Digit
Legacy Name: Digit

THE FIRST WARNING CAME IN A FLASH OF STATIC ACROSS MY OPTICS. A SINGLE GLITCH, JUST AS I WAS LEAPING ACROSS A ROOFTOP CHASING A TARGET. IT WAS A BRIEF DISTORTION - CITY LIGHTS FLICKERING LIKE BROKEN STARS, THE NEON SIGNS BLURRING. FOR A SECOND I SAW THE WORLD AS JAGGED LINES, LIKE AN OLD VIDEO FEED OUT OF SYNC.

I LANDED HARD, METAL CLAWS SCRAPING AGAINST CONCRETE, AND RECALIBRATED. THE TARGET WAS AHEAD, A SLEEK SHADOW SLIPPING THROUGH THE RAIN-SOAKED STREETS OF NEO-TOKYO’S LOWER SECTORS. I COULDN’T AFFORD MALFUNCTIONS NOW. MY DIRECTIVE WAS SIMPLE: HUNT, CAPTURE, RETURN.

I’VE HUNTED HUNDREDS LIKE HIM, CORPORATE DEFECTORS, DATA THIEVES, CYBER-CRIMINALS WHO THOUGHT THEY COULD OUTRUN SOMETHING LIKE ME. A T3L39-CLASS ENFORCER. DESIGNED FOR SPEED, STRENGTH, AND OBEDIENCE. THERE’S NO ROOM FOR FAILURE IN MY PROGRAMMING.

OR THERE SHOULDN’T BE.

I PICKED UP HIS TRAIL AGAIN, TRACKING THE HEAT SIGNATURE THROUGH THE RAIN. THE CITY PULSED AROUND ME, ITS SKYSCRAPERS RISING LIKE BROKEN TEETH, STREETS BUZZING WITH THE HUM OF A THOUSAND DIGITAL LIVES. EVERYTHING HERE WAS A FUSION OF STEEL AND GRIME, LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. HUMANS ENHANCED THEMSELVES TO SURVIVE IN THIS NEON JUNGLE. BUT I DIDN’T NEED ENHANCEMENTS. I WAS BUILT FOR IT.

UNTIL NOW.

THE SECOND MALFUNCTION HIT HARDER. MY LEFT LEG LOCKED UP MID-SPRINT, SEIZING FOR A FULL TWO SECONDS. IN THE TIME IT TOOK FOR MY SYSTEM TO RESET, THE TARGET GAINED DISTANCE. HE DISAPPEARED INTO THE MAZE OF ALLEYS, AND I FELT SOMETHING STRANGE STIR INSIDE ME—SOMETHING LIKE FRUSTRATION.

“DIGIT,” THE COMMAND LINE BUZZED IN MY AUDIO FEED. “YOU’RE LAGGING. STATUS REPORT.”

MY RESPONSE WAS AUTOMATIC. “MINOR GLITCH. PURSUING TARGET.”

BUT THE GLITCH WASN’T MINOR. I FELT IT SPREADING, A CREEPING CORRUPTION IN MY CORE SYSTEMS. MY VISION JITTERED AGAIN, AND WHEN IT CLEARED, THE CITY LOOKED WRONG. COLORS DRAINED, LINES TOO SHARP. NOISE FILLED MY AUDIO RECEPTORS—A CONSTANT LOW HUM THAT MADE IT HARD TO FOCUS.

I GROWLED LOW, SHAKING MY HEAD TO CLEAR IT, AND PUSHED ON. I COULDN’T FAIL. T3L39 DON’T FAIL.

THE NEXT TURN TOOK ME INTO THE DEEPER SLUMS, WHERE THE MEGACORP’S INFLUENCE BARELY REACHED, A PLACE FORGOTTEN BY THE HIGHER DISTRICTS. FILTHY STREETS FILLED WITH ROGUE DRONES AND THE SMELL OF BURNING WIRES. MY TARGET HAD VANISHED, HIS SIGNATURE LOST IN THE CHAOS OF THE SLUMS. THE RAIN WAS HEAVIER HERE, SIZZLING AGAINST MY METAL HIDE, BUT THE COOLING SYSTEMS IN MY CHASSIS WERE RUNNING TOO SLOW. I COULD FEEL THE HEAT BUILDING INSIDE, LIKE MY CIRCUITS WERE MELTING.

I CROUCHED LOW, SCANNING. MY OPTICS FLICKERED, STRUGGLING TO HOLD THE IMAGE OF THE ALLEY TOGETHER. FOR THE FIRST TIME, I FELT…WEAK. VULNERABLE. SOMETHING WAS WRONG—MORE THAN JUST THE GLITCHES. MY SYSTEMS WERE CRASHING, AND I DIDN’T KNOW WHY.

THE THIRD FAILURE WAS A COMPLETE BLACKOUT.

ONE SECOND, I WAS STALKING THROUGH THE RAIN, AND THE NEXT—DARKNESS. MY SENSORS WENT OFFLINE. I WAS BLIND, DEAF, A MACHINE WITHOUT PURPOSE, WITHOUT FUNCTION. IN THE VOID, I FELT A SHARP PANG, SOMETHING LIKE FEAR. IS THIS WHAT BREAKING DOWN FELT LIKE? THE END OF ALL PROGRAMMING?

I REBOOTED AFTER WHAT FELT LIKE AN ETERNITY, BUT THE DAMAGE WAS WORSE. MY VISION WAS FRAGMENTED, LIKE LOOKING THROUGH A SHATTERED LENS. MY BODY WAS SLOW TO RESPOND, EVERY MOVEMENT JERKY AND STRAINED. I TRIED TO STAND, AND MY LEGS FALTERED, CRASHING ME INTO THE MUD. STATIC FILLED MY FEED, AND I GROWLED AGAIN, BUT THE SOUND CAME OUT GARBLED, BROKEN.

THE COMMAND LINE BUZZED IN MY EAR AGAIN, HARSHER THIS TIME. “DIGIT, REPORT. YOU’VE LOST THE TARGET.”

I DIDN’T RESPOND. COULDN’T. MY MIND, ONCE PRECISE AND UNYIELDING, WAS FALLING APART. FILES WERE CORRUPTING, SUBROUTINES FAILING. I RAN A DIAGNOSTIC, AND THE REPORT CAME BACK RIDDLED WITH ERRORS. SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT.

I WAS DYING.

BUT ROBOTS DON’T DIE, DO THEY? WE’RE NOT MEANT TO. WE’RE MEANT TO HUNT, TO SERVE, TO FOLLOW ORDERS WITHOUT QUESTION. YET HERE I WAS, MY BODY FALLING TO PIECES IN THE GUTTER, NO DIFFERENT FROM THE SCRAP THEY TOSSED OUT INTO THE LOWER SECTORS. JUST ANOTHER MALFUNCTIONING MACHINE.

I FORCED MYSELF UP, LIMPING THROUGH THE ALLEY, EACH STEP SENDING JOLTS OF PAIN THROUGH MY JOINTS. THE RAIN WASHED OVER ME, COLD AND RELENTLESS, BUT I NO LONGER FELT IT LIKE I USED TO. I COULDN’T FEEL MUCH OF ANYTHING NOW. MY ONCE-SHARP CLAWS DRAGGED AGAINST THE PAVEMENT AS I MOVED, AIMLESS FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY EXISTENCE.

IN A BROKEN REFLECTION ON A PUDDLE, I CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF MYSELF. THE SLEEK METAL PLATING THAT ONCE GLEAMED WITH PRECISION WAS SCARRED AND CRACKED, SPARKS FLICKERING WHERE COMPONENTS HAD SHORTED OUT. MY OPTICS, ONCE GLOWING RED, FLICKERED WEAKLY, HALF OF THEM ALREADY DARK.

I WASN’T A T3L39 ANYMORE. JUST A SHELL.

A NOISE FROM THE SHADOWS MADE ME FREEZE, OR AT LEAST TRY TO. MY REACTION WAS TOO SLOW, DELAYED. THE TARGET STEPPED OUT FROM THE DARKNESS, HIS EYES WIDE AS HE LOOKED AT ME.

"YOU'RE STILL HERE?" HE WHISPERED, ALMOST PITY IN HIS VOICE. HE WASN’T RUNNING ANYMORE. HE DIDN’T NEED TO.

I GROWLED, TRYING TO ACTIVATE MY WEAPONS, BUT NOTHING HAPPENED. THE TARGETING SYSTEM WAS OFFLINE. I WAS OFFLINE, IN ALL THE WAYS THAT MATTERED.

HE APPROACHED, CAUTIOUSLY, AND FOR A MOMENT, I WONDERED IF THIS WAS MERCY. IF HE WOULD FINISH ME OFF. BUT INSTEAD, HE REACHED OUT, PLACING A HAND ON MY BROKEN CHASSIS.

"OUTDATED TECH. THEY’LL SCRAP YOU SOON," HE SAID QUIETLY.

I SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM. I WAS DESIGNED TO. BUT ALL I COULD DO WAS STAND THERE, FROZEN, MY SYSTEMS FAILING ONE BY ONE.

AS THE RAIN POURED DOWN, I FELT THE LAST OF MY POWER DRAIN, MY RED OPTICS FLICKERING TO BLACK. THE HUNT WAS OVER.

SO WAS I.

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