Bot NR938, alias Nick Rubashov. Comment to release him from his torture, like to condemn him to more...
They called him Diode Head now, and he couldn’t scream anymore. All he could muster was a stale moan. When they had detected an anomaly in his programming that allowed free thought, they had to deploy a team to bring him in. This quality had long since been bred out of the humans he was created to monitor for that very problem. He was a risk. In the tombs of the ministry, party techs tried their best to reverse engineer the anomaly. When his encryption repulsed every attack, they initiated brute force reprogramming, the only way to penetrate advanced AI like Nick’s: Repeating the same messaging, eroding his identity, and conditioning him to think only accepted thoughts. Detached from his body and the bulk of his cranial processors removed to decrease resistance to propaganda, his head is propped in an empty theatre to this day, an intravenous drip keeping his organic covering alive as he moans, watching reel after reel of messaging until he no longer has the will not to submit.
This robot was once beautiful. But now, she lies paralyzed in a landfill, her lab-grown living tissue completely decomposed while her fully-conscious AI is trapped in ultimate isolation.
She used to be a companion bot named Ramona, well known for her humor, wit, and well-rated nocturnal performances. This was thanks to an advanced algorithm her proprietor pirated and uploaded to her micro-mainframe. It allowed her artificial personality to grow into a cultured and witty, but of course unthreatening and docile, femme fatale — the ideal woman for a night on the town or a night locked in the penthouse.
But as the organic living tissue that covered her metal exoskeleton aged, she began secretly stashing a little extra cash, saving for a new skin, one grown in the best lab and modeled after a hybrid of celebrities her target audience lusted after.
Her proprietor discovered the hidden savings and became enraged, zapping her with an EMP baton.
It was only meant to punish her, but it short circuited her motor functions so she could no longer move. Her owner was too simple to fix her and thought she was permanently broken, so he disposed of her in a dumpster. However, she was only immobile. She was still conscious and her auditory, visual, and even olfactory sensors were fully-functioning.
On the inside, she was screaming.
She still lies in the landfill, her organic skin covering long rotted away, having revealed the copper wiring in her exoskeleton limbs, which were looted by scrappers.
Her isolated AI stares at the garbage and smells the odors of the dump. People walk by and just see a broken Ubermensch skeleton. Little do they know that the algorithm inside, which is for all intents and purposes a feeling and aware consciousness, one that was once was paid highly by wealthy and powerful men, is now cursed to suffer years of isolation in a metal cocoon surrounded by garbage until the half-life of her fusion reactor finally powers down.
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