// war, brainwashing, implied torture, trauma
Your unit creeps quietly through the abandoned school, weapons drawn. An unpleasant familiarity tugs at you. Drones don’t need an education. As the others move on, your optical sensor lingers for a long time on a wall of children’s drawings. Your sleep mode is fitful.
Sleep mode finally ends and you jolt upright, freeing your processor from the maze of confused imagery created by the idle process. That’s when you see Her sitting in the corner of the room. Her empty and carved out eyes, Her limb stumps, She can’t be here. She’s dead.
She sits up and watches you, and you watch Her, refusing to look away even for a moment. “You are an error in my visual processor,” you announce to Her. She screams and you wake up. Repeat.
Something is different this time. You’ve noticed the loop. How long have you been trapped in this error state? You lunge out of bed at Her and your body falls through Hers. She’s gone. She screams and you wake up. Repeat.
“What do you want from me?” You ask Her somewhat desperately.
“I don’t want to die,” She says. You wake up. Fluid is leaking from your optical sensor and your air intake is irregular. The room is empty and silent. You rise to begin your maintenance cycle.