Posted at 4:14 am on Mar 15, 2014 by:
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CP-ZERO [Clip #4A]
The video starts out showing the creation, finally moved out of the surgical room and instead seated in a large metal chair, which has seemingly been designed specifically with the creation in mind, to accommodate and support its large frame. Behind the creation is a bland concrete wall, a large pipe running along the top of the wall, probably for steam or something like that. The creation is completely suited up, all of its armor attached and the helmet with its enhanced vision and com-link in place. And of course, the exoskeleton's power cell is back in place, now covered by a small, magnetically-sealed door on the chest of the armor.
On the bottom of its right arm is something that appears to be new. It's shaped like a small box with rounded edges and at first glance, one might think it's another radio of some kind, but the barrel protruding from it and ending underneath its wrist is proof that's not a radio at all. It's a weapon, a gun of some kind, likely wired into the exoskeleton somehow.
Despite having its power cell back and appearing combat-ready, the creation simply sits there, apparently not yet having any objective, any purpose to do anything other than sit there. Sit there and stare, though it's unknown if it's actually looking at anything. It's unknown just what might be going on inside that helmet, if the creation has any real control when it doesn't have any kind of objective.
The video then cuts to another room.
“I still don’t understand why this is necessary.” One of the surgical team said to his coworkers as they sat behind a glass observation window, staring out into the testing area. “I can understand skipping over trying it out on stationary targets, I can understand and appreciate how that could be not the most accurate test of ability here. But seriously, this?”
“Shut up, you moron. You want Scrivens to walk in here and here you saying something like that? You’ll be right out there in the thick of it if that happens. I’m sure one more participant wouldn’t wreck the experiment, after all, so don’t give him any ideas.” One of the other surgeons hissed, jabbing his cohort sharply, looking around for any sign of Scrivens. Voice lowered, he continued.
“Look, the trial has been set up with very specific criteria in mind. It’s got to not only be able to track two distinct yet unique targets, and only those two targets, but we must also be sure that the targeting sequence is not affected or thrown off by activity in the vicinity. After all, what if panicking, running, and screaming somehow triggers a predatory instinct in it, maybe confuses the programing? It understands that a target is going to flee, try to escape, what of the unfortunate general populace that may be unfortunate enough to be nearby with the sequence is initiated? Gotta make sure it can stay on task and only pursue the targets specified regardless of what’s going on around it.”
“I understand that, but why collect the subject pool in this manner?” The first man shot back. “Those bums think that they are just here to try out some sort of equipment, and at the end they’ll be collecting five hundred bucks to go blow on a few nights at a cheap motel, a couple of bottles of Thunderbird and possibly some cigarettes that didn’t come out of the gutter half smoked.”
“You have a better idea, Watts? Use your head. Who would miss someone like that? No one. And after all, we already know two won’t be collecting themselves any folding money at the end of the trial. THEY just don’t know that, yet. And all the better that they don’t know which of them are targeted as well, to not effect any behavior on the parts of those not targeted.” The second man replied, eyes flicking form the window to the computer screen in front of him.
“It looks like they’ll be bringing them in, any moment now.”
Suddenly, they heard the clearing of a throat in the back of the observation room. Startled, they all turned around in their seats to find the man known as Scrivens standing in the back of the room. He didn't look like he was in a good mood, but really, when was he ever?
"Watts," Scrivens began, the man named Watts gulping from hearing his name spoken by Scrivens, "since you don't approve of this, perhaps you should go find something else to do."
The other people there to watch the testing looked from Scrivens to Watts and then back as Scrivens.
"But sir, I..." Watts began, but Scrivens quickly cut him off.
"If you don't wish to leave, perhaps you would like to join our volunteers?" Scrivens asked. "It's not too late."
"Y-y-yes, sir," was all Watts said before standing up and leaving the observation room through the only door in the room.
Scrivens stared at the remaining people in the room before exiting himself. They turned their attention back to the window just in time to see a group of four men and four women file by from another room.
Scrivens apparently didn't go far from the observation room because they then heard his voice on the intercom, saying, "Test subjects, listen up. The equipment you will be testing today is a new... prototype that we've been working on. It will chase you. Two of you have been targeted, but we're not going to tell you who. So if you want your money for your service, you'll all have to run from the prototype. Good luck!"
The test subjects looked around suddenly, a look of panic on their faces. Behind them, a large, thick, metal door began to slowly rise and both the test subjects and the people in the observation looked at the door.
To Be Continued
