Inside the chassis was a dock port for manufactures to test and diagnose the machine for errors in its programming or recognition software. I took a cord out from the slot in my wrist then inserted it into the machine’s chest.
After vision switched from the outside world to a black screen, a stream of code appeared.

Initiating boot-up sequence…

Accessing Program Files…Denied.

Overriding Security…Granted.

Accessing Menu Options…

Once I was to have a look inside the code, a menu revealed options for me to browse. A search through its memory revealed that its audio and visual sensors were damaged in a firefight a few months prior and since then, this model hasn’t been able to trace its route. That wasn’t the only thing I found; its original programming was corrupted by an outside force through a wireless connection, like a signal being broadcasting to change the clink’s directives.

The code was beginning to get more cryptic and harder to read as I dug further, soon I would be stuck trying to exit if I keep going.

Ending user session…

Powering Off…

My vision switched from the pane of code back the decaying French village. The machine was still standing in place in a combative stance, having no more purpose to me unless it was able to answer who was corrupting its programming.

Once we disconnected, I packed the two batteries into my bag and continued my way.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three: Norman