Please note – this story takes place a few years after the end of “HARTbreak.” You HAVE read “HARTbreak“, right? Anyway, this is a new story, and a new HART. Enjoy!

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A day early! WHOO-HOO! Enjoy it while it lasts. The end is nigh, unfortunately. Look forward to the conclusion which is coming soon, insha’Allah. In the meantime, let’s finish looking inside of Cassius’s head.

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She’s coming.

I could feel her the moment she tripped the perimeter alarm. She was coming, and fast. Grinning, I glanced down at the two human forms. They seemed to be lifeless, but with my sophisticated hardware, I could detect their shallow breathing. The vitals were the low end of normal, but they were alive. The man, Shane, I believe he is called, lay on his side. As I squinted at him, I became sure that I was able to see his fingers twitch. Ah. That one would be awakening soon.

Darn. I had so hoped to have HART all to myself.

The other one, the woman, what was her name? McRibbon? McRib? McRidge! Yes. McRidge. She was curled up into what is termed “fetal position.” She looked like a little ball. Perhaps that kick to her ribcage contained just a tad too much power? I sometimes forget that I am no longer fully human, and that my power is no match for their delicate systems. I can not be blamed for this. Blame those damned scientists and soldiers, government dogs, all of them! They did this to me. They robbed me of my chance to live a normal life.

Payback is a bitch, to steal a phrase from the past. They forced this on me, forced me to do their dirty work and then slated me for destruction? Tossed me away when I proved that I was stronger than them? Very well. I vowed when I left them that I would show them that they were correct fear me.

I jumped down from my perch on the roof through the open skylight. After landing with a thud! I stood, stretching my limbs lazily. This body that they gave me wasn’t all bad. I was over six feet tall, and had a nice athletic build. My skin covering was dark brown and soft and smooth to the touch. Women, and some men, loved me. But I cared nothing for them. I wanted one person. Calling her a “person” may seem improper, as she is pure machine. But she has personality. She breathes. She sleeps. She eats. She is alive and she is meant to be with me. I know it. I can feel it. I have analyzed the data many, many, many times over the years.

I chuckled to myself and set in motion the elaborate homecoming I planned for my HART. Because I had been tracking her movements, I knew exactly where she stood. I could see her, crouched down, scanning the ground, searching for traces of the humans’ heat sigs. Briefly, I wondered if she would sniff the ground like a dog. That thought gave my pause, as that would be unbecoming for such a perfect woman.

She rose, and adjusted the rifles hanging from her delicate shoulders. Reaching deep into one of those delicious zippers on her clothing, she extracted a large serrated-edged knife. She turned, looked directly at the building I was standing in, and then up, almost directly into my eyes. Her lip curled up in a sneer, as if she could see me. Then again, she probably could. I know that she is capable of picking up infrared emissions.

I could feel myself beginning to tremble with excitement.

She is mine, and she is here.

I dropped my security shielding and welcomed her.

Ready to continue this bumpy ride? I hope you fastened your seatbelts this time.

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When I maneuvered the TU into the space designated for me, I noticed something was brewing. Two human agents wearing full body armor were waiting for me. They were both armed with electro-mag guns which were about the size of small assault rifles. If I had eyebrows, I probably would have raised them. Those weapons were extremely dangerous to bots like me. The shock waves those things sent out could permanently scramble a girl’s code. If humans were here with those guns aimed at me, then something was terribly wrong.

I eased out of the TU, and code locked it. I leaned against the driver’s door, and folded my arms. All of my systems were running at full capacity, analyzing the situation and checking the news wire reports. There was nothing in my bank to suggest that I was the cause for the humans to bear arms, so I took my chances and spoke first.

“Why, a welcoming party! How special. Is it my birthday?” I asked sarcastically.

The human closest to me, a medium height, medium build, all-around plain and bland male, flinched, and took a step backwards. His partner, a tall, pale female, glared at him, and then turned that angry gaze on me. “We’re not doing this by choice, you know. Captain Alton is afraid that his precious HART will be dismantled before Cassius can be captured. We’re here to protect you,” she said through clenched teeth.

I was unable to prevent what happened next. My programming was such that whenever I saw or heard something comical, I was to respond in human fashion. So, I laughed. Hard. Had I tears, they would have been streaming down my face. Had I the ability to draw breath, I would have been gasping for air.

The male shifted his weight and, pursing his lips, turned away with his gaze downcast. The female, however, had all the signs of being antagonized. She hefted her weapon, and closed the distance between us. She placed her face directly in front of mine, and blew out a hot breath.

“It’s. Not. That. Funny.” Huffing and puffing and turning red, she gritted her teeth. Besides being angry, she also appeared to be holding back tears I cocked my head, mildly interested in this range of emotion.

“Forgive me,” I said, “for making light of your seriousness. However, your ‘protection’ of me is not needed. I do appreciate the gesture, and sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“You don’t have a heart.”

Oh, yeah. I had been spending so much time with humans and approximating their lifestyle that I often forgot that little tidbit. I reminded myself that I was not one of them and prepared to walk away.

“Of course. You are correct. Please excuse me.” I turned to walked away, and was stopped by the male. “Yes?” I questioned him, impatiently.

“Um. Well. Could you tell our division leader that we completed our task properly? I’m Shane, and she’s McRidge. We didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just trying to do our jobs.” As he spoke, my sincerity meter registered a perfect score. His heart rate was normal, if slightly elevated, and his color was good. He definitely was not a liar. At least not concerning this.

“Fine. You may accompany me. But only to the entrance.”

“Yes sir!” Shane happily saluted me, and adjusted the grip on his weapon. His index finger rested lightly on the trigger as he rapidly checked the area for suspicious movement. His partner, McRidge, reluctantly followed behind him, halfheartedly covering the same ground.

“All clear!” Shane bellowed, and motioned for me to close the distance between us.

“Yeah, clear, right,” McRidge repeated in a voice dripping with boredom. My emotion meter chimed wildly. Could this be sarcasm, or perhaps boredom? I stored a copy of her tone in my data center for future reference, pushed my shades higher on my nose, and sauntered across the lot.

Shane’s eyes followed me appreciatively, I noticed. The female’s eyes noticed this too, if the sound of her sucking her teeth was any indication. I filed this emotion away, also. Surely, this was jealously, although I had heard that sometimes that teeth-sucking sound was used to convey disgust. With smirk, I continued my lazy walk towards the Justice Complex, or Jus Com, where the office I operated out of was located on the twelfth floor.

At least, I intended to continue my walk. I lifted one foot off the ground, and in the next moment, Shane was at my side, gawking at my prone form.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” I ran a check on my systems, attempting to access the previous moments. There was nothing other than static available for reading. “That’s strange,” I said to myself. I tried it again, only to receive the same result. McRidge crouched next to me, scanning the surrounding area. Her gun carefully followed her line of sight. I could tell she was looking for an enemy, but there was none. I felt nothing.

I copied the blank spot in my programming and dropped it into a folder. Dismissing it as a glitch, I mailed the file to Alton anyway as a precaution. Perhaps he would see something that I did not. Pushing myself upwards, I returned to a standing position. I adjusted my shades and strolled past the curious onlookers as if nothing had transpired.

Once inside of Jus Com, I made a beeline straight for the elevators. I was anxious to begin my newest mission. I refused to allow anything to prevent me from taking the head of my prey. Recalling the information mail that I viewed just that morning, I activated several search programs at once. This would enable me to simultaneously review the past deeds and footsteps of my target, Cassius, as well as monitor current traffic in the area.

“Welcome, HART. Please confirm your access code.” I tilted my head at the instruction. I froze, making a quick note of exactly where I was. I had been so deep into my research that I had gotten on the elevator, rode to my office, and entered the reception area without noticing a thing. That was so very unlike me that it scared me as much as anything could. I would definitely ask Alton to run a manual check on my systems. Blanking out twice in such a short period of time was not what I was configured to do.

“Sorry, Glory,” I apologized to the humanoid female at the desk. “X75234PLE16.”

“Access granted,” she chirped. “Captain is waiting for you. Go right in,” she instructed.”

“Thank you.”

“Ah, but,” she interrupted, “your escorts must remain out here. They do not have the proper authorization.”

“Escorts?” I swiveled my head and saw Shane and McRidge fidgeting behind me. “Oh, them.” Something else I had forgotten. I really needed to get my head checked.

“We’ll be fine. We’ll wait right here,” Shane offered. He sat in the first chair he saw, right next to the door. Pointedly, he stared at McRidge until she huffed and puffed her way into the chair on the other side of the door frame. He waved his gloved hand at me and beamed.

“Yeah.” I left the collection of weirdos in the room behind me and went to see my boss in his private quarters.

Nevermind the title. I had to call it something, you know? Anyhow, I present to you another short story in parts, appearing every Friday until further notice. Enjoy!

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It is a hell of a thing to wake up dead. I know this better than most because last night, I died for the third time in my life.

Death is typically defined as occurring in the moment that the heart ceases to beat or pump blood to the brain. Therefore, no matter what the cause of the heart stopping was, everyone dies from what is termed a “heart attack.” But none of that has anything to do with me.

I do not have a heart.

Instead, I have a small but powerful nuclear reactor in my chest. Damage to it forces my body into a state of hibernation, for anywhere from four to twenty-four hours, in order to repair the injury. So when Cassius shot me, my systems went into auto-preserve status, and I died, for lack of a better term. Good thing, too, because if the reactor in my chest sustained massive, irreparable damage, I could have leveled half the city.

Oh, where are my manners? It seems like my behavioral chip may have been damaged in that fire fight, too. Please excuse me. I am HART. That is, I am a Humanoid Autonomous Retrieval Technician. In other words, my function in this world is a type of police officer. My job is to hunt down criminals and escapees of both the half-bot and and full-bot type.

Yes, we are real. No, we are not a government conspiracy. True, we were originally created to act as soldiers in the last war. When the Peace Papers were signed, a good number of my kind were designated for the scrap pile. Unfortunately, several escaped and disappeared deep into the human underworld. The strongest and most intelligent of us were given the task of bringing them back.

When they made us, they forgot they gave us the ability to think and adapt. Lucky for us. Dangerous for them, though, since some of us look human enough to pass undetected. I, however, do not.

My jet black skin-covering has a metallic shine to it, and gleams under artificial lighting. The frame they housed me in is small and compact to ensure better flexibility and stealth. Please do not be fooled; I am nothing close to delicate. I can easily lift and toss armored trucks twice my size. My biggest non-human trait? My eyes, definitely.

I use the term eyes loosely. My optic lenses are a bit unusual, if I say so myself. The right one is a glowing green orb in which I can simultaneously retrieve known information about my surroundings and upload new findings. I can also monitor the health of my systems, and receive orders and reports, like a walking fax port. My left orb is a bit, ah, different, shall we say? It has been known to scare people. Its basic state is flat and black; when I get close to my prey, it glows bright red. The infrared signal kicks in, and chases both heat and electromagnetic signature.

I usually wear wraparound shades in the presence of humans.

But enough about me. What happened last night? Well, see, that is kind of a long story.

When I awoke from my customary four hour recharge, there was a message waiting for me from Alton, the captain of my unit. I sub-vocalized my password; when it was accepted, I decrypted the video and watched.

“HART. You have an assignment. Your target is Cassius, a modified half-bot. Last seen passing for human. Appears to be a human male of Neo-Afrikan descent. Height is six feet, four inches. Weight is two hundred and seven pounds. Rumored weapons smuggler. Slated for termination. Report in after viewing.” The message screen blinked out.

“Cassius, huh?” I said softly. Already, my day was looking up.

Disengaging myself from my sleeping compartment, I glided over to the large closest in my living unit. I own rows and rows of clothing. I am not sure why humans insist on covering up perfectly good skin-coverings, but I have to live by their rules in their world. Flicking through the countless hangers, I settled on a one piece, white jumpsuit. There were zippers everywhere that were designed to strategically expose skin to be “sexy”, but it was perfect for me, as I could conceal my knives and one very large piece of chrome-plated hardware. I was beginning to see why “sexy” and “dangerous” were often treated as being synonymous with each other.

I completed the outfit with a pair of white synth-leather boots, and my ever present shades. I gave my short, curly hair a halfhearted fluff, and stepped out of my living unit and into the waiting transport unit my employers allowed me for company use. I had a feeling that traffic would be a bitch, as usual, and I was eager to begin my hunt.

“Cassius.” I said his name and allowed myself a smile as the transport unit whisked me towards headquarters. “This is going to be fun.” At least, that was what I thought then.

Events did not turn out quite as I planned.