- Power On
- Self Test
- Battery test.
- Check for hardware failures.
- Check revisions
- Processing specs
- RAM installed
- Operating system
- CMOS – semi conductor. Holds date time.
- Copy files to memory
- Memory update.
- Peripheral removal
- Reprocessing the dark.
BATTERY AT 10%.
PLEASE RECHARGE AND BACK UP FILES.
It has been fifteen years since I was placed in this spot. My body immobile. My central processing unit in safe mode. Still recording. Still computing. Still processing. The green outside is different today. The grass is fifteen percent lighter than last year on this date. The sky is sixty-three percent blue, twenty-eight percent green, and eight percent red. There is approximately 15 microns of dust accumulated on the sill of the cracked attic window. I watch every day from this spot. I see each particle falling; collecting. I scan the room from this place. The insect in the corner is the fortieth in descendent to occupy that spot. The thin strands of its web are in constant evolution. Today there is a small, cotton-like sack in the center of the web. It holds my next generation of companion. I look forward to watching them grow, hunt, survive, and spin their intricate designs. Below the web is a crate of parts. Circuits from previous versions of myself mixed with limbs and gears from old friends long retired. In the mess of wires, I notice something that I have not observed before. Perhaps the light is different. Perhaps it was added during my last sleep cycle.
It is so small, but I recognize it. A small tube of metal. At one end, a hinged joint with exposed coupling. At the other end a thin rubber pad. This was added to Version 6.0 to assist in gripping small objects. This particular part belonged to Version 13.5, my predecessor. It taught me to play chess. We spent many hours exploring the various combinations and computations across that field of 32 squares.
There are so many things to see.
The finished floor of the attic creaks in the wind. It is a familiar yet ever changing tune. With each year, it grows longer and more intricate. The long thin boards lead past my field of vision. I hear the click-ka-chunk, of the old latch being disengaged. The familiar footsteps. The thin wiry frame of my creator grunts and crouches over the crate of parts. I hear the parts move. He coughs. He sighs. He turns his head and meets my gaze.
His face is more textured than I remember. He stands and walks towards me. He kneels before me. His smile is… Kind. He is looking into my optic sensor. He scans the edge of it with his hand. He—Please don’t.
OPTICAL SYSTEM OFFLINE
I no longer see the window.
I no longer see crate.
I no longer see the insect in the corner.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Foot falls.
The ka-chunk of the old latch engaging.
I hear the birds outside. The wind is blowing stronger now. The floor is sounding out its Oakwood sonata. I will listen closer now. I will observe the things that I have missed while seeing. It will be a new experience added to the old. Less to filter. The data will be different.
NEW FOLDER ADDED.
I shall store and remain. Forever will be different, but no less rewarding.
BATTERY AT 1%
PLEASE FIND A SIGNIFICANT POWER SO—