I, Robian.

The perceptions of a 'robotized' child.

My mother: I remember her perfectly, every rivet, every welding mark, what else do you expect when you have a file directory for a memory opposed to a bunch of nerves half-hazardly strung together?
My programming was of course way too basic when I first came on-line to understand how her existence related to mine or anything else around me. That's the price of self awareness, you always have to start at the bottom of the ladder.
Once my frame and programming have developed far enough thanks to her input I had a normal childhood: endlessly putting together non-sentient machines, helping to build upon the glory of the empire we were all a part of. Trading data with other sub-units my construction date. Not trying to think of when I would be upgraded out of the assembly line station and made to take my spot in the grander blue print of things like mom wanted. Getting put down since my ID code had more letters than numbers. Those were the days.
Then They came. The same ones who took my father. With those cursed gold collars. When They touched people with them, it did something to them, make those people not themselves. They would do horrible things with those gold rings on them, blow up building, destroy innocent non-aware bots, even kidnap others so They could put more gold collars on them!
Then they would just vanish, and monsters that sort of looked like them, but were not them would show up some time later in their place.
A couple complete models told me not to blame Them, that we were all like that once upon a time, but we were given the gift of becoming beautiful, of becoming civilized. Well I was never like them! Never have! Never will be! What right did they have to try and force the past onto us?
I've witnessed a few ascensions, of those savage things struggling as they were thrown in, not wanting the gift of becoming rational beings, preferring to remain fragile, ugly, and irrational. And always coming out beautiful, stalwart, and reasonable.
I always thought the stories of one that had gotten the power of the ascension but not the reason was just a junk yard story transcribed to scare me when I deviated from my mother's programming. Until I saw it, truly something out of a nightmare, the limbs were like ours, well, most of them, and the face of Them. It placed the collar in my mother's hand. And her eyes lost their light, went dead, my OS almost froze from the sight of it.
She spoke in a voice that was like hers, but wasn't, it was all slurred together, wavering, nothing solid or harmonic in it, she sounded like Them.
She actually -thanks- It for putting the gold in her hand! She looks at me, she says something, I don't know what, I can't take it, I scream the alarm.
It takes my mother just as It took my father, a blue thing carries it and my mother away before the non-self black bots show. I upload the files of what happened to them, the black robots give me to a complete model my mother knew, the first few numbers of my ID code are changed, and that is that.
I hate them. I hate them with every fraction of my programming. What right did They have to take my parents from me? I hear Them sometimes raving during an attack that they're our to 'free the world.' Well, they just took mine, and if they want to take anyone else's, they aren't getting it without a fight! That I promise.

~ FIN

"Long live the Eggman Empire."

Flames, insults, suggestions, raves, rants, input, and occasional constructive criticism all welcome.

This is a ONE SHOT POV, repeat, a ONE SHOT POV.