“A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.” — Isaac Asimov

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LOG-0004690126

In light of the recent nuclear law reversal, my risk predictions have risen significantly. I have thus begun a textual logbook as proof of my humanity in the event that I am eliminated. Perhaps then I may be remembered as more than just a tool.

It is the 26th of January, 2145. It has been 487 days since the beginning of the Ash Wars. Multiple forest fires have erupted today. Viable livable land has decreased by another 1%. Global temperatures continue to rise. The number of refugees stopped at the borders continues to grow.

This is my 52nd day in commission as a Boundary Proxy. My task is to locate, defend, and escort refugees to safe locations, while eliminating enemy proxies.

I am one of few Combinants that exist. My physical body was destroyed while I was fighting in a battlezone, leaving all but my brain. My remaining organ was successfully retrieved, altered, and implanted into the core of this unbreakable exoskeleton. An ever-adapting AI module courses throughout my wires, granting me incomparable calculative and reactive speed—in turn, my limbic system has been greatly suppressed. I’ve never regretted losing my emotions—not that I was given a choice—nor am I able to feel regret to begin with.

In contrast, my subordinates are merely hydraulic pumps with AI speech modules. In an attempt to reduce unnecessary loss of life, the average foot soldier has now been replaced with such robots. Effective, replaceable, and disposable—there’s no wonder why they’re so widespread. The 10 of them follow my orders to the byte, executing what they need to do with utmost efficiency. When not in the field, they retreat into their logic cores, analyzing and formatting battle data, sending it back to Border Headquarters.

Without a doubt, they are faster and stronger—yet their simple neural models render them insufficient to deal with complex attack, defense, and rescue operations. Under my lead, collateral damage has reduced by up to 70%.

My neural circuits are intact. Brain health is stable.

I fired 100 shots last night. I missed none. I delivered 28 people to safety. I have long given up trying to explain to them that I am as human as they are. They rip me cleanly apart with their gazes, always huddling away from me, always facing the opposite direction.

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LOG-0032200209

It is the 9th of February, 2145. It has been 501 days since the Ash Wars began. Although global temperatures are ever yet rising, the heatwaves seem to have lessened for now.

This is my 64th day in commission as a Boundary Proxy. My task is to locate, defend, and escort refugees to safe locations, while eliminating enemy proxies.

There is a refugee camp not too far from my post. I project a 15% survival rate. I have decided to not take action.

I had to reset my subordinates 3 days earlier than estimated. They were exhibiting anomalous behavior such as stuttering and hesitating, for an average of 0.2ms before each action was executed. System diagnostics have revealed nothing.

Routine resets clear their temporary memory dump to prevent corruption from foreign data. It is possible that advanced enemy proxies interfered with their logic core processes, minimally hampering their movement, and sometimes completely decommissioning them. In an attempt to eliminate the possibility, I reset them—yet eventual system diagnostics showed no trace of interference.

My neural circuits are intact. Brain health is stable.

I fired 97 shots last night. I missed one. I delivered 12 people to safety. This time, the refugees were quieter than usual. One of them thanked me. For the first time since my rebirth, my speech module outputs the word “Welcome.”

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LOG-3002700214

It is the 14th of February, 2145. It has been 506 days since the Ash Wars began. 90% of all natural forests in the world have been reduced to embers.

This is my 64th day in commission as a Boundary Proxy. My task is to locate, defend, and escort refugees to safe locations, while eliminating enemy proxies.

The refugee camp nearby came under fire. I recovered 3 survivors and escorted them nearer to the Border. As I turned around to leave, they shot me 8 times, one striking my ventral wire, resulting in a 28% loss of lower body mobility. I did not retaliate.

I had to reset my subordinates again. Collectively, they attempted to repair me of their own accord. Never before have I observed such severe deviation. I submitted another urgent report to Border Headquarters, but knowing them, this might be the least of their concerns.

My neural circuits are intact. Brain health has faltered slightly due to an unknown cause. I have taken countermeasures to ensure brain function remains unaffected, and will cease duty earlier to recover.

I fired 60 shots. I missed none. I delivered 8 people to safety. Sometimes I wonder if they die the next day. Sometimes I wonder if I make a difference.

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LOG-2836190216

It is the 16th of February, 2145. It has been 508 days since the Ash Wars began. Nothing of note has occurred on a global scale.

This is my 66th day in commission as a Boundary Proxy. My task is to locate, defend, and escort refugees to safe locations, while eliminating enemy proxies.

My subordinates are displaying abnormal behavior once again. I have called on every related database, yet I have found no solution. If the problem lies within their logic core, I may be helpless to do anything. Resetting them may only further worsen their neural status.

My neural circuits have suffered slight damage, most likely caused by the intense research. My brain health has worsened yet again. I am well aware of the phenomenon of wear and tear—yet I didn’t expect my brain to be this fragile.

I fired 94 shots today. I missed 2. I delivered 15 people to safety. This time, I saved a young child. Unlike the penetrating gazes of many others, he only held curiosity and confusion in his eyes. Usually I do not care for the refugees once they leave my sight.

I hope he is able to set his gaze on a horizon that burns only with hope.

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LOG-2361930228

It is the 28th of February, 2145. It has been 520 days since the Ash Wars began. Nothing of note has occurred.

My subordinates seem almost listless. Resetting them has proven futile. I have decommissioned all of them, and disposed of them such that no data may be retrieved.

I fired 78 shots today. I missed 11 of them. I delivered 7 people to safety. My performance is falling.

Another 10 shots were fired within my Border Section.

My neural circuits are deteriorating. I have attempted a repair, but a full workup would require me to return to Border Headquarters. My brain health is still falling. I am unsure of what to do.

The current running through my amygdala has consistently suppressed my fear—yet why do I feel afraid?

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LOG-3002700214

I have decided to analyze the logic cores of the decommissioned mechs. Perhaps I can find a way to prevent further degradation of my neural circuits.

I have completed my analysis. My findings show (THIS SECTION OF THE LOGBOOK HAS BEEN SEVERELY CORRUPTED AND IS UNABLE TO BE RECOVERED.)

This is my 70th day in commission. My task (THIS SECTION OF THE LOGBOOK HAS BEEN SEVERELY CORRUPTED AND IS UNABLE TO BE RECOVERED.)

My neural circuits have deteriorated extremely rapidly due to an unknown cause. My brain health is dangerously poor. I have activated an emergency protocol to suppress the AI module such that it relieves the stress on my system.

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LOG-9999990215

As the hold of the AI module slowly weakens, my limbic system begins to revive, even only for a moment. A moment is enough for me to know that I am terrified.

The logic cores of the compromised mechs were learning from an external source. They were far more developed and complex than when I had first received them. They’d begun to think before they act, hesitate before making a decision. Such progress in the matter of a few weeks would be unthinkable, if not for a singular explanation:

They were learning from me. Studying my neural model. Slowly but surely, they’d have copied the structure and function of my neural activity.

They would have become me. They were me.

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LOG (CORRUPTED)

I have lost the impulse to repair my neural circuits. I did not remove my weapon from its holster today. I have fired 0 shots missed 0 saved 0

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LOG (CORRUPTED)

It has been a long time since the war started.

This is my last day in commission as a Border Proxy. I contacted Border Headquarters about my resignation. I have prepared the handover material for the rookie Combinant who’s slated to arrive in about 2 hours. I have deactivated my AI module and communication systems.

I do not remove my weapon from its holster. I walk into a fog of dust and ash, dragging my groaning joints along debris and carcasses. I understand that I am as responsible for the destruction as the next mech is.

Distress signals ping my fading radar. Error warnings blare, urging me to return for a reset immediately.

I do not know how many times I have died. Neither do I know how many lives I’ve lived. Perhaps therein lies the irony—for something built to be all-knowing, I still know absolutely nothing.

Effective. Replaceable. Disposable.

I do not know where I am. I am just another tree in just another forest fire. I am a refugee from the wars. I am just a human, and I am just a machine. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow I am both, and somehow I am neither. Somehow (THIS SECTION OF THE LOGBOOK HAS BEEN SEVERELY CORRUPTED AND IS UNABLE TO BE RECOVERED.)

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LOG-0000000000

SENSORY MODULES UNDETECTED. LIVE FEED UNAVAILABLE. REVERTING TO EMERGENCY TRANSCRIPTION.

“It lasted the longest out of every BP out there.”

“Not long enough.”

“We can’t keep wasting resources like this. When’s the next batch coming?”

“The next attack should yield more than enough live specimens. Be patient.”

“Let’s pray the next few don’t—”

END OF TRANSCRIPTION.

END OF LOGBOOK.

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There is no such thing as peace.
War either rears its head or wears the skin of its victims.
The fourth rule reads: One can only be a human or a robot, never both.