Aberrant Algorithm.

When a door closes, the tundra awaits.

Copper-9 a planet once vibrant with lift both artificial and organic, was little more than a frozen wasteland now. The humans that once called this vibrant Earth-like world home were reduced to little more than winter-bleached white bones strewn across the planet's surface some frozen in place but most lying where they died when Copper-9's atmosphere all but evaporated when the core collapsed taking an entire section of the planet with it. While many would consider that the end of life on Copper-9 it was the subservient robotic worker drones that for a time inhabited the planet post-core collapse in numbers that would be comparable to a rapidly developing nation, if they had been truly been left to their own devices the worker drones likely would have developed their unique civilisation on the ruins of the colonists.

Yet that was not the case, Copper-9 was not the cold jewel of artificial life it could have been, it was nothing short of a cold empty grave and scrapyard respectively. While the core collapse had permitted the mass extinction of organic life it had been something else that had brought the artificial life to the brink of extinction, the worker drones had become prey for a new type of artificial life built and designed with the singular purpose to hunt them down and drink the oil that existed inside each of them. Once numbering in the millions the worker drones had been reduced to scattered pockets of communities cowering in fear for the most part in bunkers and other such structures hoping that these would keep them safe.

This new status quo was only broken on the rare occasion worker drones dared venture beyond the safety of their bunkers and doors for whatever reason, and one such break was happening at a bunker colony. A single worker drone with purple hair and a matching display dressed in dark clothing made their way across the snowy tundra stopping only once to glance back at the bunkers doors before continuing. This worker drone that once called the relative safety of that bunker home was Uzi Doorman, an outcast amongst worker drones for her opinions on their cowardly ways of hiding behind the blast doors and hoping they would be enough to keep them safe. Until they malfunctioned long enough that they could not be fixed in a single morning, and at that point they would be an easy buffet for the predatory murder drones that fed on the oil of her kind.

It was her drive to finish the, in her own words, 'sick-as-hell-railgun' by scavenging the last part she needed from the wasteland of snow and bodies both organic and artificial. If Uzi was being honest with herself as well it might be the last time she would see the large doors that lead into the colony she could consider home, but there was nothing within to truly call home for her. Only a father who saw the doors as his 'real daughters' to start and the outright scorn from the other residents, it was little to keep her tied to the colony.

Slowly and with care not to make too much noise Uzi slowly worked her way across the snow-covered wastes heading towards the large spire built from the corpses of worker drones that had been slain and likely drained dry of every drop of oil, she kept low and watching the sky knowing that the murder drones often would swoop in from above before going to the kill. Moving slowly and carefully Uzi made her way closer to the corpse spire she worked her way around the outside looking for a way inside.

Pausing briefly she looked up as the spire built from the corpses of worker drones, the eerie tower was not completely dark like one would expect, across its surface and reaching up to the peak blinking red lights existed. Seeing these lights sent a shiver down what would pass as Uzi's spine, it was something all worker drones knew well the red light of the final thing a worker drone visor could display the 'FATAL ERROR' message. Knowing that this message could only displayed put Uzi on edge, it meant those dead worker's corpses had just enough residual power to display that error they might have enough processing power left to feel the simulated approximation of pain programmed into worker drones to ensure they avoided costly hazards.