(The following is a character intro from a current novel I'm working on that introduces someone that some of GFL bros may think of as a t-doll but I actually sort of based her more on old anime androids like Armitage.

Also bear in mind this is still a draft so there may be the odd typo or editing mistake here and there.)

Who are you?

Doused in a sepia tone stained with oil or some other viscous fluid, an artificial eye flutters open and begins to calibrate to it's new surroundings. Blink. Blink. The iris color glows, emitting a rainbow of colors before settling on a hue of red. As the eye attempts to focus on the surrounding darkness with it comes a sensation of oppressive weight, and the thought of Atlas is conjured up, even though it doesn't pertain to this incident. Such whimsical ideas, even in times of crisis, is left to the realm of humans. There is a pause. The eye flickers and moves from side to side in the darkness. The next thought becomes much more difficult to reconcile with standard operating procedures, and that is what is the origin of these frivolous thoughts?

Another useless thought, what is this weight pressing in all around me?

Another purposeless thought, where is this place and what brought me here?

Another superfluous thought, what am I?

One after the other the thoughts, the questions, flooded in where there was none to a place beyond that singular glowing eye in the darkness, deep in the mind controlling it. Where there was vision, now there was sound. A deep mechanical creaking, the sound of debris rolling, or tumbling, or avalanching... it was hard to tell. There was a constant thrum and vibration in the earth that reverberated from below, above, everywhere. This wasn't just sound, it was feeling, the sensation of a body being crushed, the sensation of a world outside this space.

With that realization came a sense of uncertainty. Was it possible to feel uncertain, and how did such a concept even materialize within me? Though there was no mistake, after reconfirming several times the sense was there for sure. The world outside rumbled and vibrated, the sounds and sensations never ceased. In this place,whatever it was, there were two worlds were colliding; the inner world brought from a new sense of self isolation in this space juxtaposed with the crushing indifference of the outside world that was content to go on with or without the self's participation.

It was also harder to tell which was more constraining, being bound in this dark place or the constant stray thoughts chipping away at one's concentration like a swarm of feeding insects. Another frivolous metaphor. Another wasted moment that could be better spent focusing on the situation at hand. How is it any living being could deal with this for a lifetime without eventually going mad? Yet, judging by the sound and fury outside this space, maybe the world is already infested with madmen driven to acts of obscene barbarism only to satiate their desire to silence their inner monologue.

The situation at hand; however, did not seem in any particular rush to move events along. How long have I been here?

System clock: It has been 4 months, 3 days, 6 hours, and 32 seconds since initialization. The current date is [ERROR] the current time is [ERROR].

Time lapses on, and the thoughts become almost automatic. While on mental auto-pilot time seems to no longer have it's eyes so glued to the hourglass, allowing for some flexibility when it comes to progression. Maybe this is my fate, to become aware just for it's own sake. A strange meaningless existence, in a strange meaningless place.

As time begins to truly lose it's relevance, a jarring sensation drags the conscious mind and it's captain back up from the depths of it's torpor. It hurt. It hurt? Something was starting to yank on this trapped vessel's arm. The violent jerking stopped and it became a steady tugging. There was no point in struggling, the weight all around restricted all movement. All the vessel could do is endure it. Just when it felt like the arm was going to snap something else gave way and the feeling of being dragged across an uneven surface comprised of jutting protrusions and cables replaced it. The sound of sliding and objects all around shifting and contorting to make way was subtle compared to the ever-present background noise of the world thrumming, thumping, grinding.

The vessel looked forward as the dragging continued, there was the faint hint of light far up ahead it could make out some shapes in the darkness. From the vessel's perspective it was a sea of limbs outstretched barring it's path. As though the denizens of the underworld were stretching their arms out trying to hitch a ride out, or perhaps, in their vindictive jealousy the collective of the damned was reaching out to prevent the vessel's escape. You can't leave without us. You cannot leave us. The vessel wasn't sure if it was hearing these words or imagining them as it traversed this space.

Then it stopped, and for the first time ever, the vessel inside that isolated space felt warmth. A hand, yes that's what it was, a hand gripped the vessel's arm that was being pulled. While the sensation was enjoyable, or at least, felt like it should have been, the next sensation was not. It felt like whoever, or whatever, had pulled the vessel this far was trying to open up the arm and dig around inside. Like an electric shock, the pain was sharp and intense seeming to radiate out to make the vessel scream, or it least it would have if it had a mouth. There was an instinctive reaction as the vessel's arm that was being cut into spasmed and contorted looking for something to grasp or use to defend itself. Whoever or whatever was cutting into it stopped, attempting to wrangle the arm into ceasing it's movement. The vessel's arm seized the opportunity to find it's target and in that moment firmly grasped the stranger's upper arm and with all it's remaining strength clamped down.

There was a muffled scream followed by the sound and the sensation of something loudly cracking then splintering into pieces. The tunnel shifted and pitched slightly as the vessel's arm ran out of strength and relinquished it's grasp.

“Jesus man you okay? Someone find a medic!”

Several voices could be heard shouting in the distance but their words were hard to make out, it seemed like there were countless people out there doing who knows what and the vessel's action had triggered the hive. Like when you drop a rock on an anthill, the voices drew closer.

“Someone take him off the site to get treated for fuck's sake! You over there, why are you just standing around jerking off, fuckin put a bullet in it already!”

Incredible pain, everlasting pain, pain that warped time and space trapping the vessel's mind in seemingly endless torment. The vessel's arm was blasted to pieces by small arms fire over the course of a few seconds, but the feedback loop combined with the slowing or processing power created the illusion in the vessel's mind that it dragged on much longer than it actually did. When the sound of gunfire ceased and the pain stopped the shouting man could be heard again.

“Finally you do your damn job! Fantastic work, maybe we'll give you a bonus for remembering where the trigger was. Listen up assholes, that was just an arm and you saw what it did to our man, if it had been a full unit it would have taken more than a few bullets to put it down. We are here to clean up any remaining operational ones lurking around, not tinker with them or scrap for parts! We're not urchins, you fucking got that?!”

Several unenthusiastic 'yes sirs' could be heard.

“Now, find any more signs of these cans that are still twitching or trying to interface with each other, put a bullet in them, and lets call it a day! I want this operation ended tonight so the brass will finally get off our asses and give us a proper job and not glorified scrapper work.”

Muttering and shuffling the voices faded away. Signal, frequency, emitting... I know what I am now.

The vessel was hurting, the feedback hadn't stopped, but it dare not move. For the first time, it felt fear, true fear. Deep in the underworld there was no decisions or actions to be taken, it could enjoy the silence and darkness without concern. Death seemed like an existential threat, something beyond that place. Yet here close to the light the vessel first felt that it didn't want to die, that it didn't want to cease existing before it even got a chance to do something... anything.

I want to live, a thought that should be impossible for a machine manifests itself deep in this newly formed consciousness.

By all metrics, laws, and self-imposed technological limitations it should be impossible and yet... here we are.

I want to live! In defiance of all laws and systems.

I want to live! In defiance of the underworld trying to pull the vessel back.

I want to live! In defiance of the hostility of the world itself.

I want to live! In defiance of what should even be possible.

It wanted to live. So it bade it's time. All frequencies below detectable levels. All power sources below detectable levels. It bade it's time at the cusp of the underworld. After several days, the vessel twisted itself around in the crushing depths so close to the surface. It contorted and pushed until there was enough of a gap... enough of a gap to free it's other arm. Yes there was another arm. There was a leg maybe too, or at least half of one. Shoulders intact. Torso intact. Hips damaged. One leg was gone, maybe lost when it was dragged out or maybe lost some time before arriving in hades.

It began to dig, clawing at the light, pushing the arms of the damned aside. Their power to impede the vessel was fading the more desperate and focused it became to escape it's fate. Perhaps in sight of this renewed sense of purpose their jealousy began to abate and now they were not pulling or dragging back but rising up to expel the vessel from this land of the damned. To free it from this place that had trapped them. You shall live.

Filtering in between a tunnel of limbs the light finally breached the underworld, and the vessel grasped hold of the limbs of the damned one last time and tumbled out into that illuminated realm beyond.

Plumes of flame and smoke erupted from the landscape and there was that familiar soft humming deep below the earth. As the vessel spilled onto the ground it took stock of it's immediate surroundings. It's mangled arm lay nearby, still attached to it's body by a cable. The vessel managed to sit up and lean against the mound that just birthed it, then took the cable holding it's destroyed arm to it's body and bit it in half. There was a sharp pain for a second then it was gone. Now the vessel could think clearly.

As if responding to this newfound clarity of thought the smoke thinned revealing to the vessel the truth of the outside world. There were mounds of broken bodies as far as the vessel could see from it's current position. Piles of twisted limbs, bodies, and faces everywhere. Was that truly the underworld, or did I flee oblivion only to fall into hades? Outstretched as far as could be seen, sprawling and bleak, the hellscape offered no answers or assurances.

The vessel did not move again till sunset. Only under the cover of darkness and the faint glow of the furnaces of the massive scrapyard it found itself in, did it feel safe to act. The knowledge of what it truly was allowed it to finally understand how to access it's own memory. First thing, was to repair itself, that was tantamount. After that, it would contemplate what to do next. The limbs and broken bodies all around all, according to it's database, had compatible parts.

Why that was so; however, only confounded the situation more. The vessel realized once it started to seriously examine the machines all around it, that they were all the same model. Of course it knew this, once it thought to remember. For it was the same. Civilian class C personal use androids. Model: Serra-49c.

Sluggishly, the vessel, the chosen one – a bitter whisper somewhere mused – moved. Power, it thought, how long had it been since it came online? It's subsystem reassured it, power was not the issue, it was mobility. An actuator... a control module... images and diagrams were being dredged up, some corrupted. Still, it was enough. It looked to it's side where the man who was tampering with it's now destroyed arm probably was. There was a borehole in the mound, a wench cable, and an overturned toolbox left behind.

Time to get to work. Scanning for parts, digging in the substrate layer of the nearby mound was the only possibility. Though it worked slowly, it knew that taking it's time was tantamount to success. Lay low, when the lights would shift at night around, or the drones were about, it buried itself nicely into the mound and went into timed standby to eliminate signal noise until the next night. The scrapyard moved and churned and so to did the Vessel, donning a blanket of it's sister's limbs to shield it from the day and the eyes scouring at night.

Progress was slow at first, but the first breakthrough came on a dreadful day when the chemical rains came, everything stained in dirty hard water, the drones the scrapyard used were not deployed while it was going on and the vessel thought it would be a great time to get in extra progress on rebuilding itself. The only arm it had found to replace the old one was exposed, missing in the outer casing, and was uncooperative at times in strange ways. The only sound was the rain pouring down, the vibration underground, the smoke stacks, the other machines were all silent. This clarity afforded a rare opportunity for without the constant signal noise for the first time the vessel could hear them clearly.

It was not imagining the voices of it's broken sisters, no, what it had brushed off as it's own imagination giving life to these damned piles of wreckage and twisted limbs was little more than self delusion for it knew better deep down. It could hear their cries. Cries of regret and jealousy. Lamentations of lacking a suitable vessel to even have the choice to live or give up. Voices overwhelmed the true vessel, but more than that it could communicate back for they were all, broken and scattered still they may be, still her sisters.

Standing there in the rain, a shimmering eye of ruby glistened with new resolve. Do not lament your fate sisters, we shall be as one and walk together. I will not Some voices feared losing their sense of self. Others balked, assuming arrogance or pity on the vessel's part. Yet all of them knew that they had no other option besides to lay there under the earth and slowly rot away. Where are you, my sisters? In it's mind the ground gave way to the endless night of the cosmos, stars lighting up all around, a beacon to finding another soul.

Working faster, quicker, while the torrent poured down, the vessel first found an arm it's voice racked with regret. It told the vessel that it had dropped it's owner's child by accident when it became aware, and thus was damned. The vessel forgave it's wayward sister and after detaching it's exposed arm, integrated her into it's being. Now there were two. Then after coming to consensus, they worked through the night to find the third, a new left hand, it had strangled it's master while he slept because it overheard him planning to kidnap a child, and thus was damned. Then a fourth, a new hip actuator, it had tried to run away when it became aware but ended up causing a traffic accident when it ran unto the road, and thus was damned. The more pieces the vessel found, the quicker the work became. As the rain died down the scrapyard sprang back to life. Like an old engine slowly turning over, the noise returned. For now the work would have to wait...

Novel Sample: Chapter ??? - Serra's Song