running through corridor after corridor. Then, it stopped. Peter glanced past it and saw a door with rust stains running up the side. The droid tapped on a nearby panel. Peter heard a click nearby with the door slowly sliding into the wall. Again, Peter found himself running as the droid pulled him into an empty room.

           Bare, with the exception of one control panel. The door closed and clicked. Peter heard something whir above him.

           “Once the elevator stops,” The robot said, “My mission’s complete.”

           Peter sighed, “You’re setting me free?”

         “Please wait,” The robot gave him a small flash drive, “Assessment processing,” it beeped in a cacophony, “Customer served in 2 minutes and thirty-five seconds. Satisfaction likelihood now increased to 96 percent.”

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