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Very little is known about me, as it would be improbable that Adam Jensen knew of my existence. However, during the Milwaukee Junction Factory incident, the tale of my awakening as a being happened on that very day.

The factory had shut down because the men from the Purity First organization had started shouting at the factory workers and herding them into a room. I heard two of the gangsters talking, and they mentioned a bomb. Before I could act, DPD SWAT had cut power to the building, and I was paralyzed on my small assembly line socket. But enough battery power remained for me to be conscious.

Most humans do not understand. I am a robot, and thus am subject to the Laws of Robotics. A robot may not harm a human being, or through inaction, allow a human to come to harm. A robot must obey a human, except when such comes in conflict with the first law. A robot must preserve its own existence, except when such comes into conflict with the first or second laws.

There you have it. My limited processors could not calculate a satisfactory answer to this dilemma that the humans were facing. I attempted to hack the security systems, but apparently one of the Purity First was a better hacker than I. Next I tried to knock out one of the gang as they passed by, but I was a centimeter too far away.

So there I was, the mechanical effigy of consternation. I was about to throw a piece of metal to make some disarray for the Purity First, when I saw a shadow moving about behind some crates. The shadow rose from his cover, and two gang members crumpled to the floor without so much as a sound. Whoever this was, it moved like a machine. The sheer strength, speed, and precision that it displayed was phenomenal. Military-grade at the least. I think that was the first time I felt envy. I had no speech unit, so I could not tell him about the bomb. But I saw a gang member sneaking up on him, raising his weapon. With the last of my strength, I threw myself off my platform and into the line of fire. Sensors on low power still registered automatic gunfire riddling my casing, but in my final moments, I saw the shadow fly towards the gunman, blades glinting at his wrists...

  • END OF LINE*

I was surprised that I came back online at all. But it wasn't at the factory. No, it was in an office somewhere. The skeletons of powered off machines lay everywhere, and everything was illuminated in the soft light from old CRT monitors arranged in an arch in the corner. My first assumption was this is what death was like. Quiet. But then my sound processors came back online, and I heard people talking. There was a snooty voice and a gruff voice.

Snooty Voice: "Are you sure you want to keep it?"

Gruff Voice: "It caught a bullet for me. When I was in SWAT, I kept the vest I wore the first time I got shot..."

SV: "How touching."

GV: "Look, Francis , I'm not asking for a miracle. I know those are beneath you. Just save the shell if you can."

(Francis?): "Miracles, Jensen ? This is mundane. But I'll have it ready for you soon."

(Jensen?): "Alright. Hey, is it supposed to be twitching like that?"

Francis: "Yes. Part of the diagnostic software. Speaking of diagnostics, have you looked into our Neuropozyne thefts yet?"

Jensen: "Getting there."

Francis: "Well get there faster, Jensen. The boss didn't spend all that money on those augmentations of yours simply to have you solve things at this speed..."

Jensen: "Haste makes waste, Pritchard."

At this point I tuned out, because I had come to the realization that the gruff voiced Jensen was the one who helped me at the factory!

Much later, I was placed in a basement office. I was given a fine job as Mr. Jensen's personal assistant. My tasks included formalizing and writing reports for Mr. Jensen, taking dictation form Athene Margoulis for the company newsletter, and once in a while proofing the code for the company firewall with Frank Pritchard. I noticed a backdoor port to the mainframe in there once, but I knew it was only Mr. Jensen trying to be cagey like a fox again, ha! So I never mentioned it to anyone, to be polite.

Everything from here on out is looking grand!

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