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  Sarazen, still clutching his wound which oozed with precious Vitalin, moved off and continued to venture deeper into the seldom used, unexplored sector of his city. The structures became unfamiliar and their jutting splines and dark edifice endured the sense of overwhelming solitude. Despite the great expanse of city that Sarazen dwelt in, he had only cause to enter those parts which were populated with silicants who had malfunctioned and required attention. Sarazen had only just realised how much of his home had never been explored and how alien his surroundings had now become. Sarazen kept his pace high, but within operational limits, and moved deeper into the industrial heart of the city, cursing as the corrosive precipitation coated his weave and his heavy footfalls splashed up puddles and coated his gleaming ankles in a murky, muddy coating. Sarazen stopped again, scanning his environment, his auditory sensors working overtime to detect the sounds of an oncoming enforcer. None were detected; the only sounds that he could identify were from the squawking organics which had made their home in the gutters of the tatty buildings and the low level cacophonous rumble caused by the distant and numerous transit carriages as they began their morning commute.

  The troubleshooter sought temporary shelter from the corrosive rain inside a dark and disused factory. He crouched down in the corner and took stock of his situation. His first priority was the repair of his damaged right breast which had been speared by the sharp spike of metal from his living room table. The irony was not lost on Sarazen as he realised that he was highly fortunate. His repair skills could not have been sought elsewhere and even if they had, they would surely have not been superior to his own. Tenderly pulling across the large flap of weave, exposing the breached channels of Vitalin, his carpal scanners and finger tools began to detect and seal any abrasions or lacerations. He was fortunate; the wound was not deep and had not damaged his power cell complex which was housed deep within his upper chest. The loss of Vitalin was a minor concern but nothing that a vessel of phosphorylin could not allay. As the tiny, highly focused laser cutting and sealing tools worked at mending the physical structure of the wounded silicant, the next stage was to conjure a plan of action. Sarazen could not allow himself to be deterred in his quest for continued existence by the enormity of his task. He still retained the computational logic which dictated that there was strength in numbers and that he must again seek out Cole the farmer with great immediacy. Together, their combined intellect would think of a plan to defy the great probability that the mother would inevitably fulfil her task and in doing so bring a crushing end to her rogue troubleshooter. Not only that, but in Cole, Sarazen knew there was companionship and empathy. The loneliness would cease. He would have a true friend.

  CHAPTER 8

  A number of questions had gone unanswered as Sarazen cautiously flitted from building to building, taking the scenic route to the nearest transit station whilst constantly checking at every juncture for the rampant enforcer. Primarily, what had gone wrong with his plan to avoid connecting to the network in the previous dark phase? Certainly he felt confident in the function of the bypass circuit he had constructed. There must have been another causal factor. It had suddenly occurred to him that his emotional ranting to his companion Keera could have, in hindsight been an issue. Perhaps triggered by inconsistencies in the Cole report and correlated with unusual behaviour experienced in his spouse, The Mother had linked the two events together and determined that it was not worth the risk to perpetuate Sarazen’s functionality. Moreover, if Sarazen was to be terminated, then surely Cole was at risk also if he had been implicated in the affair. Sarazen knew that he had to warn Cole that he was in imminent danger, and hoped that it was not too late for the genial farmer.

  In addition to the paranoia that arose from being pursued by a lethal combatant, Sarazen could not be totally assured how the other silicants would react to his presence. He could only assume that they would be totally indifferent to him and carry on about their cyclical business. He was of course aware that The Mother may have possessed the ability to influence a great many silicants in order to either report the location or even attack the rogue in their collective. This was a chance Sarazen would have to take if he were to make haste in reaching Cole. There was no other way of reaching the high ground other than taking the transit line. To walk could take a whole cycle and if the dark phase came, he would be rendered inoperative at the mercy of the elements and the organics who inhabited the area.

  Sarazen had found his way back to familiar surroundings and was now within a short distance of a transit station where several stationary carriages awaited departure. The mass of commuting silicants had subsided and now only a small number of individuals could be seen, no doubt fulfilling their duties across the city. There was little time for hesitancy, Sarazen brazenly strode out into the street which was still damp from the morning showers and made a beeline for the relevant carriage. He knew that the last thing he wanted to do was draw undue attention to himself, so he walked confidently and at a gentle pace past a group of constructors who were surveying, and up to the carriage door which swished open as he neared. Relieved that no untoward events had taken place, he climbed the steps of the carriage and greeted the operator.

  “Good Morning. 145.33.371.14.” Sarazen spoke, his voice tones a little wavering as he announced his destination. The operator went to speak but was then suddenly, curiously hesitant. He looked Sarazen up and down momentarily. The troubleshooter knew instantly that his presence had been noted by the operator and his sensory system was suddenly pushed into a frenzy of activity. There was no time to lose, Sarazen had to disable the operator before he could announce the location of the fugitive and although he had no wish to bring harm to the dutiful carriage driver, his silence was now imperative.

  A wave of impulsiveness washed over Sarazen and he lashed out at the operator who was sat, helplessly attached to the carriages terminal via a thin network cable. The operator barely had time to respond before the violent lunge took its effect and smashed the operator's head into the control panel. The carriage lurched into forward movement throwing Sarazen off balance and off his feet as he slid down the central gangway. The acceleration of the carriage was such that he found it difficult to regain his feet and he had to use his arms to grasp each seat’s safety handle in turn in order to climb back to the front and continue his attack. The speed of the carriage began to reach its upper limit and the acceleration ceased, the wind blowing wildly through the doorway which was still wide open. The operator was damaged and stunned, it looked around as if dazed, its vision impaired. Sarazen knew that he could not allow the operator to regain its control of the carriage and striding up to the cabin, Sarazen took the stricken silicant under the arms and hauled its bulk over the cabin confines and hurled it towards the exit staircase. The operator uttered a strange and disturbing noise as its body flopped down the graduated decline and was swallowed up by the rushing wind, swept away out of the carriage to tumble helplessly at great speed along the rocky siding.

  Sarazen leapt over into the operator's cabin and looked down at the control panel. How often had he watched the operators in their duties and marvelled in the simplicity of their task. It was now time to learn quickly how the carriage was controlled as the landscape rushed by at terrific speeds. By this time, the carriage neared the city limits, the rails beneath the runaway carriage squealed in complaint as they were being tested like never before. At this rate, the carriage would fly from its tracks and Sarazen’s quest would be quickly over. With some fortune, the gradual incline on nearing the higher ground began to take some effect on the carriage’s momentum and still baffled by the control system, Sarazen sat back and took a moment to calm himself. Perhaps he need not tamper with the controls. At this rate, the carriage might even come to a halt in good time and only short distance away from his destination. Looking down at the doorway and the ochre terrain as it passed by in a blur, he took a moment to ponder the fate of the operator. If he had indeed sealed its fate, then wa
s this sentience that he had earned, achieved through moral means and if not, was he not as culpable as The Mother herself, who had enslaved him and others like him in eternal bondage? He pitied the operator who certainly did not deserve his violent end and felt overwhelming remorse. It was another disturbing emotion which rendered him momentarily unable to compute with any clarity. Sarazen struggled to interpret these new sensations, but as he sat back and saw the farmer's dwellings fade into view through the moist haze of mist, he knew he had experienced fear but also exhilaration and elation at the victory. As these emotions manifested themselves, Sarazen could not have been in a more fitting place as the transit carriage trundled along to the base of the hill where Cole dwelt. He climbed from the cabin and stood at the doorway, the ground still moving at great pace as it rushed by. Bracing himself for a sudden and shocking impact, Sarazen hurled himself from the carriage as a tightly grouped pack of small seters neared. Hoping that their supportive appendages would slow the velocity of his body before it hit the hard earth, his theory was in part correct as his bulk smashed through the organics’ sinuous grasp and landed with a significantly lessened impact on the other side, the carriage continued uphill to its destructive destination. Looking back as it disappeared behind a rocky outcrop, Sarazen hoped that the consequences of his reckless actions would not be severe for other unwitting silicants.

  Brushing himself down of the many hundred small, sticky organic parts that clung to his outer casing, Sarazen tended the seters who had taken a heavy blow and touched their delicate, finely detailed accoutrements. Again, hoping that his impulsive actions had not caused irreparable damage, he swiftly moved on upwards, along the winding path to Cole's living space. The path was once again adorned by the odd organic, scurrilous and aloof as the gleaming figure of the Silicant appeared. Cole's dwelling appeared over the rise and Sarazen had hoped to see his friend casually leaning over the porch as he did when he first met him almost exactly one cycle earlier. Unfortunately, the porch was untended and a certain amount of disorder appeared to be present as storage vessels outside the building had been unsettled pouring their contents across the ground. A flock of organics huddled around the spillage, ingesting as much as their forms would allow. The intrusion of Sarazen caused one to panic and it took flight in haste, inducing a mass exodus in a throng of activity. The sudden sight of the unexpected activity instantly made the silicant wary and instinctively he ducked down as the organics flew overhead. Perhaps he was too late and Cole had already been paid a visit by The Mother’s assassins? The very thought drove Sarazen into a quickened pace and he fairly leapt the small steps into Cole’s home where he feared the very worst.

  In the main living area, there had been a great disturbance. Much like Sarazen’s own apartment, furnishings and decorations lay shattered and strewn about the floor as if some gargantuan force had obliterated them. Cole's organic friends explored their new surroundings, possibly in search of their master. They regarded the visitor with inquisitive eyes then resumed their foraging without fear. Sarazen moved out to the rear of the building. Again the walls showed signs of blunt trauma and large gaping holes were evident. He could now only expect the worst possible outcome and feared that with every turn he would find Cole's dismantled body, strewn across the space beneath his feet. That outcome never arose but it was clear to Sarazen that Cole had been taken, his fate almost certainly sealed by The Mother's vengeance. Sarazen slumped to the floor and sat with his back against the wall, bringing his knees to his face. The sudden feeling of loneliness became quite overwhelming as he realised what Cole had lived with for the last 65 cycles. In the solace of his rural home, the only entities that could offer even the merest iota of kinship were the primitive organics that visited him on occasions and gave him small comfort in watching them flourish with the freedom to think and choose their own path in life. Sarazen was truly alone in a hostile world, he only hoped with every fibre of his being that there were others who felt the same way, others who too risked all to find the ultimate truth.

  CHAPTER 9

  Slumped in a dishevelled heap, the dejected troubleshooter struggled to retain some clarity of thought whilst the turmoil of the morning’s events took their toll. He felt that his design had not taken into account such profound indecision and self examination. This was surely some kind of major malfunction. The loss of Cole had been a blow. Despite only being familiar with the farmer for a cycle, the empathy he offered was of great comfort. Now, in his absence, Sarazen would have to find the computational strength to carry on, doing otherwise was to give up and succumb to a certain demise. Cole's destruction had also brought about a new emotional state, that of grief. Sarazen did not recognise or quantify his grief but he surely felt its icy grip. With frustration, he picked up a hunk of fallen masonry and threw it at the opposing wall which caused the powdery building material to obliterate in a cloud of dust. Where had this propensity for violence come from? He recalled the desperate, bemused cry of the operator as it tumbled to its fate. Sarazen could not help but replay the data from that moment over and over, trying in vain to make some sense of it. If he could return to that moment, he would surely have not acted in that manner; his behaviour was illogical and immoral. With closer scrutiny, Sarazen could not even be certain that the operator had recognised him as the fugitive he had certainly become. Why had he acted so swiftly and without careful thought of the possible consequences of his actions? Now, due to the runaway carriage and the loss of the operator, The Mother would no doubt have the data to pinpoint his approximate location by correlating his connection with Cole and the destination of the rogue transit carriage. It was time to leave this place and with all expediency. His destination not yet calculated, anywhere would suffice, it was only a matter of time before more enforcers would arrive to finish their mission.

  Sarazen scampered back down the twisting path, still hazed by indecision. Beyond the city, the lands were barren and shelter from the elements was in short supply. He could not be sure what lay beyond the city. He had never contemplated their exploration, there seemed little motivation to do so in the past. Part of this new awareness was a constant need to question every aspect of his existence. Sarazen grew tired of his own nagging urges to know more. The only way to satisfy his cravings was increased data acquisition. Sarazen wondered if there was a limit to his memory bank and if exceeded, what would be the consequences of reaching capacity? Even this quandary tasked him to know the answer, it was an endless paradox, and the desire to learn and the subsequent data attained only served to propagate more questions and more possibilities.

  Sarazen looked out over the landscape, ahead, the city bathed in grey cloud. Either side lay the expanse of barren earth until in the very distance, more high ground could be determined through the humid atmosphere. He could not with any certainty be assured that a return to the city would be a pertinent choice considering the dangers it held, however, the barren lands beyond held no more comfort. Sarazen knew that when the dark phase fell, he would be rendered inoperative and at mercy to the climate and those organics that roamed the dry flat expanse. Despite its dangers, the city held a comfort for Sarazen, it was familiar, and it was home. It would be difficult to traverse undetected, but if he could reach the uninhabited industrial sector and take shelter for a time to consider his options, it would be preferable than taking the risk of wandering off into the wastes in hope of an unlikely salvation. Sarazen began the arduous journey back to the city under his own power. The transit line was now of no use to him. Perhaps with some careful thought and utilising his new found ability to process data beyond his original programming, he might be able to devise a new method of travel which held greater efficiency than the cursed and cumbersome legs he had been lumbered with on the production line.

  Ensuring that he took a wide berth of the transit line path, Sarazen moved as quickly as his heat tolerance would allow. Fortunately it was a cooler cycle than the previous and extended periods of physical movement were less
likely to cause core damage. The extended walk gave the troubleshooter time to calculate his re-entry into the city. His knowledge was limited to the numerous 'house calls' he had made in his career as a troubleshooter. It mattered not how stealthily he moved, it was impossible to reach the industrial sector without some form of silicant contact. In fact, the more Sarazen mulled it over, the more it felt as if he were walking into a predictable fate. He stopped briefly and took rest by a small seter which grew in solitude. He looked at the withered and poorly conditioned organic and empathised with it. He sat and studied the seter for a while, the experience was strangely calming and it was only the sound of an approaching air carriage that broke his blissful meditation. Sarazen rolled his body over to the seter, using its bulk to disguise his silicant form from those on board the flying vessel. He watched with trepidation as the craft flew by along the path of the transit line and towards the high ground and Cole's dwelling. It was most certainly a wise decision to move on. The enforcers had no doubt been sent to find the wayward troubleshooter, but he had outwitted them once more.

  Whilst half buried in the soft earth as he pressed his body into the ground to avoid detection, Sarazen’s attention was captured by the antics of a tiny organic with a multitude of legs and little else, who had crawled out from under a small flap of earth and organic detritus. It dwelt for a moment and looked Sarazen up and down as if to wonder what had caused such a disturbance to its subterranean activity and then, with great speed it shot back into to its earthy den. Sarazen was spellbound by the unusual behaviour and then curious. The organic’s den was a perfectly constructed for its purpose. It was imperceptible from the surface thus the organic was safe from the predators which sought to ingest its feeble body. Whilst it took solace in its underground habitat it could function within normal parameters whilst retaining the protection of its hidden lair. Sarazen thought that this was a most efficient way of doing its business; however, the organic was inherently different to that of the silicant. The silicant required the light of the Star to maintain functionality. To crawl into a dusty hole would be as good as self termination, without the light to reawaken the sleeping machine, it would remain dead to the world as long as it remained there. Sarazen stared long and hard at the now invisible den of the buried organic. The experience seemed to have a profound effect on his thought processes. For the first time, he realised that his way of thinking was not set. He no longer conformed to the rigid and basic programming of The Mother. There was now scope for imagination and fantasy. He could explore the endless possibilities, he could conjure images in his mind that were not derived wholly from his memory, they could be devised in part from his experiences but augmented using theoretical concepts buried deep within his psyche. He realised for the first time that there was more data to be unlocked that lay dormant somewhere deep in his data banks, and that information could be applied to offer new fascinating ideas and solutions to complex problems. The silicants believed that the light of the Star was required to recharge their power cells and that the dark phase signified a period of inactivity due to the lack of available power. No silicant had ever taken this problem to task, it was accepted as truth and never queried. Sarazen was now in the position to not only question the notion that the dark phase shut down was inexorable but he was in a place to be able rethink the logic behind it and offer an alternative. The strategic advantage that avoiding the dark phase shut down offered was beyond question. It would allow unprecedented freedom of movement, the ability to remain concealed in places other silicants dared not enter, and ultimately much like the leggy organic, safety and seclusion. Sarazen climbed to his feet and offered an acknowledging smile to the oblivious creature who had rekindled the silicant’s spirit and determination to go on fighting for his independence.